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levi-my-beloved · 3 years ago

Text

Birds of a Feather

Chapter 4

Parings: Canon!Levi x F!Reader

Content Warnings: Violence, torture, this one gets a little spicy y’all, descriptions of sexual acts, hints of abuse (please let me know if i’ve missed any)

Word Count: 14.8K

Summary: You were the most notorious criminal in The Underground City. With your organisation of highly skilled professionals, only one man could take you down. He also happened be be Humanity’s Strongest... and your ex.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

A/N: well, you guys wanted it all in one post! this is by far the longest chapter, yet, and possibly the longest chapter in the entire fic maybe? i’ve caught myself up now with the progress of writing, since i’ve only completed one part of the next chapter so chapter 5 won’t be out within the next three days like these last four have been. i’m thinking i’ll need maybe a week? not sure, but the next part has a little flashback section which i hope you’ll all enjoy!

god these a/n’s are really long aren’t they? asdfghjkl sorry i’ll make the cut off now. hope you enjoy!!!

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

Whether it had been thirty minutes or thirty years, you couldn’t tell. Struggling to stay conscious as the four soldiers brought your limp body back to your cell. Your legs no longer work, gathering dust as they drag across the ground. Your abdomen and back were on fire. You were convinced. They had simply thrown you into hell to cook for a bit before dragging you back out. There was no other explanation. Other than the countless, seemingly endless beatings you had just taken. Whether your legs were tired or if your spine was broken, you couldn’t tell as they tossed you back behind bars, removing the rope around your wrists. You didn’t have the strength to fight back. Didn’t have the strength to even raise your head as they left.

Broken, split ribs sent agonising jolts of pain as you shifted in a lame attempt to curl up into a ball. You hadn’t cracked like they’d wanted you to. You hadn’t screamed, cried, begged them to stop. And you wouldn’t. When they came back for you, you would hold your tongue once again. You had never broken in the past. Whether you’d been compromised during an assault on a rival gang, or whether it was one of your mentor’s training exercises to get you used to torture. You had never broken.

You weren’t about to start now.

Still, the throbbing in your body prevented you from sleeping. You didn’t know what time it was. Time had escaped you during that ordeal. You didn’t even know what time of day it was, pretty sure it was night when they had come for you.

Fuck, your body ached. But you knew comfort was a long way from here. It always seemed so far away from where you were. Did you ever have comfort?

You lay there for god knows how long, seconds turning to minutes, minutes to hours. Hours could have turned to days for all you knew.

When the now familiar echo of footsteps reached your ears, you didn’t move. You didn’t care. Whoever it was could rot in hell for all you cared. Wishing death upon these fucking soldiers was the only thing keeping you from giving up right now.

“The bed not good enough or something?” Levi. Shit. The one person you didn’t want to see you like this.

You didn’t answer, choosing instead to try and count as many marks on the wall as you could. It helped to keep your focus off the dull throbbing coursing through your body.

“Oi, ‘you seriously still asleep? It's almost midday,” the singing of metal caused you to wince slightly as he rapped on the bars in an attempt to wake you from a sleep you weren’t in.

“Get the fuck u—” You had a vague idea what caused him to stop his impending barrage of insults you knew were about to flutter effortlessly from his mouth, and you couldn’t tell if you were thankful or not. On the upside, you didn’t have to hear whatever colourful language he was about to spew. On the downside…

“What happened to you…?” it was the second time he’d asked that question, but from the tone of his voice, you could tell this was less a passing thought and more of a question prompted by horror.

Levi froze. His breath caught in his throat. He had expected you to be awake by now. To be up, with that crooked, cocky smile on your face. In fact, he’d half expected you to be leaning against the wall, the door flung wide open as you twirled the keychain around your finger, simply begging him to ask you how you’d done it.

The last thing he expected to see was you, on the floor, curled into a ball. The shirt on your lower back riding up enough for him to see violent, deep purple bruises, blood steadily streaming from your spine and lower back.

Still you refused to answer, or even move. Filthy fucking soldiers, you fucking hated every last one of them. How fucking dare they? How dare they string you up like a piece of drying meat. They had no idea what you’d been through. What you’d had to do to survive. How dare they assume.

And yet,

And yet there was still that little voice in your head. That little kernel of doubt, convincing you that you deserved this. You had killed so many. So much blood was on your hands.

You deserved this.

You didn’t even notice Levi had entered your cell until a hand rested upon your shoulder.

“(Y/N)—”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” your reaction was instant. Instinctual. Immediately wrenching out of his hand, throwing yourself forward. A yelp escaped your mouth without your permission, fire igniting in your body as you moved so suddenly. It caused you to falter in your movements, landing harshly on your side. “Shit!” your voice broke as you yelped, agony flaring in your entire midsection, hand flying to clutch your side as you backed up against the wall. “Don’t fucking touch me,” there was no conviction in your voice. It was more of a plea than anything. If you had raised your head to look at him, maybe you would have laughed at his expression of twisted shock.

But instead you let your hair fall in front of your face, masking your own expression. Teeth grit in silent pain, eyes screwed shut.

Levi’s worry turned to outright unsettling fear. Over the last two days, he’s witnessed you more broken than he’s ever seen you before. He remembered sitting up with you after you’d woken from one of your nightmares. The two of you sitting on the floor against the wall, sharing a cup of tea to not waste resources. He’d seen you angry. He’d seen you upset. But he’d never seen you shattered.

“(Y/N)...” you’d forgotten how soft his usual bored voice could sound. Even after yesterday, you hadn’t heard that tone from him in years. It was borderline unnatural.

It prompted you to raise your head ever so slightly, glaring at him through thick, matted (H/C) strands. You refused to let your guard down, even though the sight of him squatting before you, eyebrows gently creased with suppressed worry almost made you relax. But you weren’t about to be taken away and tortured again.

Any scrap of trust that may have manifested yesterday during the carriage ride and your conversation had been crushed.

“Get away from me,” you looked feral, bearing your teeth animalistically as you snarled. Though it didn’t seem to deter him. He knew a dog only bared its teeth when it was wounded, fearing to be hurt further.

Levi sighed through his nose as he stood. You flinched at his movement and watched as he made more of a conscious effort not to startle you. Your eyes squinted in suspicious confusion as he took a small cloth from his pocket and started running it under the tap.

It seemed the faucet did work. Good to know.

Returning to squat in front of you, his eyes flickered from your face to your abdomen.

“Show me,” he instructed gently, and you almost obeyed him. Almost.

“Go fuck yourself,” you spat instead, bringing your knees closer to your aching body. If you hadn’t been trained to withstand pain, you would have cried out as your abdomen begged you to stop constricting your muscles.

“I’m trying to help,” your ears caught the slight irritation in his tone, but you didn’t care. He could kick you for all you care.

Actually, you really didn’t want him to do that.

“I don’t want your help,”

“You need it.”

“Burn in hell, Levi,” it was the first time you’d actually used his name since you said it back when they first apprehended you, and Levi couldn’t deny that it cut deep. A sentiment he masked with a frustrated exhale. Clearly he’d expected resistance. Either that or he was just as tenacious as he used to be.

“Well, I'm definitely not going up,” he responded, that same softness in his tone and despite your situation, you couldn’t help the slight huff of amusement. It seemed to put him at ease too, content you weren’t about to lunge for his throat.

Slowly, you uncurled from your position, visibly wincing as your torn, beaten muscles relaxed. Levi took this as permission to inch closer and you felt a small appreciation for his trepidation.

Still, you couldn’t help but flinch every time he moved too fast. A simple reflex stemming from your training. It wasn’t really something you thought about, but it prompted the raven haired man to freeze every time you moved.

You refused to meet his eyes as he gently lifted the fabric of your shirt, hearing his breath hitch slightly.

“Holy shit…” He breathed. You hadn’t seen how bad your body was damaged, but judging by his reaction;

It sure as hell wasn’t good.

Levi felt he could kill someone. Actually, a lot of someones. Shit, when he finds out who was responsible for this he would make sure they wished they were never born. The same rage he felt when seeing you flinch for the first time once again coursed through his veins, and this time, he didn’t think he could just let it simmer.

“Who did this to you?” you blinked, his question caught you off guard. Didn’t he know? How didn’t he know? Surely every soldier in the damn military would revel in the idea of you being tortured all night. You clenched your jaw, refusing to respond. You didn’t know why you were being so stubborn. Maybe it was the sheer principle of not wanting to show any sort of weakness in front of him.

In fact, now you thought about it, it was definitely that. Whether Levi sensed it or not, he chose not to press you for an answer. Perhaps he did already know.

You hissed as the cold, damp cloth gently soothed your inflamed skin, glancing back to his face. You hated the way his focussed expression calmed your heart. Loathed how that crease in his eyebrows eased your whirling thoughts. Despised how, from this angle, you could see just how annoyingly attractive he had become.

“Can you move?” he asked, silver eyes rising up to meet your own. The low torchlight highlighted the heus of deep blue you knew he had hidden away. You pretended you looked away because you couldn’t stand the sight of his face, rather than the reality.

You were far too tempted to lean up and capture his lips.

“Yes,” Levi couldn’t tell if you were lying, shifting slightly to help you move but stopping immediately when you flinched away.

“Lie on the bed,” for the first time in ten years, you were compelled to follow an order. You weren’t even obedient towards Viper most of the time. But nonetheless, you found yourself struggling to your feet, an arm braced on the wall behind you.

Clearly respecting your independence, Levi took a step back, allowing you to find your own way. If you weren’t slightly delirious from the pain, you would have missed a kernel of respect flashing in his expression, before he swiftly turned away, washing the cloth again as you collapsed onto the so-called ‘mattress’ with a hiss.

Levi rung the small cloth out onto the floor, focussing on the way the droplets collided with the stone, rather than the way every movement you made caused you obvious pain. Once again, every fibre of his being was screaming at him to cradle you in his arms and whisper soft nothings into your ear. He wanted you to fall asleep next to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck. He craved to feel your soft hair through his fingertips, gently coercing you into dreams. It hurt so much that he could see you, but he couldn’t have you.

Turning to face away from him, you once again shrivelled into a ball. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want any of this. You just wanted to be left alone. But the dip in the bed behind you told you that wasn’t an option right now, muscles tensing on instinct.

he didn’t ask for permission this time as gentle fingers gripped your shirt, dragging up to reveal your brutalised back. If you could see his expression, you might have even been afraid. Darkness shrouded his face, teeth grit in utter hatred. A muscle in his jaw twitching from the effort of clamping his mouth so tightly.

His first touch felt like you’d been shocked by the static that built up on the bed clothes. The damp cool gliding across the welts and bruises across your back. Balling your hands into fists, you refused to make any sound. Still having the mindset of not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction of hearing you in pain. It was a mindset you didn’t think would leave you for a while.

Levi worked in silence, allowing you to settle and almost relax after a while. You wanted to trust him, but you didn’t. Not really. However, right now, you trusted him not to hurt you further. Simply content to relish in the way he soothed the pain. It didn’t come naturally. Every time he pressed too hard it took all your strength not to lunge for his throat, but he would stop upon hearing your sharp intake of breath, waiting for you to settle before continuing.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, you finally broke it with a question that had been budding in your mind.

“Why are you doing this?” your voice came out a rasped whisper, almost as if you hadn’t used your vocal chords for weeks. You were sure he wasn’t going to answer, opting instead to simply continue to clean your bruises. Another blanket of quiet had settled over the two of you before he responded.

“I don’t know,” he lied. Levi wasn’t sure why he lied. Honestly, he thought it was obvious enough. He still cared about you. So fucking much. It burned him to see you in so much pain. He’d never felt the mind numbing fury he felt when he saw what they’d done to you.

You weren’t really happy with the answer. If anything, it simply gave you more questions. But you were too tired to press for more. Almost too tired to notice when he’d stopped. Pulling your grimy shirt back down to your waist, you felt the mattress rise as he stood. You didn’t turn. You couldn’t turn. After the night you’d had, the exhaustion from the last 24 hours finally catching up on you.

Noticing how you were almost already asleep, Levi decided to throw caution to the wind.

You felt a soft caress through your dirt ridden hair, the action sending a pleasant buzz through your system. It was an action so familiar to the both of you, you wondered why you kept flinching away from his touch when all it did was gently drain you of energy.

“Sleep.”

You didn’t have time to contemplate his tone before the comforting nothingness claimed you.

꧁ꨄ꧂

Levi hadn’t been this angry in a long, long time. Sure, he’d been annoyed. When a solider made a stupid mistake or when a cadet didn’t know how to clean properly. But he hadn’t been this furious in years.

Maybe since the deaths of Isobel and Farlan.

It was obvious when Levi was in a bad mood. Sweeping through the headquarters like a storm. Cadets could almost feel his presence before they saw him, swiftly making themselves busy as he paid no attention to any of them. He had one goal in mind. One destination. And he didn’t even knock when he got there.

“Out. Now.” it wasn’t an order to disobey. When he opened the door to Erwin’s office, revealing a small meeting, Levi didn’t think twice to dismiss them, even if they were his superiors.

“Levi, what’s—”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll all leave the room for the next half an hour. Maybe longer depending on how this conversation goes,” his swirling eyes met Erwin’s and he swore he could detect the slightest fear in the man’s gaze.

Good.

He should be afraid.

Without so much as a mutter of goodbyes, the squad leaders and section commanders all dispersed, leaving the Captain alone with the Commander.

Erwin was the first to break the heavy silence.

“I’m assuming this is about Raven?” his voice didn’t waver, seeming to have regained his composure from the initial shock. But Levi wasn’t here for a dainty conversation. The unbridled rage pulsing through his bloodstream clouded his vision, almost seeing red.

“Did you know?”

“Levi—”

“Did. You. Know?” Levi hardly ever raised his voice. Usually it was only out in the field or on a mission, and that was only because it was easier to communicate that way. Keeping his bored, flat tones when slicing open the nape of a titan didn’t seem possible.

Erwin pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep, defeated sigh.

“Yes. I knew. But Levi, you have to understand—”

“I don’t have to understand jackshit. Don’t you think she’s been through enough? She’s led a life being treated like an animal and now you’re allowing her to be beaten like one?”

“It’s necessary, Levi.”

“It’s barbaric!” Erwin had never heard such venom in his voice. Not even when he vowed to kill him all those years ago. He’d seen Levi’s rage. Witnessed it from afar. The way he tore through flesh like it was paper.

Never did he think he would be on the receiving end. Leaning forward, the blonde folded his arms against the desk, clearly conflicted.

“I know this is a difficult subject for you. You two grew up in the same environment, it would only be natural for you to care for her,” the conniving bastard. Levi borderline snarled at the statement. He did care for you. Deeply. But Erwin didn’t need to know that.

“But please listen. As I mentioned before, ties between the Military Police and the Survey Corps are taut. Any discord between us would cause them to snap. I already tightened them further by not allowing them to execute her publicly. I thought if she joined the Scouts instead, not only would we gain an asset, but she would also be able to survive. That didn’t sit well with Niles. He wants her to pay for what she’s done. If not by death, then by various other methods. This was the only way to keep both parties happy, Levi. Trust me,” Levi was starting to lose what trust he had in the man.

Whilst yes, his explanation made sense, it still didn’t sweeten the blow. How long would this go on for? Would they take you everyday, or just some days? How badly would they hurt you?

As if able to read his mind through his knife-like glare, Erwin continued.

“It’s only for this week. Whilst she’s in her cell. They don’t have permission to permanently damage her, only—”

“Only break her ribs and crack her sternum. Yeah, I saw,” he responded bitterly, folding his arms as he leant against the door. Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck them.

Levi had never been so conflicted. Whilst the sight of you, beaten and broken, had shattered him, he also knew it was for your own good. It was this, or death.

He didn’t like the second option much.

But the memory of what they had done had burned into his skull. Running his fingers down your prominent, bruised spine. So fragile, but so goddamn strong. Muscles spread disproportionately about your abdomen and shoulders. Your stomach was concave for fuck sakes. And they were still beating the shit out of you.

It made him wonder. If he wasn’t so lucky…

Would he have received the same treatment?

Would he have been thrown in a cell and tortured for a week?

He doubted it.

Erwin waited for Levi to gather his thoughts. Waited for him to say whatever he was going to say next. He had expected Levi to find out. Had expected the man to have some sort of reaction, but nothing quite to this extent. Maybe there really was something deeper between you and him that Levi was keeping to himself.

“So this will continue for a whole damn week?” Levi asked, almost exasperated, running a hand through his obsidian locks. This was a nightmare. All of it. Nobody deserves this treatment. Not even Kenny, but especially not you.

It was Erwin’s slow nod that had his stomach dropping.

“Yes,” he replied quietly. “This will continue for the whole week.”

That was all Levi needed to hear. Whether it was right or wrong, he was powerless to stop it. Turning on his heel and heading back down the halls to his office, he tried to push the images of your broken body and spirit from his mind. Maybe he was hoping you were the same bright eyed, mischievous woman you were before he lost you ten years ago. How had so much changed since then?

How much had you changed so much since then?

He no longer saw that spark of life in your eyes. No longer able to bask in your genuine smile.

If he hadn’t seen so many young, hopeful souls shattered by the paralysing fear of facing a titan, or the desperate heartache of losing a loved one, he’d be surprised.

But he wasn’t. Not at all. Who knows what you have had to do to survive? Who knows just how much of yourself you’d had to sacrifice to get where you are now. But he wouldn’t accept that you were gone.

He would never accept that.

But from the looks of you, only a small fragment of your true self remained. Levi thought he was over being hurt by the changes in people he somewhat cared about.

Maybe he was wrong.

꧁ꨄ꧂

The week was gruelling. Taken from your cell at night and being subjected to both physical and mental torture was one of the toughest things you’ve faced. It was brutal, having to fortify both your mind and body nightly against the blows from the MPs. Sometimes it would change. Sometimes the original four switched out. Sometimes they had an observer. But every time was horrific.

You were sure you’d be dead by now if Levi didn’t visit daily to soothe your broken and cracked bones. If he didn’t ask his monotonous questions, all of which you either responded to with something sarcastic, or silence.

Very few times you actually gave a real answer.

Unlike this time.

“How did you get that scar?” It was always the question he started with. Always wanting to know what happened to you during the time he was away, and that scar down your right eye.

“Don’t you ever get tired of asking that question?” you huffed, tucking your elbows beneath your head.

“Don’t you ever get tired of not answering it?” since you’d seen him everyday since you arrived, you were beginning to relearn all the tells you knew he had, but had changed over time. For example, this smallest lilt in his voice when he found something amusing. He waited for your body to stop twitching as you laughed silently, before resuming the treatment of the damp cloth.

“Not really, it’s fun listening to you get more and more frustrated.”

“As charming as ever, Raven.”

You didn’t know how you felt about him using your alias rather than your name. You knew you’d asked him to, or rather, harshly told him to, but he’d used your actual name a few times since then. But you didn’t want to ask, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable.

You let the quiet blanket the two of you, debating whether or not to answer. You’d refused him everyday, but as more time passed, the more you remembered just how much you’d loved him.

“There was a rival gang in the neighbourhood next to ours. Always fighting us for territory or supplies. Honestly, I wanted them wiped out, but Prongs insisted that would make us far too many powerful enemies,” Levi had paused as you started the exposition, genuinely surprised you’d actually decided to give him a full answer, rather that the usual “I entered a sword headbutting contest” or something equally as ridiculous.

“We were at each other’s throats for years, never really landing a solid hit on the other’s gang, until the bastard managed to take one of my Shadows, Diablo, alive. I owed those people everything. They took me in when you—” you managed to stop yourself, but not fast enough for Levi to avoid feeling the gut punching guilt he felt whenever you accidentally mentioned him leaving. You really didn’t mean to, you were just used to talking more openly about it.

“Uh, sorry. Yeah, they took me in, so I owed them a lot. Plus, I’d known them for years by now. I trusted them and they trusted me. I wasn’t about to abandon her,” Levi could hear your conviction and resolve in the cadence of your voice, and silently wondered when you’d become so strong. He’d almost forgotten he was supposed to be treating you badly damaged back, until you hissed slightly. Looking down, he realised he’d pressed a little too hard with the cloth against your tender skin.

“Shit, sorry.”

“‘S’fine. Just concentrate, yeah?” despite your condition, you still had it in you to crack cocky jokes. Levi had half the mind to swat the back of your head with his cloth, but he decided to be merciful.

You left it a beat before you continued.

“Anyway, I didn’t have a choice. But it turns out, all the creepy bastard wanted to do was to make sure everyone knew I wasn’t untouchable. Then maybe we’d stop having smaller gangs ally with us. I let him scar my face, and in return he gave us Diablo back, completely unharmed. It was really fucking weird now that I think about it,” Levi pondered this for a moment, before another question popped into his head.

“What happened to him?”

“Who?”

“The creepy guy, idiot.”

“Call me an idiot again, I fucking dare you.”

“What will you do? You can hardly stand.”

“I don’t need to stand to beat your sorry ass.”

Shit, he’d missed this. This playful banter between the two of you. He’d missed it so goddamn much.

“He found one of my blades stuck in his throat pretty soon after,” Levi grunted in approval, a small smile bloomed across his face at the thought.

Good.

Creepy son-of-a-bitch.

The two of you continued in a comfortable silence for a short while, before your slightly mischievous voice cut through it again.

“Okay, my turn,” you sounded far too nonchalant for his liking, Levi narrowing his gaze to the back of your head.

“Your turn?”

“You’ve been asking me questions for the last few days, and I haven’t asked you one once,” if Levi didn’t know better, he’d say you were almost pouting. He was tempted to turn your head to check, but it seemed you still weren’t entirely comfortable with the whole being touched thing.

He hadn’t asked you about that yet.

“Alright, alright. One question.”

“How come you get countless and I only get one?”

“Call it a Captain’s privilege,”

“Pffft, Captain my ass,”

“Just ask your stupid question.”

You laughed at his feigned frustrated tone, knowing he was loving this as much as you were. You allowed yourself to think about how you wanted to phrase this.

“Are they still here with you? Farlan and Isobel?” you had been slightly hesitant to ask this, since he hadn’t mentioned them once. You didn’t know them personally, only seeing them fleetingly when Levi would usher you into his room, or having sparing conversation with them when Viper sold them that ODM. And judging by his pained silence, you now feared his answer.

“Yes and no,” your question had definitely caught him off guard. He didn’t even think you remembered them, so for you to ask after them was a little out of the blue. Hence why he opted to mimic your response from a few days ago.

You had clearly caught on.

“The hell does that mean?”

Levi realised he probably couldn’t tend to your back and tell this story at the same time. He was going to need all his strength to suppress the torrent of emotions he knew he was about to unlock. Sensing his change of tone, you slowly shifted so you were sitting next to him, making sure you didn’t move too quickly or awkwardly so as to not irritate your painful back.

You searched his features in the silence, partially hidden by the bangs you used to love running your hands through. You couldn’t help but wonder whether or not they were as soft as they used to be.

“It was my fault,” he admitted quietly. You hated seeing Levi like this. You’d only seen him like this once before, when Kenny abandoned him. You vowed you would never let him feel like this again as long as you were by his side.

This is what happens when you’re separated.

“What was your fault?” you gently prompted, not wanting to push him, but rather wanting to let him know that you were willing to listen.

“It was our first expedition. I was naive, agreeing to let them come with us, rather than the original plan which was for me to go alone. Raven, the reason I— the reason we left, was because we were recruited for a job, and killing Erwin Smith was part of that. But none of us knew what to expect beyond the walls. We’d trained but, we didn’t know what to expect when facing an actual titan,” you didn’t press further when he took pauses or longer breaths. You were happy he was comfortable enough with you now to even tell you this. “Everything was going smoothly. Too smoothly, and it wasn’t long before it all went to shit. I lost sight of them when the storm hit, losing them in the fog. I was completely powerless to stop an Abnormal. Shit, I didn’t even know it had passed me. I just saw bodies and limbs everywhere and knew I had to turn back. By the time I got there, it was too late. They were both gone,” Levi’s fist clenched into a ball, taking his focus away from the pain in his chest to the one in his palm. He didn’t even realise his eyes were closed until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He stiffened under your touch, not quite able to believe how far the two of you had come in such a short amount of time.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Levi,” he didn’t really understand what you were apologising for, or why you felt the need. Afterall, it was him who left you.

“I vowed after that day I wouldn’t have any regrets. Some jackass said that if I did, their deaths wouldn’t mean anything. But I knew I would always have one. I knew I would always regret leaving you behind,” Levi looked to you through his bangs, an expression of guilt etched into his hardened face. You forgave him at that moment. You forgave him for everything.

“I’m here now, aren’t I? And whilst I may not be the same girl you left behind, I still have her memories,” your hand slid from its position on his shoulder to rest over his heart, feeling it flutter within his sturdy ribcage.

Levi faintly wondered if he was dreaming. If you could feel his heart rate increase with every touch.

“That’s why you said yes and no, isn’t it? Because they’re not physically here, but they are here,” Levi could do nothing but nod, his eyes trained on your face like a hawk. He wanted permission. Begged for it through his dark, swirling eyes. Screamed for it in the way his eyes flickered to your lips, your face so close he could smell that scent of freshly baked bread you’d always carried with you, even beneath all the filth. A few centimetres further and you would have what you’d wanted for ten long years. What you both have wanted.

“You sound ridiculous,”

“Your fault,” he could feel the flutter of your breath against his face, wishing nothing more than for you to close the distance.

Levi slowly brought his hand from his lap, his palm rising to cup your cheek.

It didn’t even get close before you flinched, eyes darting to his raised hand.

And just like that, all the tension dissolved. As if you hadn’t been busy getting lost within the storm that were his irises. Levi pulled back, as if he himself had been struck.

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking,” he rose from his position next to you, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole.

How could he be so damn selfish? It was obvious you couldn’t do anything like that right now. Maybe not ever. And he was getting way ahead of himself. You had already said the girl who loved him was dead, he couldn’t even think how or why he would assume just because your body was present, your mind was as well. Just because he was willing, why would you be willing as well?

Except you were.

So. Fucking. Willing.

And you cursed yourself for these instinctive reactions. Every sudden movement had your mind flashing back to training. Back to Viper’s brutal learning methods. It wasn’t even that much longer after Levi left you were made the Raven. After Viper’s death, it was almost instantaneous. But that didn’t stop those seven months of brutal punishments to leave a permanent scar on your psyche. You wished you could find your voice to reassure him that you’d get over this.

But you couldn’t.

And Levi was once again the first to speak.

“I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow Raven—”

“(Y/N),” you corrected him. After countless times of him calling you by your alias, you didn’t think you could stand it anymore. Levi raised his brow, seemingly a little confused by your interruption. “I’m not The Raven anymore. Technically that title belongs to Prongs now. So it’s just (Y/N),” despite the awkwardness of your recent encounter, you still felt that familiar warmth blossom in your chest at his softened smile, and quietly wonder if anyone else ever saw him smile this much.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, (Y/N),” you returned his expression, before lying back down on your side. This was your last night in your cell, before you’d be free to join the Scouts. You silently scoffed at the irony of that statement, but nothing could quell your small candle of hope as you listened to Levi’s footsteps get quieter and quieter. Maybe things weren’t so shit up here after all.

꧁ꨄ꧂

“You know, Raven, I’m going to miss our little nighttime meetings,” another harsh blow to your stomach sent you reeling, eyes screwed shut in both pain and defiance. They were trying everything they could to break you tonight. Blood running freely down your abdomen. Fresh bruises now blossoming over the wilted petals of previous nights.

