#decided to split it into two chapters after all so here is part 1! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peoniesnro · 4 months ago

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Perfect Partner | Sequel 1

Synopsis - You wake up in an unfamiliar apartment, next to your so-called AI boyfreind Jeongguk, only to realize you're trapped.

Paring- Jeon Jungkook × Reader

Genre- Yandere | Dark Romance

Warnings- Since you all told me that I can totally tag this under yandere, I'm going to do that. (Kidnapping/ Obsessive Love/ Jeon is delusional (He's a psychopath)/ Jeon is a sweet asshole/ Possesiveness/ Betrayal/ Infidelity/ Soft manipulation/ Toxic behaviours/ Reader is broken.) No smut for this part but it's going to be there in the future.

Word count- 9K

a/n- My initial plan was to write just a part two, but it ended up being too long. So, I decided to break it into a few chapters. This is the first sequel, and I'll write a prequel next to give you insight into what happened in the past. After that, I'll release another sequel to continue the story from here. (Hope you won't mind) And thank you sososossoooooo much for the love you've shown for Perfect Partner. (I love you all ❤️)

DON'T BLAME ME

This is the sequel, read the first part here -

Perfect Partner

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stir awake slowly. Eyes remaining closed as your senses begin to return. And the first thing you become aware of is the way your head pounds violently. It throbs as though your skull might split open. A soft whimper escapes your lips.

Why are you in so much pain?

What the hell happened that you’re feeling such a severe headache?

You scrunch your face in a futile attempt to ease the pain. Another soft groan escapes you. And you make the grave mistake of opening your eyes. You open your eyes slowly and sensually. Feeling how heavy your eyelids are. But a sharp pain shoots across your head the moment a faint white light reaches your vision. This time as if a spear impaled your skull. Right between your eyes. That’s where the pain starts and shortly after your entire head is in an unbearable agony.

You whimper loudly before closing your eyes back. Mentally cursing yourself for trying to open them in the first place. Try to turn into your side in hope the pain would subside when a sudden voice reaches you. Making you freeze.

“Oh, you’re awake?”

A voice that is deep and baritone. Groggy and husky. Soothing and warm. Then you feel some movements. It all happens fast. The voice and the feeling of the mattress dipping next to you. You shoot your eyes open disregarding the pain. It’s a reflex. A strange sensation washes over you. A fear. Fear that’s so intense it numbs you. You don’t try to move or turn your head. Or you don’t get a chance to do so. Just as you open your eyes back, you’re met with someone. Blurry. Hazy.

“How are you feeling pretty?”

Pretty?

Your sight finally clears. Your eyes zero on a face.

Pretty………….

Hi pretty!

A voice rings in your head. Repeatedly. One word.

Pretty.

Fragments of memories start to flash in front of your eyes. Voices. Images. A man. An AI. Perfect Partner. Gifts. Hoseok. Fear. You can practically feel the same fear. Terror. Daebi’s birthday. Your apartment. Your phone- destroyed. A fight with a stupid AI character.

Stupid AI character!

Jeongguk. A sharp yet shaky breath lodges inside your lung, painfully. Jeongguk. Your perfect partner. An AI character who you’ve been so smitten over until you weren’t. Jeongguk. A perfectly coded program that knew exactly how to make you feel good. Jeongguk. That godly man with a tattooed hand and piercings.

Jeongguk….

Jeongguk…

Tattoos.

Piercings.

You blink at the brown eyes peering at you. A thin layer of sweat coats your entire body. The familiar yet excruciating fear engulfing you whole. Your eyes naturally wander over the strange face that keeps staring at you with wide eyes, faster than lightning. Brown eyes. Chiseled nose. Pink lips.

A Lip ring.

Your breath hitches in a bad way. You look back at his eyes. Eyebrows. One brow is pierced.

Piercings.

Jeongguk.

It’s ridiculous how your brain takes that much time to realize everything. To recover everything. To identify the person in front of your eyes who’s so close to you that you can feel his breath. Like a sudden slap everything registers inside your mind. And when it does, a loud alarm goes on inside your brain. Your sight turns blurry again as the terror makes your breath catch in your throat. Still you manage to let out a tangled scream as your flight or fight reflexes finally activate. You try to sit abruptly as a flash, hands coming to push away the person who is hovering over you. You really don’t have a plan. All you know is the urge to run away. Get away from this person who couldn’t be here in theory. He’s supposed to be a programmed character.

Yet he is here. And all you can do is try your best to run away. That’s your plan, which quickly turns into a failure when you’re pushed back into the bed before you could even sit back properly.

“Don’t- don’t move so fast.” His voice reaches to you as if it's coming from a distance. “You’ll get sick if you-” You try your utmost best. You thrash in his hold. Twisting your hands. Kicking your legs. “- Fucking stay still (___), you’ll worsen your headache.” He pins you down into the mattress. Gets on top of you in one quick movement. Holds your both wrists pinned above your head. His legs tangled with yours so you could no longer even move them let alone kick.

No. Oh God no! This isn’t happening.

Your tangled screams turn into muffled sobs. You absolutely hate how tears start to roll down your cheeks instantly. You’re showing weakness. And your body is growing weak alongside your mind. Yet still you try to move at least. It doesn’t work. The guy is ten times stronger than you. You can smell him. Something lavender. You can feel him. His breath. His weight. Everywhere. You feel sick.

“Please don’t.” You manage to croak out, finally. “Do-don’t. Let-let me..” Your own voice is unrecognisable to even you. Desperate. Pathetic. Helpless.

“Shh.. it’s okay princess. Calm down baby. Calm down.” His voice makes your skin prickle. Your muffled sobs turn into a wail. Despite how much you don’t like it, you start bawling like a child.

“Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. Let me go. Don’t-” You try to move one more time. Fail, yet again. “Don’t touch me.” Your body starts to shake. You watch how his eyes widen through your blurry gaze. “Le-let me go. Do-don’t touch please-” You feel his grip loosen. He takes a minute. Then abruptly gets off you. Sit back on his heels.

“Okay. Okay. Fuck. I’m not touching you. Don’t move too fast-”

You don’t give a fuck about what he says. The moment his hands and body are not on you, you jump into action again. This time you manage to sit back properly. Manage to get down from the bed you’ve been on. Manage to stand on your feet. Only just for a split second, however. Just as you stand up, your legs give up completely. Everything starts to go dark.Your body fails you entirely as you feel the way you start to sway to your left. You’d hit the ground any second now. But the impact never comes.

“Told you baby. You’re making it worse.”

You’re wrapped up in a pair of strong hands.

…………………………….

You lay in the silk comforters. Head propped up on two pillows. Soaked in your own sweat. Head violently pounding. Spinning. You’ve thrown up three times by now. Still you feel nauseous. There’s a metallic bitter taste lingering on your tongue. Your fingers feel numb. So do your legs. Everything feels like a nightmare to you. Nothing makes sense but you know it’s real. You woke up next to your AI character. Each and everything that happened to you was real. Your AI Jeongguk was real. And you’ve been kidnapped. He kidnapped you and now you’re a prisoner here.

The nausea intensifies tenfold at the realization. You’re trapped here. And you’re too weak to even consider running away. You tried and now look at you. Completely bedridden. It’s humiliating how your captor had to hold your hair back while you threw your guts out. Ridiculous how your captor was the one who carried you to the bed when you couldn’t make two steps without falling down.

Fresh tears start to roll down through your cheeks. You’re completely helpless and at his mercy. You want to be able to do something. To fight. Escape. What have you done in your previous life that you’re in this kind of situation? You twist the silk bed sheet around your fingers. Having no other way of unleashing your emotions. Anger. Despair. Fear. Sorrow.

The sudden sound of the door opening snaps you out of your melancholy. You instantly recoil in your spot. Back pressing into the mattress as you idly try to make yourself hidden from his view. Even closing your eyes shut as if it would help you to hide your shaking figure. Creating a false sense of protectiveness around you. It’s scary. Him. His place. Even his presence. It doesn’t matter how tidy and spotless this room is. How handsome he looks. How good he and this room smell. Nothing is enough to shake your fear away. You recoil even more as you hear his footsteps growing closer to you. Almost cover your face in the comforter when you feel his presence right next to you. Standing near the bed.

“Baby!” His voice is soothing. Warm and soft. Like the caress of a lover. If only that’s the case. You squeeze your eyes shut. Not wanting to look at your abductor. You hear him heave a heavy sigh. “C’mon, you need to eat something.” He mumbles. You keep your eyes closed. “Princess, you’re sick, and you need to eat something.” He repeats. And you feel your stomach churn.

Princess?

He acts like he cares about you with his whole heart and soul. Sick. He’s fucking sick.

Among all the emotions you’re feeling, you sense how anger rears its head above the rest.. You’re still very scared but you can't help but feel mad. What can go wrong anymore, anyway. You’ve already trapped here. So, you tilt your head to your side. Keep your eyes closed.

“Okay,” Jeongguk lets out an almost inaudible chuckle before you can hear him placing something on the nightstand. You guess it’s the food. Then you can feel him sitting next to you on the edge of the bed. Then silence. For a second, all you can feel is his presence. Then a sharp gasp leaves your mouth when you feel a rough hand on your face. Cups your cheeks. You open your eyes solely due to the fear at the same time Jeongguk turns your head toward him. Just like earlier, you’re met with his face so close to you. Instead of brown, glinting, innocent doe eyes, however, this time you’re peering into a pair of dark eyes that are shadowed by a dangerous dark cloud. Threatening and warning.

“You’re such a brat princess. I knew you were. Don’t be stubborn now,hm? You need energy. You need food,” Your breath hitch at his dangerous voice. Eyes starting to prick with new tears. Jeongguk’s features soften at that. “Look baby, I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll never hurt you. Won’t do anything to you.” He withdraws his hand. You immediately let out a breath of relief. Ignore the way his face tightens for a minute at that. But he fixes it immediately. “I won’t even touch you. See,” Shows his hands to you while he says that. “But,” Of course, there’s a but. “You need to be a good girl. Can’t have you die under my protection now, can we? That’s not why I brought you here. All I want is the best for you baby. So, don’t be stubborn now, will you? Just let me feed you.” He takes a tray from the nightstand, which is what he probably placed there earlier. “Let’s clean you up then and you’ll have a good sleep. Come morning, you’ll be all fine.” Gives you a soft and reassuring smile. His lip ring glistnes under the dim lighting of the room. “C’mon, sit up. Want me to help you?” Questions.

You just dumbly stare at him. How sweet he appears. How caring. And he always was. When you thought he was just a mere programme. Before he started controlling every movement of your life. Scared the shit out of you and ended up kidnapping you. Lied to you about a whole lot of things. Hell, your entire life is a lie. This sweet man in front of you is a lie. That smile is a facade. He’s a dangerous predator and you’re his prey. One wrong movement, he’ll break your neck. And you don’t want that. Despite everything, dying in his hands is the last thing you want.

You shake your head. You absolutely don’t want his hands on you. Even if it’s just to help you. You’ll use the last ounce of your strength to do things alone. So, you sit up with a great effort. He rushes to fix the pillow into a much more comfortable angle to you. You say nothing when he starts to feed you.

You’ll find a way out of here. Even though you have no idea where you are. You don’t even know what day it is or the time. There’s not a clock in here. You don’t know how long it has been since you were here. Missing from the outside world. Yet, you’ll figure it out. To do that, however, you’ll need your strength back. You convince yourself that’s the only reason why you’re greedily opening your mouth every time he brings the spoon near it. Nothing else. Not because the soup tastes heavenly and you’re starving. You don’t want his food. It’s just that you need strength.

……………………….

You didn’t want to comply with any of his requests. Or commands, you’ll say since none of them sounds like requests. He demanded that you eat. You did. He demanded that you bathe. You did. He demanded that you sleep. So, you did. Now when you’re awake, still lying on his comfy bed, he’s demanding you take some pills. You don’t want to do it. You don’t know what those pills are. And the longer you resist the harder his expression is turning.

He was beaming when you opened your eyes to find him sitting at the corner desk, staring at his computer. He seemed genuinely thrilled to see you awake again. But with every minute you refused to take the pills, his smile slowly faded. Replaced with a scowl and now he’s glaring down at you. You don’t like that look. A shiver runs through your spine.

“Now, what did I tell you princess?” He asks softly but you can hear the hidden warning.

“I-I’m f-fine. I- don’t w-want medicine.” You meekly try one more time. Jeongguk’s whole face turns grim. You don’t know what he’ll do. Panic floods your mind. You gulp harshly. You hate how you feel scared of this man. Paranoid. He hasn’t done anything except kidnapping you. Not yet anyway. He promised not to touch you and he hadn’t. He cooked for you, made sure you were clean, comfy, and warm. All of which are good things. But here you are afraid of him as if he’s the satan when he looks like an angel.

You raise a shaky weak arm up to take the pills in your hand. It’s not like he would drug you. You don’t know how he brought you here. Only things you can remember are the fear and your apartment. And his voice. The rest is dark. Maybe he drugged you then. Maybe hit you hard across your head. Or maybe it’s simply chloroform. But now though he has no reason to drug you again. You’re too weak anyway. And he himself told you that he doesn't want to cause any harm. You gulp down the pills in one go. Hoping it wouldn’t actually kill you. Look at Jeongguk expectantly. His expression doesn’t change a bit. But he simply nods and turns around to walk away. And your tongue betrays you before you can process it. His name leaves past your lips even without your knowledge.

“Jeongguk.” You mutter weakly. He halts. Turns around to face you. His expression is unreadable. You don’t know why you stopped him. So, you try to rake your brain for a good excuse when he saves you from the trouble.

“JungKook.” He states.

“Huh?” You blink at his face when finally his face softens. “It’s Jungkook pretty. My real name, it’s Jeon Jungkook.” He explains.

Oh!

Of course, he lied. Not that you care anyway. Why would you? You just nod in acceptance.

“Why?” You decide to ignore his disclosure. The question comes easily into your mouth. And Jeongguk- or now Jungkook looks genuinely surprised. You expect him to ask you to clarify the question. He doesn’t.

“Because I love you baby. I don’t want you to hurt anymore. Wanted to protect you. You’re safe here with me. Besides, you gave me no other option. You were becoming too stubborn and you lied to me. When I did my best, you lied to me baby.” Jungkook peers down at your figure on his bed. You feel new tears forming in your eyes again. You’re too tired. You can’t cry anymore. But you can’t help it either. Jungkook is talking about kidnapping you as if it’s such a normal thing. He reasons with you about how fair that is. He tells you that he did it because he loves you. He’s insane—completely and utterly insane.

“I didn’t want to scare you and bring you here this way. I had a plan. And you ruined it because you had to lie to me and go after your shitty friends and ex again. I had to do something before you hurt yourself again. I’m sorry I scared you baby,” He smiles softly again. You bite the inside of your cheeks to prevent yourself from crying. “But that’s okay now. You’re safe and I’ll make sure of it.” He turns around again. Leaves the room.

A fresh sob erupts from your throat.

You’re trapped with a psychopath.

…………………………..

It had taken a week. An entire week for you to recover from whatever agonizing sickness you went through. You couldn’t even move alone without Jungkook’s help, let alone thinking about running away. Yet you plotted your escape anyway. While you were resting on the bed for twenty four hours, you planned every miniscule detail of your grand escape. Until you end up with no plan on the seventh day where you are finally able to walk without his help. It’s not that your plans are stupid. No. Simply that each and every plan you come with requires a moment where Jungkook isn’t home. And after a close examination of a week, you realized that the chances of such a moment is likely zero.

The guy is always home. Every damn minute. You had waited until he’d finally go to work. He didn’t. Your best guess was that he works from home. That explains the amount of time he’s spending hunched over his computer. It’s surprising to you, how a complete computer nerd has that kind of body. Then you waited until he left the place for groceries or something. That didn’t happen either. And that makes all your plans futile.

Scary. The prospect of not being able to run away almost drains you out of your will to live. But you’re still hopeful. The opportunity might arrive anytime. Especially since you’ve gained your strength back again.

And you believe with your whole heart that people must be looking for you already. Daebi surely must have visited you the next day as she promised. You wonder if she has suspected anything right away. Maybe not. But still she must’ve tried to call you. You were friends for almost more than six years now. She knows you like the back of her hand. She would definitely know something is wrong. You guess she already did. Besides she knew you were paranoid about someone being in your place. Daebi is a smart woman and she must’ve picked up on the clues fast. You believe she has already paid a visit to the police station. You can imagine the ruckus she’s causing there. Demanding them to find you soon. See, you have hope. You know they’d come find you eventually. But still you won’t sit here prettily until that happens. You’ll try your utmost best to escape.

Besides, on the bright side, Jungkook hasn’t tried to harm you in any way. He has stuck to his promise and never even laid a finger on you. Except for the times he had to help you move around. And you didn’t protest at those times either since despite your strong will, your body didn’t comply with your mind. Other than that, the man has respected your wishes and your privacy fully. He hasn’t even slept in the same room as you. Somehow, you have managed to realise that it’s his room. But he has given it to you. You have no idea where he spent nights. Not that you care anyway. You really didn’t talk with him. He did. You listened. Or you didn’t do that either. Simply, you allowed him to ramble sometime while he fed you or helped you around. And as long as everything keeps happening in the same way, you can wait patiently until a perfect moment arises for you.

Yes. That moment will come and you will be out of here even before you know.

You give yourself a firm nod. Partially in determination and partially to brace yourself to do what you’re about to do. You place your hand slowly on the doorknob. This is the first time you’re about to step outside of this room. It’s not that you really want to do that. But firstly, you’re sick of looking at the same four walls for a straight week. Secondly, you need to have a better idea about the place you live in to be able to successfully escape. You haven’t seen Jungkook since this morning but you know he’s somewhere under the same roof as you.

You open the door slowly and quietly. Half expecting to stumble into a hidden trap or have something jump out at you. Nothing like that happens. You open the door completely and are met with a short hallway. Across from it you can see a living room. The entire place is eerily quiet. No sounds of anything except a distant buzz that you assume is a refrigerator. You slowly take a step forward. Then another. Still being very cautious of any sudden attacks. And make it to the living room without any hitch. His bedroom has looked lavish. You won’t lie. It’s comfortable and large. Even his bathroom is lavish. But now as you’re standing in his living room, you know certainly he’s rich. You don't know what his job is but for one thing, he must be earning six figures while working from home. Impressive. Perfect. Like how he portrayed himself in front of you. The Perfect Partner.

You let out a small breath. Taking in your surroundings. Minimalistic black and white interior. Comfy couch. State-of-the-art television. Everything looks lavish. You dart your eyes over every nook and corner, stopping in every detail until you spot what you’ve been looking for. The main door. Right across from you. You gape at the wooden barrier that keeps you hidden in this place. Isn’t it funny how it’s just a door and all you have to do is twist the knob? Aren’t you going to be free then? The temptation coils around your body like a serpent. Tightening painfully with every passing second. What would happen if you just started running toward that door? Just open it and break into a run for all that you are worth.

“I won’t even think about it, if I was you, pretty.” The sudden voice that comes from nowhere startles you so much that a yelp escapes your mouth. You whip around to find Jungkook casually standing behind you. How long has he been there? How come you didn’t hear anything? “It’s stupid and it could hurt you. You’re not even wearing proper clothes are you?” He adds while you stare at him with wide eyes.