Still you refused to break. Solid walls of spite had erected around your mind, and they wouldn’t be cracked or broken. Not by anything. So you took it. You took your punishment, only opening your mouth to hurl obscene insults or vile curses in their direction. Mocking the way they struck, laughing at their lack of strength. It only resulted in harsher blows, but it was worth seeing the frustration on their faces when you didn’t scream in agony.

“You know who you remind me of like this? I only made the connection a few nights ago. Strung up and beaten like your good-for-nothing father,”

That struck a chord in you. Your eyes flew open, staring at the ground in horror. This is what had happened to him? They had taken him and beaten him? Was he still alive? Was he here somewhere?

The man, who you’d dubbed Dirt, answered all your questions with his next jab.

“A shame he only lasted a few days. You on the other hand… you’re much more fun to play with,” a feral grin sliced through his face as he circled you, drawing back to land three excrutiating blows against your lower back. You grit your teeth, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. You didn’t think you had a heart to shatter. You didn’t think any of it remained for it to be broken again.

The MPs had taken two father figures from you.

That grin still adorned Dirt’s face as he went to swing the metal bat again, only to be interrupted by the door behind you opening. Dirt’s eyes narrowed, before whoever it was seemed to please him. God you couldn’t wait for the day where you tore that venomous smile right off his fucking face.

“Captain Ackerman. To what do we owe the pleasure?” you froze. What the hell was he doing here? Why did he always have to arrive during the moments where you really didn’t want him to see you.

But you weren’t expecting to feel a kernel of hope as he spoke.

You weren’t expecting the small smile that etched into your sweat slickened face.

“I was sent to observe. Since she’ll be joining the Survey Corps, I’m here to ensure you don’t break her,” Levi sounded as bored as ever, and you almost huffed a laugh.

Dirt scoffed, in irritation that he wouldn’t get to sever your spine with brute force.

“Very well. However, I must ask you to stand back. She swings like a stallion’s cock sometimes,” If it weren’t directed at you, you would have laughed at the comment. In any other situation, it would have been rather funny.

Just not this one.

Levi had never felt so sick. As soon as he walked in, seeing you strung up like that, helplessly, he had to force down the instinct to rip every one of these torturous bastards to ribbons. He’d never had to have such a tight hold on his emotions in his life, because if that hold slipped…

This would become a blood bath.

“Anyway Raven, where were we?” he asked, though the question was rhetorical. You knew he remembered. He was just trying to provoke a response out of you. But knowing Levi was here gave you a strength you weren’t expecting.

Looking up through your hair, you shot a glare through the thick, matted strands.

“Choke on your own blood, fuckface,” you spat, kicking weakly towards him. It wasn’t the show of defiance you’d wanted, but it seemed to get the message across. You were prepared for whatever consequences there would be for such a demonstration.

The repercussions came immediately. Roughly digging his fingers into your chin, Dirt forced you head up to look at him, his face a picture of mock amusement.

Levi’s jaw clenched.

“Come now Raven. Not trying to impress Captain Levi now, are you?” your eyes flickered over to Levi, his expression unreadable, grey hues trained on the two of you. A rumble of laughter echoed around the chamber as Dirt took in your spiteful expression. “Now I’m left wondering, how somebody like you could come from somebody like your pathetic father. How somebody so defiant, so fucking strong,” —he harshly jabbed at your stomach with the hilt of his bat— “Could be the daughter of somebody so weak,”

“Shut the fuck up,” you rasp, hot fury surging through your veins. How fucking dare he? How dare he insult your father this way. He was a good man. An honest man. He did nothing wrong. Nothing to warrant his or your mother’s death.

“Hm. No, I think I’ll keep talking. This might finally break you.”

“I’ll fucking KILL YOU,” the hook keeping your arms above your head creaked as you thrashed, trying to free yourself to wrap your hands around his goddamn throat.

“You should have heard his cries. His pathetic whimpers as we carved into his flesh. They were… amusing.” No. This wouldn’t be your downfall. You refused. This wasn’t it. You would not be broken by this.

“At least tell me what he died for. At least tell me why you took him, you shit-eating pig!” you spat viciously, trying once again to get free. It was infuriating more than anything. You had so many questions, never knowing why your parents had been killed. Why you came back to your house in disarray, crimson staining the floorboards as your mother’s blood drained from the gash in her throat. Your father, nowhere to be found.

Though he managed to keep his expression neutral, Levi thought back to your father. For the short time he knew him, he was a kind man. He did what he could for the people around him, always feeding those who looked starving. He was convinced that was where you got your compassion from. Why the hell would they take him and torture him?

“Why? He didn’t tell you? Interesting. Your father knew the location of The Nest long before you became our problem. You thought it was a coincidence Viper just happened to take you in? Please, this job was enjoyable enough, don’t make me laugh with your naivety as well,”

“You’re lying. My father was a baker. He was a good man. He wasn’t involved in our criminal shit!”

“Have you noticed a pattern in your life, Raven? Have you noticed how we tried everything to prevent you from falling down this path?” your jaw flickered at Dirt’s tone, mocking you as if they had done you a service.

“We thought your father would introduce you to a life of crime, so we got rid of him for you. When you fell into the care of Viper; well, we got rid of him for you as well,” his smile was snake-like as flashes from that night plagued your mind. Pressed up against the wall as your mentor was savagely dealt with. Begging at them. Screaming at them to stop. To let him go. Only for them to raise a rifle to his head, and paint the wall with his blood.

Dirt imitated a gun with his fingers, putting them up to your forehead.

“Bang.”

Slowly, you stopped thrashing, though the hatred in your veins didn’t cool. You simmered silently, raising your eyes once again. No tears. No sorrow. Nothing but feigned indifference flickered in the low light.

Dirt looked at you for a moment, eyebrows creasing in irritation as he stepped back, twirling the bad in his hands before repeatedly cracking it against your empty stomach. Levi only just managed to control his breathing as he watched helplessly, flinching subtly as every blow connected with your too-skinny body. Clearly Dirt was taking out some intense frustration. He’d just managed to compose himself when the bastard’s eyes turned to him. That fucking smile poisoned his features as he extended the handle of the weapon.

“Captain Levi. She killed a few of your men, did she not? Why don’t you see if you can break the whore?” You almost scoffed in amusement. Levi wouldn’t do that. Not to you. Not after everything the two of you had been through.

You’d finally found each other again.

You were so sure.

You were so sure of yourself.

You were so sure of him.

You’d rekindled that trust over the last week.

You’d rekindled something you thought was dead.

You were so sure.

Until he took the handle.

And the white hot knife of betrayal twisted into your gut once again.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

Shit.

The weight of the bat felt ten times heavier than anything he’s ever held in his life. The weight of what he was about to do.

Fuck.

As excruciating as this was to watch, he knew it was ten times worse for you. He knew every blow, every crack, was undoing hours of hard work soothing your aches and bruises. Each thud against your body sent jolts of electricity through him. Nerve ends alight with adrenaline, heart beating as if he was about to fight every single one of these bastards just to get them away from you.

Still you have not broken. He couldn’t pinpoint the slight warmth in his chest, couldn’t comprehend what it was. Was he impressed? Surprised?

Proud…?

Levi wasn’t sure if the look of soul shattering betrayal in your eyes was worth it as his hands gripped the cool metal, slightly slickened with your blood.

He would explain it to you.

He would.

Once you were back in your cell, he would tell you why he did it.

But for now, his glare only darkened as he stepped forward. He couldn’t stand the expression on your face. Confused bewilderment, as if trying to work out what he was thinking.

Levi begged you to stop. Stop looking at him like that. Stop trying to work him out because not even he knew if this was the right thing to do.

It was almost a relief when your wide eyes clouded with heartbreaking realisation and acceptance.

A hiss escaped your lips at the first crack. Somehow, this felt more painful than anything those pitiful soldiers could do. Your eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched so hard you were afraid it would shatter into a million pieces.

Each blow felt so precise. So measured and controlled. It stung your heart more than anything else. You’d been betrayed. Again. For the second time in a week. Betrayed by the two people you’d ever loved. Scarlett, who’d picked you up when you were sure nobody else could. Who nursed your broken bones and your broken soul.

And by the first man who ever held your heart.

And truthfully, still did.

Was that all this last week had been?

A ploy just to fuck with you. To earn your trust only to immediately shatter you once again? To break your spirit? Granted, nobody knew the nature of your relationship between you and Levi, but that didn’t matter. The man you loved had just stabbed you in the back.

Again.

So much had happened in the last week. So much had been brought to the surface. It would take years to unpack it all, not that you had any intention of doing that. You just wanted it all gone. To bury it with your fathers. To never think about it again.

You were dragged from your thoughts by a shock of agony sparking up your spine, stemming from your lower back. It was Dirt’s favourite place to attack. Whenever he thought you were being too feisty, too aggressive. He would land as many blows to your lower back as he saw fit.

Admittedly, you doubted Levi knew you’d been snapping back spitefully all session before he arrived, but that didn’t quell the raging fire of hatred as your lips parted without your permission.

A broken cry of anguished agony wracked from your chest, chilling the air of the humid chamber.

Levi froze, horror flashing across his usually schooled features.

He’d broken you.

Levi had broken you.

And with it, any bond he’d managed to salvage over the last week. Any bridge he’d started to rebuild now came crashing down around him.

That one well placed crack had ripped away at your resolve, exposing the tired, hurt, beaten girl beneath.

The room seemed to have stilled. All falling into quiet awe at what had just happened. A slow clap split the stagnant air as Dirt walked up from where he was leaning against the wall. Levi was tempted to turn the bat on him, but he found himself unable to move.

“Your reputation precedes you, Captain. Striking her lower back like that after leaving it to simmer? Genius! We should have asked you to join us earlier,” Dirt cackled in delight as he produced a knife from his pocket. Reaching up, he easily sliced through the ropes binding your hands.

Stone rose up to greet your body as you fell uselessly to the ground, legs too weak to hold you.

“Oh dear. Are you dead? Maybe you and your father had more in common that I originally thought,”

“Enough.” Dirt’s jeering was interrupted by the no-bullshit tones of Levi, causing the soldier to whirl around. He’d finally managed to find his voice, once again reining himself in.

“But Captain Levi, Sir, she’s The Raven. Don’t you think she deserves some extra time with us tonight?”

“If you don’t leave now I’ll make sure it’s you who won’t be able to walk. Go,” you couldn’t tell if this was a blessing or a curse. If he was an angel or a demon.

Actually no, scratch that.

He was a demon, and this was a curse.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to move as you heard busy footsteps around you, assuming the four horsemen were gathering their effects.

“I do hope you make her crawl back to her cell, Captain. We all know your reputation for cleanliness. It would be a shame to dirty your hands touching this filthy whore,” Dirt drawled one more savage insult, before you heard his echoing steps get further and further away. You hoped the day would never come where you had to see his face again.

The silence in the room now was suffocating. You could both feel the emotions radiating off each other now the MPs were gone. He could feel your loathing, and you could feel his disgust. Or what you thought was disgust. What you assumed was disgust.

How could he not be disgusted? He must be. To do what he just did. You didn’t understand why he would come down everyday and help you if he felt such hatred towards you.

No, that’s a lie.

You did understand.

But that truth hurt so much more than anything else tonight.

It had sowed the seed of doubt in your mind. You knew you weren’t a good person. In fact, to most soldiers and nobles you were a devil. But you’d always clung onto the hope that everything you did was to help people. You stole medicine, you slit the throats of rapists, you provided weapons to those who didn’t have enough to fend for themselves.

There was a small part of you that truly believed you were doing good.

That small part had just been crushed, along with several bones.

Gathering what little strength you had, you extended a limp arm in front of you. Fuck it, you weren’t going to sleep here on a floor soiled by your own sweat, blood and saliva.

You would crawl if you had to.

“(Y/N)...” all he wanted to do was hold you. All he’d wanted to do since he’d found you again was hold you. He’d been so close yesterday, but he’d fucked that up.

Now he was sure you’d never willingly let him hold you again. The bat fell from his hand as if he’d realised it was covered in poison, heart clenching at the way you instinctively threw your arms above your head, terrified of some other attack.

You hated how his voice carried so much comfort. Hated how it soothed your raging mind. God you wanted nothing more than to rip his fucking tongue out and make sure he never spoke to you like that again.

A gentle hand landed on your shoulder, forcing you to stop.

“Get… get the fuck… off me… Get the fuck off me,” you couldn’t fight back as he tucked his arms under your legs and upper back, wincing as he lifted you into his grip. “Don’t… Don’t fucking touch me,” there was no strength left in you to push against him as he carried you back, but that didn’t stop you from weakly hitting the arms that held you.

You didn’t understand. One moment he was savagely beating you, and the next he was cradling you against his chest, holding you close as he took you to your cell.

Laying you down, he hoped you understood why he did what he did. It was a fool’s hope, he knew.

He realised you definitely didn’t understand when you started fighting back.

With a sudden surge of strength, you lunged for him. It was a weak attack, and you didn’t really know what you were trying to achieve as you threw yourself towards him with a cry of anguished rage, but you also didn’t care.

“I fucking trusted you,” you spat in between your flailing limbs. It really didn’t take long for Levi to pin your arms either side of your head, hovering over your body.

“(Y/N), stop,” He tightened his grip on your wrists as you struggled against his hold. It would have been a real test of strength for both of you had you not spent the last week having the life beaten out of you. You were weaker than you’d ever been, and he was taking advantage.

“I was right the first time. You don’t get to call me that. You don’t ever get to call me that. You sick, twisted BASTARD. So that was why you lied to me. That was why you didn’t tell me why you were helping me. You fucking coward, is that all you were doing? Convincing me I was safe with you? Tricking me into thinking you still actually cared about me you filthy fucking LIAR,” you barked a mirthless laugh, baring your teeth in a visceral snarl. “I swear to you Levi, I will not fucking stop until my knife is buried your goddamn THROAT!” you struggled again, twisting as much as you could beneath him, trying to free your arms, your hands, anything that could help you take him down.

He deserved this. He knew he did. Levi looked into the burning betrayal in your eyes and knew he deserved this. He would take every verbal blow you threw at him because he knew he deserved it. But he had to explain. He didn’t care. You could hurl whatever you wanted at him, but he wouldn’t leave until he had the chance to explain himself.

Then he would never see you again.

If that’s what you wanted.

“Just calm down, for a minute, please,” you hadn’t heard him beg like that in a very, very long time. Shit, you fucking hated what it did to you. In this position, your wrists held above your head, his arms caging you in, his legs either side of your hips...

The room suddenly felt far too warm.

“What could you possibly have to say to me? I fucking trusted you. You disgusting son-of-a-bitch. I can’t believe I actually thought—“

Levi finally lost his temper.

“What? You thought what? That just because we found each other again we’d play happy families? Grow the fuck up, Raven,” he spat your alias, finally releasing all the fury he’d pent up. He knew this was a mistake. None of this was your fault. He’d been angry with how you’d been treated. Utterly beside himself at Erwin.

And you were taking the fall for it.

“I didn’t lie to you, I didn’t have a fucking choice. If anyone saw me treat you any differently, they would start to question it. They would question why I was showing pity to a criminal. The Raven, no less. And I can’t—”

“Oh I’m sorry, I would hate to ruin your reputation, Captain,” you struck back with just as much venom. Just as much fury.

“Let me finish. I can’t let them get to you anymore than they already have. It was either them or—”

“Because I’m just so import—” you almost cried out as the grip on your wrists tightened, knowing they would leave yet another bruise on your body.

“Let. Me. Finish.” Levi narrowed his eyes, returning the glare you were holding on him and not continuing until you yielded, finally looking away and clamping your mouth shut. “It was either them or me. I could let them continue to beat the shit out of you mercilessly, or I could do it myself. I could try and make it better. I couldn’t fucking watch that shit anymore. I couldn’t fucking stand it. Those filthy bastards laying their dirty hands on you. Hurting you. Shit, you were half dead when I walked in. I was scared you were for a moment. Terrified they were just beating a corpse. But you’re so much stronger than I ever gave you credit for. They never fucking broke you. And they never will. Because if they touch you again, if they fucking look at you, I will go the the ends of the goddamn earth and tear them apart, because I care about you,” Levi hadn’t noticed he was panting. He hadn’t noticed the tears slipping down your cheeks. He didn’t think his self hatred could sink any deeper, but now he’d made you cry silent tears.

Loosening his grip on your wrists, he looked at you as though he’d been responsible for your murder.

“So, it was mercy? That’s what’s considered merciful up here?” you couldn’t really believe it. Twice in two days Levi had spoken more to you than you thought he ever did back when you belonged to each other. You didn’t think you’d ever sounded so small. So vulnerable. “Let me ask you this, Levi. Was it merciful on me, or merciful on you? Because you sure as hell didn’t make things better for me,” despite the quieter volume, your voice was still harsh.

But you had to know.

You wanted nothing more than to pull him in and thread your hands through his hair. To feel his body against yours. For his heartbeat to lull you to sleep. But you had to know whether he did this for you, or himself.

You understood now. You really did. And put in the same situation, you didn’t think you’d do any differently.

“Honestly…? Merciful to me. I couldn't bear it. I tried. I tried so fucking hard. But I couldn’t let them hurt you anymore,” his voice was no louder than a choked, guilt ridden whisper.

That’s all you needed to hear. Slipping your wrists free of his hands, you reached up. Cupping the sides of his face, you brought him down to you, since you couldn’t exactly sit up and go to him.

As soon as your lips returned home to his, you couldn’t stop the few tears from escaping your closed eyes.

Levi’s own eyes widened, and he was suddenly convinced he was dead. Was this actually happening? After everything he’s just done, everything he’s just said.

You forgave him?

When your tongue gently skirted his bottom lip, he decided contemplating forgiveness was something for later. Terrified of hurting you further, he rested his weight on his elbows, finally closing his eyes. He’d wanted this for so long. Since he laid eyes on you for the first time in ten years, he’d wanted nothing more than to envelop your mouth with his own.

With your eyes closed, you didn’t mind when his hand came up to gently caress the apple of your cheek. You didn’t mind when you opened your lips for his tongue to hesitantly slip in and explore your mouth, that slick muscle moving against yours. You didn’t mind when his hand travelled down to cup the side of your neck, tilting your head up to deepen the kiss.

Neither of you wanted to break away, having waited far too long for this moment. You reveled in the groan he emitted down your throat as your left hand found its way to his undercut, gently scratching and caressing in desperation. You hadn’t heard that sound in so long and you instantly craved more.

Levi’s eyes rolled back into his skull behind his closed lids, feeling your hands in his hair. God, he didn’t want to fuck you in a cell, but your hands and tongue were making it difficult for him to control himself.

He was the first to pull back, instantly missing the warmth of your mouth.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, looking down into your eyes. You could see the swirling confusion in those sterling orbs as they flickered in the low light. You could see the arousal in his dark pupils. Feel it against your inner thigh. You wanted to take him right here and now, but not only did you acknowledge the fact you were literally in a prison cell…

You weren’t sure you were ready. Not yet. Not after everything.

“Levi… if you had done that for my sake, I would have shattered both your kneecaps,” you earned yourself a gentle laugh, his thumb coming up to smooth down your eyebrow. “But you didn’t. I know you feel selfish, and I know you hate yourself for it, but I also know that it was either that, or you beat them to death with that goddamn bat. I know you, Levi. You haven’t changed much yourself,” your left hand came back, softly carding through those ebony bangs.

Levi felt like he could fly. Felt as though you’d returned the wings he’d lost when he thought he’d never see you again.

(Y/N), I want to apolo—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

With that, you stretched up to capture his mouth again, instantly feeling like you’d come back home. You didn’t care about the surge of pain coursing through your abdomen and back. That’s what he was to you.

He was home.

You felt his length twitch in his constraints as both your hands found purchase in his hair, gently tugging at the black strands.

“Fuck…” he breathed into your mouth, his hips bucking involuntarily as you sucked his lower lip between your teeth.

You kept having to consciously remind yourself that you are in fact in a dank, filthy cell. And enveloping him between you increasingly slick folds was wildly inappropriate.

Levi thought it was entirely unfair how you were managing to drag whines and moans from him with nothing but your fingers and teeth. So he decided it was his turn to give something back.

His hand travelled down your body, almost instinctively finding the crease in your thighs. He swallowed his own groan of ecstasy as his knuckles grazed his arousal, opting instead to focus on the way your hips rose to meet the pads of his fingers, gently rubbing your swollen, clothed clit. His circular motions drawing out those small whimpers he’d craved to hear.

“Mmn, L-Levi... ACK, fuck!” your moan of pleasure turned into a small cry of pain as your abs contracted, sending yet another lightning bolt through your system. Levi withdrew his hand immediately, eyes instantly clearing and recognising your signs of discomfort.

“Shit (Y/N), your back,” you felt your heart swell at his concern, though internally cursed yourself.

“‘S’fine,” you insisted, rising up once again to grasp his lips with yours, only to be met with thin air and you ex(?) lover looking down at you.

“No, it’s not. C’mere,” Levi sighed and lifted himself off you, careful not to cause you any further damage. He looked for permission before gently turning you on your side, as if your tongue hadn’t been down his throat less than thirty seconds ago. He cursed his erection, finding himself a little hindered by it as he walked over to the faucet, allowing himself a few moments reprieve before removing the handkerchief from his pocket and running it under the tap.

Though the mirror was cracked, he could still see his slightly swollen lips, distorted against the spider webbing fractures. Could still see the mark you’d left on his face. Shit, he wished for those marks to be left elsewhere. His mind wandered back to the way you used to settle between his thighs, teasing him until you got him to crack. He loved the way you could coerce broken pleas from his throat. Adored the black-blue bites you left on the inside of his thighs, before your warmth enveloped him. Your flexible muscle flicking up and down his sensitive length, running over that prominent vein he hadn’t felt you caress in too long. He missed feeling the vibrations of your chuckle when he begged for you to let him cum. When he felt his balls tighten with release, and yet you denied him still.

But most of all he missed tasting you. He missed the way your arousal freely leaked onto his tongue. He missed the way your hips rose to meet his fingers, that breathy gasp when he found your hidden spot. The begs and cries you made when you wanted him to let you cum. When you whined for his dick to replace his fingers. Fuck, he missed the way your thighs locked his head between them as he brought you to climax with nothing but his tongue flicking over you little, sensitive button. Over, and over, and over again.

“Having trouble?” you grinned from your position on the sorry excuse for a mattress. You’d managed to turn yourself over to watch him, disregarding any agony you felt. You wouldn’t miss this for the world. You wouldn’t miss seeing Levi all riled up and unable to focus simply because of the administrations with your mouth.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, turning the faucet off and ringing out the cloth in the sink. You chuckled at his tone and his predicament, loving every second of it. Though you couldn’t miss the small glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Oi, turn back ‘round. ‘Need to get to your back,”

“I bet you do,”

“(Y/N)...” he warned, with no real malice in his tone. If this was any other man, you would have lunged at them for taking that tone with you. But this was Levi. Your Levi. You knew he would never hurt you. Not unless absolutely necessary.

Case and point: hitting you with a bat to avoid a murder charge.

Begrudgingly, you tore your eyes from his face, haphazardly twisting on the mattress to face away from him.

“Hm, good girl,” Levi purred, eyes gleaming at the way your thighs clenched in reaction. But any spark of arousal was swiftly extinguished, when your body twitched away from his as he took his seat behind you.

You clenched your eyes shut, hating yourself for the reaction you couldn’t control. You didn’t blame Viper for your now primal fear. You knew he was just teaching you what you needed to know, but he had no fatherly experience, and possibly caused more harm than good.

“‘M’ sorry, it’s not you, I promise. I just—”

“No. No apologising. It’s not your fault,” you nodded, not trusting your voice not to crack if you spoke up now.

Levi thought hard about how he wanted to do this without causing any more reaction from you. Attempting to keep his mind from wandering too far, he tried to understand what made you comfortable enough to bring him onto your mouth. To gently tug on his lower lip. To thread your hands through his hair and--

“I have an idea… (Y/N), watch what I’m doing,” you did as he asked, turning your neck as much as you could to watch the movements of his hand. You tensed as his palm hovered over your side. But when you didn’t feel anything, you unscrewed one tightly shut eye, peering at him curiously.

“(Y/N), can you raise your body for me, just to reach my hand?” this might actually work. Levi had been wracking his brains for a way for you to feel comfortable again with touch.

Hesitantly, you slowly raised your body to meet his fingers, almost freezing as you felt no reaction. You didn’t tense, you didn’t instantly balk under his touch.

You hadn’t cried in years, and yet throughout the course of this long, long night, you had cried twice, the corners of your lashes growing damp as a tear slipped down the side of your face.

Growing increasingly concerned by your lack of response, Levi was about to move his hand from your side, but was immediately stopped by your own fingers covering his.

“Don’t. Stay. Don’t move away,” his heart burned at your broken plea, his worried expression softening in slight relief.

“I won’t. (Y/N), I’m not going to touch you without your permission. Ever. But, if you’re comfortable with it, we can do this. If you’re happy with this,” Levi gently moved his thumb against the fabric of your shirt, caressing your side. Your choked laugh of happy disbelief caused his small smile to broaden ever so slightly.

“Yes. Yes i’m happy with this,” still having trouble believing this was truly happening, you closed your eyes in bliss, allowing a few more tears to escape.

“Okay, I’m going to move your shirt up, alright?” your heart sung at his sincerity, nodding silently once again as you felt the fabric of your shirt bunch up ever so carefully. You loved how he always made you feel so precious. Nothing was precious in the Underground, but somehow he always made you feel worth diamonds and gold. You’d forgotten what that was like, until the damp cloth once again soothed your aching welts, chasing away the throbs of pain.

Those spears of guilt once again plunged into Levi’s heart as he saw what they had done to you. What he’d done to you. You were always so forgiving when it came to him. You always have been. He could lock himself in his room for days, not speak to you for hours on end and you would always be there to hold him when the pressure finally cracked. Always there to soothe him when he opened up after long weeks of isolation. When those memories of his mother dragged up again. When the day Kenny left forced him to hide away until he couldn’t take it anymore.

You always forgave him.

And could always sense what he was thinking.

He came back to the present when your hand squeezed his, as if you knew where his mind had taken him.

“It’s okay, Levi,” your soft reassurance broke his heart.

“I should be saying that to you,”

“Go on then,” you retorted, not even trying to hide the mischief in your voice

Levi chuckled, moving his hand from under yours to stroke your hair.

“It’s okay, (Y/N),”

“I feel thoroughly reassured,”

“Tch, shut up brat,” god, at this point your heart could have been a choir. Singing once again at the soft amusement gently lacing his tone. But you internally cringed as fingers threaded through your grimy hair, reaching up to move it away.

“Levi, don’t. It’s fucking filthy,”

“So’s your face but I recall sucking on it a few moments ago,”

“Levi!” you couldn’t believe he’d just said that. He was never one to make such jokes. But you couldn’t deny you loved it. Loved his low, breathy laugh at your indignant call of his name.

“What? Am I wrong?” you couldn’t see his slightly cheeky smirk behind you. Or the way one brow raised in feigned curiosity.

“Well no, but—”

“Didn’t think so.”

“God you’re insufferable. Anyone would think you’re— OW!” you turned to look back at him in mock anger. He didn’t actually hurt you, and by looking at your swiftly disintegrating expresion, Levi was able to decipher you were just fucking with him. Rolling his eyes, he continued his administration with the cloth, watching fondly as you settled back down.

You only spoke again when that hand in your hair started moving.

“Levi, seriously, it’s gross. Just focus on my back,” when he didn’t reply, you once again twisted back to look at him, unable to decipher the expression on his face.