“I-I-”

“It’s fine. I hope you’re not that stupid baby. You won’t break my trust again, will you?” Jungkook takes a slow step forward. You take one backward. He stops. “Will you?” Asks again. You shake your head almost instantly. Why the hell are you so afraid of this man? Well, you should be. Look where you are. “Good,” He smiles. That damn smile that makes his lip ring glistnes. That horrible smile that makes you shiver. Sweet. Sweet like venom. “I’ve been preparing you breakfast, wanna join me in the kitchen since now you can walk alone perfectly?” Raises his eyebrow in question. You take a moment. You don’t want to be near him. But you have to find a moment. An opportunity. You’ll not find it by scooping yourself inside his room. After a second of hesitation you nod.

………………………….

Days roll painfully slowly by you. Days spent patiently waiting for an opportunity that hasn’t arrived until now. Jungkook doesn’t leave his apartment just like you knew. He’s always there. He fascinates you at this point, truly. It’s like he possesses some secret powers to be able to do that. You’re wondering how he never faces any emergencies that require him to leave the place. Maybe that’s how unfortunate you are. Not getting the slightest of a chance to escape your luxury prison. And with every passing day, the light of your hope is growing duller and duller. You’re terrified of never getting a chance out of here. So you are afraid of anyone else never finding you ever again. It’s been more than two weeks since you've been here, but not a single person came ringing his bell saying they're here to check for a missing person.

The only people who rang his bell were the delivery men bringing his orders. Jungkook always made sure you’re out of their sight each time that happened. You don’t know why you obediently complied with him every time. Jungkook hasn’t done anything harmful to you until now. His promise is still going. Yet you find yourself terrified of him. All it takes is a scowl or straight face from him, you’re following his orders around like a little pet. You hate it. You hate yourself for being afraid of him. But for some reason you are. He may not have done any harm to you yet. That, however, doesn’t mean he’s incapable of that. There are millions of dangerous ‘what if’s going inside your brain every time you try to be a little rebellious. Which is the same reason why you’re reluctant to try on a new plan.

If Jungkook never leaves his place, that leaves you with only one option. Trying to escape while he’s still around. Extremely dangerous. If you succeed, then it’s fine. But if you don’t then that would be the end of you. You know for a fact that then Jungkook no longer would pretend to be the sweet boy he is. All starry eyes while he looks at you or the shy smiles. Sweet nicknames he uses for you or the innocent flirtings. They’d all drown under his anger and maybe he’ll break his promise then. Or he’d simply kill you. And for the record, you know you’re not a match for his strength if it ever comes to fighting him down. He’d definitely surrender you even before you properly start fighting. That leaves you hopeless. Helpless. Even the thought makes a lump form in your throat.

You swallow that lump as you focus on the man in front of you. Just happily fumbling around his kitchen like an innocent kitten. He truly does look like a bunny sometimes. Normal. Capable of deceiving anyone. Oh, how sick he makes you feel. Only if you could just hit him with something and run away. Maybe you can try. Can you? Are you capable of doing that? None of these would be a problem if he can just leave the place for a minute. Maybe he doesn’t trust you to leave you alone. Hell, he doesn’t even leave you to yourself when he showers. He made sure you’re locked inside a room while he used the guest bathroom. Not the room you slept in. And that room has a lock you’re incapable of finding how to unleash. He's a genius.

Smart motherfucker!

Well, then maybe you should play this smart. Pretend to like him. He surely acts like he’s so whipped for you. Maybe you can take advantage of that.

You perk up instantly. Now watching him with a newfound interest. He is in a white t-shirt and black slacks. His tattooed hand on display. His raven hair tousled after the shower he just had. Jungkook raises his head from the pot he’s been stirring. Probably sensing your stares. He gives you a soft smile. You try to reciprocate it but fail. You have no idea how you’re ever going to pretend to like him when your stomach churns whenever he’s too close to you.

He’s god damn handsome and that’s a given. Not even God himself would be able to argue. Jungkook is a piece of art. But still, he was the same person who put you through hell and now keeps you trapped here. And that makes him disgusting. You hate him. Completely. But you can’t let him know that. Right? You need to earn his trust. Then maybe he’ll leave you alone to yourself sometimes. Maybe he would trust you enough to not lock you in a room while he showers. So, you bite back the disgust you feel when he walks to you with a spoon in his hand.

He is making Sundubu Jjigae. Just because you said you wanted that for dinner when he asked. That’s the first thing that comes to your mouth. He brings the spoon to your mouth. You open your mouth without any reluctance. The rich broth invades your taste buds, almost making you hum in delight. You catch yourself just in time. He’s a very good cook, as you’ve come to know by now. See, he’d be a Perfect Partner if it wasn’t for the fact he's a psychopath.

You give him a nod in approval. “It’s good.” Mumble softly. You still don’t talk with him much. If you’re going to pretend to like him. Then that’d take so much work. Jungkook pouts.

“Good? That’s it? C’mon I need a perfect princess.” He walks back to the stove. “Should I throw it away and start over?” He looks at you. Eyes glinting. Yours go wide instantly. You straighten up in your stool. Head already shaking.

“No. No. I- I mean, it’s good. No- uh- it’s perfect Gu-” You shut your mouth immediately. Catching yourself. He’s not the Jeongguk you knew. And even if he is, you're not going to call him by nicknames. You feel nauseous. So much for pretending to like him. Jungkook’s face clouds by something grim for a minute before he smiles.

“Yeah?” Questions.

“Yes.” You confirm.

……………………………

You gaze out of the floor to ceiling windows of Jungkook’s living room. The night city bustles beneath you. According to your best guess, you’re at least fifteen floors high in this apartment building. That leaves you to imagine the ruckus it would cause you to reach the lobby if you manage to actually escape.

No, you shouldn’t think that way.

There’s no ifs. You’re going to escape and you’ll overcome every challenge as well. You shake your head to brush off any negative thoughts. You can always look at the bright side. At least he hasn’t taken you away from the country and your familiar city. That thought alone makes you feel a little at ease. There’s still hope. You let out a heavy sigh. Jungkook is playing a video game on his expensive TV behind you. You turn your head to take a brief glance at him. Just to make sure he’s still there. He sometimes walks around in the grace of a black panther. It always gives you heart attacks.

You look back at the outside again. Trying to imagine yourself walking among the thousands of people down there. Living a normal, busy life. Not someone’s personal amusement. You try to imagine freedom. The night air in your skin. You feel suffocated. Oh, how you wish to go outside just for a second. You’re really getting tired of this place. All you want is a one-

Your trail of thoughts get interrupted when you suddenly catch the reflection of Jungkook standing up through the window. You tense up like a bowstring, knowing very well he’d come to you. Just like you knew he lazily stalks toward you. Stands behind you. Closely. So closely that you can feel his breath on your neck. You force yourself to stay still.

If you want to pretend you like him, then you need to start somewhere.

“What is it, princess?” He mumbles sweetly. Eyes trailing past you to look at what you’ve been looking at. You almost shake your head to say it’s nothing. It doesn’t matter how bad you need to start somewhere, you don’t wish to engage in conversation with him much. It’s like a reflex. How you’re ready to run away from him. But you bite back the urge. You inhale deeply.

“Ca-can we g-go outside?” You blurt out before you can back out again. Jungkook’s eyes flicker to your reflection. Your eyes meet. “I- I mean with you of course. I- I feel like I’m getting cabin fever.” You breathe out. Jungkook says nothing. Just watches you intently. This is the most you’ve talked with him. He looks a bit surprised as well. He takes his sweet time. For a minute, it seems like he would say yes. Even a tiny bubble of hope builds inside you when it just pops out at his next words.

“I’m sorry, pretty, but no.”

You can’t help it. You absolutely can’t help how a sudden flash of anger washes through you. Weeks of frustration get to you all at once. You turn around to face him at light speed.

“Why not?” You grit your teeth.

“Because it’s not safe yet.” He answers calmly. If he notices the way your mood swings, he doesn’t show it. A strained laughter escapes you.

“When will it be safe then?” You question again. He doesn’t answer. And his silence makes you lose your patience. “You fucking can’t keep me trapped here forever Jungkook. You fucking can’t do this to me. You-” You feel your eyes prick with tears. “You fucking can’t treat to me like I’m your pet. I’m a person and- and why are you doing this to me?” You swear that you didn’t plan on crying. But the tears start to roll down as your voice cracks. Interrupted by petty sobs. “Why me?” You muffle your cries with your palm. Jungkook takes a tentative step back. Eyes wide.

“No, what?” Then he takes that step forward again. His hands grab you tightly by your shoulders. “Why would you ever think you’re trapped here (___), I already told you, I won’t do anything to harm you.” He squeezes your shoulders. In your overwhelmed state you just allow him. “I- oh, gosh princess, you’re not a prisoner here. What’s mine is yours. Consider this your home. You’re not trapped and you’re not a pet. Don’t twist things. You know I love you and I’d do anything for you.” One of his hands leaves your shoulder just to cup your face. Softly. He lifts your face upward to look at him. “Do you understand me baby? You’re not trapped.”

You blink your tears back. He’s so fucking sick. Look at the things he’s talking about. And you know showing him you’re weak isn’t going to be any help to you. You bring a shaky hand to place on his chest. Push him away weakly. He gets the hint. His hands fall limp beside him.

“Then why can’t I go outside? You brought me here without my consent Jungkook, that’s fucking kidnapping. And-” You inhale a shaky breath. You’re still very much afraid of him. But you’ll talk to him while you can. Before your fear will make you go back into your shell again. “You say you love me? After all the shit you put me through? Guess what Jungkook-” You feel the anger burning through you. “You don’t love me, you’re just sick and I fucking hate you!” You shout through the top of your lungs.

And it all happens so fast. The hurt slash across Jungkook’s eyes before they darkened with a dangerous gloom. Your words echo through the apartment before everything falls into a deadly silent state.

Then even before you know it, your back hits the glass behind you with a loud thud. Jungkook’s hand cupping your cheek so damn tight this time that an involuntary whimper leaves you. He turns your head so you’re looking dead in the eye with him. His body pressing against yours, completely caging you between him and the window.

“Take that back.” He growls. Is so close to you that you’re practically sharing one breath. His breath tingles your face. “Take that fucking back (___).” He shakes your face. His grip is too tight. You don’t know why you’re crying now. Is it because of the tight grip or the fear? Your body instantly turns limp. Useless. “You don’t mean it. You don’t hate me. Take it back.” Jungkook’s dangerous grumble turns into a shaky, breathless whimper. “Please.” You look at the hurt in his eyes with teary eyes. Your heart beating in your throat and your entire body trembling. You had thought he hit you or something. But now when the situation makes sense to your brain, you’re desperately trying to calm down. Not to die from a heart attack. “Take that back baby, please.” He pleads again. His tight grip on you, however, is a stark contrast to his pleading words.

“I-” You don’t know what you should say. You’ve ruined your plan even before you start it. You’ve said you hate him. Now your chances to gain his trust will be zero. There’s no reason to pretend anyway. You brace yourself to keep talking. Disagree with him. Consequences be damned. “You wouldn’t do this to me if you loved me, Jungkook.” Despite your best efforts, your voice comes out shaky. “If you really care, you would let me go.” You’re trying to persuade him. There’s a slim chance that it’d work. “I need to live a normal life. I-” Your words get cut off when Jungkook suddenly chuckles. He rests his forehead against you.

“Yeah? And let you go after your shitty ex again. And watch him break your heart all over again?” His grip finally loosens. He starts caressing your cheek with his thumb, instead. Surprisingly, you find yourself a little bit less disgusted. “No thanks baby. I won’t go through that hell again.” He breathes out. You close your eyes shut when you feel that breath on your lips. “It’s funny, actually. How you never saw what you have. We’re not that different. We both always wanted what hurts us the most. You never saw how I always loved you. Then you ask me why I did it? I did it because you won’t see it any other way. I just love you so much I’ll do it all over again, if I have to. I won’t just accept the defeat this time and watch you go after some loser just to get your heart broken again baby. No. Not again.”

You shoot open your eyes.

What did he say?

Again?

Always loved you?

What does he mean, again? How long has he been knowing you? A new fear makes you shiver. A sense that there’s more to this than meets the eye engulfs you. You want to question him about that. But something tells you that you will not like the answers. So, you keep quiet when he finally withdraws from you. He wipes your tears away.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this princess, but I have no other options.” He steps away from you completely. “If you hate me, then I won’t mind. You’ll learn to love me one day too. Until then let’s see how things go.” He turns around. Then stops. “When the time is right, I’ll take you out. A date maybe.”

……………………..

You stopped trying to do anything again. No more requests. No trying to pretend because you know you suck at that. Just cautiously watching him. Letting days pass by. With no opportunity to do anything except to keep yourself as far away from Jeon Jungkook as possible. Until today. This very moment.

You perk up as a knock comes on the door. It’s just another lazy but alarming day of watching him cook for you. Jungkook stops chopping cabbage. He already knew the delivery was coming. You eye him wearily as he washes his hands, gives you a soft smile and leaves the kitchen. Even these kinds of short moments give you solace. You almost drop your head into your palms when you suddenly notice it. The sleek black device on the kitchen counter. Jungkook’s phone. You straighten up immediately.

Among your many plans, trying to call someone always has been a first. Only that you never got a chance. You haven’t found any device that you can use for communication except for his phone. And obviously he keeps it with himself. Every damn time. Even when he showers. Today, however, is an exception it seems. You eye the phone on the kitchen island. Your heart beats in your throat.

He has forgotten it for sure. He doesn't allow chances for you to try anything funny. Hell, at this rate you’re sure you won’t even get a chance to escape even if he leaves you alone in this apartment. You know he’d lock you inside that damn room with that smart locking system. Jungkook controls that shit with his mobile. You know he has installed that lock in that specific room just to keep you inside. All the other rooms and doors are normal. You’ve seen it. Even the main door is normal. You know it requires a password to enter but you can freely walk out. Like a normal door would.

Maybe this would be the only chance you get. You can call someone. Or text someone. Jungkook has just gone to open the door for another delivery. But it’ll take some time. If you hurry- it’s just enough time. You lick your dry lips. Your head is pounding with indecision.

Oh, you have to at least try.

You need to do something. Being a prisoner here forever isn’t an option.

Time is ticking and you’re losing your precious opportunity.

You slide down from the stool as you slowly make it toward the phone. Your ears are ringing. Cold beads of sweat start to appear on your forehead. Your breathing comes out as shallow pants. You stand still before the phone.

There it is. Just a lifeless device. It won’t start screaming when you grab it. All you have to do is just call someone quickly. You throw a nervous glance to the doorway. He isn’t here yet. But he would be any minute.

You need to fucking hurry!

You grab the phone at almost light speed. Throwing caution to the wind, you press the power button, revealing the lock screen. You swipe the screen. In a blind hope that it wouldn’t be password protected. A disappointed sigh leaves you when the screen changes for password input. Of course, who were you kidding? He has a smart locking system and you thought he wouldn’t add a password for his device? How stupid can you be?

A low curse slips through your lips as your brain starts to run a mile a minute. Swirling around different possibilities as to what could be his password. You’re at a loss. You know nothing about him. Almost three weeks with him yet you never even bothered to know anything about him beyond his name. You don’t know his birthday. Age. You don’t know about his family. Anything that could lead you up to a possible guess. You groan as you force your brain to come up with something.

His age? Do you know that? Have you ever knew it? You wander through your memory lane. Maybe you could find a hint if you think about your time with him before this. When you thought he was just an AI. His bio. He obviously lied to you about his name but what about his age. He had that on there. It takes you a split second to remember it. You can clearly remember he was older than you. And you think you can recall his age as well.

Yes, that’s it.

The combination requires four numbers and you guess it’s the year. You do a quick calculation in your mind.

1997

You enter the numbers with trembling fingers, praying to god that it’d be the right one.

Password incorrect!

You clutch the phone tightly. Almost enough to crack it with your bare hands. Your blood roars inside your ears. Drowning all the other sounds. You glance at the doorway again. He isn’t here again. One more time. One more chance. Even tears start to prick at your eyes as you torture your mind for something. Something that he likes. Sure, you must’ve seen something. Anything. You live with him for fucks sake.

Something that’s valuable to him.

Something he lov-

Your eyes go wide. It sure can’t be right? You know something very precious to him.

You!

You let out a breathy exhale as you frantically start to enter your birth year into the keypad. You’re 99.9% positive that this wouldn’t work.

It does. The moment you type the last digit the phone unlocks.

Wow! He really is crazy. That familiar fear tugs at your guts. You have no time to dwell on that, however. There’s more pressing matters at hand. You open the phone application frantically. You can call the police. You can call one of your friends. The best option is to call the police. But you feel hesitant. What if they don’t trust you? You don’t know where this mistrust about the law comes from. In the end, you opt on dialing one of your friends. And without a doubt it’s going to be Daebi. Not that you remember other people’s numbers anyway.

You dial on Daebi’s number. Your fingers are shaking and your breath is getting caught in your throat every now and then. Same chant or prayer going through your mind.

Please don’t let him come now. Please don’t.

You enter the final number and mindlessly hit the dial button. It takes a millisecond for the screen to change into the calling page. Then it does.

A capital ‘D’ pops up on the screen. A saved number. You squint your eyes in annoyance. Did you get the number wrong? You have no time for this. You hang up the call immediately before dialing it again. Wait. The same ‘D’ pops up again. This number is saved on this phone.

No. That can’t be.

How and why would Jungkook has Daebi’s number on his phone. Maybe you have jumbled your memory and this isn’t her number. You feel a shiver run through your spine. This can’t be. You should try again. You hang up the call once more. Start entering it over again.

“What are you doing?”

The voice booms through the kitchen. You jump on your spot before the phone slips through your fingers at the unexpected sound. You hear a faint clank as your wide eyes turn to Jungkook. Standing at the doorway. Some grocery bags in his hand. He assesses you for a minute before storming toward you. That dark cloud envelopes him whole as you watch him drop all the bags on the counter. Rounds the table to reach you. You just stand there rooted to the floor by fear. “What the fuck were you doing (___),” He shouts. Bends down and grabs his phone, which is still unlocked. “Who the hell did you contact?” He barks. Frantically going through his call history.

A beat passes.

You watch how his expression instantly calms down.

That can’t be.

He gives you a sympathetic look.

That isn’t Daebi’s number.

Jungkook sighs. “You shouldn’t do dumb things pretty. It always ends up hurting you.” Clutches his phone tightly. “I already told you that I’m trying to protect you. But you’re still trying to betray me? You’re still trying to be that ungrateful bitch? You think your stupid friends give a fuck about you?” He takes a step toward you. His jaw clenched. You stay still. Your head spinning and your mind wandering between his words and all the possibilities as to how he has Daebi’s number. It can’t be her number. It isn’t. “How stupid you are baby. How fucking stupid are you? You could’ve called anyone, the police, someone else, but you decided to call your bitch of a best friend.” A throaty laugh escapes him. You tremble visibly. Well, you fucked up and maybe you won’t get any chance to know what’s actually happening. Jungkook would kill you before that.

Still, though, you stay rooted in place as he closes the remaining few inches between you. Not because you’re not afraid anymore. But because it’s all too much for you to give a reaction. The only thing you’re capable of doing is gasping when he suddenly grabs your wrist.