“Stay here,”

“Like I’m in any condition to move, asshole,”

“Tch, don’t be difficult. I’ll be back in a minute,” with a final caress of your head, Levi chucked the cloth back into the sink before standing to his feet. You were a bit of a sorry sight, lying on your side, shirt ridden up to reveal your bruised, still bloodied back. He’d managed to gently scrub off most of the crimson staining your skin, but he wanted to provide you with just a little more comfort, if he could.

You didn’t even try to escape when he left the door open. Too tired to move. Your limbs felt like lead everytime you attempted to shift, exhaustion clinging to your bones like shackles. You didn’t know how long you waited, but you felt yourself start to drift in and out of consciousness, unable to help yourself marvel at how easy it would be to slip into a deep sleep. Your mind was far too heavy to sift through the lake of emotions you’d found yourself submerged in. Just as you were about to succumb to the call of rest, your faultless alert system brought you back to consciousness, adrenaline injected into your veins as you shot upright at the sound of footsteps.

“Calm down, it’s just me,” your brittle nerves settled at the sound of his calming voice, heart leaping when you saw what he carried in his arms.

Levi had brought everything he thought he would need. A small metal basin containing a small flannel, a wash-cloth, a small cup, the shower soap and hair conditioner from his own quarters and a large towel to spare the mattress of the water. Kicking the cell door almost closed with his foot, Levi crossed to the sink once again, setting out the contents on the cracked porcelain before filling the basin.

He left the faucet running, turning back to you with the town folded on his arm.

“Gonna need you to move if we want to set this down,” you raised a suggestive eyebrow, mouth pulling into a small smirk. Levi rolled his eyes. “Not like that, brat. Unless you want to sleep on a damp mattress. It’s up to you, really,” the amused spark in his eye betrayed his neutral, blank face as you gently shimmied down the bed, making a space for him to set the towel down.

You watched as he removed his jacket, mouth watering ever so slightly as his shirt clung to his back, unable to tear your eyes away from the movement of his muscles. They had certainly developed well.

“Oi, stop ogling,” he smirked to you over his shoulder, earning a sly grin from you in response.

“Can’t help it,” you chimed, eyes flicking to his forearms as he rolled up his sleeves. Fuck, if only you weren’t in a jail cell. Or utterly filthy. Or just not ready for that yet.

If only you didn’t have a thousand things stopping you from pushing him against the wall and engulfing his cock in down your throat.

But for now, you just had to settle with undressing and fucking him with your eyes. Something that clearly didn’t go unnoticed, if the way he writhed slightly under your pinning gaze was anything to go by.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Levi tried to steer his thoughts away from his length stiffening once again. Fuck, the way you were staring at him, he was starting to feel hot beneath his shirt, despite the naturally cool temperature of the room. Your heated chuckle only fueled the flames.

“Aw, why? Are you hard?” you teased, raking your eyes up and down his figure, lingering on the small tent in his crotch. You shifted slightly, almost groaning as the mattress below you rubbed against your swollen folds.

“Tch, obviously. And I’m not going to deal with it in this filthy prison cell, so don’t make it worse brat,” Levi marvelled at your laugh. A proper, head thrown back laugh. He couldn’t stop the fond smile spreading across his face at the sight.

“Alright alright, I’ll stop eye-fuckinig you,” you managed to say, after regaining some sort of composure.

“You’re filthy,”

“Isn’t that why you’re about to bathe me?” you tilted your head slightly, watching him lift the basin from the sink after turning off the faucet. He didn’t deem your comment worthy of a response, opting instead to look back at you with a blank, deadpan expression. Tucking everything else under his arm, Levi returned back to your side. He thought for a moment about how he wanted to do this before, wedging the water basin between his legs.

“Lie back, place your head on my lap. Gonna’ wash your hair,” he instructed, busying himself with getting the small, brown bottle of hair soap. But he paused upon sensing your hesitation. Looking back to you, he searched your face, before slowly bringing his hand up.

You shied away, closing your eyes instinctively, almost bracing yourself for the contact that never came.

“Hey, not gonna touch you without permission, remember?” you opened your eyes to see his hand hovering next to your cheek. He was waiting for your next move, and you could see the slight hopeful spark in his eye.

So slowly, you tilted your head enough to gently nuzzle into his palm, your own hand coming up to keep him against your face.

Levi smoothed the skin under your eye with his thumb, trying his damndest not to let any tears well up in his eyes.

Unbeknownst to him, you were attempting to do the same. Not wanting him to see you cry for the third goddamn time tonight. But it became impossible when he said something you didn’t know you needed to hear.

“I missed you so much, firefly,” your breath hitched in your throat at the old nickname. He’d only ever use it in the softest moments in the Underground. Stroking your hair whilst lying in his bed. Staying up and keeping you company when you’d shoot awake from a nightmare. He was never one for nicknames, so one day when he, out of the blue, called you his firefly;

you’d almost cried.

Your eyes widened, hand gently squeezing his own to ground yourself. You let out something halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“I missed you too. So, so much,” you hardly had to move forward before your face was nestled in the crook of his neck, his arms slowly tucking you against his body. “I missed you so much,” you whispered again.

Levi didn’t think he’d ever been this happy, at least not for a long, long time. Ecstatic you felt comfortable enough to let him hold you. Though he was usually so good at keeping his feelings to himself, so much had happened over the last week, he felt the walls to his emotional dam cracking ever so slightly, a few tears lining his closed eyes. He could feel the collar of his shirt dampen as you shed silent tears, his thumb rubbing small circles against your back.

Levi held you like this for what felt like hours. Content to just be in each other’s arms once again. In reality, it had only been a few minutes before he gently shifted you so the back of your head rested against his lap.

“Never known you to be such a cry-baby,” he lightly teased, gathering what he could of your hair and soaking it within the basin still wedged between his knees.

“I’m not. I haven’t cried in years. Literally. Probably since Viper’s—” you stopped yourself, not expecting the casual statement to hurt quite as much as it did. “Viper’s death,” you finished quietly, eyes avoiding any direct contact with his own.

Levi took note of your tone change, reaching for the hair soap. He was only vaguely aware of the relationship between you and the old Nest leader. Finding out through those vile MPs.

“Want to talk about it?” The tone of his question matched yours as he lathered the gel into your now cleaner locks to make sure the grime and grease was properly dealt with.

“Honestly? Not yet. Maybe not ever. I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to anyone about it. Not even Prongs, or Wolf, and they were his Shadows before mine,” you fell silent for a moment, before looking back to him. “How did you do it? How did you just… leave everything behind?”

Levi sighed at the innocence of your question. The raw guilt he knew you were feeling. Knowing you were up here, safe, warm, comfortable, whilst so many people down there were still suffering. Still dying from easily preventable illnesses.

“I didn’t. Not really. I still find myself thinking back to those poor sods down there. But I couldn’t think about it for too long, because I would find myself thinking back to you,” his hand stroked the top of your now damp forehead, smoothing down the wet locks of your hair.

The basin sloshed slightly as you nodded, disheartened by the fact that this feeling of suffocating guilt would probably never leave you. Levi saw this in your face. He saw the exact same swirl of emotions he felt when he knew he would never return.

But you’d left behind so much more than he did. You had a trusted group. A family who would only know what happened to you through the words of that young girl.

“They’ll be safe, (Y/N). He may be an asshole sometimes, but I trust Erwin. He wouldn’t break his word,” running his hands through your soaked hair, Levi gently teased the knots out with his fingers, easily gliding through the now freed strands.

His reassurance calmed your worries. Levi hardly trusted anyone, you only ever knew him to trust Isobel, Farlan and yourself. This Erwin guy must have really made an impression.

Reaching back to the small flannel he’d brought down with him, he began drying your hair, setting the basin to one side. You didn’t think you’d ever felt this pampered. This well looked after. You thought you could certainly get used to it. Returning your thoughts to the conversation, you exhaled a sigh.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… My job was to take care of them. My job was to stop something like this from happening. Our entire operation was compromised because my shitty partner couldn’t get over some grudge she had against a boy she’d never met,” you poked his chest as he rolled his eyes, looking down at you with a brow raised.

“So it’s my fault?”

“I didn’t say that,”

“You implied it,”

“Oh don’t be so sensitive,”

“I wasn’t the one who cheated,”

You almost sat bolt upright at that, if it weren’t for him anticipating the movement. What did he mean ‘cheat’? You didn’t cheat. You would never cheat. Loyalty ran through your veins like blood, and if you weren’t so incredulous you would have spotted the smallest hint of mischief in his steely eyes.

“Wh— Cheat? I didn’t cheat. What makes you think that?” your genuine concern broke his heart, and he almost felt bad for teasing you like this.

Almost.

Taking your face in both his hands, Levi failed to suppress the fugitive smirk on his face.

“We technically never broke up, brat,” you breathed a sigh of relief, before turning back to scowl at him, tempted to lightly smack the back of his head.

“Don’t fucking scare me like that, asshole,” your scowl held no heat, too relieved that he was just being pedantic rather than actually implying you would ever be disloyal. But your glare melted away at the rumble of a chuckle emitting from his chest. You rolled your eyes, trying your best to feign annoyance and failing miserably.

Removing the small towel from your now damp hair, Levi deemed it dry enough for you to sleep on without catching a cold.

“There. Think you can do the rest yourself? I don’t wanna… make you uncomfortable or anything,” it was your turn for your heart to break, his consideration for your comfort and wellbeing always seemed to be his top priority. You took his hand in yours, gently stroking your thumb over his knuckles.

“You’ve done more than enough,” earnest gratitude swam in your eyes and it was all Levi could do not to stoop down and kiss you.

Instead, he stayed put for a little while longer, stealing all the seconds he could. He’d realised, with you joining the Survey Corps, you two wouldn’t be able to do this anymore. The company you’d both enjoyed for the past week would be ripped away by expeditions, training and paperwork.

So he greedily took as much time as the two of you could spare, before you would inevitably have to part ways.

“I have to go, (Y/N),” Levi whispered, although every part of him was longing to stay, especially when your face slowly fell in realisation.

“I know,” you tried to mask your melancholy with a gentle smile, but your voice betrayed you, breaking slightly as you spoke. Neither of you wanted to be the one to move. Neither of you wanted to be the first to burst the protective bubble of familiarity you both knew you wouldn’t feel again for a long, long time.

But to save him from doing it himself, you were the one to shift, allowing him to rise from the bed.

“I’ll uh, leave all this here and collect it early in the morning,” Levi shifted slightly awkwardly on his feet, running a hand through his hair. You nodded, adjusting yourself carefully. Your midsection didn’t hurt as much, more of an echoing throb, but you were still cautious nonetheless.

“Right, yeah. Probably a good idea, before anyone sees,” you shrugged, avoiding having to look at his face. You knew it would break both of you if you’d asked whether there was any chance of him staying.

Just for a little while longer.

“I’ll see you soon… Raven,” you felt your soul crack as he replaced your name with your alias. You knew it was right. You knew it was for the best. But that wouldn’t stop every fiber of your being shattering.

Levi hated how you said nothing as he turned to leave. He pretended not to notice your heartbreak as he deliberately called you Raven. He suppressed the urge to pick you up and take you with him. To carry you to his bed and cage you in his arms as you both fell asleep in each other’s embrace.

He didn’t know your prolonged silence was because you were gathering your courage. Silently arguing with yourself over what was right and what was wrong until you stopped him by calling his name.

“Levi…” There was no turning back now. You took a breath, finally raising your eyes to meet his now on the other side of the bars. “I—” love you.

You immediately stopped yourself, finding those three words caught in your throat. You couldn’t say them. Shit, you couldn’t say them.

You were a coward.

“Thank you,”

Levi stayed searching your face. He knew. He knew that wasn’t what you wanted to say. Because that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He let loose a breath he didn’t know he was holding, giving you one last look of badly masked longing, before turning away.

“Training starts tomorrow,” though the words themselves were cold, his tone was laced with mourning as his footsteps echoed out of earshot, leaving you completely and utterly alone.

Levi had managed all but three steps into the hallway before his name was called by an irritatingly familiar voice.

“Ah, Levi. Good. My office. Now, if you’re not busy,” Erwin had a way of saying ‘if you’re not busy’ that sounded like he was really saying ‘there is absolutely no debate in this, you could be bleeding out and missing an arm and I would still expect you in my office within the next five minutes’. Levi knew he didn’t exactly have a choice.

“Sure. Let me make some tea and I’ll be right there,” he knew he’d made a mistake. The look in Erwin’s cerulean eyes told him that the tall blonde had figured something out. Something dangerous that could compromise his relationship with you.

Actually, he’d probably figured out he had a relationship with you.

Shit…

He was in so much trouble.

145 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 3 years ago

Text

A New Life

Part Ten: The Hunt

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 3,154

Warning: Smut

After about twenty minutes and you finally managed to get dressed, the doorbell rang and Cillian’s sister arrived to look after the children.

Cillian’s sister was in her early thirties and currently pregnant with her second child. She had kindly offered to look after Max and Cian’s children and, after you had met her already a few weeks ago, you thought that this was a good idea since Max wouldn’t be able to walk the whole 12 km you had planned.

Max was excited to see her and Cillian’s young nephew who, recently, had turned four was going to spend the day with him and the other children.

‘Good to see you again Y/N’ she said, greeting you with a hug and you recalled the last time you had met her at Cillian’s house when him and Cian were making dinner. It was obvious to you that she liked you and, even more so, it was obvious to her that you liked her brother and that this feeling was mutual.

‘Good to see you. How was the drive?’ you asked, knowing that she was travelling from Cork, which is where she lived.

‘Pretty good actually. I went to see mum and dad last night for dinner and stayed there’ she pointed out, looking at Cillian as she did. It was obvious to you that she was teasing him, but you didn’t know what about.

‘I got the message, thanks’ Cillian chuckled and, just as he did, his sister pulled him aside.

***

‘You know what I am about to say’ she said to Cillian in private so that no one else could hear them.

She had been trying to get Cillian to ask you out for two weeks now, but he outright refused.

‘And I told you that I am not interested in dating. Despite, she’s twenty years younger than me’ Cillian pointed out again after having made the age gap between you and him quite an issue.

Of course, his sister didn’t know that you were, in fact, sleeping with each other but, this didn’t change the fact that neither of you were wanting to be romantically involved with anyone right now.

What his sister did, however, know was how you both looked at each and how much Cillian enjoyed your and Max’s company. Unbeknownst to you, she had flagged with Cillian several times before and simply wanted him to be happy.

‘Think about it Cillian, she’s young which means that she probably still wants children. Despite, you wouldn’t be the first actor who dates a younger woman. Apparently, it is quite common’ his sister said, grinning cheekily.

‘You need to stop it’ Cillian chuckled. ‘Did Ma put you up to this?’ he then asked somewhat amused after she begged him during his last visit to Cork to find someone, settle down and give her some more grandchildren.

‘Maybe’ his sister grinned in response before carrying on. ‘She said that, perhaps, you just need a little a bit of help’ she then said, causing Cillian to chuckle again before sighing in disbelieve.

‘Ma thinks I need a little bit of help with finding a woman, eh?’ he asked somewhat amused and his sister nodded with a wide smile.

‘Yes, and I have something in mind to help you along’ she went on to say before dragging Cillian back into the kitchen.

Cillian’s sister was into boardgames and a little nerdy, just like her brother. She had recently started a business and was organising parties and fun activities for children and adults. This, amongst other things, included murder mystery parties and escape rooms and she he had a little surprise prepared for your hike as well with the help from your brother Cian who was about to bail on the adventure.

***

‘Listen up folks! I am trialling out a new little business idea and you will be my test objects. I am sending you all on a scavenger hunt’ she announced with excitement, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow.

‘Seriously?’ he asked, unimpressed. He was tired enough as it was and didn’t want to spend the entire day looking for cues.

‘I suppose we better form teams then’ Laura said, looking over towards Cillian who was still preoccupied with his second cup of coffee and didn’t notice.

‘I have already set up three teams and each team will get an envelope with separate sets of instructions. At the end, you will all meet at the same place but you will get there via different ways. The first team to arrive will win’ she explained before handing out the envelopes.

‘Well Y/N, it looks like you are stuck with me for the day’ Cillian said as his sister handed him a green coloured envelope with both of your names on it and you couldn’t help but get a little excited about it all.

You would be spending the next five or six hours with Cillian and you were rather happy about that.

Laura, on the other hand, was disappointed that she was paired up with Evelyn while the other couple at the house was paired up with each other.

***

After addressing a few housekeeping matters and putting on your hiking shoes, each team made their way to the nearby reserve which is where you all had to split up.

Cillian and you were headed south and, after a twenty-minute journey, you questioned Cillian’s navigation skills.

‘Are you sure this is the right way?’ you asked, curious as to whether Cillian knew where he was going.

‘Yes, I am sure. Trust me, alright?’ he confirmed and you nodded and agreed to simply follow his lead. You were way too tired to argue with him and, ten minutes later, were glad that you didn’t as, sure enough, you arrived at the trail referenced inside the envelope you were given.

As you arrived at the trail, the crisp air was blissfully quiet and the area almost seemed deserted. You were surprised that it didn’t attract more tourists but Cillian told you that it was simply too early in the day.

The peace and quiet could almost be felt even as the cool morning breeze wafted through the trees and gently stirred the still morning air.

‘I am fairly sure I know where the first cue is’ Cillian then said as you began walking down the trail still rugged up in long pants and jackets and, when you were sure that really no one was around, you took hold of his hand.

You weren’t sure whether you should have done that or whether it was inappropriate since you weren’t dating, but Cillian quickly confirmed with a kiss that it was alright.

‘I actually like the fact that it is just us for the day walking through these woods’ Cillian then chuckled after your lips drifted apart and he didn’t really appear pressed for time.

‘And why is that?’ you asked cheekily and with a big grin on your face.

‘So, I can keep doing this’ he responded before kissing you again, this time more passionately.

By this point, you were less than an hour into your journey and already lost some time simply by stopping and kissing each other but a kiss wasn’t all you wanted.

‘Is kissing all you want to do while we have this time alone together in the woods?’ you asked while suggestively biting your lip and Cillian couldn’t help but laugh.

‘I suppose I am not very competitive and don’t care if we win or lose so, if we find a quiet and secluded area then, by all means, we can do whatever you want’ Cillian said with a wink and you eagerly nodded before pulling him close again.

‘Hmm how cheeky Mr Murphy’ you giggled and, sure enough, about twenty minutes later, you arrived at a rather secluded area which is also where the next cue was hidden.

You bent down to pick up the cue and you could immediately feel Cillian’s eyes on your ass when you did.

By this point, you had removed your jacked and stuffed it into your backpack which caused more of your beautiful skin to be exposed.

‘Are you staring at my ass?’ you asked cheekily before reminding Cillian that he was meant to read the next part of the instructions inside of the envelope.

‘Of course not’ he chuckled in response as he was still trying to catch his breath after having walked uphill for quite some time.

‘Out of breath, are we old man?’ you then teased but Cillian wasn’t amused.

‘Call me that again and you are in trouble’ he said before telling you that he was a little out of shape after having missed last weeks’ PT sessions and, just as he did, you pulled him close for a passionate and long kiss.

With a mischievous look, you leaned into him, took the envelope out of his hand and ran your hand over Cillian’s crotch.

‘It looks like this guy isn't out of shape. To the contrary, he seems to be perfectly healthy’ you smirked before pushing Cillian against the large tree in front of which he was standing.

‘He is very eager and active, that’s for sure’ Cillian laughed just before you began to unbutton and unzip his pants in order to free his hard member.

‘Jesus Y/N’ he then groaned as you began to stroke him gently while keeping an eye out to ensure that no one was watching you.

But your sense for your surroundings soon vanished when Cillian pulled you even closer for yet another passionate kiss.

As the kissing furiously escalated you became soaking wet and needed to feel Cillian’s cock inside you. Breaking contact, you quickly turned around and suggestively leaned forward against one of the large rock formations.

There were no words needed and Cillian quickly grabbed hold of your tights and pushed them down your legs along with your panties.

‘So fucking wet again’ Cillian observed with a husky voice as his fingers brushed against your wet folds, collecting some of your juices and spreading them before he lined himself up with your entrance from behind.

‘Well, I am always aching for you, you should know that by now’ you said, wiggling your ass to encourage him to slide inside you.

Then, all of a sudden, you let out a loud cry as, with one swift thrust, Cillian’s cock smoothly penetrated you and entered your waiting pussy.

‘Shh’ Cillian reminded you as each slow and agonising thrust elicited protests from you to speed up but he ignored them with a smirk and proceeded at a painfully slow pace, making sure your body and pussy felt each deep impact.

Coated by your slick juices, drops of your sweet nectar began to drip from Cillian’s cock with every thrust and you could hear him groan behind you, watching his cock impale on your pussy.

‘You are so fucking sexy in those hiking clothes’ Cillian observed and, hearing your soft but growing moans in response, caused him to increase the force and speed of his thrusts.

‘Oh god Cillian, fuck’ you moaned and, eventually, he leaned forward and gave your ears a playful nibble before taking your hands into his so that your entire body weight was balanced solely by his hands and cock.

As he began to speed up and thrusted into you earnestly with the full length of his cock your assets began shuddering from the forceful pounding.

You loved hearing Cillian’s soft growls and he loved hearing your heated moans as you were fucking like animals in heat and your rough but yet passionate love making had been quickly building up to a climax.

‘Oh god Cillian, cum inside me. I want to feel it, all of it’ you moaned as you became louder and more desperate.

‘Not yet’ Cillian said determined as your lustful moans echoed throughout the forest and no doubt spooked some animals. Instead of continuing his assault on your pussy, he pulled his dripping and erect cock out of your warm wetness, leaving you once again to pout and beg in desperation.

‘Please no…Cillian…fuck…’ you huffed out as you turned around to look at him in confusion.

Your plead for more was met with a grin and then a kiss which was passionate but not as heated as the last.

‘Common, let’s keep going and find another cue first’ he said, pulling up his pants and covering his erection as best as he could after your lips drifted apart.

‘Cillian, I am fucking soaking. I need to cum’ you said, disapproving of his teasing, but he enjoyed it way too much. It was his game.

***

An hour and two cues later, you found yet another perfect love making spot deep inside the forest.

‘This perfect, there is no one around and the area is covered with bushes’ you observed just before your lips met with his, demanding him to take you and make you cum without saying anything else.

Cillian nodded and, without words, you both somehow stumbled over to a flat rock not too far from the marker indicating the direction of the trail.

Covered by dense vegetation, this large, smooth rock seemed perfectly suited as a bench for groups of people. For the two of you, though, it was just the perfect place for other activities...

As you sat down on the rock Cillian bent down and proceeded to give you what you deserved.

‘These will need to come off’ Cillian said, kneeling before you and tugging on your tights.

You quickly undid your hiking shoes and then pushed them off before allowing Cillian to remove yourtights and panties.

‘Let’s hope no one comes down this way, eh?’ he then smirked but you no longer cared and pulled him close, desperate to feel him inside of you once again.

Spreading your legs apart, he leaned above you and took you in fully with his eyes. Your smiling and blushing face, cheeks and pussy reddened with arousal turned Cillian on immensely. Your hard nipples poking through your exercise top, heaving with each breath were a sight he knew he would remember forever. And your shy but warm hands, gripped Cillian’s hand with great trust as your shining eyes encouraged him to take you right then and there.

Cillian unbuttoned and unzipped his pants again, pushing them down together with his briefs before aligning himself with your entrance.

Without hesitation, he took a deep breath and plunged straight into your tight wetness as a whimper escaped your quivering lips. Cillian was pushing in firmly and pulling out in an agonisingly slow manner. This only increased the pleasure and soon your bodies were moving in tandem like a well-oiled fucking machine as grunts and moans filled the air.

Cillian was joyfully fucking you as his cock pounded against your pussy and relentlessly assaulted it as your dueling tongues enticed each other to hotter and deeper kisses.

His thrusts soon fastened but, just as you were about to approach a hastening climax, he slowed down again. Although fucking you senseless was what his body yearned to do as he saw your heaving body under him shining with sweat, his reserves of self-control still held.

Pushing in deeply so that you could feel his warm cock filling you up, he remained in you for a short while before pulling out completely.

As you gazed at him with pleading eyes, he smirked, then leaned in to kiss you before slamming his cock unexpectedly into your waiting pussy starving for more.

Again and again, he followed this process of pushing deep into you, holding it there so you could feel such fullness, before pulling out completely and leaving you yearning crazily for the next thrust.

Taking you to new heights of pleasure with each deep impact, he began to speed up unconsciously as your moans and hot pussy walls rapidly eroded his self-control.

All too soon, he felt the climax approaching inevitably. Even as your bodies were lost in pleasure, however, your ears picked up the murmur of early hikers at the summit not too far from where you were. And yet, Cillian’s cock began to pound you harder and faster with increasing urgency and desperation.

‘Don’t you dare fucking stop now’ you moaned quietly and Cillian certainly couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he forcefully pushed down as his hips returned from their swing and thrusted firmly upwards into you. Impaled on his thick and painfully erect shaft, your pussy lips widened, as did your eyes.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned as your climax was approaching fast and hard and you began to quiver.

With a groan, Cillian reached his high at the same time as you. His cock was exploding deep inside you, filling your waiting pussy with sticky ropes of hot cum. Even as your pussy walls convulsed with pleasure, they were quickly painted white with his swirling cum while trying their best to milk him dry of every drop.

Wrapped in a deep kiss to muffle your moans of pleasure, you could hear the nearby crowd approaching and, at the sound of the cracking of some sticks, Cillian quickly pulled out of you and helped you up from where you were lying.

Seeing your sore and well-used pussy dripping your juices and his thick cum made Cillian inhale sharply before he pulled up his pants.

You were quick to get dressed yourself before anyone would see you and, sure enough, minutes later, the small group pf hikers found your little hiding spot and greeted you.

***

After another few hours following your small detour deeper into the woods in order to get some intimacy, you finally found the last cue which led you to a small local pub.

You weren’t surprised when you learned that you were, indeed, the last team to arrive at your destination.

‘Did you guys get lost or something?’ Cian asked when you both finally sat down at the table and ordered two pints of Guinness.

‘We just took our time. Those cues were tricky’ Cillian chuckled which is when Evelyn informed you that you arrived an entire hour after she did.

‘I had to stop and take some sightseeing photos as well’ you then told her, cheeks blushing red while you were already thinking about how you would be sneaking into Cillian’s bedroom that night.

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15 @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r @tellingyouastory @captivatedbycillianmurphy @namelesslosers @littlewhiterose @ttzamara @ttzamara @cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon @ysmmsy

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

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emospritelet · 3 years ago

Text

Twisted Fate - chapter 26

Last time, Gold started to suspect that Neal might be his long-lost son. Here's what happened next

[AO3]

Belle left hospital the next day, Gideon strapped to her chest in a sling while Gold wheeled the suitcase beside her. The day was pleasantly warm, sun on her face as she walked to the car, and it felt good to be out in the fresh air and away from the hospital, with its hurrying staff and constant noise. She was still in pain, and far more tired than she had expected to be, but she stopped off in the lobby of the apartment building to let Marco coo over Gideon and comment on how much he looked like his father. Gold had a tiny smile on his face all the way up in the elevator.

It was a relief to sleep in what she now thought of as their bed, Gold spooned around her and his scent in her nose. Gideon woke them in the night, but Gold kissed her shoulder and whispered that she should rest. She still lay awake listening anxiously until he got back into bed and assured her that Gideon was fed, changed and sleeping again. There was an urge to go and check on him herself, but she told herself firmly to trust Gold to take care of his son, and her body was tired and sore enough that she soon drifted off.

Gold woke early, just as dawn was greying the sky, and tiptoed from the room to make a pot of coffee and check in on Gideon. Quiet as he was, Belle was stirring when he put his head around the bedroom door, and so he handed Gideon to her to feed before returning to the kitchen to pour out the coffee and make a hearty breakfast.

The first few days were hectic as they tried to adjust to their new life, establishing as much of a routine for Gideon as they could. Gold was enjoying being a father again, and fully intended to do the best job he could. Belle was clearly exhausted, and so he tried to ease the burden as much as possible, letting her nap with Gideon while he cleaned up, made dinner and baked. In between his chores, he dealt with work matters, giving instructions to Mr Dove in relation to rent or enforcement matters, assessing collateral for loans over video calls and countersigning a new tenancy agreement. He got up to feed and change Gideon in the middle of the night, hoping that Belle would get some much-needed rest. A small voice at the back of his mind told him that he, too, needed to rest, but sleep was elusive and his mind far too preoccupied to notice his building exhaustion.

He had been a ball of nervous energy ever since he and Belle had had the conversation about Neal. Getting his family settled into their home held his attention for the daylight hours, but once he was lying in bed, his mind was let loose to agonise over every possible worst case scenario it could dream up. The day after their return he was alert to every noise outside the apartment, every suggestion that a knock might sound and the Cassidys be outside. The knock never came, and over dinner the following evening, Belle mentioned that she had received a text from Emma. Henry had developed a bad cold, and Neal and Emma thought it best that they not visit and run the risk of passing it on to Gideon.

“I’m sorry he’s not well,” said Gold, an odd mixture of despair and relief rippling through him and pricking at his skin. “I’m sure they’ll come over soon. I’ll make a carrot cake this weekend. Maybe some chocolate cupcakes. Just in case they show up.”

Belle gave him a level look, as though she wasn’t fooled by his easy tone. She probably wasn’t.

“This must be hard for you,” she said quietly, and Gold put down his fork, abandoning his pretence at equilibrium.

“I still don’t know what the hell I’m gonna say to him,” he admitted. “How do I even raise the subject? Cupcake, Neal? Oh, by the way, did your mother ever mention that your father was Scottish? Kind of short? Me?”

He grimaced, running his hands over his face, and stilled at the warm pressure of Belle’s hand on his arm. He spread his fingers to gaze out through them into calm blue eyes.

“There isn’t going to be an easy way to do this,” she said gently. “But you could always try talking about your past, see if anything resonates with him.”

The fingers snapped shut, hiding her from his sight, and Gold sighed heavily before dropping his hands back to the table and sitting back.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That seems - more natural, I suppose.”

“You could always ask Archie for advice,” she suggested, and he nodded.

“That’s true. Although we don’t know whether there’s anything there to ask advice about yet.”

“I suppose.”

“If there is…” Gold sat forwards again, threading his fingers together nervously. “If there is, if Neal really is my son, I have a feeling Dr Hopper will be seeing a lot more of my money.”

Belle smiled, squeezing his arm again.

“A worthy investment, wouldn’t you say?”

“If it gets me a good relationship with my family, absolutely.” He gave her a tiny smile, and she beamed, her eyes gleaming.

“It’s already doing that,” she said softly. “I’m proud of you. Facing your pain, your past, your fears… it’s a brave thing to do.”

He smiled, her words making his heart swell with love, even as he endured the discomfort of unexpected praise.

“Well, I have many years of cowardice to make up for,” he said, with an awkward smile.

Belle gave him a somewhat sad smile in return before sitting back, and there was a moment of silence. He picked up his fork again, cutting into the slice of almond cake and spearing it with the tines.

“What about you?” he asked. “Did your father say when he’d be visiting?”

Belle nodded as she cut a piece of her own cake.

“He said next Monday,” she said. “It’s usually a slow day in the shop, so he’s gonna close up at noon after he’s dealt with the flower delivery, and drive down. We’re planning to meet at four-thirty.”

“Ah.” Gold popped the piece of cake into his mouth, enjoying the soft sweetness of ground almonds and the tang of orange zest. “Well, he’s welcome to stay, of course.”

Belle eyed him over her fork, but shook her head.

“He’s only coming down for the day, and to be honest I think that’s a good idea,” she said. “I said I’d meet him at the diner by the park, and I think it’s best if it’s just me and Gideon. I thought we could go for a walk and get something to eat. That’s probably enough contact for both of us at this stage.”

“As you wish,” he said, secretly relieved at not having to play nice with Moe French.

“Depending on how this first visit goes, he might be staying over in future, though,” she added.

“Of course.”

“And you never know,” she said, spearing another piece of cake. “Maybe one day we’ll move back to Storybrooke. You, me, Gid, and - well, we’ll see how things go.”

She gave him a secretive little smile, and for a moment he envisioned entering the pink house with several small children racing past him to fill the place with life and love and laughter. He smiled back.

“That sounds wonderful.”

Belle was enjoying motherhood, but she wondered how single mothers coped alone. Gold had been amazing, racing around the house keeping it clean and tidy, cooking delicious meals for the two of them and helping to feed and change Gideon. He insisted on being the one to get up during the night, even as she said they should take it in turns, but she had to admit that it was a relief to get some rest as her body recovered. He made cakes and cookies and brought her breakfast in bed while she fed Gideon, and made sure she wanted for nothing.

She was worried that he was doing too much; she caught him napping on the couch one afternoon with a pile of laundry in his lap, hands buried in Gideon’s sleep suits and head back against the cushions. She had let him sleep, tiptoeing through to the kitchen to make some tea, and made the dinner herself that evening.

As the time drew nearer for her father’s visit, she found herself getting nervous, and Gideon seemed to pick up on it, growing fractious as she dressed him for the trip outside.

“You sure you don’t want me to come?” asked Gold, helping her get him into the stroller, and Belle shook her head.

“It’s fine, really,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll be okay once we’re out and he’s got something new to look at.”

“In that case,” he said. “I’ll make something nice for when you get back.”

“You always do.”

“Well, something special, then,” he said. “What would you like?”

Belle pursed her lips.

“A full night’s sleep and a foot rub?”

He grinned.

“Consider it done.”

“I’ll be eating about five-thirty,” she added. “So I won’t want anything for dinner, but I’ll probably feel like curling up with a glass of wine and something stodgy.”

“I’m sure I can think of something.”

He finished tucking Gideon in, and kissed his cheek before straightening up to kiss Belle. She clung to him a little longer than usual, and he squeezed her tight.

“It’ll be okay,” he said softly. “And I’m only a phone call away if you need me.”

She nodded, taking a deep, fortifying breath, and set her hands to the stroller, pushing it towards the elevator. Glancing back over her shoulder, she could see Gold watching her from the doorway, and she gave him a reassuring smile as she pressed the elevator call button, hoping for a positive outcome.

The apartment was eerily silent without either Belle or Gideon, and Gold didn’t like it. He busied himself cleaning up, folding a freshly-washed pile of laundry and vacuuming the floors. He also made up a pan of chicken casserole, adding a generous glass of red wine, and set it to a low simmer while he pondered what else to cook. He made some bread, pummelling the dough briskly before setting it aside to rise, and wiped flour-covered hands on his apron before poking through the store cupboard again. Belle had mentioned wanting something stodgy to eat, so he decided to make a pan of brownies.

By the time he had finished mixing the batter and put the tin in the oven, it was a quarter to six. He poured himself a glass of the wine and took a large gulp, one toe tapping on the floor as he wondered how Belle’s dinner with her father was going. He hadn’t received a distressed phone call, so he had to assume she was fine. She was more than capable of standing up to her father, but he hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. Surely not even Moe French could maintain his bad attitude when he got to hold Gideon.

A knock at the apartment door made him start, and he set down his glass, wiping his hands on his apron and grasping his cane to head for the door. Looking out through the spy hole, he paused as Neal’s face glanced up, his figure distorted by the curve of the lens. Gold’s heart started thumping high in his throat, blood pounding, and he swallowed, his throat dry, the handle gripped tight. His hand shook as he opened the door, and he licked his lips nervously as Neal grinned at him, hefting what looked like a leather laptop bag up a little further on his shoulder.

“Hello, Neal,” said Gold, unsure where his calm tone had come from, but relieved that he sounded normal.

“Hey,” said Neal, patting the bag. “Belle asked Emma to pick her up a couple of books from the university library. I said I’d drop ‘em off on my way home, since I was in the area.”

Gold made a decision.

“Please, come on in,” he said, stepping back and holding open the door. “Belle’s out at the moment, but you’re welcome to wait. I could make some coffee. Or I’ve opened the wine, if you’d prefer a glass of that.”

Neal’s eyes brightened.

“Really? Wouldn’t say no, it’s been a hell of a day.”

He stepped into the apartment, and Gold closed the door behind him, following him into the kitchen and trying to calm his racing heart. Neal shrugged off the strap of his bag, putting it on the table with a heavy thump of books and wriggling his shoulder.

“Belle should try e-books,” he said. “Less chance of a dislocated shoulder.”

Gold chuckled at that.

“I offered to get her one, but she prefers the feel and smell of real books,” he said, getting a second glass from the cupboard and pouring a measure of wine. “Not that she’s had all that much time to read lately.”

“No, I guess not. Thanks.” Neal took the wine. “You say she’ll be back soon?”

“She took Gideon to go and meet her father, but I’m expecting her back in the next half hour or so.”

“You didn’t go too?” asked Neal, and Gold pulled a face.

“Let’s just say that the peace between the two of them is new and fragile, and my presence really wouldn’t help that.”

“Yeah, I pretty much heard her dad’s a tool,” said Neal, making Gold grin.

“My opinion of him is fairly low, but I have to say the feeling’s mutual.”

“Guess you can’t choose your family,” said Neal, and took a drink. “Wow! That’s nice!”

“A favourite of mine.” Gold hesitated, turning the glass between his fingers. “How’s Henry?”

“Yeah, he’s a lot better,” said Neal. “Totally snot-free, happy to say. We thought we might come over Friday, if you’re up for having visitors.”

“I’m sure we’d love that.”

Another pause. Gold took a mouthful of wine, feeling his pulse thud in his throat, his skin tingling. He almost choked as he swallowed, and blinked rapidly, his eyes watering.

“You okay?” asked Neal. “Went down the wrong way?”

“Yes. Uh - shall we go through to the lounge?”

Gold gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen door, and Neal wandered off, leaving him to follow on feet that felt as though they were made of steel plates. It was a relief to sit down, and he had to stop himself from tapping his feet restlessly as he turned the glass between his hands and tried to think of something to say. Neal was good enough to break the heavy silence.

“How’s life with Gideon?” he asked, and Gold smiled.

“He doesn’t give us a lot of time to sit and take a breath, that’s for certain,” he said, “But it’s wonderful. I’m incredibly lucky.”

“You’re enjoying being a dad again, huh?”

“Very much.”

“Is it like you remember?” asked Neal, and Gold hesitated. Here, at last, was an opening. An opportunity.

“With my first son,” he said. “I wasn’t there for the first eighteen months of his life. A little like you and Henry.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” Gold looked down at his wine, deep red rippling catching tiny specks of light. “It wasn’t by choice, I might add.”

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you weren’t in jail,” said Neal, and he smiled.

“No, not jail. Unless of course you count the one of my own making.”

“Deep.”

“Pompous. Sorry.”

Neal chuckled, and Gold took a drink of wine.

“His mother and I weren’t suited,” he said then. “We were never in a proper relationship, and I wasn’t surprised when she left town. But then she came back two years later, with a child. My child, so she said.”

“You think she was lying?”

“No,” he said immediately. “No, I knew he was mine. At least - at least I thought that I knew. I could - I could feel it.”

He tapped his closed fist against his heart, and Neal watched him silently. Gold gave a tiny shrug.

“Of course I wanted to give him everything I hadn’t - that is - I wanted to do the best for my son as I could,” he said, floundering a little. “I worked hard, earned a good wage - unfortunately, that meant spending more time at work, and less time at home. Milah didn’t appreciate being, in her words: ‘stuck indoors all day with a screaming brat’.”

Neal had gone very still.

“Did you say Milah?” he asked neutrally.

“My ex,” said Gold, wishing his heart would stop thumping so hard. “Anyway, I came home one day, and she’d gone. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised at that, but I never thought she’d take him. I never thought…” He cut off, ducking his head. “I never thought I’d lose him.”

Neal took a swallow of wine, and Gold squeezed his glass in an attempt to still his trembling hands.

“What happened?” asked Neal.

“Well, I found out that without being named as his father, I had no right to find out what had happened to him,” he said wearily. “So I had to search alone. She moved around a lot: from Scotland to England, and eventually, to the US. The last place I could trace them to was Social Services in Phoenix. She’d left him there. Said she’d come back and never did.”

Neal shook his head, looking stunned.

“So - so what happened?” he asked. “Did you find him?”

“No.” Gold eyed him steadily. “No, he’d gone. Run away. I was three months too late. I kept searching, but there were no more leads. He knew how to hide, it seemed.”

Neal swallowed hard, and set down his glass.

“You said you weren’t named as the father,” he said. “So his name wasn’t Gold, right?”

“No,” said Gold. “His last name was Bonny, after his mother.”

Neal pushed to his feet in a rush, agitation making his nostrils flare.

“Who told you my mother was called that?” he demanded. “Was it Emma? What did she say? How did you know that?”

“What?” Gold shook his head, an invisible hand squeezing at his heart and leaving him breathless. “I don’t - Emma didn’t tell me anything, I just - well, I remember Milah’s name, of course I do. And - and your name is Cassidy.”

“Because I changed it!” Neal began to pace, running a hand through his hair and looking shattered. “I don’t - I can’t…”

He shook his head, stomping towards the door.

“No, please!” said Gold desperately, pushing to his feet. “Please, don’t go, I just - I need you to listen for a moment.”

“I can’t!”

“Please!” he urged. “Please, my son’s name is Bailey. Bailey Stephen Bonny. He was born on the first of May, twenty-nine years ago, and - and I’ve been searching for him ever since he disappeared, ever since his mother took him from me.”

“This is - this isn’t possible.” Neal shook his head, looking devastated. “This can’t be real. I have to - I have to go, I have to think.”

“No, wait!”

His hand was on the door handle, and Gold had reached out, wanting to touch him, desperate to touch him. He drew back at the last minute, pain clawing at his chest, as though his heart was trying to tear its way out. Neal’s knuckles were white on the handle, his body shaking with tension, and Gold blinked tears from his eyes.

“Is it you, Bae?” he whispered, his voice breaking a little. “Is it really you?”

The name on his tongue seemed to break whatever spell had fallen over them, and Neal wrenched at the door, barging out into the corridor and slamming it shut behind him. Gold sagged, shoulders slumping as he gripped the cane handle to hold himself upright. It’s him. It’s my son. My Bae.

#fic: twisted fate #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #my fic

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chuckbass-love · 4 years ago

Note

Hi my love! Saw your Smut Dialogue post and wanted to request! can i please have #93 with either Evans or one of his characters? you choose please! love you!! 😍🥰😘

MEL!!!! Thank you so much for this request, i love it. For me, this screamed Mr Freezy. I hope that’s okay. Also love you too🥺🥰

A/N: Lil message for everyone that has requested recently, i will get around to all of you, it just might take a while and i do apologise for the long wait, hopefully it’ll be worth it.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad or Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Prompt #93: “It’s okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while i’m between your legs”

Pairing: Mr Freezy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Dub-Con oral, hair pulling, age gap (reader is 21 in this), swearing, slight daddy kink if you squint, vaginal fingering and a death threat. 18+ as always, you know the drill.

Word Count: 2,472

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @imissyourbattlecries go check them out💕

Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time

As you sit there, hands and legs tied, mouth covered with tape. You can almost swear that you see the end. This is it... this is how you die.

In the back of some ice cream truck with no one but Mr Freezy to blame.

And now you’re starting to realise that calling him Mr Freezy is silly. But it’s only because you don’t know his real name.

God knows how much more time passes by before the truck doors swing open to reveal your captor. Smarter attire adorns his slim figure and his hair is tied back.

Not how he’s ever appeared to you before. No, usually he looks a lot scruffier. Clearly he’s made an effort today, could you be the reason why?

“Oh good, you’re awake” he chirps, stepping into the truck and slamming the doors shut behind him “now the real fun can begin” he rubs his hands together in excitement, the action only makes you shiver with the worst kind of anticipation.

What does he have in store for you?

You mumble away, your mouth not moving an inch behind this tape but he hears your cries. He stands, towering above you, legs either side of your scared frame before dropping to his knees.

He grabs your face in one hand, squishing your cheeks whilst pointing with his other index finger “if i take this off, you better not fucking scream or i swear i’ll kill you, got it?”

The way you nod almost instantly, body trembling with fear has a smug smile plastering his face. He gets off on this.. sick bastard.

Once the tape is removed, you open your mouth. But not to scream.

“Why me? Why am i here?” your voice laced with the fear that he can smell on you. But that only spurs him on, if you really thought he’d stop once you showed just how scared you are then you were a fool.

“Why not you?” he retorts, hand still gripping your face but the grip isn’t as tight “see, the way i think of it is you should feel flattered. An older man like myself being interested in a pretty young thing like you”

The tone in his voice, he seems too calm. Doesn’t he feel bad?

“Are you going to kill me?” the words that you never thought you’d speak yet here you are.

“I’ll spare you the brutal and agonising death if you do a couple things for me princess”

“And what makes you think that i’d do anything for you after how you’ve acted? What is wrong with you?” the snap in your voice, you’re beyond outraged with him. He always appeared so kind to you in the weeks leading up to this moment. Maybe this was why he was so nice, he wanted to suss you out, get close enough for you to trust him and then attack.

“Evidently a lot” he quips proudly with a sinister chuckle following before his hand moves from your face, dancing down your neck and eventually reaching your breasts.

The shirt you have on, showing just the right amount of cleavage for him to feast his hungry eyes on. He can hardly contain himself, biting his lip as a situation forms in his pants.

You notice immediately. Your own eyes looking down to see his penis growing harder by the second and for some bizarre reason, you feel strangely turned on but still intimidated nonetheless.

“Omg” you feign disgust, trying your best to move back but you can’t, it’s a dead end.

“Now now princess, anyone would think you’d never seen a real cock before”

“Huh? Did the cat get your tongue?”

Silence before you shake your head. He can most likely smell your inexperience.

“Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about this, i promise” even your best bargaining voice won’t cut it, he doesn’t seem like he’s budging.

“You really think your the first stuck up bitch to try and trick me? I admire your efforts sweetness but that’ll be a no”

Fuck.

“What are you going to do to me?”

He doesn’t answer, just leans in, his breath that reeks of cigarettes fans your face and soon enough his lips touch your cheek. A chaste kiss is pressed and you flinch.

“What’s wrong sweetness, not enjoying this?” his low and raspy chuckle has your eyes widening.

There it is, that evil laugh again. He is totally getting off on your discomfort and it’s sickening. But why is there a pool starting to develop in your cotton panties? You’ll never know.

“Okay. What about this?”

His lips lower to your neck and more than just a peck is placed as his lips press numerous open mouthed kisses to your skin, finding your sweet spot so easily and before you can stop it, a soft and breathy moan escapes. You feel betrayed by your own body. Why does this have to feel so good? Why does HE have to make you feel so good?

“There she is, the girl i knew you were. You enjoying this sweetness?” his kisses get sloppier as he makes his way to your collarbone, nipping ever so slightly to add to the build up. The build up for what exactly? You have no idea.

“Take it off” he instructs, pulling away and tugging at your shirt

“What? No. No way” you insist, trying your best to slam your ground but he shoots you a look that if the possibility was there, it would burn you to ashes. A fist punches at the cupboard door at the side of your head, scaring you even more and now it’s abundantly clear, he isn’t to be messed with.

So you do exactly as you’re told. You don’t want to anger him by making him tell you again. Once it’s off, you fold your arms across your body in shame of how you look but he soon yanks them away.

“No need to feel ashamed sweetness. Take it all off, bra first” he smiles and in this moment as you reach behind to unclasp your bra, you swear you can see a nice side to him. He soon cancels it out though, hurrying the process up by taking the bra off for you and discarding it behind him. You then make quick work of your leggings, tugging them down your legs to which he finishes the job before taking your panties off for you in seconds.

And now your naked body is exposed for him to have his filthy way with.

“Please, don’t hurt me. Let me go” pathetic attempt number 2 and he’s no less stubborn as he was a few minutes ago. If he wants you then he’s going to get you, no matter what.

You belong to him now. Just like all of the other girls he’s done this to.

“Again sweetness, you can’t fool me. I can smell your arousal from here, bet if i spread these legs i’d find...” he pauses, slotting his knee between them, spreading them and now your arousal is on show “oh and what do we have here, looks like a soaking wet cunt to me, now try and tell me you don’t want this” you look away out of embarrassment.

Your body really has betrayed you today.

“Mhm, almost looks good enough to eat”

Did he just say what you think he said?

Most likely. But you’ve never had a guy eat you out and you most certainly don’t want the first time being with him.

His hands graze over your body before he tugs you closer by your legs. His hands wrap around your thighs once he lowers his face so he can slowly kiss the inside of them, making you squirm in his arms. Partly from trying to escape.

“Someone’s needy huh?” he mocks

However, he’s right though, you need it so desperately but to beg him for anything would be the worst thing you could ever do, so instead you watch him work at your inner thighs, nearing closer to your sex as you wriggle and writhe like crazy.

He’s so close yet so far and you can almost taste the pleasure when his mouth shocks you by attacking your folds with his tongue.

At first you try to pull away, trying your best to act like you don’t want it. But he just holds onto you harder, devouring you like an animal.

“Stop fucking moving” he growls as he starts to suck on your bundle of nerves, biting a little too to get you to listen.

“If you don’t want me to move then maybe that’s a sign that you should leave me alone” you scoff, irritated yet all the more aroused.

“And what if i don’t want to? Huh, you gonna hurt me? Don’t threaten me with a good time sweetness”

His tongue movements have you so agonisingly close to letting go, he’s working you out like he already knows all of your weak spots.

But you can’t let him just take what he wants, thinking that you’re easy. Which is how you’ll feel once you let that guard down. Once you allow yourself to enjoy this.

His eyes meet yours and you watch him go to work on you like you’re his final meal before death and boy is it a meal he’s enjoying.

Your stubbornness is swallowing you little by little and you feel so close to seeing stars. Fingers delve into your wetness, circling your tight hole before 3 are added one by one. Time is left in between each to give you room to adjust, how chivalrous of him.

All 3 drag along your walls, curling as they press against that spongy spot within you, your done for if he keeps this up and he’ll know you’re enjoying it.

The finger to tongue game ratio has your back starting to arch, your head scraping along the cupboards behind you and the handle digging into your now fully arched back.

“Come on sweetness, let go for me. I know you want this too”

Hips buck up into his mouth as all control ceases to exist inside of you. Now all that’s left is a huge need to cum. Your hands reach down to where his head rests and your delicate fingers find their way into his long brown locks. You start to tug on them a little which makes him hiss from pleasure, since this man totally strikes you as someone with a high pain tolerance.

The noises he’s eliciting from you are sinful to say the least, loud and borderline pornographic which earn you grunts of appreciation from him.

“Fuck, just like that. Squeeze these fingers”

and

“Such a tight fucking cunt”

So you do exactly that, sweat droplets forming on your head as the knot in your stomach tightens. You already know that there’s no going back now, what’s done is done and an earth shattering orgasm is about to consume you.

Fingers grip tighter onto the roots of his hair “oh god, fuck. I’m gonna cum” you mewl frantically.

And before you can even stop it, his fingers pick up, getting quicker and his plump pink lips wrap around your clit, sucking like his life depends on it and flicking his tongue over it occasionally.

“Need that cum sweetness, give it to me” his words of encouragement suddenly have the atmosphere changing, your body feels heavy, the knot feels just about ready to break apart and this space in the back of his ice cream truck feels even smaller than it was previously.

In a cloudy haze of sexual desire, you pull so hard on his hair that he glares at you as he goes to town on your body.

“I’m sorry, i didn’t mean to hur-” you scramble to apologise, feeling awful for hurting a man that had no qualms in hurting you this morning when he took you but he just cuts you off.

“It’s okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while i’m between your legs��

So you let yourself tug again, making sure to not let up or loosen your grip and as you feel yourself getting closer, you use his hair and your moans to signal that to him whilst grinding your hips on his face in time with his tongue movements.

With one more suck to your clit, you come on a silent cry, he removes his fingers from your warm walls, replacing them with his tongue. You feel your clit pulsating under his thumb and you start to clench around nothing as your cum drips from your tiny hole and lands onto his tongue for him to swallow.

“S’sweet princess, s’fucking sweet” his final words before his face moves until it’s inches from yours.

He lowers his head, capturing your lips in a heated and bruising kiss, leaving you no choice but to pull him close. Arms wrap around his neck loosely as his tongue slips past your lips and into your mouth. You can taste yourself and that alone is enough to have you keening for more from him with your hands groping his bulge but he soon settles you down.

“Patience sweetness, patience. You gotta return the favour first”

Your brows furrow in confusion before he eventually explains.

“What? You didn’t seriously think i’d go down on you and then fuck you did you? I only did it to loosen you up. Now you’re gonna get on those knees like a good girl and suck this cock” he starts, undoing his belt then his pants before pushing them down, along with his boxers, releasing his cock for you “because, if you don’t sweetness, i’ll have to make you and we wouldn’t wanna ruin this good behaviour of yours, would we?”

You shake your head again, moving to a kneeling position and taking his huge size into your small hand, pumping him a couple times before opening your mouth ready. He gathers your hair in his hands, lifting it up out of your face and tugging ever so slightly.

“Now it’s my turn to pull on your hair sweetness so don’t you hesitate, it’s time to show daddy what you got”

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

General Tags: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @chris-butt @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @adriannajackson-deactivated2021 @dummiesshort @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferouss @bradfordmyworld @thereisa8ella @rockyrogers @yassspose @randomsevans @evansphnx12

Just Chris & His Characters Tags: @onetwo3000 @persephonequeenofthedead @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @rynabarnesrogers @princess-evans-addict @stxvercgersslut @chris-evanslover @bval-1 @thejemersoninferno @denisemarieangelina @janeyboo

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op-peccatori · 5 years ago

Text

The MLQC Boys and Sleeping/Bedtime Habits (nsfw-ish)

more ‘quick thoughts’ lmao...I can go on and on when it comes to these men. Literally had to step away from the keyboard.

Rating: Mature

Tags/Warnings: mentions of/implies sexy times but nothing too explicit, this wasn’t meant to be so long wtf, unedited atm

song of the moment: little things by one direction

Kiro:

Most open to being the little spoon! Although he likes curling around you, likes to feel like he can protect you from anything, he also enjoys feeling your arms curled around him. You’re the treasure, and he’s the dragon guarding his hoard. Under his bright exterior is a fierce love, resolute and undying, which most people will never get to see.

This is something he’s told you before, and he hopes he’s done a good job conveying it—to him, you’re home. Climbing into bed with you after a long day is the only good way to end that day. He loves singing to you, whether it’s a soft ballad or a completely made up silly song. You can’t count on hand the number of times you’ve giggled over the songs you two have created, silly whispers in the dark, fingers stroking warm skin. Some nights are quiet, with your bodies doing the talking, pressing your love into each other’s skin, smiling into soft kisses. It’s like basking in your own personal sunshine, the warmth seeping into your very bones, leaving you with only hope and the belief that everything will be okay.

He’s your partner in crime. Midnight snacking, gaming and dance parties until you collapse.