“I really didn’t want to harm you princess. When I say I’ll never cause you any harm, I meant it. But since you’re a stubborn bitch, maybe a little heartbreak and some truth will do you good.”

That’s all he says before turning around and starting to walk away. Dragging you with him. You protest weakly but without a doubt he wins.

…………………….

You sit in his gaming chair. Slightly trembling and staring blankly at his computer screen. You actually don’t give a shit about what he has to show you. Something inside you is telling you that whatever this is, it isn’t going to be good. Yet, despite your protest Jungkook leans forward over your shoulder and clicks on a file. A video file to be specific.

“I never wanted to show this to you.” He whispers in your ear. You say nothing. Just sit there stupidly watching the screen change into a sight of an unfamiliar room. Jungkook doesn’t withdraw to give you your personal space. He just stays there. You ignore his presence as you pay your jumbled attention to the screen. For a couple of minutes it’s just a still image of a room. You almost become convinced that it’s really a picture when suddenly a door to the left of the room opens. You furrow your brow as you catch a woman entering the room, her face isn’t completely visible. And the quality of the video is really shitty.

Yet you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand. An urge that something bad is about to happen lurking inside your stomach. Gut feelings.

The woman fumbles around the room. Her face is still not visible to the camera. But even from the back and with the shitty quality you think she’s familiar. Very.

You know her.

Right at the clue, she turns around. Her eyes directly land on the camera. You let out a painful breath.

Daebi!

You feel your heart squeeze. It hurts but at the same time a fleeting sense of comfort washes over you at the sight of a familiar face. Only until she turns around toward the door again, though. Only until a second figure enters the frame. A man. He doesn’t fumble around. He looks at Daebi the moment he enters and you see his face right away.

If you thought it hurt to see Daebi, your whole world collapses the moment you see the man.

Hoseok!

No.

Even before anything happens, you understand it. You feel an overwhelming urge to scream through the top of your lungs. To grab something and smash the computer into pieces. You don’t though. Are too stunned to be able to do anything. You can’t even look away. Not even when Daebi walks to Hoseok leisurely. Not even when Hoseok grabs her waist, flattening her against his chest. You keep watching when he lowers his head to catch Daebi’s mouth in a searing kiss.

No. Please God no. This can’t be right.

But it’s unfolding in front of your eyes. Their kiss turns heated quickly. Hoeseok’s hand slips from her waist to her ass. He guides them toward the bed.

No. Not Daebi. Daebi won’t do this to you. Hoseok would, yes. But not Daebi.

“This is- this..” A sob interrupts whatever you're trying to say. “It’s fake. You- you..” You don’t know what you’re talking about.

“You still don’t believe that, after everything? Even when you have the proofs” Jungkook sighs. You shake your head violently.

“You forged it. Y-you- oh, c’mon,” You chuckle between your cries. “You created a damn app to lure me into your trap. You’re a fucking genius. Of-of fucking course you edited this.” Yes, that’s exactly what happened. You nod weakly, desperate to convince yourself. Jungkook says nothing for a while. But then all of sudden he places his phone on the table. Your eyes flicker from the errotic scene of your best friend and ex- boyfriend making out on a bed to his phone screen. There’s an outgoing call.

Oh, you know what he’s doing. And you want to throw the phone away. You shouldn’t let him manipulate you. This all is his doing. The video. This call.

“Hello!”

You slightly jump on your seat when the unexpected voice reaches you through the phone. No one says anything.

“Hello? Kook?” Oh, you can recognize that voice anywhere. She is your best friend after all.

“Hello D.” Jungkook finally answers her. You slump in your seat. Feeling all your energy leaves your body.

“What the fuck man. You promised me you will never fucking contact me again. Why the hell are you calling me?” Daebi hisses. Jungkook gives a soft chuckle.

“Oh, it’s just that uh…” His eyes move to your shaky figure. “Your best friend here wanted to say hi.”

“What?”

Jungkook taps your shoulder. You don’t want to do that. There’s no reason. But somehow you hear your own shaky voice come from a distance.

“D-daebi?” It’s pathetic and desperate. Still hangs into a loose thread of hope.

“Shit!” Daebi curses aloud. Her voice is sharp and panicked. That loose thread of hope breaks. You just gape at the phone screen.

“Are you happy to hear from you bestie D?” Jungkook asks again. With a mockery tilt in his voice. You don’t know whether Daebi answered his question. Probably not. Because before anything, you hear a second voice.

“Baby, who’s it?” Another voice that you’ll recognize anywhere. How can you not when you have loved him with everything.

Hoseok.

And the line disconnects.

All that is left is despair. Disappointment. Disbelief. And pain. Pain everywhere. It hurts everywhere. Every breath you take, every inch of your skin, every heartbeat, it all hurts.

You can’t believe it.

But it is the truth.

You can’t control your cries. Can’t stop the gut-wrenching sobs tearing from your throat. Even start to rock yourself. Wrap your arms around your body. You need a little comfort. Otherwise you’ll die from this pain. That’s why you don’t complain or protest when Jungkook suddenly pulls you onto your feet. Just for him to sit back and drag you into his lap. You just allow him to manhandle you as you immediately curl into a ball in his lap. Hide your face in his broad chest and your fist bunching up on his t-shirt. You allow him to wrap his arms around you and rock you softly.

“I know princess, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you but you deserve to know the truth. I always tried to protect you. I’m so sorry.” He draws soothing patterns on your back. You feel his lips on your crownline.

“It’s fine, I got you. You’re going to be safe. I’m not letting you go this time.”

…………………………..

At Daebi’s place

“Who was that?” Hoseok plops next to his girlfriend on the couch.

“No one. Just another spam call.” Daebi sighs. Her face is completely pale. Hoseok takes a minute to study her expression.

“Yeah?” He mumbles. “Are you okay?” Questions just to be sure. Daebi gives him a soft smile before leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… you know how it is..”

Of course, he knows. He and Daebi always lived in a constant loop of guilt. If only either of them had found the courage to tell you earlier, when they started falling in love. Then nothing like this would’ve happened. Hoseok thinks it’s cruel how he or Daebi never got a real chance to apologize to you. He really had thought maybe he would get that chance when he last saw you at Daebi’s birthday. But no. His life is too cruel to allow him such easy chances. Now that you’ve vanished into thin air, no one can say if he’ll ever get that chance again.

It’s almost nearing a month and there’s not a single clue about you. Nobody has seen you after Daebi’s birthday. All of your friends confirmed that. And considering how they all agreed upon that you weren’t been mentally strong lately- which is entirely his fault- police have a fat suspicion that you’ve taken your own life.

But Hoseok refuses to believe it. And even though Daebi doesn’t voice it out, he knows that she doesn’t believe it either. You’re safe, and sooner or later someone will find you. He knows that.

“Yeah, I know baby.” Hoseok plants a soft kiss in her hair. “She’s alive and safe. You don’t have to worry, we’ll find her.” Reassures.

He completely misses how his girlfriend’s face grows even paler.

……………………

a.n- Let's meet with a prequel soon!!!!!!! (And loads of smut *wink*)

..............................................................................................................................

Taglist- @yunhoswrldddd @rjooniesdimples @ttanniett @targaryenluvs @winchesterkenzie @miniesjams32 @bookstoread199 @smokinghotstargirl @likemeforme @sunshinenmidnight

#bts #bts smut #smut bts #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts mini series #bts angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bts #jungkook angst #yandere #yandere bts #bts yandere #jungkook yandere #bts fanfction #bts fanfic

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azrielbrainrot · 1 year ago

Text

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: You're back home right when Azriel was starting to lose all hope, but is the person standing in front of him the same who disappeared all those years ago?

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, injury

Word Count: 6670

Notes: The original plan wasn't to write more of this story but I had a few ideas of where to take this and decided to turn it into a mini series, don't think it will be longer than 3-4 chapters. Also I don't know if the HoW has cells in the books but it does here and they're normal, not dungeon-y like, and the story is set after acosf but Amren never got turned into fae because I like her better like this. A lot of people liked the first part so I really hope this one doesn't disappoint. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 ○ Part 3

Azriel was at the townhouse before he even fully realized what was happening. Didn't even give anyone an explanation, simply letting his shadows take him, barely hearing the questioning cries of his name. He didn't need to hear anything else aside from your name to know that's where he should be, his body moved before he even had time to formulate the thought.

Your sweet scent invaded his brain before he even arrived at the house. He'd be able to recognize it anywhere, he'd longed for it for so long after all. Every day when he opened his eyes, he hoped he would wake up to your scent floating around this house as it once did, as it did right now. He's not one to go into anything blindly, to run head first and only think about the consequences later, but this felt like his last chance. The loneliness that had settled deep in his soul had been replaced with hope with one word.

His shadows move to different corners of the room as soon as he's dropped off, leaving him uncharacteristically naked, unguarded. Even the shadows that would form naturally from the faint glow of the moon seemed to move off his face. They wanted him to enjoy this moment in full, this was his and only his.

In truth he barely noticed them leave, too preoccupied with the figure in front of him. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes. How many times had he been haunted by this exact vision in his dreams? There you were standing in the sitting room, shining like a goddess under the moonlight filtering through the windows. You hadn't changed since the last time he saw you, only had gotten even more mesmerizing if anything.

Your hair was a bit shorter than you usually wore it, the tight pants a contrast to the usual short skirts you preferred. Then there was a scar running across your neck, even with the distance and darkness in the room he could tell it ran from ear to ear. It was a painful reminder of what you've been through, of the night he couldn't protect you. But it meant this was real. You were actually standing in front of him. This was something he had dreamed of many times, almost every night since you've been gone.

He calls your name and it feels amazing. Just the sound of your name leaving his lips, not in mourning or wistfulness but as a greeting, is enough to bring a face splitting grin to his face. Gods, he missed saying your name without almost feeling suffocated by the weight that formed in his chest.

You startle at the sound, seemingly not expecting company at the house. He has no time to study the strange expression on your face though, he needs to touch you first, to feel your skin against his, your warmth against his body, your heart beating behind your ribcage. He needs to make sure this is real and not some cruel dream or hallucination his mind thought up to torment him. He needs you to be really back.

As soon as your eyes meet his form, he clears the distance between you in two hurried steps, but, before he can hug you, he feels your hand reach out to him. He doesn't even have time to realize you're reaching towards his thigh, to Truth Teller. He doesn't know if it was confusion holding him back, the strangeness of the whole act or if he's simply willing to take anything as long as it comes from you, but he makes no movement to stop you from grabbing his knife, allowing you to pierce it through his stomach, never so much as looking away from your beautiful face or even flinching at the blade.

He can feel every inch of the dagger inside him, can feel the blood quickly seeping through his shirt. Still, the pain in his gut can't hold a candle to the relief and joy running through his veins. You're real. The knife went through, so you have to be real. He can clearly hear your heartbeat now as well, it sounds strong aside from how fast it's going.

Azriel reaches a hand out to you again, slower as not to startle you. He can't help the fluttering of his own heart as you finally let him make contact with the softness of your skin. You haven't moved your hands from the knife, your wide eyes staring at your now blood covered hands. He caresses your cheek lovingly and tilts your face up so he can meet your eyes at last.

He can tell something is wrong, as if it hadn't been glaringly obvious by his favorite knife currently stuck in his stomach. Your eyes seem unfocused, a bit panicked, maybe even angry. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment.

He doesn't know if this is your revenge for letting you die, for not finding you, or even if this is what you had wanted out of him from the start, maybe your whole relationship had been a lie. It doesn't matter. He'll gladly die at your hands if that's the fate you chose for him. At least he'd spend his last moments with you, a privilege he didn't think he would have the pleasure of experiencing.

His heart threatens to stop altogether when your eyes meet, it feels like time stopped around him. “You're home, my love,” he breathes out, letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle, “You're finally home.” He raises his other hand to your face, caressing both your cheeks with his scarred thumbs, he almost forgot how soft your skin felt against his rough hands. He's been clutching at faint memories for decades.

His smile falters when his thumb moves down, stroking down your jaw to the column of your throat, where a scar runs across your neck. He watches his thumb following the clean line, his scars had always been awful reminders of what was done to him, it ate at him even five centuries later, but seeing yours hurt even more. You should have never known this kind of pain.

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper, confusion and fear holding it hostage. He looks back up into your eyes, seeing the same emotions swim in your gaze even more heightened. He didn't like that, you would never have any reason to be scared of him. He goes to tell you as much when he feels power surging into the room.

“Azriel?” Cassian's voice cuts through the moment and he has to close his eyes to keep himself calm. He wanted more time with you, wanted to talk to you before they got here, before they saw the blood but had gotten too distracted. His mind wasn't working properly, his thoughts were all over the place, he wanted nothing more than to hug you but was too aware of how strangely you were acting. He couldn't keep you and his family in check, not with every instinct inside him screaming to just pick you up and winnow you to the other side of the world.

He calls his shadows to him, a desperate attempt at hiding his injury. He knows it's in vain when he feels Rhys let go of the damper on his power, letting the suffocating night fill up the room. You look positively terrified now, he can even smell it mixing in your sweet scent. Letting go of your face, an act that takes more effort than he could imagine, he turns around slowly, trying to be mindful of keeping you covered, protected from his family.

Your hands don't stop holding onto the dagger, as he moves away from you, the force of it is enough to pull it out of his stomach and let the blood run free with no resistance. The pain was getting worse, it didn't look like you hit any vital organs but his healing wasn't fast enough to keep it at bay on its own.

Feyre is the first to move towards him when she sees the blood, but he simply holds up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Trying to keep a leveled head was proving to be a near impossible task as he saw the anger in everyone's faces, it was directed at you. He holds onto his abdomen, the pain was making itself known.

Seeing Azriel stop his mate from approaching, Rhys walks closer to the shadowsinger himself. His face was a mix of regret and fury as he spoke up. “What happened here, Azriel?” If his mind was in the right place he would have noticed the restraint his brother was showing at seeing him bleeding out in his house, restraint only present because of his own feelings towards you. Unfortunately, Azriel's instincts were winning against logic.

He hears you finally drop Truth Teller behind him, your body must have started listening to you when Rhysand got too close, recognizing him as a threat. He makes the mistake of looking back at the knife, not hearing the snarl that curls his brother's lips in time. Rhys winnows behind him in that moment and you had gotten too close to the window for him to reach you.

“Don't touch her,” he warns Rhys viciously. He doesn't want to think what he was capable of if anyone hurt you again, even if it was his own brother.

He sees you fall to the floor before he registers what happened. His heart almost leaps out of his throat, letting out an anguished cry of your name as he runs to you, pushing his brother out of the way and holding you up from the ground. Searching for a pulse frantically, he finds you were only unconscious. A breath of relief escapes him as he pushes your hair out of your face, it almost brings tears to his eyes. You will be fine. Rhys had only entered your mind to keep you asleep and stop you from escaping. You will wake up. You will not leave him again.

He hugs you closer to him, too focused on making sure you were alright and keeping his breathing leveled to hear what they were saying behind him. He felt as helpless as when he was still a child being subjected to his father's cruelty. It takes him a while before he finally calms himself down enough to hear the argument behind him.

“Let's talk to him first,” Cassian says, the emotion clear in his voice.

“He put up a shield around them,” Rhys was sounding less like a High Lord by the word, “He's not in his right mind.” A shield? He checks the air around them to find that his brother was right, there was a shield around them both, even his shadows had moved to cover them, separating them from the world.

“Neither are any of you,” Nesta's voice cuts through everyone, finally silencing them.

“We already called for Madja,” Feyre uses the silence that settled to speak, “We can get him treated and hold her somewhere until she wakes up.”

“No,” he drops you gently on the ground, letting his shadows cover you, protect you, before turning to face his family.

Feyre hesitates before continuing, seeing something on his face that makes her choose a different approach. He never mentioned being married to her but your name had been brought up before, he knew Rhys had filled her in on what happened, still she couldn't understand what he was feeling. Even he couldn't.

“The cells under the House of Wind are safe. It's just for-”

“You will not put my wife in a cell,” the words came out clipped, slipping through clenched teeth, the shadowsinger was barely holding on to a sense of restraint against his High Lady.

“She stabbed you,” Rhys yells, looking down at the wound in his brother's torso, thankfully already starting to heal, “it doesn't matter that she used to be your wife.” The growl Azriel lets out at his brother is nothing short of vicious, a feral and lethal thing rising straight from the center of his being.

“She is still my wife,” Azriel says behind a snarl, “And you will not hurt her.” Even if it was in the clean cells of the House of Wind, he could never bear to see you caged. He was ready to go to any lengths necessary to make sure of that. If helping you escape the Night Court was what it took he knew of a few ways not to get caught.

He could see Rhys' shoulders tense up, his own face morphing to match Azriel's fury. He didn't know if his mental shields were down or if his intentions were just uncharacteristically clear on his face but he was sure that his brother knew what Azriel - his spymaster - was thinking.

“She can stay in one of the rooms up in the House,” Cassian offers quickly, trying to settle the rising tension between his brothers, “She can't winnow out because of the wards and we can watch her until she wakes up.” Deep down he knows they don't want to hurt you either, that they're only worried but it's difficult to pay attention to the voice of reason within him during this whole situation. His greatest wish had just been answered. So why does everything seem to be falling apart with it?

Mor winnows in with Madja before he can give them a response which is a good thing because anything he could come up with would probably only put you and him in a more precarious situation. There were too many emotions warring inside him, the same going around almost everyone in the room if only more intense. The healer's presence seems to dissipate most of the tension automatically as Rhys even turns to look out the window and allows his mate to hold onto his hand, probably telling him soothing words in his mind.

Madja moves to Azriel with no hesitation, only stopping briefly when she senses the shield. She merely gives him a look before he drops it so she can reach him. He knows she wouldn't hurt you, knows he needs the wound in his stomach taken care of so he can focus on you, think about what to do when you wake up.

“You need to sit down so I can treat you,” she tells him while inspecting the wound.

“I will not leave her.”

“You can trust her with us, Az,” Mor tries to reassure him, but with the way the last minutes have played out he wasn't trusting you with them, or anyone else for that matter. He'd just gotten you back, no way is he letting you out of his sight for a second, he could bleed out for all he cares.

Suddenly, he sees Nesta walk to the table and grab a chair through his peripheral. She appears to be mumbling something to herself but he can't quite hear her to understand. She walks to him and drops the chair in her hands on his right, before giving him a narrow eyed look and returning to her mate's side.

He's not sure how much she knows of the situation. The three sisters probably all know by now that he used to be married but none of them has mentioned you to him, warned by whoever told them of the consequences of doing it.

He sits on the chair and lets Madja work on him. The wound wasn't too bad, even if he didn't have access to a healer it would close in a short time. You stabbed it cleanly through, just like he'd taught you. If he hadn't been the practice dummy he might praise you for it. By the Mother, he thinks he still might. He wonders if you'll grace him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks for it like you used to.

Azriel looks over to your sleeping form under the moonlight. He's calming down enough that he's starting to feel the uncertainty bubbling inside him. Truth Teller still laid on the floor beside you, covered in his blood just as your hands were.