Nights spent away from you are spent video calling you, singing to you onscreen, showing you any new foods he’s tried. He tries to keep days away from you at a minimum, and though he tries really hard to control that feeling of sullenness and unease when he’s not with you, the fact of the matter is that his day is just incomplete if he doesn’t get to talk to you or see your face.

It’s not surprising to wake up with his face buried in your stomach, or with his leg curled over you. Kiro truly treats you like his own beloved stuffed toy, and you can’t help but melt in his warm embrace as you both watch a movie. Neither of you is very good with horror movies, but watching them together as you cuddle in fear is better. You’re always stronger together, after all. Both of you have a hard time going to sleep after, choosing to play games to distract yourselves.

However, if you do happen to be good with horror, prepare yourself for an armful of Kiro, and to be the big spoon that night.

Lucien:

He doesn’t glue himself to you. Sometimes, he’s content to face you and watch you drift into sleep, or run his fingers through your hair until you sleepily cuddle closer to him. You grow bolder with your requests for him to read to you, his voice always soothing your stressed-out mind; nothing delights him more than seeing you inch closer to him even in your sleep, although he’s aware that it’s probably just due to his body heat.

He’s a movie buff, and you love listening to his interpretations of the plots, and the dialogue. He’s not a snob about his choices, he’ll watch anything. He does enjoy watching the LOTR movies, which never fail to–eventually–put you to sleep no matter how big a fan you are.

If he does fall asleep next to you, you might wake up with his hand still tangled in your hair, or laced with yours. Just a little contact with you feels grounding to him. It’s enough to calm the raging waters beneath his skin, to fill him with contentment. You love waking him up with butterfly kisses, because you know what he’ll do, and you pretend to be surprised every single time–when his lips curl up a little before his eyes have even opened, and sneaky fingers wrap around your waist so he can give you a proper good morning kiss.

You’ve been embarrassed about him watching you sleep quite often, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to you–how human it makes him feel. When it’s just you two in bed, he’s just a man in bed with the love of his life. He doesn’t remember ever having someone let their guard down around him so fully, and sleep without a care in the world. Every incoherent word you mumble, every little twitch, it’s seared into his memory. It actually makes him want to try harder and actually sleep, to join you in that other mystical world.

For the longest time, he looked forward to waking up next to you, just to see what he’ll wake up to. Will you be hanging off the edge of the bed? Will your face be burrowed into his armpit? It’s all very exciting for him, even if it makes little sense. For someone who’s delved into things most people can’t possibly comprehend, these are such tiny things. But they mean the world to him, and he could spend the rest of his life noting them down in his head.

Lucien craves intimacy, so badly that he has to rein it in, lest he scares you away. Especially when you both give into your desires and he loses himself in your skin–it shows in his eyes. You’re rendered speechless when you lock eyes with him, feeling so completely exposed as if he’s peering into your very soul. And he feels the same, because his eyes are where his emotions exhibit themselves, but only to you. It’s like looking into an unexplored yet inviting abyss, terrifying yet exhilarating, with promises of discovering things about yourself you couldn’t have even imagined.

Initially, it’s always Lucien who’s pulling you into his arms, taking over, sheltering you. When you finally convince him to place his head on your lap, carding your fingers through his hair, it’s as if he’s discovered something new. He enjoys pressing his face into your stomach during afternoon naps, shedding his armour and weapons for a brief respite. He feels like he could shatter into a million little pieces when you trace his features with curious fingertips until you’ve had your fill, which is never. He doesn’t quite know how to cope with the fact that you’re just as crazy about him as he is about you. On the surface, he’s thrilled. But with Lucien, you need to look deeper, and you’ll see the disbelief, the terror, the possessiveness, the vulnerability that comes with loving someone so deeply.

Once he’s had a taste, Lucien will do everything in his power to spend every night with you. He loathes sleeping alone, in a cold bed, and only feels better when he receives a selfie of you wrapped up in his shirt. If you just happen to give him a glimpse of bare skin, revealing the lack of clothing underneath, he’s calling you right away. He loves instructing you over the phone and receiving your own breathless demands. He loves hearing your breath even out as you fall asleep after, finally settling his heart down.

Gavin:

The first time you fell asleep next to Gavin, he couldn’t fall asleep the entire night. His nerves were on fire, and he was so afraid of making the slightest of movements and waking you up. It took a while for him to lift his eyes to your face. He felt a little guilty about it, but he couldn’t look away. You looked so beautiful even in your sleep, and it robbed him of all tiredness. He isn’t used to sleeping next to someone. This isn’t about taking charge and looking out for you. This is about relaxing.

He jolts if you mumble anything in your sleep, straining his ears to catch the words. Gavin takes time to really get used to you sleeping in his bed. The girl of his dreams (teenage and adult) tossing an arm over him, nuzzling his chest. The first few times, it’s a shame you’re not awake to witness the way he smiles. An arm thrown over his face to hide his burning cheeks, but it doesn’t help with the happiness swelling in his heart. He feels incredibly full with it.

Despite his shy smiles, romance comes to him rather easily. He doesn’t even realise it but he makes you feel so loved with just a few simple actions, you only wish he could accept the same from you. You have to bulldoze past his protests that ‘he’s fine’, massaging his sore feet or back–you get your reward in his snores, in his relaxed limbs, in the automatic way he pulls you into him when you settle next to him.

He loves hearing about your day. You can go on and on, thinking he’s probably tuned out, but he’s paying attention to every word that comes out of your mouth. Slowly, he starts sharing what he can of his days too. At first, he tries to hide the dangerous things, but when you insist on it, he shares–with as little detail as possible. It’s an important step for him, learning to share his troubles, his needs, his desires. He’s never been one for naps, but can’t help it when you curl into him. You feel so incredibly loved, nearly worshipped, and you’re warm with it. What you have to do is show him how important he is. Hold him close, tell him as many times as it takes (even if it’s forever) that he is loved, that he’s in your heart. Be there for him as he heals, as he comes to accept his own value. All he needs is for you to love him.

He doesn’t know how to ask for sex, afraid of pushing your boundaries or pressuring you. The day he slips a hand below your shirt, stroking soft skin, you nearly derail the attempt by beaming at him in absolute joy. It’s fixed by curling your leg over his hip and your slipping fingers into his hair, showing him how much you like it.

He doesn’t watch TV. But watching something with you, watching you react to whatever’s going on is amusing. To your delight, he does end up liking Brooklyn Nine-Nine quite a bit. It’s fascinating to watch him laugh softly, amber eyes shining with mirth–until he notices you staring and blushes. Tell him how cute he looks when he’s embarrassed and he might stop breathing.

Victor:

It might take you both a while to really settle into this intimate space. Victor is such a private man, and his bed is the deepest part of his fortress–he has his own sleeping habits, and you’re not sure if you should press. You’re not sure if he likes his space in bed. At the time same, Victor is agonising over whether or not it’s okay to just pull you close and bury his head in your fair. He does eventually notice you inching closer, waiting for him to react, until there’s barely a few inches between you. A whisper from you about the cold will have him suppressing a smile as he winds an arm around you.

It doesn’t matter if the temperature in the room is actually perfect–he keeps you close. When he wakes up in the morning to find himself curled around you, his front to your back, he decides that from now on, this is how it’s going to be. He loves spooning you but will never admit it, always feigning ignorance when you wake up with a snuggly Victor, even though you had gone to sleep in completely different positions.

He’s a man of action, of never wasting time, but Victor can actually spend the entire day in bed with you, doing absolutely nothing. It’s so cosy he has a hard time leaving the little nest. You’ve spent countless Sundays wrapped in blankets, blowing on hot cocoa, watching the cheesiest rom coms you can find. Victor likes movies with intelligent plots, but what made you fall a little harder for him was discovering all the rom coms suggested for him. He refused to comment on it, scoffed when you said you wanted to watch something romantic but you will never forget the sight of a misty-eyed Victor refusing to look at you after an emotional scene.

His expression when you said you wanted to watch The Time Traveller’s Wife had been priceless.

He has a strict diet and routine, but with your corrupting and persuasive ways, you do manage to talk him into midnight snacking–occasionally. He loves arguing with you over characters’ actions and thought processes, always interested in knowing what you would do in their place. He thinks you look cute when you’re riled up, but isn’t as prepared for the high of emotions that usually ends with his leg slipping between your thighs as your tongue slips into his mouth.

He teases you about snoring, smirking wickedly when you turn flush and flail. What you will never know is how softly he smiles when he hears you snore, amused more than anything as he tugs you closer and you press your face into his neck. Sometimes, you mumble things about food. Even though you won’t remember it, he cooks it for you the next day. It’s his own little way of fulfilling wishes you’re not even aware of.

Please cuddle with him. He doesn’t know how to initiate it other than just taking you into his arms. Hold him close, kiss his hair, tease him. Climb onto his lap or pull him onto yours. Learn to read his face and body, because there’s so much he doesn’t know how to say.

He’s always believed naps are a waste of time but it’s also never stopped him from indulging. With you, he’ll still complain–even as he loosens his tie and plops down, looking up at you expectantly, and holds on tighter when it’s time to get up. Falling asleep with Victor feels like stepping into the ice fortress, only to find unbelievable warmth and safety inside. You never want to leave.

He feels a little pathetic when he’s away from you, feeling dejected and cold in his silent hotel room. Thoughts he’ll never voice out loud spring up, dramatic in their very nature. It’s awful, he thinks, being on his own. Are you thinking about him? Is it too early for a bedtime call? Is he being too needy? He’s not very good at sending pictures or video calling, and he resorts to excuses when he calls even though he just wanted to hear your voice. If you tell him you miss him, he’ll melt instantly. Keep talking, even if he’s not listening to every word, the sound of your voice is enough to bring him warmth. You can hear his sleepy responses to your words, but you know there’s no point in asking if he wants to go sleep–he won’t want to hang up until you’re both asleep.

#mlqc #mlqc headcanons #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fanfic #mr love: queen's choice

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stefciastark · 4 years ago

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Worthy ~Webpril Day 8

A/N: At almost my 4a.m, here it is! The concluding part to yesterday's little 'hidden injury' combined prompt fill. For some reason, these last two were harder for me to write, and I couldn't quite get this one to sound the way I wanted it to in my head (being sleep deprived probably hasn't helped haha). The struggles of writing sometimes - some ideas are just stubborn and don't always come out how you want them to haha Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

“I’m good, just a bit tired...had a big week of homework and helping Aunt May with the charity stuff y’know.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed from behind the suit’s helmet, his gaze a level of intensity usually only directed to dealing with complicated circuitry, mathematics, or playing the intimidation game with Nick Fury. Now that was some bullshit. Tony had known Peter for long enough to know that the more excuses the kid gave, the more likely it was that he was lying. Tony could practically taste the blood that Peter kept trying to subtly spit onto the pavement when he thought he wasn’t looking.

Above all, however, Tony wasn’t sure whether to be angry that Peter was trying to lie about how he was feeling and thought his biometrics weren’t being transmitted to Tony’s HUD at all times (it’s Stark technology, of course it would be), or whether he should be concerned about some form of brain damage because it didn’t seem to cross Peter’s usually so sharp and quick mind at all that his biometrics would be transmitted.

Tony decided he couldn’t watch Peter struggle with moving what were some of the lightest pieces of rubble anymore. Cutting the power to the repulsors, he landed next to where Peter was trying and failing to nonchalantly lean against the tower of debris they had begun to stack, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re done, kiddo. I’ve got it from here.”

The HUD inside the suit displayed an increase in blood pressure, which F.R.I.D.A.Y informed him was likely a result of ‘the human body’s response to acute pain.’ Tony knew Peter was a tough kid, but the way Peter moved looked stiffer than the Doombot metal corpses that were now strewn about the streets of Manhattan.

“No no, I’m good, see?” Peter returned to shifting the (smaller) pieces of rubble onto the pile. Tony had a feeling he was only continuing to wear his mask to prevent the undoubtedly pained expression on his face from telling Tony all he needed to know.

If Tony could pinch the bridge of his nose through his helmet at that moment, he would. He knew a compassionate and understanding approach should be the first port of call, but it would take the strength of a god like Thor himself to summon the patience he needed to deal with the situation at hand. He was tired, possibly mildly concussed after his skull had repeatedly hit the inside of his helmet at least eighteen times that afternoon, and he couldn’t wait for the day to be over so he could hit ‘reset’ on life and enter into the welcoming void of sleep.

Peter would have five minutes to come clean. Five minutes was about as long as Tony gave himself before his celestially bestowed patience wore out. Tony gave Peter a once-over once more as he continued to collect the smaller pieces of fragmented concrete. Tony returned to scanning the surrounding buildings for any hidden damages to the infrastructure, still making sure to keep Peter in his peripheral, his biometric data continuously updating on the top left of the suit’s inner display.

After five agonising minutes and another spike in Peter’s heart rate, Tony sighed in resignation and approached Peter. “Kid. Stop.”

Peter looked up, having taken his mask off moments before, happy to feel fresh air on his face for the first time since the fight began. Moreso, Peter was happy to have anything that felt like it restricted his already strained breathing off of his face. Tony could empathise with the feeling - experiencing an elephant sitting on your chest didn’t make the job of breathing any easier.

Peter’s expression to his instruction was one he’d seen too frequently; it was the one that bled with innocence, accompanied by the wide-eyed stare of a young Labrador puppy. “Yeah, Mr Stark?”

The helmet receded from Tony’s face so Peter was able to take in his blended countenance; it was something hovering between disappointment and barely concealed concern.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me? Maybe...I don’t know, an injury?” Peter blanched as he felt Tony’s probing eyes drilling into his own before clearing his throat.

He began to return to cleanup duties, hoping that if he ignored the situation for long enough, it’d go away. “No, Mr Stark, everything is -” Big mistake.

Another round of Peter’s half-baked excuses and deflection were cut off as Tony interrupted. “Zip it, you’re busted. You can try to hide it from me all you want, but F.R.I.D.A.Y knows better.”

Peter cursed under his breath. Even after spending considerable time in Tony’s Spider-Suits, he still sometimes forgot about the extent of the capabilities of the technology and AI programming that came with the package. While there was no point in hiding it anymore, Peter couldn’t stop himself before he insisted, “really, it’s okay.”

“It obviously isn’t,” Tony said, unable to prevent his tone from taking on a scathing and acerbic quality. Dragging his hand down his face, he paused and took a deep breath, seeing the way Peter’s features were pinched with hurt he was trying so hard to hide. Tony had a feeling that that hurt extended beyond just the physical; it was just wrong. “Look, kid, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to hide your injuries. I mean not like it’s possible anyway, you’re wearing my suit, for one. You should’ve known better.”

Tony supposed his frustration stemmed from the fact that he felt like he was looking into a mirror. He had wanted for Peter to find that little grey area to operate in in more than one capacity, yet instead Peter was currently taking a page out of Tony’s book, and not one of the good ones. ‘Don’t do anything I would do’. Well, attempting - poorly - to conceal any and all injuries unfortunately fit the profile. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’. Tony had to give Peter credit; that book hadn’t been opened.

“I just didn’t want to disappoint you again.” Peter saw the way Tony almost imperceptibly flinched as soon as the word ‘again’ left his lips. Chewing on his bottom lip momentarily and stopping when he tasted blood, Peter waited for Tony’s response. The silence persevered and Tony didn’t offer one.

Peter couldn’t quite tell what was going on beneath the surface with his mentor. At times, Tony was able to make himself so unreadable that it made Peter both envious and afraid. Envious, because Peter hated the way he was such an open, easily read book at times, and afraid for the aftermath of whatever Tony kept repressed under the surface. It was like a game of Russian Roulette, except Peter sometimes wondered which he’d really prefer; Tony’s disapproval or the actual bullet.

“I…” Peter continued, fixing his eyes on one particular pigeon feather that was floating in circles just in front of his left foot. He found himself pouring out his latest insecurities against his own will; at least he told himself it was against his will and that it was the pain’s fault. “I don’t feel like I belong with you guys. You’re all older, you’ve seen more stuff, battled more aliens and wizards. You all know what you’re doing and here I am, the young kid from Queens who doesn’t really deserve his place next to the Avengers.”

Silence.

Before Peter could react to the shadow that started to loom over him, he felt himself being pulled into a not-too-tight embrace that managed to expertly avoid his sore spots. He couldn’t help the tears that prickled at the corners of his eyes and fought to keep them from flowing over.

“Just so we’re clear on a couple of things. First, none of us know what we’re doing, get that out of your head. Second, you’re every bit worthy of being here.”

The sound of propellers were suddenly very close, and Peter wondered how on earth he’d missed them altogether.

“Third, get in the helicopter. I don’t want to hear a single complaint about it, kapeesh? We’re taking you to medical.”

A/N: Tomorrow's prompt is going to be quite an interesting one to fill. Tomorrow's prompt fill might also be a little bit later than usual. I've got quite a lot on my plate approaching the weekend, so worst-case scenario, I'll update twice in one day ;) Definitely going to try not to let that be the case though :) x Thank you for your continued support and encouragement!

#webpril day 8 #webpril 2021 #webpril #mcu fanfiction #marvel #peter parker fanfiction #tony stark fanfiction #irondad fanfiction #peter parker whump #h/c fanfiction #emotional h/c #writing prompt #writing challenge #my fic #h/c

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underatedcharactersunite · 5 years ago

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The Hounds Heart Part 3

Warnings; Mentions of violence, assault, Strong Language, Angst, Attempted Rape, Fluff, Angst WordCount; 4,108 A/N; Hey guys, reblogs and comments are appreciated. Taking your time to even read this means the world. So thank you.

Life with Joffery became a matter of survival for Y/N. Each day, she awoke with a simple goal; to keep Joffery as calm as possible. Keep him peaceful, and there will be no violence unleashed onto herself or her beloved sister. That was her plan.

Nevertheless, while her plan frequently worked that didn't prevent the mental and physical exhaustion that she encountered every day. Every action that Y/N made was scrutinised. Her clothing judged. Whenever Y/N's interacted with Joffery, someone was always watching her. Y/N managed to keep firm through each day with the reassurance that she would see Sandor later on each evening.

Joffery surprised Y/N when he suggested that they take a stroll in the gardens. The Garden's was Y/N's favourite place in the landscape of Kings Landing. It's the only place where the world resembled normality. Groups of women sat together gossiping away. People walked through the many passageways that the gardens had to offer.

A place that provided Y/N with adoration was juxtaposed with the darkness that lingered around the gardens. Y/N was quite aware that there were little birds scattered everywhere. The bushes had ears she reminded herself, as she strolled through the gardens.

The morning thus far had been calm and rather pleasant. Joffery let Y/N explore the flowers that she'd never been able to discover back home in Winterfell. For the first time since Y/N had been in Kings Landing, she felt peculiarly happy. Perhaps it was the new smells and beautiful colours messing with her brain as she stopped to examine the beauty that each unique flower possessed.

As Sandor observed Y/N stopping to examine all of the flowers that the gardens had to offer, he was confused as to why King Joffery hadn't attempted to stop her from preventing their stroll from continuing. The longer he observes King Joffery's behaviour, the longer the small smile placed upon King Joffery's lips annoys him.

Sandor was well aware that the boy King didn't have any true emotions for Y/N. She was apart of an agreement made by two Fathers not too long ago to bring two families together. Joffery could never feel any adequate emotions to the way he was beginning to feel for the young woman.

He observed intently as King Joffery called Y/N to him as they reached an area of the gardens that held no flowers for Y/N to stop and examine. Y/n walked gracefully as she made her way over Joffery who was waiting for her. Sandor was forced to observe her, place a kiss onto the bastard's lips which he hungrily attempts to deepen. Y/N allows him for only a moment before she pulls away slowly.

Little Swan is learning, Sandor thinks to himself. As each day goes by Y/N has been watching Joffery to understand every behaviour, every mannerism so she can attempt to predict what he's going to do next. The Lannister's exceedingly underestimated Y/N's intelligence. She's playing each one of them a different way according to the behaviour she receives. Sandor's know that deep in her heart she doesn't want to manipulate anyone's emotions however, if she doesn't she knows that she will not only place her sister's life in danger but also her own.

Between Sandor and Y/N, they should have figured out that the day was going to well. The sun shone brightly on them as they walked around such a beautiful place. Minus the rest of her family, Y/N was currently with someone who meant so much to her. She couldn't prevent herself as she glanced at Sandor from her peripheral vision. There was something about him in the sunlight that mesmerised her. For the first time since her Father was beheaded right in front of her, did Y/N feel happy? The icing on the lemon cake would have been Joffery disappearing, but for now, it would have to do.

As Y/N went over to examine the most vibrant royal blue flower she had ever encountered in her life, she crouched down so she could examine it more closely. Y/N was completely unaware of the danger that she was in. Ser Meryn Trant had joined the three of them in the gardens with news, Robb Stark had defeated the Lannister army once again. Robb was once more making progress in the war. This vital knowledge angered Joffery. It didn't matter what he attempted, the King of the North was managing to match every attack every defence strategy. Joffery was going to send the precious King of the North a message.

As Joffery mutters "Punish her" to Ser Meryn, nothing in the Seven Kingdoms could have prepared Y/N for the onslaught that she's was about to endure. Ser Meryn Trant approached her just as she stood up to return to Joffery once again. The first strike is a punch square in the face the second is a solid kick to the stomach. From then it's a mixture of kicks and punches, the solid metal covering Ser Meryn Trant's punches even more detrimental.

Meryn's sword was purposely aimed for Y/N's face. Every beating that Y/N had experienced this far had been child's play. Ser Meryn was instructed to do as much damage as possible. The sight unleashing before him was enough to fill Sandor's nightmares for many nights to come. The screams that came out of the young women's mouth would haunt him forever. Sandor felt helpless as he observed the woman he cared about get beaten by Ser Meryn Trant. No matter the sight that was being forced upon his very eyes, he used his might to keep his eyes locked with Y/N's. She stared at him as if he was the only person in this repulsive place that kept her balanced. Y/N's face was cut, bloody and bruised yet despite all of her injuries Sandor still believed in his entire heart that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

"Enough, Good job Ser Meryn perhaps now my little Wolf has learnt her lesson. Get up!" Y/N questioned as to what lesson she required to learn. She hadn't done anything wrong. She hadn't spoken out or fought back any of Joffery's advances. This leads her to come to the only conclusion she could, this was not her lesson to learn, it was meant for Robb.

Anger flowed her body like wildfire. Physically she was in no fit state to get up and walk. She was well aware she couldn't do that. With all of her might, she attempted to get up. Everything in her body screamed in agony, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. Each attempt is extremely painful. It's the fifth attempt that's successful as she finally gets back on her feet. Y/N straightens out her skirts and politely removes the blood out of her mouth. Joffery was not going to get the satisfaction of seeing her weak. The first step almost kills her as she stumbles, Sandor was quick to put himself in front of her, tearing off a piece of his cloak he quickly passes to her so she can wipe the excess blood from around her mouth.

"Now that you've finally made it to your feet. I want you to come with me? I'm going to show the small council what happens when my future Queen's traitor Brother continues to make progress." Y/N limped over to him, struggling to maintain a smile on her face. If Robb was far from giving up then so should she be? Appreciating Sandor training behind her, she knew that he would not let her fall. Once again, Y/N had been challenged by Joffery. She would not let him win. She would not give him the satisfaction of embarrassing her.

Every step was agonising. That didn't stop her walk with her head raised High as people within the castle stopped and stared at her she was beaten and bloody. Y/N was proving a point. No Lannister was ever going to achieve the right of breaking her. Y/N was a Stark and one day Winter would come to all those who had attempted to break her down.

"Joffery, why is your dear bride beaten and bloody?" Cersei's voice broke through the chatter above everyone else's. YN's head turned in the direction of the noise, however as her right eye began to swell, she could not be sure where Cersei is.

"I'm teaching my future bride that everything that her traitor family does affect her. Now if you don't mind Mother, I am somewhat busy at the moment." Joffery gripped Y/N's arm harshly pulling her along she couldn't stop the hiss that escaped her mouth. It truly made Y/N wonder how serious her injuries were if Cersei was attempting to prevent Joffery's actions.

Joffery stormed into the small council with Y/N at his side. The group of men who had previously been discussing the problems ever arising in the Seven Kingdoms. Tyrion Lannister, Grand Maester Pycelle, Lord Varys and Lord Petyr Baelish were suddenly all looking at the looking at Y/N with looks of shock.

"Lady Y/N here please take my chair. " Tyrion urged as he witnessed the young woman's legs shake. Tyrion approached Y/N with a gentle hand he took ahold of her hand.

"No! Lady Stark will remain standing. She has no right to sit!" Joffery clearly instructed nevertheless, Tyrion slowly lead to Y/N to the chair, with the help of Lord Varys. They helped her sit. Tyrion moved to stand directly in front of her.

"Are you going to have the Hound strike me like you have Lady Stark?" Y/N looks up at Sandor and then back at Joffery. She needed to play this correctly, so Sandor didn't face any of this backlash.

"It was not Sandor Clegane's fault. Sandor Clegane did not strike me. Ser Meryn Trant unleashed an attack on me because my traitor brother decided that he would rather win a war against my one true love, then to stop and accept his fate at the hands of my beloved King Joffery." With all of her might and the aid of the table, Y/N stood up once again, trying to make herself look tall despite every muscle, every bone in her body screaming at her.

"You bitch!" Ser Meryn Trant attempted to lunge at Y/N. Ser Meryn didn't get very far when Bronn placed himself in the way.

"Bronn if Ser Meryn Trant ever attacks Lady Y/N Stark again, kill him. In-fact make it as brutal as possible."

"No problem."

"You have no right to tell my Kings Guard what to do. I'll tell Ser Meryn when I tell him to stop!" Joffery screams Y/N remains silent as the two begin to argue again.

"Dog, I want you to protect Lady Stark from now on. If Ser Meryn attempts to hurt Lady Stark, I want you to cut him down as if you were protecting your King." Y/N's eyes reached Sandor's, in a sense it gave them the perfect advantage to spend time together, and get away with it.

"You cannot command the Kings Guard to protect a Stark. The Dog will not protect her."

"I can do both. I'll protect Your Grace and Lady Stark." The meeting then proceeds, it's rather tiresome and boring. However, that doesn't stop Y/N from trying to take every piece of information that she could. As the meeting ends, Sandor is ordered to take Y/N back to her Chambers so she could rest. Each step was once agonising, with the promise of rest Y/N limped as quickly as her legs would carry her.

Returning to the privacy of her Chambers, Y/N was relieved, her facade dropped. As Y/N turns around, she's noticing Sandor behaving almost awkwardly. Sandor can't meet her gaze as she retraced her steps towards him.

"I'm okay" Y/N reassured, in a brief moment Sandor crosses the remainder of the space between them. He had never been scared to lose anyone before. Lifting Y/N off of the ground, he gently carried her towards her bed, being extra careful as he settled her down.

"He could have killed you. I just had to watch you get beaten bloody. There was nothing I could have done. I let that bastard hurt you." Sandor crossed the room looking for that peculiar box that held everything he was going to need to help Y/N get patched up again.

"If you had gotten involved, Joffery would have had you killed. Sandor, you're the only thing besides my sister that's preventing me from going insane." Sandor crouched on the floor, slowly beginning to undo Y/N's shoes to get them off of her feet.

"Little Swan, I promise you, there is nothing to fear. I'm not going anywhere. Do you understand, nothing or anyone will ever stop me from being near you? Do you understand? I'll strike them down with my big fucking sword! Can you stand? It's probably best if you change first." Y/N slipped off of the bed, standing to her feet. Sandor couldn't stop himself as he gripped ahold of her to keep her steady. Despite being covered in her blood, Y/N still looked so beautiful. Notwithstanding the Lannister Red and Gold that covered her body, it complimented her. He realises that she's the perfect height for him to cover her face in an all too familiar paste. Disregarding the pain, Y/N can't take her eyes off of Sandor as he brings her a safety only he can provide.

As Y/N lifts her hand to touch the scarred side of Sandor's face, she notices how he flinches but, that doesn't stop her gently tracing over the scarred tissue. The two are mesmerised with each other. Ever so slowly, their faces get closer with the others. Y/N rubbed her nose over Sandor's playfully, trying to obtain an extreme rare smile to appear on Sandor's lips. Beautiful laughter broke out when she achieved her goal. Sandor had become besotted with the Little Swan who was as graceful as she was feisty. His large rough hand gradually made his way to her shoulder, drawing her closer towards him. Sandor had never felt like this before toward any woman, and now that he held you close to him, suddenly he realised just how much he yearned for this.

Y/N closed the gap between them, with parted lips they're lips welcomed each other. The roughness of Sandor's beard brought a welcomed scratch to Y/N's face. The kiss lasted no more than a moment or two as the two pulled away, Sandor quickly rejoined their lips for a second and then a third and fourth. As they both pulled away, Y/N slowly rubbed her thumb gently over Sandor's bottom lip.

The two of them didn't say anything to the other. All of their feelings had just been expressed to each other in a series of short yet highly emotive kisses. Sandor silently patched up Y/N's injuries with an understanding that he could protect her permission granted to him by Tyrion Lannister himself.

As the days passed, Y/N realised just how badly she had been injured. It wasn't like the previous times when she bounced back in a couple of days. She was still in as much pain as she had been when she'd been beaten. But, that didn't mean Joffery gave her any time to recuperate. The day for Myrcella was to be shipped off to Dorne, Y/N stood side by side between her betrothed King Joffery and his younger Brother Tommen who was distraught in his sister's departure.

A simple walk. From the docks back to the castle. That's all it should have been. As they walked back, the people had gathered around the blockade. Sandor walked to the side of Joffery while Y/N held his hand slowly tracing small circles around the back of his hand to keep Joffery calm. The people were understandably angry and hungry as they observed their King strolling by. Upon hearing "He's a bastard!" Yelled from the crowd, Joffrey's head lifted. Pleas for food echoed off of the walls.

Something flew out of no-where, hitting Joffery directly in the face. All of the Kings guards were suddenly prepared to protect. Joffrey's calm demeanour shifted swiftly to anger demanding the person who did that.

Everything escalated so quickly after that. The people grew tired of starving and suffering, with the opportunity in front of them the people took ahold of it. Fights were breaking out in every direction. Trying to find Sandor he was quick to find with a screaming Joffery who had never looked more terrified in his life. Looking around Y/N realised Sansa was no-where to be seen.

"Sansa!! Sansa!!" Y/N screamed attempting to find her, a young man lunged for her, but she was quick to throw a punch directly into the man's jaw. This wasn't about her trying to maintain a sense of feminity, right now it was survival.

Y/N glanced as she saw Sandor go further and further away from her. Doing everything to protect Joffery, men came out of no-where trying to attack her with all their might. Y/N fought her way through trying to remember what her Father taught her. Hearing Sansa's scream broke Y/N from her trance as she pushed through the crowds fighting her way through down into an alleyway.

Hearing the sound of a slap and Sansa began to struggle against whoever had followed her down. Picking up her skirts Y/N slipped the knife from underneath it and began sprinting towards her younger sister.

A group of men were forcing Sansa on the ground as she struggled beneath them. Y/N realised what they were about to attempt to do to her precious little sister. She wouldn't let it happen.

"Let her go now." Y/N gripped the knife in her hand well aware that she could use it. Y/N had never killed a man before, but she was more than willing to do so to protect her sister.

"Look we got here, another Stark bitch. Two for the price of one." Y/N had enough. Enough of Joffery. Enough of everything going on around her. Enough of being away from her family. Enough of the torture that she went through, of what Sansa went through. As the first man attempted to attack her, she sliced the man's stomach open with ease. Dropping to the floor dead, the men began to realise just how much danger they were in.

As they stood there trying to work out a way to get the upper hand on the eldest Stark daughter, their faces suddenly drained off all colour. Y/N didn't have to look behind her to know who it was. As the men ventured to flee one by one Sandor and Y/N worked as a team to take down the remaining men. Sansa froze in horror at the sight unfolding before her. The second the last man was down, Y/N dropped to her knees, enclosing her arms around her sister.

"You're okay now. I'm here. I'm here." Slowly helping her little sister up, Y/N was quickly reminded of her injuries, but that wasn't her concern right now. Getting Sansa safe mattered more than anything.

"You are to as close to me as possible okay if you need to use the knife okay. Just like you did with these dumb fuckers" Sandor lifted Sandor over his shoulder, as you proceeded to match the pace with Sandor's large ones. Getting through the riot was brutal. Each turn brought more violence. Y/N understood that these people were starving they had no food to eat. As men were dying on the battlefield, the people were starving there too.

The second they were back within the castle walls. Y/N made sure that Sansa was in good hands. Y/N felt an arm grab hers and she almost swung for it's the owner.

Turning around, Y/N became very aware that her handmaidens had come to return her to her Chambers. Y/N knew that Joffery was a wicked, disgusting, pathetic excuse for a King, but she did not understand how much of a coward he was too. He was letting his subjects starve to fund a war that he had started. She couldn't let the people starve. She wouldn't. Moving as quickly as possible Y/N changed her dress into one, that was less bloody before she began the march towards wherever Joffery was.

"Little Swan, wherein the fuck are you going?" Sandor's voice broke Y/N's determination to find her forward of a beloved.

"Going to find my beloved King Joffery." As Y/N snarled as she mentioned Joffery, Y/N wanted answers. Did Joffery not think of the consequences of his words? Did he deliberately put everyone in danger? Y/N knew that she and Sansa's lives didn't matter to him, but his mother, Uncle and Brother? Surely they mattered somewhere in his world. The King had no heart.

"Do you think that's a good idea? You appear to want to slice him in half?" Sandor took hold of Y/N's hand, pulling her back towards him. She knew that leading herself to Joffery's Chambers could guide her into another beating, but she was exhausted of the King having no sense of morals and a sense of conscious.

"The King needs to learn that his actions put everyone around him in danger. Including his Mother and Brother. He didn't think about anything over then trying to get vengeance over people throwing a cow pie at him. Those people out there are starving and, he wonders why they're getting desperate. Sandor, he can believe that everything is perfectly normal because the desperation is not his concern every day. If I'm going to marry Joffery, then I want to be able to at least make sure the people, my people are fed and watered." Sandor's hand slipped down her arm to her hand, taking it so softly.

"Speaking to him while your angry is not a good idea. Little Swan, you know that. Go back to your Chambers and think about this. You're smarter than that. I'll come and visit you later to check on your injuries. " Y/N hated that Sandor was correct. She wasn't thinking about it logically. Y/N was playing the Game of Thrones and fighting for herself and Sansa. They needed to survive in a world that was so foreign to them both.

Unbeknownst to Sandor Clegane and Y/N they were being watched by an unknown ally. Tyrion Lannister watched upon the two's interaction puzzled by how such a beautiful young woman could have fallen for a man like the Hound.

"I do not understand what Lady Stark sees in him." Tyrion pondered as he observed the two talking amongst themselves. Tyrion was well aware of the soft gaze appearing the young woman's face.

"Who the fuck knows? In all honesty, who the fuck cares. I can't say I'm not a little disappointed cause I wouldn't mind some alone time with the Lady Stark. I do like my woman feisty and Lady Y/N Stark is certainly that." Tyrion shot Bronn a look, but he couldn't blame her. Y/N Stark was proving to be something.

"Which is why when the time comes we need to make sure of it that Y/N gets out of here without a scratch on her. I'm afraid if it doesn't happen soon, Lady Y/N Stark may soon die."

"That would be a bloody shame now, wouldn't it? A world where a woman so beautiful doesn't exist. Whatever you need me to do consider it done especially if it means giving that Trant bloke a hidin'."

"You might regret saying that. Now come we have a lot to do."

#The Hounds Heart #sandor clegane imagines #Sandor clegane imagine #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones imagines #sandor clegane one shot #sandor clegane oneshot #game of thrones oneshot #game of thrones one shot #Part 3

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duskandstarlight · 4 years ago

Text

Embers and Light (Chapter Five / Nessian)

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Ao3

Chapter Five Cassian

Cassian had put a shivering Nesta to bed, piling blankets upon blankets on top of her to warm her up. Her skin had been so pale it had taken on a blueish hue, and he had watched her as she slipped in and out of consciousness for the next hour, unable to leave. She had murmured when she fell under that final time; an incomprehensible string of words falling from her lips that were only silenced when he clasped her hand, as if his warmth soothed whatever images haunted her. He didn’t let go, after that.

Nesta had been lucid enough to tell him what he suspected after the incident; as she begged no, no, no when he started to pile the logs onto the hearth — she was scared of fire. And if her full-blown flashbacks in the camp were anything to go by, Nesta was suffering from an extreme case of suppressed battle fatigue. It was no wonder that she had hidden herself from her sisters… from them all. Her power rose to her fear and if he hadn’t flung up a shield… Well, he didn’t want to contemplate the bodies that he may have had to place on the pyre.

Battle fatigue — or organorum as it was called in Illyrian — was an unfortunate side effect of war that plagued fae and human alike. It was less of a problem for Illyrian’s, where the fighting instinct was so strong that warriors flung themselves back into battle with a stubbornness that defied usual fae, but that didn’t mean it wasn't a problem.

Even a year later, Cassian’s nightmares were proof enough that he himself was still reeling from the war, so there was no excuse for his failure to contemplate the full extent of Nesta’s suffering. Cassian had sat in the armchair by her bed, watching Nesta’s too-still body under the heaps of blankets as he spiralled further and further into a pit of self-loathing at the failure of he, his friends and his family for letting it all get this far.

Although Nesta was skilled at hiding her monsters, they should have pushed — they should have done more — to understand the root of her icy coldness. Nesta had spent a lifetime honing her skill at masking her emotions and protecting herself at all costs, that none of them had even stopped to think that her behaviour may have been to protect them rather than simply push them away.

But today that impenetrable wall had come down, and in its wake that wild power of hers had risen to the surface. Cassian had felt her unleashed terror before he’d even heard her whimper, and then before he’d had time to dissect what was happening, that ice from within her had exploded with such force he’d had to test his own power as he threw up a shield to protect the females, the children…

Cassian had known about the bathtub. Feyre had mentioned it to him prior to Nesta’s arrival in Illyria, and he had installed the spout above the bath because of it, but he had never contemplated the gravity of the other battles she might be facing.

After the war with Hybern, he had been so angry at her for sending him away and so broken himself as he informed family after family that their loved ones wouldn’t be coming home, that emotion had clouded logic. He’d been too distracted by Nesta’s destructive behaviour to look that bit deeper — to see past the excessive drinking and the sleazy males she used to warm her bed.

Because Cassian had felt everything in that moment when she’d lain over his broken body, as if there were a bridge between their souls. It had been overwhelming — the pain, the anguish, the heartbreak she felt — he could hardly bare the unfiltered rawness of it. And in that moment he understood why Nesta was the way she was, because that mask of indifference was the only thing protecting her from the harshness of the world.

By the time his leg and wings were mended, that bridge felt constricted. Rather than fluid it was stiff and muffled, as if he were wading under water. He had seen enough to know it was still there. Snippets of her life as her walls failed, like today, when all he could feel was pure terror at her magic as it swirled around her, readying itself to strike.

He had heard every one of his bones snap and his agonised screams. He had seen her father’s dead eyes as his body crumpled to the floor, and Elain’s blood-coated hands as she pulled Truth-Teller out of the King of Hybern’s neck…

But even though Nesta had pushed him cruelly away, he still wanted her. Cassian had never been so angry at someone in his entire life — had never thought anyone more barbed and merciless when they wished to be — yet there was also a part of him that understood her. She was fire and ice with the sharp and assessing intelligence of a warrior. He had witnessed first-hand as Nesta read a room in seconds and used it to her advantage with that silver tongue of hers.

In all honesty, he had never ever, been more magnetised by someone in his five hundred years of living, and he knew that nobody else would ever come close.

So Cassian had waited until Nesta’s breathing became even before he had left the house. He was desperate for fresh air, to get lost in the monotonous rhythm of feet on mud so he could play their conversations over and over in his mind. He looped them on repeat and when he really started to look, they began to make sense. Because Nesta couldn’t voice her demons like others could. No, instead she had left him clues. He just hadn’t been clever enough to see it and to ask for an explanation why.

Stop following me. Stop trying to haul me into your happy little circle. Stop doing all of it.

I told you to stay away. You know nothing about me.

I don’t like fires. You’ll soon change your mind living here. I won’t.

It was all so obvious now. When Cassian cast his mind back to Solstice, Nesta had left the town house after he had added more wood to the fire. She had even deliberately chosen the armchair furthest away form the hearth, even though he knew it wasn’t her favourite spot. At the time, Cassian had thought it because she didn’t want to sit with all of them, but now… Had she left because the sound had become too much? To think he had berated her for not talking to him, when she had probably spent the entire evening trying to ignore the crackling fire and hold herself together.

Dragging a hand over his face, Cassian cast a look around. He had already found the closest messenger and sent word to Rhys, letting him know that he needed to speak with his brother face-to-face. He had also visited the spot of the incident, checking in on the females and children to make sure they weren’t hurt. He had been certain his protective shield had contained the explosion but he had wanted to double check. Now, he found himself in the craftsman centre of the camp. In front of him stood the small wooden building of Emerie’s clothing shop, the glass of the large lead windows shining brilliantly in the sun.

Emerie was standing with her back straight and her chin held high — a perfect rendition of Nesta’s I Will Slay My Enemies pose — as he entered the shop, the bell above the door heralding his arrival. Her sharp eyes flickered in recognition as he closed the door behind him, but she only dropped her chin in acknowledgement. The action was defiant yet subservient and so unusual for an Illyrian female that respect flared within him.

“Emerie,” Cassian said, trying to instil some warmth into his greeting, even if the thought of Nesta small and vulnerable back home was still making his blood run cold.

“Lord Cassian,” she replied, her voice low and modulated. “What can I help you with?”

Fingering the thick woollen scarves that hung on some hooks driven into the wall, Cassian swept an assessing eye around the shop. It was a force of habit from years of training, and a quick glance told him everything he needed to know: it was impeccably tidy and despite a few empty hangers, it looked as if she was still fighting the same losing battle when it came to customers.

“I see you have gotten more popular,” he lied, for lack of something better to say.

Emerie’s dark eyes bore into his. “The clothing shop across the street ran out of coats because of the snow storms. Some had no choice but to buy here.”

The corner of Cassian’s mouth tugged upwards at Emerie’s blunt honesty and the image she had conjured. Cassian would have paid good money to see those proud Illyrian’s faced with the dilemma of buying from a female or facing an early death from the bitter cold.

“That must have been quite the picture,” he said after a moment.

“Yes,” Emerie said slowly with a frown. “Can I help you with something?”

“I need blankets and some of these scarves,” Cassian told her, gesturing to the rack in front of him.

His words prompted Emerie into movement and she floated over to the shelf piled high with an assortment of thick, knitted blankets. “How many?”

“Twelve of each,” Cassian instructed, as he strolled over to a rack of soft earmuffs. His fingers immediately found purchase in the dappled grey fur of a headband. It was surprisingly perfect; it was wide enough to sit snugly over pointed ears, and whilst it was more fashionable than something Illyrian’s usually wore, it was ideal for muffling noise.

Plucking it off the rack, Cassian placed it on the counter. “And this, too.”

Emerie’s eyebrows rose but she didn’t say a word as she began to ring the items up on the till.

Leaning against the counter, Cassian watched her work. When he noticed how her posture straightened uncomfortably at his attention, he tapped a large finger against the pine and cast a look around in an attempt to make her more at ease.

“I don’t suppose you can you order in some books for me, can you?” he asked suddenly, an idea blooming within him.

Despite the unexpected question, Emerie didn’t miss a beat. Unfortunately for her, it meant her well formed responses fell to the wayside. “For Lady Nesta?”

The subsequent, awkward pause had Cassian’s lips twitching again in amusement.

Wings rustling uncomfortably, Emerie dared a look at him. It was a look that Cassian knew no other Illyrian female in this camp would have risked and for that, he admired her.

Her tan cheeks were stained with the faintest red and her eyes were apologetic, as she murmured in explanation, “It’s the talk of the camp…”

“Naturally,” Cassian said, with a wave of his hand. Illyrian’s always were nosy bastards. “Nesta is a keen reader and is in need of some more books.”

Emerie started to neatly fold the different colour fabrics. Her cheeks had faded to a dusky pink. “What genre?”

“Romance usually, but she reads anything and everything. I’d stay clear of horror and war.”

Emerie should definitely steer clear or war, but Cassian didn’t want to stress the importance of it. He had a feeling that Emerie didn’t need telling twice, anyway. She was as sharp as a well-honed blade, from what he had gleaned of her.

“I can look into it,” Emerie said finally, as she finished carefully placing his purchases into bags. “I won’t be able to get any in until next week.”

Cassian nodded to indicate he understood. “A small selection will do.”

Handing her the money, he took the packaged bags. “I’ll see you next week. Send word when the books have arrived. In fact,” he put a gold coin down pointedly on the counter. “For delivery. You know where I live?”

Emerie jerked her chin upwards, her dark hair swaying at the movement.

“Until then,” Cassian said with a bow of his head.

He shot straight into the skies as soon as he was outside, forgoing the steep walk to the widow’s camp halfway up the craggy mountain. The snow was far thicker than in the mountain pass and the ice was treacherous at points. It had only been in irritation that he had suggested walking up it this morning. Nesta’s venomous comment about his inability to read had struck a deep insecurity he’d never been able to shake. So he had fought back in his own way, knowing deep in his gut that she wouldn’t take the easy way out, because he had an inkling Nesta was a stickler for self-punishment.

That childish behaviour had only gotten him what he deserved: females and children nearly dead, and Nesta passed out, her skin so wan that he felt sick to his stomach.

Cassian was well in the air when he felt the familiar claw raking down the ring of fire protecting his mind. He let the fire part and his flames licked at the forthcoming darkness in greeting. It was not the sort of pitch black that was full of haunting promises, but the soothing calm that came with the midnight sky.

His brother’s voice sounded in his head only a second later. I can be late afternoon or does it need to be sooner?

Late afternoon is fine.

A pause followed. Cassian rarely called Rhys to Illyria. It was only when he truly needed the power of a High Lord did he relent and ask Rhys to winnow in, so he wasn’t surprised by the next question.

Need I be worried?

Cassian couldn’t hold back the tightness in his voice, as he said silently, We had an incident this morning.

I don’t doubt that by ‘we’ you mean yourself and the eldest Archeron sister?

Something like that, Cassian replied vaguely. He didn’t want to get into it now — not like this.

Show me?

It was a request not a command and one that Cassian didn’t hesitate to refuse. He shook his head — an instinctual habit even though Rhys couldn’t see him. I’d rather not.

His brother’s reply was delayed but understanding. I’ll winnow into the camp in a few hours. I’m in a meeting with Amren and I like my balls where they are.

Good. That left Cassian with plenty of time to check on Mas and fly them back to the house.

Making sure his brother could detect the amusement in his voice, Cassian said, I didn’t know you had any balls.

A dark chuckle as smooth as silk sounded in his head. Meet you at the top of the mountain?

An immediate understanding that Cassian wanted privacy without having to ask. Sometimes having known somebody for centuries had its perks.

See you there.

Snow crunched beneath Cassian’s heavy boots as he landed at the edge of the widow’s camp. Cassian had set himself down at the crest of the sloping path, which led up the mountain in a steady ascent to the widow’s base. Ahead of him, in the middle of the camp, Cassian could make out the towering mass of grey stone, which hunched over to create what he had always sombrely thought looked like a jagged tombstone: an omen of death waiting to claim the outcast females of the Windhaven camp.

When it came to the deep-rooted sexism in Illyrian culture, Cassian was hard done by for choosing the greatest atrocity. Yet one of the worst by far was their treatment of widows. Just a brief stock of his surroundings told Cassian everything he had expected — their numbers had grown exponentially since the war, a direct result of the Illyrian males who had not made it back.

The conditions down in the mountain pass might be harsh, but the exposure to the elements halfway up the mountain were nothing less than brutal. It was a heinous way-of-life to be relegated to the widow’s camp, but for many husbandless females, they had no choice. There was nowhere else for them to go.

Every day at the crack of dawn when Cassian left the house, he saw the lines of females as they trudged down the perilous, convoluted path to the heart of the Windhaven camp. There, they would work themselves to the bone, just to afford the clothes on their back and to buy enough food to survive.

Despite the laws that Rhys had put into motion, widow’s found it hard to find their place amongst Illyrian society. Once a husband died, the financial strain of a childless widow was often seen as too much on the surviving family, and if their childbearing years were behind them, there was often only one place for them to go. It was rarely — if ever — out of choice to live up the mountain. It meant a hard and difficult existence at the bottom of the social ladder with no opportunity to climb.

Swallowing thickly, Cassian took in the rusting steel drums of fire and the huddled figures desperate for any sense of warmth. Females looked up in alarm as he passed, recoiling in fear of the male — of the General — who had travelled all the way up the mountain to their exiled spot.

Nodding at the weathered faces, Cassian headed towards the East side of the camp. He was unsurprised when all of the females quickly looked away from him and trained their eyes dutifully to the floor. Some of them were too preoccupied with tugging their worn clothing tighter around themselves to ward off the bitter chill, than to look at him at all. The action made Cassian wish he’d brought more blankets, but he knew if they had an inkling that he was bringing them clothing, they would never accept it. Instead, he’d been giving Mas supplies for years, leaving it to her — a respected elder amongst the widow community — to distribute the clothing to those who needed it the most.

Cassian drew up beside Mas’s tent just as she was stepping out. Her tent was less battered than the others — he had brought her a new one a few years prior as a Solstice gift — and whilst she had tutted at him, he knew it brought her comfort and protection from the elements.

She looked alarmed when she saw him, those dark eyes widening exponentially. It was incredibly rare for him to set foot in the camp. In fact, he could count on two hands how many times he had visited. It wasn’t because he didn’t care but because of the reaction he got . Many of the females here had been abused by males at some point in their lives and so a male in the camp was a threat to their safety. And even though Cassian meant no harm, he could sense how tense the females were because of his presence.

“General Cassian… I am late?” Mas asked, even though they both knew she wasn’t expected for a few hours yet.

“Are you — ” he started. But then he stilled, because what he saw had red, hot anger washing over him. The temperature of it was so intense it felt like waves of heat rolling across a desert plain and Mas flinched, as if she too could feel it despite the icy bite to the air. Cassian suspected the ferocity of it still had something to do with the female back at the house. He wasn't sure he'd ever get Nesta's broken expression out of his head as she begged him to stay away.

“Who did this to you?” Cassian demanded, because around Mas’ wrist was a thick bandage, and in her gait… she was limping.

He stepped quickly towards her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw females scuttle into tents, his voice clearly too male and full of rage.

It took the restraint of a warrior to dampen his fire.

He lowered his voice. “Tell me what happened.”

Reaching up, Mas patted his cheek tenderly with her palm. She smiled sadly at him. He knew his concern caught her off guard, even after all these years. Cassian suspected it stemmed from never having anyone that truly cared for her well-being. Her poor wings were testament to that.

“Hush, sinta,” she soothed, with a last pat to his face. “I slipped over in the snow yesterday. I was climbing the mountain in the storm and sprained my wrist. Come, you are scaring the females.”

She gestured for him to follow inside the tent and he relented, if only to save the females from hiding away.

“Will you now listen to me and move into the outhouse?” he muttered irritably, as he ducked through the canvas flap. “Then you wouldn’t have to walk up the mountain at all.”

Mas made a tsk sound between her teeth. “And what of the other widow’s, sinta? The orphans? I can’t up and leave them, you know this.”

Grumbling at the truth of her words, Cassian attempted to straighten up. His head just barely missed a lantern hanging from the primary wooden beam that ran across the roof of the tent as it swayed in a gust of wind. He ducked again, before finding a space where he had no fear of being clobbered in the temple, and stood tall.

Mas’s tent was large in comparison to the other females. Although Mas technically had a tent to herself, she usually offered a spare bed to one of the new recruits until they could get themselves on their own two feet.

Today was no different. In the corner, on a makeshift camp bed was a little girl who could be no older than five. She was curled up on the very corner of the thin mattress, her dark eyes watching him warily. Her little wings rustled as he took another step inside the tent, unsettled by his movement, and his heart squeezed with sadness as he watched her too-thin body shrink into itself as she tried to make herself even smaller.

Cassian took a last look at that dirty, haunted face — the face that should be innocent but was already marred by cruel reality of the world — before he worked a kind smile onto his own. “And who is this?”

“We had some orphans join us last night,” Mas explained, with an air that told him that the amount of female orphans joining the camp was far too frequent, too. “This little one is staying with me for the time being.”

Cassian bit back a grimace as he looked back at the scared youngling. Sadly, circumstances like hers was also a recurring addition to the widow’s camp. Unlike male orphans and bastards, whose use would be found in the sparring rings when they came of age, young girls who had lost their families were often taken in by the widow’s. It meant more mouths to feed and more bodies to clothe, but Mas and the other elders who had already lived unforgiving lives, took female younglings under their wings despite the financial difficulties. Unfortunately, many of the orphans had no option but to start working from a young age, often finding jobs in the kitchens or doing laundry, where they were often required to stamp and wring cloth for long durations of time until their feet and fingers blistered from the friction.

“Don’t bother to find her a job,” Cassian said immediately. “Bring her along with you every day. I’ll pay her a salary.”

Mas’ expression softened and she bowed her head gratefully. “You are too kind, General Cassian.”

Cassian nodded tightly. “It’s the least I can do. Bring her with you later so she can have a hot bath and a good meal. You know the clothing store that used to be owned by Proteus? It’s owned by his daughter Emerie now. Drop by there and pick up some clothing for her on the way. Not the store opposite.” He pressed some coins into her hand. “Whilst you’re at it, get a salve for that wrist. If it’s still sore tomorrow, i’ll call the healer. ”

He nodded to the camp bed. “Does this little one have a name?”

Mas sent him a sad smile, glancing at the small figure in the corner. “She’s not spoken yet.”

Cassian nodded in understanding. He knew what it was like to have your life uprooted and be cast out on your own from a young age. Those memories would never leave him, no matter how many wars he fought or how many Siphons he had.

“Let me know if she needs anything else. Do you want me to fly you both down?”

Mas shook her head. “I need to check on the other girls before I leave.”

“Fine,” he replied, his thoughts already running away with him as he tried to figure out how he could help the other orphans, too. Finding them new homes would be tricky — if not near impossible — but he would try…

“General Cassian,” Mas called after him as he went to leave. “You never said why you were here.”

Cassian held up the bags of supplies in his hands.

“I was just dropping off some warm clothing for the females,” he lied, not wanting to mention Nesta’s foresight. “Will you distribute these to the most needy?”

“Of course,” Mas said obediently, but her look was shrewd and piercing. He had already seen her gaze flit to his forehead, where the large gash was still healing. He wasn’t in the mood to tell her what had happened and he knew she wouldn’t push. No doubt she’d learn about it as soon as she reached the mountain pass, anyway.