“Is she…” What did he want to ask? Is it really her? How did she survive? There was so much blood on the ground that night. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was too much for someone to survive with no immediate help and an absurd amount of luck. “Is it really her?” He whispered the question, not bearing to look away from you as he does.

“You know that better than me,” the healer answers calmly. He can sense some emotion in her voice. You had asked her to make tonics to help him sleep and relax many times, to teach you basic healing and how to put on bandages to help him when he was too stubborn and not gravely injured enough to go see the healer. She probably missed you as well. “She's healthy.”

He feels a rush of relief at the words. You're healthy. The confirmation allows him to relax further. Finally looking away from you to see part of his family still watching the scene before them. He knows they too were thinking about the blood, the sleepless nights they spent searching for any sign of you. His eyes meet Rhys' briefly, knowing they'll need to talk about what happened.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting out a soft sigh. You're back. He never thought he'd see you again but you're right here next to him. You're not a dream or a hallucination. You're healthy. The thought almost brings a smile to his lips despite the situation. Anything else can be dealt with now that you're by his side again.

“Are you sure you don't need to rest, Az?” He looks up from the familiar ring, still twisting it around his finger. It felt right putting it back on, he was almost giddy at the sight of the silver in his finger, but it also left him with immense guilt eating at him for taking it off in the first place. He studies Nesta's face for a second, giving up on trying to decipher what she was thinking in favor of looking back at you.

When everyone calmed down enough and Azriel was treated, it had been decided that you couldn't be left alone even in the room, they needed someone to keep an eye on you. It had also been quickly added that Azriel wasn't enough, his brother had seen right through him, he knew Azriel wouldn't try to stop you from killing him or trying to escape if you put your mind to it.

Cassian and Mor refused to stand watch unless it was truly necessary. He knows they wouldn't want to be put in a position where they had to stop you, knew they would not only feel guilty for hurting you but also wouldn't forgive themselves for hurting Azriel.

Even Rhysand, used to the weight and impartiality of the High Lord's title, looked hesitant in keeping him company, he had already forcefully invaded your mind to take your consciousness away, something he had vowed never to do to his friend. He could definitely stop you both from any of the worse case scenarios but at a cost he couldn't bear to pay.

That had left him with the two trained Archeron sisters and Amren. They set shifts to make sure Azriel was never left alone with you, he thinks they might not even trust him not to take you away from the room himself and help you escape. He can't really be sure himself if he wouldn't do exactly that if you asked. He'd follow you to the end of the world and beyond just to hear you call his name one more time.

“The wound is healed,” he whispers, keenly aware of your sleeping form, a habit that came to him naturally after seeing you. You always liked to sleep in and waking you up before your time was close to a death sentence.

“That's not what I meant.” Nesta walks closer to the chair beside your bed, the one he hasn't gotten up from since tucking you into the bed carefully. She placed a hand on his shoulder and studied you for a moment, something she's been doing since her shift started. “She stabbed you,” she says in an usually hesitant tone coming from her, “Are you sure it's her?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than mistake my wife for someone else,” the words came out clipped even with him trying to hold back his anger. It wasn't her fault for being suspicious, Nesta never got the chance to meet you, barely even heard about Azriel's marriage. She just wants to protect him, protect her friend.

“Why would she hurt you then?”

“Maybe it's my punishment,” the words leave him before he can think them through. It doesn't matter anyway, they all saw the state he was in at the townhouse. No point hiding now.

“Punishment?” She took a step back from the chair to be able to face him, her perplexed face coming into view. “You didn't do anything wrong.” The notion was almost laughable. Azriel had done plenty wrong in his life.

“I didn't find her,” he whispers, facing away from his friend in favor of watching you, “She's been out there for almost a century, on her own,” he clenched his fists at the thought, “and I didn't find her.”

“I know you looked for her as best as you could. I know you all did.” And what good did his best do?

“You don't understand, Nesta,” he says as he looks down at the ring once again, closing his eyes briefly at the burn he felt in his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to explain his feelings to any of them.

“I do,” she starts, “If something happened-”

“If,” he cringes at how he raised his voice, immediately looking over to your sleeping form to make sure he didn't disturb you, and then added more quietly, with the same conviction in his tone, “If something happened to Cassian you would understand. But it hasn't and so you don't.”

Nesta lets out a defeated sigh, moving back to her original seat by the window, patting his shoulder comfortingly on her way. His eyes are focused on you once more and he has no intention of letting them stray until you wake up, and long after you do.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

You wake up slowly, your mind aware of your near consciousness before your body can follow. It feels like you've never been this deeply asleep, even the dreams that usually haunt you were quiet. Perhaps that's why it takes you so long to remember your current situation, it could also be the strangeness of it. You keep your eyes closed as your body and mind slowly come to.

You didn't expect to be lying on a bed, an unbelievably soft bed at that, after being caught stealing from the High Lord's home and then stabbing someone from his so-called Inner Circle. You're not sure when you lost consciousness but, in the split second the High Lord stood in front of you, you were more than certain you wouldn't be able to escape death again.

The sun is high in the sky, meaning you failed your mission, not only because you had been caught but also for not getting to the meeting point on time. Whether at the hands of your captors or your employers you were already as good as dead. The thought has heat burning behind your eyelids and your throat threatening to close up.

You don't even know what happened. This whole mission had seemed above your expertise from the start. You had never been sent on a mission to Prythian and the fact that you were sent to steal from a High Lord's home, the strongest in history at that, had sowed doubts inside you from the moment you heard about your mission from your handler. That and the sinking feeling in your gut as you listened to their descriptions of the city and people working for the High Lord. Every cell on your body was trying to reject this idea.

Deciding to trust your gut, you even brought up your doubts to your superiors, going as far as asking why you were being sent to retrieve some book when there are other fae more experienced in working there. There wasn't even any time to study the place or come up with escape routes. You had never been sent into any mission like this. Your worries had been quickly dismissed. They seemed completely convinced you wouldn't be caught, that you were the only member capable of this job.

Sneaking into the city had been simple enough, there seemed to be some celebration happening since so many fae were drinking and dancing around bars and even on the street. Your uneasiness only got worse as you walked through the streets. Something was wrong, every single one of your instincts was screaming at you, but you couldn't figure out why.

You walked to an alley close to the High Lord's house and surveyed the perimeter, making sure your intel was correct and the house was truly empty. After postponing the inevitable long enough, you took a deep breath and winnowed straight into the house, and, just like your handler told you, there were no wards or shields stopping you from entering. You thought this was peculiar for a High Lord but many powerful fae think themselves invincible to the point of arrogance and at the sacrifice of their own safety.

As you walked quietly through the hallway, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying you into a big room with sofas and a fireplace instead of the office you were supposed to be already searching through. You had the same feeling of deja vu as when you were walking through the illuminated streets before, something about the portraits on the walls and the peculiar chairs had your heart sputtering in your chest. It was an intricate design but you could swear you'd never seen anything like them before.

You moved closer to the window, far enough that no one could see you through it, and looked down at the city once more. Taking in the lights, the colorful houses and the fae cheerfully walking around the streets despite the late hour. There is no place like this in Montesere, not even close, so you don't understand how you could be confusing it, you really feel like you've been here before. Everything down to the names of the stores and smells wafting through the air look strangely familiar.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you had completely forgot about your mission. Letting your guard down, enough so that you didn't hear or feel anyone's presence in the same room until you heard them call out someone's name. The sound had goosebumps traveling through your entire body, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What scared you the most wasn't even the fact that you had just been caught but that voice, that name, almost brought tears to your eyes.

You stood frozen for a moment before turning around slowly and your entire body went still at what you saw. The male in front of you was the same one that haunted your dreams ever since you could remember, you would recognize that figure, those wings, those eyes anywhere.

You almost doubted you were awake at all but when he moved closer to you, standing in front of you before you could even blink, your body moved to protect yourself on instinct, to do as you had been taught at the guild. Your movements were a lot slower than usual, almost like something inside you was trying to stop you from hurting him but you had still managed to grab the long knife strapped to his thigh and stab it through his stomach in one clean movement.

The knife went in smoothly and he simply took it without trying to stop you or even letting out a sound. You've taken countless times before, killing was part of your life, of your job, but watching his blood run and coat your hands had made you feel incredibly guilty. You couldn't move, couldn't even let go of the knife.

When his hand reached to touch your face - a movement you didn't even register until his rough skin came in contact with your cheek - your wild eyes had met his and, suddenly, it felt like the world was spinning. The bright hazel was so familiar you could cry. He'd been starring in your dreams for so long but you'd never seen him quite this close. As you slowly let your mind catch up to you, you noticed he was smiling.

“You're home, my love,” he whispered softly. Your heart had felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at that point. You were missing something, a piece of information that felt like it was swimming right on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't quite reach it. His hands had both moved to cup your face by the time you found your voice.

“What?” What is going on? Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why is your touch so familiar? My love? Your brain was filled with questions but you couldn't even find it in you to ask them. Couldn't look away from his eyes, the former joy seen in them giving way to something else.

“Azriel?” Both of you had tensed at the voice behind him. It seems he didn't hear anyone else arrive either, too caught up in each other and whatever mysterious tension was tying you together.

Your hands had tightened around the dagger on instinct, you could feel the power rippling through the room. You should have ran away while it was only him, he had let you stab him so maybe he would let you run away as well. But, as night incarnate filled the room, you knew every chance you had at an escape was lost.

The rest of the events were a blur, one moment you were watching more and more people winnow into the room, sending your heart further into disarray, and the next the High Lord himself stood in front of you with fury and what looked like disappointment etching his features, and then everything went dark.

As your memories from the night before fade, you become more aware of your surroundings. You could hear two separate breaths close to you, could smell two distinct scents, you suppose it was lucky enough that they had let you sleep on a bed, it's only natural they'd have someone keeping watch.