It was going to be the talk of the camp — if it wasn’t already.

Setting the bags down by a small chest of drawers to his right, Cassian started to head towards the tent entrance, before hesitating. Now was as good a time as any to speak to Mas about Nesta — about what he’d discovered this morning.

Mas was already looking at him expectantly.

“Nesta is feeling unwell today and has taken to her bed,” he started slowly. “I’ve discovered she doesn’t like fire. The log burner in the living room is fine to use as long as the door is closed, but you mustn’t light a fire in her room.”

Mas’s eyes widened as she followed him out of the tent.

“Yes, General Cassian,” she said obediently. “Of course.”

“Good,” he replied and stretched his wings out wide. “I’ll see you in a few hours, then.”

TAGSS @superspiritfestival

#cassian #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #nesta #acotar #acosf

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mightymorphingayagenda · 5 years ago

Note

Nessian assassin au???? X

Much like a circle, or the opinions of men on women’s reproductive rights; this date was pointless.

The reasons for this inescapable fact were listless, but included the following:

1. In Nesta Archeron’s line of work, dating, was like trying to watch the news without getting pissed of. An admiral thing to attempt, but equally misguided and inevitably unsuccessful.

2. Nesta’s suitor was Rhysand brother; meaning he would no doubt be an arrogant, preening idiot with indecently good looks and a whole lot of nothing else going for him by blood.

3. Nesta was already hopelessly and disastrously in love.

Of course Nesta hadn’t been able to use any of these as valid excuses to get out of the date. “Hey Feyre, just calling to say that I know you want me to go on this blind date, but I actually can’t because you see, I’m a gun for hire, which as you can imagine makes dating rather tricky. Also I’m absolutely gone for my latest target’s bodyguard, who I’ve never actually spoken to but in the month and a half I’ve been stalking him has somehow managed to make me fall head over heels for him. Anyway, we still on for brunch on Thursday?”

It truly was a tragic set of circumstances.

Nesta thanked the door-man as he slipped her coat from her frame. Carefully and expertly folding the garment over his forearm and heading to the cloakroom. She’d made sure to give him a considerable tip, knowing her coat was probably worth more than what he made in a month.

Nesta wasn’t ashamed of her money, as far as she was concerned all currency was blood money. Every dollar in America was built on colonialism and funded by a corrupt economic system, she didn’t see why her cash was any dirtier just because she earned it by putting bullets in the backs of people’s heads. But she’d made it practice to always leave generous tips where she could.

Nesta would always remember Friday nights spent counting pennies on a dirty windowsill because it meant they could use the light of the street lamps when their own electricity had been cut off. Her hollow stomach ringing out along side the metallic song of coins with an ache like she’d been punched in the gut.

Now she was rolling in it.

“Comfortable” as Feyre would say.

The Archeron sisters had made good; Feyre having married into the richest family in the west of the globe, Elain with a clientele of elitists gagging to throw their wealth at the most extravagant weddings her sister could plan and Nesta cashing in a six figure transaction ever time she pulled a trigger.

But she wasn’t flashy. Nesta found something grossly immature in wearing wealth obtusely and without taste. This evening she’d opted for a simple dress, a dark emerald thing that reached her mid thigh and hugged her full form with a lethal softness. Bare of any jewellery and hair like dark chocolate loose and softly curled, her makeup had been applied minimally save for her mouth which she had painted a red like cracking blood, leaving her lips like a brutal bruise against her soft complexion.

It was the perfect ensemble for Le Divinità, tastefully expensive so that she did not look out of place in the architecturally exquisite building, the warm glow of the soaring room warming her bare arms and gold detailing and chandeliers with dripping, diamonte glass offset against the kenia cream marble.

While Nesta was set on finding fault in her date, his taste was undeniable. Le Divinità had never prioritised fad-like trend and a costly ambience over good food and a legendary bar.

Heels clipping quietly against the stone floor, Nesta made her way over to said bar, fingers already restless for a cigarette to still her agitated dread at what was to come. She ordered a gin, straight, and checked her phone for the time. She’d made sure to arrive early, primarily to ensure she had time to neck back some liquor before her date arrived, but also because she’d find some small joy in making him uncomfortable having seemingly left her waiting.

Slinking into a bar stool, she tucked her ankle behind the another and taking a long sip of her gin, she couldn’t help where her mind wondered like a cheated lover back to their betrayer. Sickened with her own besotted crush as though it were a thick spoon of honey she were gagging on, Nesta still couldn’t help but think of him.

She’d spent this afternoon atop a rooftop, tortured by the unfolding Friday ritual she could now confirm went unaltered each week.

From noon till four in the afternoon Helion Day would work out in his private gym, located on the top floor of his more frequented office building, with his oh so gorgeous bodyguard.

The soaring glass windows meant Nesta had been entirely unobstructed as the only audience member to a truly delicious show of both men’s physiques. Her binoculars trembling slightly in her hands as she’d watched the CEO’s companion begin completing a gruelling regime of pull ups, bench pressing and combat instruction, all without a shirt. The expanse of his powerfully built upper body was the stuff of Nesta’s dreams. Tan flesh slick with sweat and dusted with fine hair over the broad panes of his defined chest and running in a darkening trail down his chiselled abdomen to disappear beneath the low slung waistband of his sweatpants that made a profuse Adonis belt visible to Nesta. With his thick hair tied back in a bun, intricate tattoos mapping his left pectoral and creeping over his arms and an obvious stubble creeping up his jaw, Nesta hadn’t known where to keep her eyes for longer than a hot moment of agonising appreciation. She knew where her eyes were should have been, but while her client also had his own physical appeal, Nesta only had eyes for one man.

He was so impossibly broad and large it gave Nesta a primal thrill to think of how he could use that brute strength to fuck her as hard and rough as she craved. The impression of his cock through those sweat pants had left Nesta staring at one of her largest vibrators once she’d got home and telling herself that there was no way he could have been bigger, despite what she’d seen implied.

She’d closed her eyes and pictured him beneath her as she’d then rode the pink toy, her cunt throbbing with wet arousal from the hours of visual foreplay. She burned to know what his voice sounded like. Whether he would groan as he fucked her throat with his thick cock, or if he’d murmur filthy words or encouragement and praise. She’d almost given herself a headache trying to fabricate in her mind the noises escaping his mouth as he’d worked out. That rugged jaw clenching in moments of intense exertion and handsome face often appearing as though he were grunting through a movement that Nesta swore would snap any other man in half.

“Nesta?”

A purely male and deep voice sounded from beside her.

She turned, and almost shattered the half empty glass in her hand.

Had it been spiked?

The gin has to have been laced with some hallucinogenic- that was literally the only reality that she would accept being any part of. Because standing before her, was Helion Day’s body guard.

Fuck.

“Do I know you?” she drawled boredly.

He wore a crisp, white dress shirt which hugged his upper body in a way that was doing things for Nesta, and a simple pair of slacks that had clearly been tailored to his powerfully built legs.

She was utterly, truly and absolutely fucked.

What the hell was she meant to do? She’d been made, she’d been fucking made. Three years and Nesta had never made one mistake, hadn’t slipped up once, she hadn’t just done everything by the book she’d all but written the new bloody testament on assassination, so how the fuck had this guy caught her?

“Well you know of me, Sweetheart” his smile was like watching chocolate melt, warm, rich and decadent. A five o’clock shadow was cast across his jaw and an entirely unfair dimple kissed the corner of his mouth as he smirked with a dangerous combination of pure male arrogance and sincere attention.

She played at looking him up and down with a dismissive flick of her eyes. “Unlikely,” she said absently, taking a sip of her gin, her lashes fluttering shut as though she were physically pained by the boredom this interaction caused her. Should she smash the glass and get a deep swipe at his gut, going for the face as he’d lunge at her and then try and make a break for the door? He was at least six foot, and Nesta knew exactly how toned he was, but she was quick.

He clutched a hand to his chest playfully, his eyes still dangerously assured “you wound me” he said, before leaning in ever so slightly so that Nesta swore she could taste the echo of an aged cigar on his breath. “And to think I was arrogant enough to believe it was me you’d got all dolled up for this evening” he winked, plucking a cube of brown sugar from a tiny dish on the bar and popping it between his perfect teeth, a smooth and swoon-worthy smugness set in his jaw that Nesta couldn’t work out if she wanted to punch or kiss off of his stupidly gorgeous face.

“And to think,” she purred sweetly, “I was naïve enough to think I would be able to get all dolled up this evening without an entitled asshole bothering me” Nesta’s glare was cool as the ice that swirled in glossy cubes at the bottom of her glass.

He was toying with her, like she were some amusing doll he’d found and watching her try to wriggle out of this with nothing but a sharp tongue was his new favourite game.

“Well thank god I’m not an entitled asshole, just the very good looking one your sister set you up with. However, if any such individuals approach you, let me know and I will defend both your honour and right to look as lovely as you do without the unsolicited advances of men”

Nesta felt like a party popper had gone off in her rib cage and she was choking on the streams of confetti in her throat, heartbeat off kilter.

There was no way.

Nesta’s life had taught her that the universe did not have a sense of humour, and the only way that her bodyguard heart-throb also happened to be Rhysand’s brother, was if she were the metaphorical punchline of some cosmic joke. An assassin and a bodyguard walk into a bar… god it even sounded like a shitty joke.

“Cassian Velarys” he extended a large hand to her, which Nesta took, slightly entranced by the unfolding madness. He pressed a brief kiss to the back of her palm which Nesta had not been expecting.

“You look nothing like Rhysand” she said.

A light chuckle escaped him and Nesta thought he might need to hold her upright if he kept being so damned sexy.

Rhysand was what Nesta would describe as pretty, with piercing eyes that she refused to admit we’re actually violet, and sharp features cut with classical beauty, while Cassian was a far more devastating kind of handsome where Nesta was concerned. Wilder, throbbing with power and unrefined, rough charm. And older as well she’d guess, but not by much. They couldn’t be related, this could not be happening.

“I’m adopted” he explained.

Nesta could not believe the absolute insanity of this. It was a coincidence of Shakespearean plot; throw in some inadvertent incest or cannibalism and it would have been a Greek bloody myth.

She took a sweeping swig of her gin, chin tossed back delicately enough but still allowing the rest of the liquor to empty into her system.

The most infuriating part of this entire bullshit scenario was that it made total sense. Feyre has told her that Rhysand’s brother ran a security firm, but that at the moment he was doing some private hire work for a friend. Hell she’d even mentioned in passing a few months ago how Helion was an old friend of the Velarys brothers.

Okay, okay so this was happening.

The bartender had appeared again to take Cassian’s order and Nesta couldn’t help but take the opportunity to fawn over that handsome face up close at last. A doe like softness to her eyes that the bartender definitely noticed even if Cassian didn’t, his attention on the wine list as he asked about a Portuguese red. At work he’d always worn black Ts and trousers, the fitted fabric hugging at his chiselled upper body. The man cleaned up nice. Which was saying a lot when his comparatively unkept state was enough to have Nesta worried she might literally be drooling as she observed him. With her cheek propped on her curled fist, elbow against the bar, Nesta couldn’t have dragged her gaze away if she’d had a gun to her head as she watched him finish up his order and added, “And vodka” flicking her eyes to the man behind the bar. “Lots, and lots or vodka”.

#nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acofas #elain archeron #sjmaas #nessian au #nessian fic #nessian prompt #nessian fill

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pi-cat000 · 5 years ago

Text

MSA: A (sort of) Necromancy AU

Summary: Arthur remembers the cave. He wants Lewis back and is desperate enough to try anything.

NOTE: Started this serval months ago and its been in ‘planning’ for a while. Probably won’t continue until after either ‘time travel idea’ or ‘winged-Arthur’ is complete. But was in an editing mode today so here it is.

The mental case clicks open. The red light flickers to green, and Arthur carefully replaces the plastic panel he’d removed to access the lock’s inner-workings. Around him, the room remains mostly dark, dimly lit by a glowing red exit sign. Far off, if he strains and holds his breath, he can hear the sounds of people moving up and down the hospital’s hallways. This section of the hospital may be closed for the night, but the wards and emergency room operate 24/7.

Quickly, not wanting to try his luck, Arthur snatches the plastic bags of donated blood, shoving them into his backpack. The process is made hard by his single, solitary arm. In his hast, he accidentally bumps his bandaged shoulder against the cabinet. Pain shoots across his chest, forcing him to pause and wait for it to settle to a more manageable dull ache. This is the third time he’s knocked the still-healing injury and it’s been equally, if not more, painful each time. Probably shouldn’t be moving around this much after his surgery. There are a lot of things he probably shouldn't be doing. Like stealing blood, driving long distances, transversing creepy cave systems, and attempting to resurrect his dead best friend.

Backpack is appropriately stuffed with blood packets, Arthur heads out the way he came, closing doors behind him, trying to leave as little evidence as possible. No one stops him. It’s not too surprising, he can’t imagine that many people want to seal blood in a small town like this one. He makes it back to the van emptying his backpack into a cooler box which is set to the correct temperature. Next, he’s manoeuvring through empty streets, ignoring the steady throb of his shoulder, speeding towards The Cave - Location of all his recent nightmares and scene of Lewis’s death. Arthur tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

It is almost three in the morning when he pulls up to the gapping stone entrance. So far, everything is running according to his well-planned timeline. If this doesn’t work, he wants to be home before Vivi wakes up to find him missing. He hopes it doesn't come to that, but a small part of him acknowledges that this whole expedition is a long shot. In the still night air, the slamming of van doors and his occasional pained grunts echo unnaturally in the surrounding trees.

Arthur ignores the prickling unease running down his back while he struggles to carry the cooler of blood, his bag of resurrection supplies, and the hefty necromancy book down the stone tunnels. He ends up having to hold a flashlight between his teeth to properly light his way. The trip is slow and laborious, requiring several stops to catch his breath. He pushes on. Occasionally, the silence is broken by the wail of wind whistling through stone crevasses and slow dip of unseen water. By the time he makes it to the site of Lewis’s murder, he is shivering with both cold and unease. Arthur drops his load, freeing up his hand so he can use the flashlight to scan the space. Tall pointed stone barbs tower over him and throw long shadows, which crisscross the ground in uneven patterns. Nervously, he inches forward, feeling awfully exposed in the open space.

“This is such a bad idea,” He mutters, glancing up at the high stone ledge and trying to calculate Lewis’s fall trajectory. His voice bounces around. A suspicious organic lump catches his eye. Arthur takes a sharp breath, freezing, riding out the sudden wave of nausea.

Lewis…

The necromancy book states that the closer the necromancer is to the body, the higher the chance of success. Arthur swallows, pointing his flashlight away from the darkened misshapen mound at the foot of one particularly sharp spike. There is no way he can approach Lewis’s body, let alone draw the sigils needed for the ritual around it.

Arthur picks a spot on the further side of the cave. Technically, the book only specified that the ritual needed to be ‘at the location of the target's demise’. As long as it was the most recent death then everything should work out fine.

“This is fine…Everything is fine. A-okay. Nothing to worry about.” He glances into the darkness. Everything not lit up by the flashlight is completely obscured.

“Just a normal guy, doing a completely normal necromancy ritual that will totally work. This will be fine and is not in any way a bad idea.”

Wind moans somewhere overhead as if in response, and he points his torch upwards. Nothing is there but more pointed rock formations. It would suck it one fell on him…Arthur shivers. The ritual he’s planning to follow is convoluted, the instructions poorly translated by Vivi, with potential consequences ranging from deadly to horrifying. A relic from Vivi’s macabre phase, he has no idea where the necromancy manual came from originally only that it's the only option available. Of course, he has had to substitute almost all of the ‘ingredients.’ For example, there was no way he’d be doing any ‘human sacrificing.’ Hopefully, the donated blood would be an adequate replacement for the rituals ‘liquid life’ requirement.

“Okay…ah," He hesitates, "…Wards. I need to set up a protective ward.” A ward is, according to Vivi's necromancy book, needed to protect his soul from some loosely defined 'darkness. Unfortunately, the book fails to describe how to set up a protective ward. As a substitute, he’s stolen a stack of paper talismans from Vivi and the giant scroll from the shrine in Vivi’s backyard. Vivi had once said the scroll was for protection and, with his lack of options, he hopes it’ll work for him. Trying not to feel too guilty about the theft, he shuffles around slapping paper rectangles on every surface he can reach and slinging the scroll haphazardly over a nearby rock formation so it can sit unfurled. The moment the scroll roles open, its fancy Japanese characters start to glow a faint gold.

Arthur stares. Okay…He has no idea what that means. Why had he never looked into any of this supernatural stuff before now? He should have been investigating this stuff years ago! A bit late now. Hopefully, it means it is doing its ‘protective’ thing.

Arthur continues his preparations, which is made slightly easier in the light of the scroll. His hand is shaking so much that the sigils for the ritual are almost impossible to draw, never mind that the rough stone doesn’t take chalk very well. The whole process is slow and painful, but he pushes on and manages to sketch out a large circle, decorated with intricate symbology. All the practice he’d snuck in during the week seemed to be paying off.

Now for the hard part. Arthur takes the first packet of blood and ends up having to stab it open with his pocket knife. The blood spurts all over the place and his clothes and he almost throws up right then and there. He tries not to think or look as he empties out the rest of packets into the centre of the circle. When he finally finishes, his good arm is tired, his shoulder is throbbing, and he is panting with exhaustion.

Arthur pulls out a locket containing a picture of both Lewis and Vivi. He had had to steal it off Vivi’s nightstand because, despite not recognising the man in the picture, she was very attached to it. Hopefully, it would work as an ‘emotional anchor.’ He drops the locket and some of Lewis’s hair, collected from an old hairbrush, into the circle. All that is left is a long and overly complex Latin chant.

Sitting at the edge of the circle, laying the book down flat, Arthur traces the words with a finger.

This is it…If this doesn’t work…He doesn’t know what he’d do. Probably cry. He takes a deep breath and begins to read. When Arthur finishes reciting, he waits for several long, agonising seconds.

At first, nothing happens. The cave remains cold and silent. Then, a loud wind moans overhead, tearing down through the tunnels, twisting in a circle around him and pulling at his hair. The flashlight flickers off, but it doesn't matter because the stolen scroll is growing brighter and brighter. It continues to increase in brilliance, lighting the entire cave floor, reflecting off the stone spikes. Arthur’s eyes sting and he sees spots.

Then the scroll bursts into purple flame. Simultaneously, all the paper talismans explode, burning and flaking away. The area begins to grow steadily hotter until Arthur is sweating and breathless. It is so hot that the blood in the circle starts to boil also catching on fire, evaporating in long wisps of smoke which twist in the wind overhead. Arthur feels a sharp pain in his chest, tugging him forward. He grips his shirt, having trouble thinking, and edges of his vision dim.

‘Bad idea confirmed.’ Is his last coherent thought. .

Lewis breathes in like he’s returned from some deep-sea dive. His chest expands as he inhales in one desperate action. The next thing he does is groan loudly. Everything hurts. There is a constant throbbing pain in his left shoulder and his whole body aches with exhaustion. Cold air makes him shiver uncontrollably. Lewis blinks up from where he is lying on hard stone ground. He can’t see anything despite knowing his eyes are open. When he moans it is all wrong, too high pitched.

“Lewis?” Arthur’s voice, faint and whispy, drifts through the dark towards him. Lewis tries to pull himself into a seated position to get a better sense of his location. Only, he overbalances and smacks into a nearby rock, sending spikes of more intense white-hot pain through his shoulder. He grits his teeth.

“Lewis!” Arthur's voice is way too enthusiastic, piercing through the haze of pain.

Where is he? The last he remembers is walking with Arthur, navigating down a stone tunnel. They’d come to a stone platform overlooking a larger cavern, then…everything gets blurry. He’d fallen…He vaguely remembers falling.

“Arthur. Where are you?” Lewis, using his good hand, grips the rock to hold himself up in a seated position. He is not imagining it. His voice is definitely different.

“I don’t know…but I can see you,” Arthur answers and Lewis glances about, confused, peering into the dark.

“How? It’s pitch-back in here.”

Something is wrong with his left arm. It is completely unresponsive. He can’t move it at all.

“I’m not sure,” Arthur also sounds confused now. Lewis presses his back against the stone, using it for support, feeling for his shoulder, trying to find the source of the pain.

"Whoa hey. Ah...I wouldn’t....” Arthur responds to his movement, “You may notice some body parts missing, but don’t panic."

“Don't panic?! Was I injured in the fall? Oh god,” He discovers why his arm is unresponsive, “My arm’s gone!”

“I said don't panic!"

Lewis gasps, heart beating way to fast. "I'm dying."

"No. You’re fine. I swear you're fine. Just try and calm down. You need to breathe.”'

“I am breathing,” He snaps, taking several hash breaths. He’s feeling lightheaded and woozy now. It doesn’t help that he still can’t see anything. That, plus the pain, saps the rest of his strength right out of him. Lewis hears is Arthur's panicked. "Lewis!" And then hears no more. . . . Of course, Lewis doesn't die. He wakes back up and is met with the same throbbing pain and cold stone. However, unlike last time, it is no longer pitch-black. A ball of floating fire, burning a mix of purple and yellow, is hovering over his chest. It lights the immediate area in a dim haze. He freezes, alarmed, staring in the soft light.

"Lewis? You're awake." Arthur's relived voice is coming from the ball of fire, which wavers and fluctuates when he speaks. What the...?

“Arthur?” He asks, hesitant, scanning the surrounding space. It is still too dark to see beyond a few meters, but he can make out taller stone structures.

“Yeah? You can see me now?”

His attention returns to the slowly bobbing fireball. Yes, Arthur’s voice is coming from the fire. Maybe he is dead after all.

"What happened?" Lewis whispers, swallowing and glancing down at where his hand should be. In the low light cast by the floating Arthur-fire, he can see there is no blood or any other sign of recent trauma. It just hurts a lot. He lifts up his remaining hand to examine that as well. It is pale. Far too pale to be his own hand. How?

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #fanfiction #fanfic #Lewis pepper #arthur kingsmen #nercomancy #sort of necomrancy #but not realy #references to injury #tw: blood #blood and injury

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kafeuka · 5 years ago

Text

[1/1] the hopeless case of a romantic

█ Title: the hopeless case of a romantic █ Summary: It wasn’t how he imagined it would be, but that night, Jeongguk knew he would not have it any other way. █ Status: Completed █ Pairing: Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin This is written for JIKOOK WEEK DAY O1: Then and Now

Yoongi hyung often accused Jeongguk of being a hopeless romantic, as if having a big heart, a gentle soul and a love for love is a crime. He believed in soulmates; the idea of two people whose names and story were whispered amongst the stars never failed to warm his heart. This belief stemmed from his parents, the two human beings whom he loved most in the whole entire world.

He wanted someone who would look at him the way his father looked at his mother; as if she hung all the twinkling stars, shaped all the silver moons with her hands and paint the skies when the sun set. He wanted someone who would love him unconditionally, just like how his mother loved his father although she despised his smoking habit.

Despite their age, they were not shy in showing affection for the whole world to see. Jeongguk wondered how they were so comfortable with each other that whenever they were together, the rest of the world just seemed to melt away. As if the world was theirs, and the others were just living in it.

Because of this, Jeongguk was never really into a relationship. Not that he ever had one. Most of the times he would just admire someone from afar. He would rather not get involved at all.

Hoseok hyung suggested that he should go on blind dates. Initially, he agreed.

The first phase – adding them as a friend, sliding into the DMs – was great.

The next step – meeting and actually going out on a date – however, was terrible.

Gone the confident, charming boy from the DMs. Always replaced by the stuttering, sweating mess that was Jeon Jeongguk. It was awfully easy to compliment someone when you were staring at a screen, but when it comes to staring into their eyes, Jeongguk found himself shaking.

At the age of twenty, Jeon Jeongguk gave up in finding the One.

All of his crushes were out of his league and most of his admirers never called after the second date. He was not that desperate to send cute text messages to someone as he had this irrational fear of being a burden, but it would be great to have someone who would listen to him rant about how his day went.

As much as he hated to admit it, Yoongi hyung was not entirely wrong. He was not only a hopeless romantic, but he was hopeless and romantic.

ii.

When Jeongguk asked Yoongi hyung how he knew Seokjin hyung was his soulmate, he answered: “They say when you meet your soulmate, you just know it’s them.”

He hated how unhelpful those statement was, because that was not how he met his.

His parents’ love story was a typical love story. It was love at first sight – Jeongguk’s favourite. They met at a fair held at the amusement park. His father took the job of the ride operator for the summer, and as the stars had written it, he met her at the end of his shift. He always mentioned that she reminded him of a firework, beautiful and mesmerizing that his world stopped. She was queueing then, waiting for her turn and he saw a chance and took it.

While two of her friends were seated together, he stepped in and offered to sit next to her even though going to a someplace high was not something he considered an entertainment. Of course, his attempt caused an uproar, he received raucous boos from the other angry kids and a warning from the manager but it was worth it. He always had a small smile on his face whenever he got to this part of the story. They chatted as they waited and for the first time since he rode the rollercoaster, he was not the tiniest bit scared.

Jeongguk would never fail to let out an overly exaggerated groan, often expressing his displeasure by making faces along with a remark full of disgust, but he knew that he wanted, longed even, to feel that way too.

Meeting the One should be magical, like something that you would read in a fairy tale.

This was how Jeongguk truly believed would happen when he finally meets the one: it will be romantic, not too cringy and pukeworthy but just romantic enough to make his friends and his cousins to be envious of him. Time will stop when they lock eyes with each other, the angels will begin to sing while simultaneously play their harps to produce a mellifluous symphony of the century and petals would fall around them out of nowhere, just like the anime he watched last week.

That was not what happened.

It was not magical or dreamy or romantic.

He blamed all the Tony/Steve soulmate fanfictions he read at 3AM for implementing the idea of “love at first sight” and “instant connection between two lonely souls” inside his head.

In fact, Jeongguk met Park Jimin on a sunny Tuesday morning in the most Boring class in the history of Boring Classes. Jeongguk hated his guts at first. Whenever Jimin opened his mouth to speak, Jeongguk would find himself rolling his eyes and praying to God for an ice cream truck to drop on him. Being run over repeatedly by a lorry was less painful than having to sit in a two-hour class with Jimin.

However, there was also a saying that goes, ‘If you hate someone too much, you’ll end up loving them too much.’

That statement, however, was something he wished Yoongi hyung had told him instead.

iii.

They began to interact when they were allotted in the same group for their second assignment. Every second Jeongguk spent sitting at the same table with Jimin was agonising. Being in the same group at the same table meant that Jimin’s voice was now much clearer and he was now much closer.

Jimin’s face was pleasing to the eyes, he was soft and hard at the same time. He had gentle, dark and slightly slanted eyes yet his piercing gaze often made Jeongguk look away. His cheeks were round and squishy, they reminded Jeongguk of the mochi he always had after elementary school, however his jaw was as sharp as a knife. All in all, Jimin was not hideous at all, especially when he had his mouth shut. Unfortunately, Jimin had a lot he wanted to announce to the class so thanks to this irritating behaviour of his, it was not difficult to overlook his features.

He ignored the voice inside his head that screamed at him to ditch the class, but the rational part of his mind reminded him that he was a scholarship student. The last thing he wanted was to get kicked out just because he did not want to be in the same room as Jimin.

From the instructions, Jeongguk could already tell how much of a pain in the ass it would be. Decorating a booth? Creating an advertisement video? There was just too much work to be done in three months and there were only five heads in his group.

Naturally, Jimin was elected as the team leader because:

a) He was the teacher’s pet

b) Everyone in the group was utterly in love with him

Arguing about the team members position when you were going to be stuck with them for months was not something in Jeongguk’s list. He decided to went along with it, letting the protests vanish although they were already at the tip of his tongue and settled with an imaginary argument inside his head instead.

The first day was unbearable — Jeongguk had to lower his head once in a while to stop his eye from twitching in annoyance. Every single word Jimin uttered seemed to make his blood boil and head throb. He did not know it was possible for a person to be this insufferable. Jeongguk tried his hardest not to roll his eyes whenever the others were praising Jimin. His ideas were not exactly that brilliant, if Jeongguk were to be honest.

“Sorry, I was sort of rambling,” Jimin apologized with a small giggle.

Jeongguk managed to held back a groan. He knew damn well he was rambling and he apologized for it, but Jeongguk knew that he was not feeling sorry. Not even a little bit. Not when he had that proud smile on his face. God, Jeongguk would love to slap that smile from his face.

“Anybody had any better idea?” Jimin asked, looking at each and every one of them.

Pretending to be considerate? Man, this guy knew how to get on Jeongguk’s nerves.

He absolutely had no idea what came over him, maybe it was how the other team members were ready to lick the ground Jimin walked on, or maybe how irritating and high pitched Wonho’s giggles was, but Jeongguk opened his mouth up to speak, despite his brain being empty of ideas.

“Maybe, uh…”

All heads turned towards him, staring at him in anticipation. Somehow, instead of looking at anybody else, his eyes found Jimin’s. Jimin was beaming, dark eyes glistening as he slowly nodded to encourage Jeongguk. His gaze was different than the others, which was a good thing because it made him feel less nervous. Jimin’s smile stretched wider, and all of a sudden, the weight of the team’s collective gazes felt like it had been lifted from his shoulders.

Jeongguk brought his hand on top of the table, softly tapping his index finger as he straightened in his seat. With a newfound surge of confidence, he said, “Maybe, um… instead of making it only focusing on drawings or paintings, maybe we can… uh… consider every form of art for the website?”

“Huh… that’s not bad,” Chaeyoung murmured, before clicking her pen and started to write something on her notebook.

Jimin beamed, “I love the idea! That’s wonderful. This means that we are not only targeting painters, we are also attracting a large amount of audience who are—”

Jeongguk’s body went lax after his impromptu outburst (technically, it was not an outburst but he insisted that it was), he lain his back against the chair, wishing to become one with it. He felt thankful that nobody was criticizing his dumb idea. And never in a million years he wanted to admit it, but he felt glad that Jimin was encouraging him, instead of trying to shoot him down.

It was the first time he felt so welcomed.

iv.

Before the first week ended, they managed to lay everything down. When it comes to his leadership skills, Jimin was quite lenient in their task division. Jeongguk offered to work on the advertisement video, and as much as he would rather do it all alone, Jimin was determined that he needed help. As a method of group communication, Jimin created a group text for the five of them.

Jeongguk was hoping that it will be a quiet group, but it was especially alive at night and early in the morning. Jimin would never fail to send a message to greet them good morning and night, and sometimes he would send motivational messages for all of them. It took all Jeongguk’s willpower not to reply a ‘Shut The Fuck Up’ or leave the group, but he had to remind himself that he needed to be in good terms with everyone in the team.

Two weeks before the deadline, it was Jeongguk’s turn to play a huge role for their project. So far, he had only been helping with the report and booth decoration, which was not something major as everyone had taken part too. He announced in their group chat (which was probably his third time ever sending a message there) that he was going to start working on the video soon.

He completed the storyboard a few days earlier before sharing his vision to the group. He was ready to get attacked, to have Wonho judging him, to have Jimin being dissatisfied with his work, to Chaeyoung being disappointed and to have Mirae complain about how lacking it was. Unlike his expectation, they liked it. Jimin was the one who loved it the most, always complimenting how hardworking he was, and how he truly appreciated the effort Jeongguk made with the storyboard.

Instead of the usual ‘good luck Jeongguk!’ and ‘thanks for your hard work!’, Jeongguk received a private message from Jimin. They never texted privately before, and seeing Jimin’s name on a new chat caused him to raise an eyebrow. Was Jimin about to ask him to add last minute changes for the video?

With negative thoughts flooding his mind, he heaved a sigh before clicking it open.

✉ From: Jimin Hey! Just wondering if you are OK? If you need help, I’m here 😊

“Huh…” Jeongguk huffed, squinting his eyes in suspicion. His thumb hovered over the keyboard before typing an answer, only to backspace everything. It was rather curious how Jimin was checking up on him, as if he thought Jeongguk was unreliable.

Seokjin hyung often told him that he was always being sceptical for absolutely no reason at all, that he always thought of things negatively instead of positively. It was a trait he was not proud of, but he could not help it when Jimin suddenly text him privately out of nowhere.

After quite some time, he finally typed a reply.

✉ To: Jimin I’m fine. Thanks for your concern

Belatedly, he realised the text he sent seemed rude so he abruptly added a smiley face.

✉ From: Jimin Haha, alright then. Where will you be working on the video?

✉ To: Jimin I’ll be going to the art room to meet up with the art students. Then I’ll probably go to library to shoot some scenes

✉ From: Jimin Okay 😊

Jeongguk stared at the screen of his phone, waiting for ‘Jimin is typing…’ to appear. When it did not, he locked his phone and tossed it to his bed.

Of course, Jeongguk just had to be an idiot by telling Jimin his plan. The moment he entered the art room, Jimin was already there, talking with a few of the art students and laughing about something they said. Jeongguk nearly dropped his camera when he saw Jimin, not expecting the blonde to be there at all.

“Hey, Jeongguk!” Jimin called out, waving his hand at him.

Jeongguk awkwardly waved back, not liking the attention he was getting when everybody turned their heads towards him.

“So, where do you want me, mate?” Mingyu asked as he got off from the table.

“Preferably anywhere I can work comfortably. How about there?”

“So I just had to draw, is it?”

“Yeah. Just draw whatever you want, don’t pay attention to me. I want it to look candid,” Jeongguk informed before placing his backpack on top of the table.

While Mingyu was preparing his material, Jeongguk took out his tripod from his bag and began to assemble it together with his camera when Jimin approached him.

“Do you need any help?” Jimin asked, watching Jeongguk work with his camera.

“Nah.”

“Okay, I’ll just wait for you in case you need me.”

“You can go, you know. I can handle this.”

“I know,” Jimin grinned before shrugging, “Just in case.”

He doubted that he needed Jimin to be there, but before he could ask him to go again, he decided against it. Once Mingyu was ready, Jeongguk began recording. It was only a minute in when Jeongguk announced him to stop so he could check the video. The angle was perfect, Mingyu’s facial expression was good, however the lighting was unsatisfactory. Sure, it was not as terrible as the lighting in that one battle episode of Game of Thrones, but it would be difficult during the editing process later.

Jimin must have sensed that something was troubling him that the leader stood next to him, peered on the video and asked if something was wrong.

“Nothing’s wrong except the lighting,” Jeongguk murmured, looking up the ceiling to find the lights were already switched on to his dismay.

The weather was not exactly helping either.

“I can help,” Jimin quipped enthusiastically before taking out his phone from his pocket and switch on the flashlight as he waved his phone around. “Let me know where you need me.”

The whole idea was absurd to Jeongguk, but it was worth a try. In less than half an hour, with Jimin’s help, he was done. The one who was super happy about it was Jimin, who could not stop gushing how amazing the video was and how professional Mingyu looked. Jeongguk grinned as he pressed fast forward, completely satisfied at how the video turned out.

He thanked Mingyu and the art students before packing his stuff to move to the library with Jimin following him. One thing Jeongguk noticed about Jimin was how he just had a lot of things to talk about, never running out of topic. It was irritating at first, but at times he spewed some facts that Jeongguk found to be interesting. Jeongguk let him talk, he watched as Jimin was speaking animatedly about the latest comic book he was reading.

Surprisingly, the day (and recording) went by smoothly. He even had a few videos he could use for fillers. The four hours he spent with Jimin was not horrible at all. If anything, it was quite… enjoyable.

He decided that Park Jimin was less annoying now.

He was not entirely certain when he began to feel completely comfortable around Jimin, but he knew it did not take long enough to warm up to him. Gradually, he stopped talking rather formally to Jimin and started to jest around, well aware of how much he actually enjoyed hearing the laughter coming out from Jimin.

In fact, everything seemed to go so smoothly that Jeongguk felt worried. They managed to complete everything before the deadline, they have submitted their work early and all they needed to do was now prepare for the upcoming exhibition. Finishing early meant that they have time for other assignments.

Even after they were done, Jimin still never failed to greet them mornings and nights, asking them how their assignments went. Honestly, it baffled the hell out of Jeongguk because he was so used to not keeping any contact with his previous group members. Once a project is complete, so did their team. They were only there to work, not to connect emotionally. The change was refreshing that the spam of text messages from the group did not bother him anymore. It actually made Jeongguk went from completely silent, to the one who sent memes as a response.

A part of him was embarrassed of having terrible thoughts regarding his groupmates because now he came to a realization that he actually enjoyed their presence.

More specifically Jimin’s.

After everything was done and they were reaching the end of semester, Jimin insisted on having a celebration. Truth be told, Jeongguk was not big on social gatherings but after weeks of being with Jimin, he knew he was unable to say no.

Jeongguk found himself counting days to the celebration, a bit surprised at himself for feeling excited rather than dreading it. They went to a restaurant at first for dinner, but ended up going to the nearest club after Chaeyoung suggested. He swallowed, praying to the heavens that majority of them would decline but he could not help but to cave in when he saw how enthusiastic Jimin was when Chaeyoung brought it up.

Even before entering, music was already spilling out to the street and it felt as if heartbeats were on the loud speakers. It was not as crowded as Jeongguk had imagine, but there were still a lot than he would have liked. Most of them went straight to the dance floor, laughing and grinding against each other under the acid green lights. Jimin, however, strutted to the bar. Jeongguk only followed, knowing well that he would not be able to dance if there wasn’t any alcohol in his system.

The music only seemed to get louder by the second, and by the time Jeongguk sat next to Jimin, the blonde already gulped down three shots.

“Wow.” Jeongguk had to leaned it slightly and yell. “Slow down, Jimin.”

Jimin’s pretty lips curved upwards as he shook his head. Jeongguk watched as he took out his wallet, yelled at the bartender for one Zombie. Jeongguk have only drank beers from the convenience stores and a few sips of martini, so when Jimin had his drink delivered, he was a little bit in awe. It was served in a tall glass, bright red in colour with a lot of ice. Jimin ditched the straw, sipping them in one go. Jeongguk could not help but to stare in amazement.

“Jimin,” he called out, but the music drowned his voice. He tried again, practically screaming this time. “Jimin!!”

“Yeah?” Jimin answered.

“Are you okay?”

He could not hear Jimin’s reply, but from his lips Jeongguk could tell he was saying, “Grand.”

Jeongguk began to worry then when Jimin reached out for his wallet again, but Jeongguk stopped him and ordered water instead. He paid for the overcharged water bottles and handed one to Jimin. Jimin refused, shaking his head and pushing the bottle away.

The next thing Jeongguk knew, Jimin’s eyes widened in surprise and he abruptly clamped his lips shut. Jeongguk raised a brow in confusion before Jimin stood up from the stool, nearly toppling it in the process, then proceeded to frantically turn his head in search of something.

“Jimin, are you—” He was not given the chance to continue his sentence because Jimin dashed as soon as his eyes lit up. Bewildered, Jeongguk followed from behind, not before grabbing both water bottles.

Jimin ran to the bathroom, nearly colliding with a man who just came out of it, and Jeongguk had to apologize on his behalf. After profusely repeating his apologies and bowing to show sincerity, Jeongguk entered the bathroom and was immediately greeted with the sounds of Jimin retching.

The bathroom was a lot quieter; the music was barely heard inside the pristine white walls. Jeongguk approached the stall with an open door to find Jimin was kneeling on the floor, head bowing near the toilet bowl.

“Oh, Jimin,” Jeongguk sighed before kneeling next to him, trying his best not to breathe through his nostrils.

He gently caressed Jimin’s back as Jimin heaved. Once Jimin was done, Jeongguk offered him water, which Jimin gladly took. Jimin flushed before leaning meekly against the partition, lips swollen, nose red and his eyes teary. Jeongguk offered a sympathetic smile as Jimin sniffed.

“Are you okay?”

Jimin took a sip instead of answering, his eyes avoiding Jeongguk.

Jeongguk let the question hang in the air, not wanting to force an answer out of Jimin.

Jimin had a distant look on his face, and Jeongguk understood that there was something that was troubling him.

After a while, Jimin finally spoke. “Not quite.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jimin bit his lower lip, eyes softening as he lowered his gaze. “Not really,” he answered.

“That’s okay. We can talk about something else then. Or do you prefer to just sit on the dirty floor?”

Jimin’s lips cracked a smile Jeongguk did not know he missed. How could he missed Jimin’s smile when he had seen them more than the hair on his head?

“Thank you, Jeongguk.”

“For...?”

“For being here,” Jimin smiled. Oh boy, Jeongguk thought. Oh boy. “It really means a lot to me.”

Jeongguk had seen countless of smiles on Jimin’s face before but this one was different. His eyes did not crinkle in the corners, but his gaze on Jeongguk was soft and endearing. His smile did not reach his ears, but he knew it was genuine.

At that moment, sitting on the dirty checkered floor of a club he could not even pronounce, he was certain that he found the One.

vi.

Symptoms of falling in love according to the first website Google provided:

1. You can’t stop staring at them: check ✔

Of course, he could not stop staring at Jimin. He would not want to miss those smiles, the way Jimin would pout his lips sometimes when he spoke, how Jimin’s brows furrowed when he was thinking and the way Jimin’s eyes formed crescents and body vibrating when he laughed.

2. You want them to be happy: check ✔

Of course, he wanted Jimin to be happy. Jimin deserved everything good in the universe. Hell, Jeongguk would have swam the entire ocean and walk through fire just to see Jimin smile.

3. You always think about them: check ✔

Of course, he always thought of Jimin. The first thing he thought of after waking up? Jimin. The last thing he thought of before going to sleep? Jimin. Be it day or night, it was always Jimin, Jimin and Jimin. He was now a permanent resident in Jeongguk’s mind.

4. You’re OK with the gross stuff: check ✔

Of course, wasn’t it obvious? He would have left Jimin all by himself that night in the bathroom, but instead, he chose to stay and sat with Jimin to ensure Jimin was okay.

5. You love their quirks: check ✔

Of course, he did. Jimin’s quirks were adorable and undeniably, made his heart skipped a beat. He initiated skinship a lot, which Jeongguk did not mind, but whenever he put his hand behind Jeongguk’s nape, his thumb would create patterns. This only made Jeongguk lean in closer, his body tingling with every gentle movement his thumb made. Even his need of constant praises was endearing that Jeongguk found himself spilling praises after praises just for Jimin.

No longer was Jeongguk annoyed with his boisterous – and wonderful, if Jeongguk might add – voice and his invasion of Jeongguk’s personal face.

(And that was because he craved listening to Jimin talk and touches.)

6. You find yourself always talking about them: check ✔

Of course, he would talk about Jimin, what else was there to talk about? He first noticed when Yoongi mentioned how Jeongguk could not stop prattling about Jimin this, Jimin that. It was not as if he could stop himself.

7. You reread their text message: check ✔

Of course, he would reread Jimin’s text messages. They were cute, always full of emojis and they instantly lifted Jeongguk’s mood even just a little. In fact, he had Jimin’s text pinned.

8. You lose track of time and no amount of time spent with them is ever enough: check ✔

Of course, he could not be bothered checking the time when he was with Jimin. Spending just a few minutes with Jimin was better than not seeing him at all but he found himself yearning to have Jimin’s presence when they were apart.

9. You’ll happily jump through hoops without even thinking about it to be with them: check ✔

Of course, he would do anything to spend time with Jimin. He went to the club for fuck’s sake. He drank the bitter ass coffee despite knowing how much he hated it because Jimin dared him to. He lied about passing through the Science building when he was actually waiting for Jimin’s class to be over.

In conclusion: of fucking course he was truly, utterly and madly in love with Jimin.

vii.

Jeongguk was aware that the pros of being in love with a friend outweigh the cons.

For starters, he saw Jimin almost every day and unlike his previous crushes, he actually interacted with Jimin properly. As his dumb ass only realised of the feelings he had for Jimin at the end of the semester, he had to rack his brains to find out reasons to hang out with Jimin. It was easier on his part, as Jimin was friendly, so most of the time it was Jimin who invited him out.

Besides, being friends meant he was able to hold Jimin’s hand without being suspicious. Jimin’s hands were soft and they fit perfectly with his. His fingers were delicate that Jeongguk was afraid he might break them if he held onto Jimin’s hand too tightly.

They became attached to the hip when they began texting nonstop every day and night. But midnights were probably Jeongguk’s favourite because there was just something about the quiet, knowing that there were more eyes closed than open, that they started to get to know each other on an entirely different level. Their usual banters and meme exchange would transition to their deep thoughts and stories. Midnight conversations seemed to hold more weight, and knowing that Jimin chose to stay up to talk to him made him want to steal all the stars and gifted them to Jimin.

Jeongguk was the type to let his phone battery died before charging, but that habit was soon replaced by charging the device while texting Jimin.

But the cons of being in love with your friend? They’re your friend.

Jeongguk had never fall for a friend before, but he knew it had to be one of the worst things to experience. He was plagued with worries and anxious thoughts, always wondering if he was being way too obvious or if he seemed uninterested. To say that he would not want Jimin as a boyfriend would probably the biggest lie he ever told himself and Yoongi hyung.

“You should tell Jimin.”

“Hyung!” Jeongguk whined, hand slapping Yoongi’s arm playfully. “You know I can’t.”

As much as he wanted to, he could not. It was risky and Jimin probably only regard him as a friend. The shittiest thing about crushing on Jimin was how it made Jeongguk kept on dancing between the lines of wanting the whole world to know his humongous love for Jimin and losing Jimin. There was no doubt that Jimin was now one of the important people in Jeongguk’s life, and he could not simply bear the thought of losing Jimin simply because he could not control his feelings.

“If there’s one thing I learnt, Jeongguk, is that you either tell Jimin how you feel and the worst case scenario is that you fucked up, maybe you’ll lose what you have with him now, but from the stories I’ve heard, Jimin’s nice and he might still want to be friends,” Yoongi said, his demeanour completely changed. Jeongguk only stared at Yoongi, mind conjuring up images of Jimin rejecting him and it made him shudder.

Taking a deep breath, Yoongi continued, “Or you can say nothing, and it’ll fuck you up instead. Not gonna fucking lie, eventually you’ll lose him too. Knowing you, I’m sure you’ll end up avoiding him, which in turn, would hurt the both of you.”

Jeongguk gawked at him.

Yoongi hyung was right. And he would not give Yoongi hyung the satisfaction of him admitting that.

viii.

✉ From: Jimin remember that night when i hurled and you stayed by my side?

✉ To: Jimin how can i not the smell still lingered til this day :p

✉ From: Jimin fuck you ajsnsjs well i was going thru a ~difficult~ time sometimes i felt like out of place and that it’s my fault for the delay of testing the hosting but you guys were amazing, i am eternally grateful my other assignments were also a pain in the ass and i did not get along with my other teammates to add salt to the wound, i broke up with my boyfriend

✉ To: Jimin holy shit i have no idea & please jimin, it’s NOT ur fault. besides, we finished everything on time ur teammates is missing out & ur better off without ur boyfriend!!!! don’t be so hard on urself :(

✉ From: Jimin you make me tear up :”) thank you for staying by my side, jeongguk. i love you <3

ix.

Jimin had a boyfriend before, which was not surprising really, because who would not want to date Jimin? But hearing it from Jimin himself, Jeongguk could not help but felt a pang of jealousy in his chest. Sure, they were no longer together, but Jeongguk would still like to know who was the bastard who dared to hurt Jimin.

After tossing and turning for weeks, Jeongguk decided that he would confess once and for all.

They did not share any classes on the following semester, but they would still make time for each other. Spending more time with Jimin was both a blessing and a curse, it was as though he owned the world and yet his heart just kept on growing and growing in his chest, threatening to spill all his love for Jimin in the form of kisses and ‘I love you’s.

Most of the fanfictions he read had amazing yet unrealistic (for him to execute, yeah) confession scenes. There was one of Tony and Steve arguing and Tony ended it by accidentally saying that he loved Steve. It was cute, but Jeongguk and Jimin were not exactly enemies to lovers.

(Except that, in Jeongguk’s head, they kind of were. Although, the hatred was only one-sided.)

But Jeongguk knew for sure that he would not want to let Jimin know through text. There were a lot of memorable texts in their chat, and he would not want to feel upset when he scrolled through them in the future to find the texts of Jimin rejecting him amidst of it.

“You’re an idiot,” Yoongi voiced out as he stirred his ramen with the wooden chopsticks.

Offended, Jeongguk scoffed as he crossed his arms, glaring at Yoongi from where he was sitting. Yoongi ignored the daggers Jeongguk was throwing, instead he slurped the noodles.

“You’re the idiot,” Jeongguk countered childishly.

Yoongi licked his lips before he avowed, “You’re thinking too much. It should feel natural. You have to mean it, show him that you are serious.”

“You mean like… take him out on a fancy dinner or?”

“It doesn’t have to be like that. You can just text him right now, say that you wanna be more than friends, and that’s it.”

“Huh. How did you confess to Seokjin hyung then?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I didn’t. He did.”

When it happened, Jeongguk was not planning on it at all. They were having their usual midnight conversations again, and when the conversation seemed to shift into something less serious, Jeongguk had the urge to tell Jimin how much he meant to Jeongguk. He was driven to do so when Jimin ended his text with his usual ‘i love you <3’ that Jeongguk knew it was just a habit of his.

Gathering his courage, he asked:

✉ To: Jimin hey jimin can i call you?

Barely five seconds passed and yet Jeongguk was already sweating buckets. He was convinced that Jimin would not want to, maybe he had a feeling that this was about to happen and Jimin chose to turn off his phone. He saw the speech bubble, indicating that Jimin was typing, and he did not give Jimin the chance to send his text because he abruptly pressed on the green button.

It only took him one ring for Jimin to answer. As soon as he heard Jimin’s raspy, “Hello,” from the other line, his brain chose to empty all his thoughts. His mouth was drying, desperately trying to find the right words so he would not sound like a creep.

“I love you,” he blurted out.

Jimin let out a giggle before answering, “I love you too.”

“No, no, I mean,” he licked his lips, gripping on his phone even tighter. “I love you like I love love you. I love you as in I would drive you to the moon. I love you as in I wanna hold your hand and never let it go. I love you as in I would bring you breakfast in bed, if you’d let me. I love you as in—” he took a deep breath, internally wincing at how his voice was so shaky, courtesy of his heart hammering wildly against his chest, “— I only watched Frozen despite hating it because it was with you, and that is better than not spending a few minutes without you.”

“Oh.”

Jeongguk could not tell what Jimin was feeling from the tone of his voice.

Disappointed? Congratulations, Jeon Jeongguk, you just ruined a friendship that could’ve lasted a lifetime.

Angry? Jeon Jeongguk, you dumbass, why the fuck do you have to go and develop feelings?

Jeongguk wanted to throw his phone to the nearest wall, the silence from the other line was suffocating him. He was certain that he had just ruined one of the best things that ever happened to him. This was what he got for listening to Yoongi hyung again. Confess, he said. It won’t be that bad, he said.

“Jeongguk, I—”

I’m sorry. I can’t. We’re just friends.

Jeongguk screwed his eyes shut, biting his lower lips. He waited for the rejection to hit him like a punch. It was inevitable after all.

“— I’m glad. I’m glad you feel the same way.”

“Eh?” Jeongguk blinked, straightening his back. Were his ears defying him?

He heard Jimin huffed a weak laugh. “I love you too, love as in when I close my eyes, all I see is you.”

“Oh.” Warmth and embarrassment flooded through Jeongguk at once. He cleared his throat. “Well, okay, then. I’m gonna hang up.”

“Wait! You’re gonna hang up on me? After I confess my love for you?”

He could see Jimin slyly grinning now, probably enjoying the situation more than he should. Jeongguk chortled, “What else do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know…” Jimin sighed, but he was unmistakably smiling. “Maybe you can ask me out?”

“Hm,” Jeongguk pretended to ponder, his heart swelling. His hands were shaking and the drowsiness he felt earlier subsided, swapped by the sudden surge of happiness he felt in his veins. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Jimin giggled again, causing Jeongguk to bit his lower lip to tamper the smile that was threatening to take over.

“I’ll be waiting then.”

That night, Jeongguk did not sleep at all. How could he, when reality was finally better than his dreams?

xi.

“When did you know?” Jimin asked. He scooted closer to Jeongguk, resting his head on Jeongguk’s shoulder.

Jeongguk hummed, wrapping an arm around Jimin. “Know what?”

“Know that you’re in love with me,” Jimin whispered, sounding bashful as he nuzzled his nose against the crook of Jeongguk’s neck.

“Oh, that,” Jeongguk murmured. He twisted his lips to the side, slightly ashamed and reluctant to tell Jimin. “That night at the club.”

“Yuck!” Jimin giggled, reeling his head back in surprise before playfully hitting Jeongguk’s chest. “That night? I was on my worst, oh my god. I was puking, for God’s sake!”

Jeongguk laughed, shaking his head in embarrassment. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I had some feelings way before that but that night, I just knew, you know.”

Jimin scoffed. “Out of all times and places…”

“What about you?” Jeongguk asked, turning towards his boyfriend. “When did you know?”

“Did you know why I broke up with my ex back then?”

Jeongguk grimaced, he was not fond of Jimin’s exes. Up until now, he still had no idea who it was.

“Because, well, this is embarrassing. I had a crush on you. Initially, I thought it was dumb of me to throw away a relationship over something that was not certain. But that night, when you chose to comfort me and stayed by me, even when I was at my worst, that’s when I knew that I…” Jimin shifted his gaze elsewhere, pretending to be interested at the bowl on the coffee table. He reached out, grabbing the bowl and picked on the popcorns.

“Holy shit… at the same time? Really?”

Jimin shrugged, holding the bowl closer to him before he lifted Jeongguk’s arm to rest against his shoulders.

“You know,” Jeongguk mumbled before planting a kiss on the back of Jimin’s head. “We don’t have to watch this. I know you don’t like The Walking Dead.”

“’Course I don’t,” Jimin replied, munching on a popcorn. “But I’d watch this with you. I mean, it’s better than not spending a minute with you.”

“God, I hate you.”

Jeongguk knew Jimin would never miss the opportunity to make fun of Jeongguk’s confession, and although it was humiliating, a part of him was glad that Jimin did.

xii.

This was how Jeon Jeongguk’s wedding vow went:

“Jimin, I used to believe that I would hear bells when I first met my soulmate. Instead, all I heard was your deafening laughter in class, which now I have come to love. You are the kindest person I’ve ever met, you are gentle in everything you do and I think that’s the most beautiful thing a person can be.

Thank you for staying with me, for being by my side. Thank you for bringing sunshine and colours to my life, for always believing in me, for never giving up on me even after I accidentally ruined the ikea shelf. Thank you for giving me the best version of myself.

I promise to make you laugh when you’re taking yourself too seriously, to care for you and to have Disney marathon without skipping Frozen with you. I promise to love you unconditionally. You are the sunlight that rose again in my life, reincarnation of my childhood dreams, my soulmate.”

#jikook #kookmin #jikook fanfic #kookmin fanfic #kfk: oneshot

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