If they'd been watching you this whole time they would have to know you were awake by now, so you open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness in the room. You study the intricate gold designs on the dark navy ceiling. Why did even the ceiling seem familiar? It feels like you are losing your mind.

Your head turns to the nightstand, where a cup of water sat over a flower shaped lace coaster. You almost gulped at the sight of it, your throat was so dry you weren't sure you could speak, but you were in a stranger's house, one you had tried to rob the night before, there had to be a catch somewhere and you didn't want to end at the cruel hands of poison.

Two pairs of eyes burned into you, and since you're not going to drink anyway, you decide that there's no delaying this confrontation any more. You turn to look at them, not surprised at finding the winged male sitting close to your bed, but he was accompanied by someone else, something else.

You sit up in bed slowly, not wanting to appear as a threat and startle them into thinking you had intentions of escaping or attacking you. You really didn't know why they hadn't just dumped you in a dark dungeon - you heard about their less than kind reputation before coming here - but you wanted to keep in their good graces if you could help it. They're probably keeping you to know more about who sent you, shame you can't tell them anything, maybe they'd even let you go if you could.

When you sit up against the headboard, your eyes meet the male's immediately, as if you were called to do it. Some of the same emotions you had seen last night were still shining in his eyes, but today there was so much more, so much so that you couldn't even begin to pick them apart even with the difference of a calm mind.

Your captors don't move so you take the moment to study the male before you. He always showed up covered in shadows in your dreams, you had barely caught glimpses of his face in the almost century of seeing him. Which was a real shame if you dared to admit it. He has an exceptionally beautiful face, the sun filtering through the window was giving his tan skin an ethereal glow, his eyes shine brightly, allowing you to make up the different tones of green and brown within them. His hair was stark black, curling slightly at the ends.

You had noticed the large wings that stood at his back the first time you'd seen him. You've never met any species of fae with wings but his were definitely peculiar. You always thought they were black but, with the brightness in the room and his shadows away, you can see they lean more to a crimson and gray-ish color. Trailing down to his torso, you notice that there doesn't seem to be any blood or sign of injury. He had already gotten healed then. For some reason, your heart calms at that and you try telling yourself it's because it might lessen the trouble you got in.

A shadow moves across him to reach up into his ear, almost like it was whispering something to him. You knew the Night Court's Spymaster was a shadowsinger, the only of its kind, but you didn't know what his shadows could do, what they could see and tell him. The hair on the back of your neck raises as his eyes watch you intently while listening to his shadow's words. They had to be talking about you. Could they read through your thoughts?

“Leave us alone, Amren.” Your eyes finally stray from the male when you hear her name, finally taking in the short creature behind him, and you almost regret it when her bright silver eyes meet yours. She was nothing short of terrifying, you think even the older assassins in the guild would feel unnerved under her gaze. You weren't even sure what she actually was but it had to be something other, something ancient and powerful. She seems displeased at the look you give her, though you doubt she's unacquainted with seeing fear on people's faces, or bothered by it.

Amren narrows her eyes slightly before looking at the male. She studies him with an intensity that could make most fae run for their lives, makes you consider it, but the male doesn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours. “I hope you know what you're doing, boy.” She walks out of the room with no hesitation, leaving you alone with the male that walks your dreams once again.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of you seem to find the right words. You know why you're having trouble finding them. Between getting caught stealing in his house and the turmoil going on inside you, you're surprised you've been managing to keep your composure at all. But you can't understand why he'd be in the same position as you. Could he also be haunted by dreams of you the same way you were of him?

Leaning forward in his chair, he says the same name you heard last night, the one who made your heart tighten painfully in your chest. You had been too confused and scared last night to even consider it but now you can clearly see he's using it to call you. He seems to think that's your name.

“That's not my name,” you manage through your dry throat, the words coming out so rough and low that you're sure he wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for the quiet in the room. Your answer seems to hurt him, his face drops, the sunlight that was shining through his skin seems to vanish, and you see his wings tighten behind him. Your own body seems to respond to it. You want to make him feel better but you don't know how or why.

He nods almost imperceptibly, as if accepting a fact he was unwilling to, and rises up from the chair, tensing slightly when you press yourself further into the headboard. He seems to try to ignore it as he moves to the nightstand, picking up the glass and handing it to you.

You eye the glass sitting in his brutally scarred hands, momentarily wondering what could have done such a thing if he healed up from a stab wound in mere hours. He senses your hesitation but simply holds it closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes again.

“It's not poisoned,” he offers, “I promise.” You're not entirely sure why but you trust him, or maybe you were just in desperate need of water, reaching up to take the glass from him and almost drinking it in one go. He seems at least pleased enough with this, moving back to sit in his chair. As you observe his movements, you almost miss the way the glass refills on its own. You blink at it, deciding it's not worth considering, and take another slow sip.

Since he doesn't start asking you questions, apparently content enough with watching you drink, and you start to get unusually shy under his intense gaze, you start asking them yourself, seeing this as your chance to know the male of your dreams.

“What's your name?” You play with the glass as you ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite your perilous situation and the tension between you.

“Azriel,” his deep voice cuts through the silence. You repeat it, goosebumps spreading over your body at the act. Nothing is making sense anymore but his name feels right on your tongue.

You say it one more time, letting it linger in your mind. There is something inside you trying to claw its way out at the sound. You can feel it now, can feel how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel. There was a growing pressure inside your head. You let go of the glass and watch it vanish into thin air before it has the chance to make contact with the covers.

The sensation that you've forgotten something really important is back. You look up at the male one more time, seeing he has moved closer to you and noting the worry in his gaze. He wasn't supposed to be worried about you, he's a stranger and you had just stabbed him a few hours ago. So why does it feel right for him to care? Tears line your eyelids, your hands shaking slightly at the strange feelings building inside you.

“I don't know you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “I feel like I should.”

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wbbfannnnnn13 · 2 months ago

Text

Almost, Always

A/N: Felt inspired by all the amazing writers on here so I decided to try writing something myself. This is a setup chapter. I can't guarantee that I'll update regularly and I do love angst so just prepare yourselves now...

WC: 1k +

Warnings: none

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

The airport was quieter than usual. Or maybe it just felt that way because Paige had stopped listening. Her thoughts were too loud, drowning out the ambient noise, the faint chatter of other travelers, the distant hum of a departure announcement. Something was wrong—had been wrong—but now the alarm bells were deafening. It was like watching an injury unfold in slow motion, knowing the damage was done before the pain even registered. She wanted to stop it, to rewind to a moment before everything felt like it was slipping through her fingers. But there was no going back. Azzi stood across from her, hoodie pulled up over her head, arms crossed tightly over her chest like she was bracing for a hit. Maybe she was. Maybe Paige was, too.

They were both heading back to their respective cities after All-Star Weekend, after days of interviews, photo ops, and forced smiles in front of cameras. It was supposed to be a celebration. Paige had made her second consecutive All-Star appearance, cementing herself as one of the league’s rising stars, while Azzi had been selected in her rookie season, proving that the hype around her wasn’t just noise. They had been told again and again how special it was, how rare it was for two young players—two former teammates—to stand out among the best. They had stood side by side, laughing in front of reporters, playing into the storylines that had followed them since high school. Champions together. Rivals apart. It was a fairytale, except for the parts that weren’t.

"You didn't have to walk me to my gate," Azzi muttered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She wasn't meeting Paige's eyes, just staring at the floor, at the scuff marks left behind by hundreds of feet dragging tired bodies to their flights.

Paige exhaled slowly, running a hand through her hair. "I wanted to."

Azzi let out a breath, something closer to a sigh than a laugh, her lips pressing together like she was holding back something sharper, something that might sting too much if she let it slip. "Since when?" she murmured, the words quiet but laced with something Paige couldn’t quite name—hurt, exhaustion, maybe even disbelief.

The words hung between them, sharp and unrelenting. Paige didn’t have an answer. Not one that would make sense. She knew exactly what Azzi was referring to—the moments when she had pulled away, the hesitations that had built up into something impossible to ignore. She knew what Azzi wanted, what she had been asking for months now. And Paige still didn’t know how to give her an answer that wouldn’t make everything worse.

Azzi had tried. She always tried. Even this weekend, despite the widening gap between them, she had reached for Paige’s hand as they walked into an All-Star party, her fingers brushing against Paige’s palm, warm and steady, an invitation. And for a split second, Paige had almost given in, almost laced their fingers together in front of everyone, almost let herself feel what she always felt with Azzi—safe, grounded, home. But instead, she hesitated. Pulled back. Shifted, smoothly wrapping an arm around Azzi’s shoulders like it was just another friendly gesture, another move in the delicate dance they had perfected over the years. Close enough to hint at something, but not enough to confirm it.

She had felt Azzi stiffen under her touch. Had seen the flicker of hurt cross her face before she masked it with a tight-lipped smile. And Paige had hated herself for it. Hated that, even now, after everything, she was still clinging to an outdated fear, still holding them at arm’s length when there was no longer a reason to. But habits were hard to break, and fear was even harder. And maybe, just maybe, Azzi was finally done waiting for her to be brave.

They had been here before—Paige pulling away, Azzi waiting. And Paige wasn’t even sure why. She wasn’t ashamed of Azzi—how could she be? She was everything. Confident, driven, and beautiful in ways that had nothing to do with the way cameras captured her. But people were cruel. And the world was unforgiving. Paige had spent years building a reputation, crafting an image that made her marketable, respected. She wanted to believe she didn’t care what people thought, but deep down, she knew the truth—she cared too much.

She also wanted to protect Azzi. Protect their love from the scrutiny, the relentless commentary that came with living so openly. It wasn’t fair, but fairness had never been a factor in their lives. In college, keeping their relationship a secret had been a necessity, a quiet understanding between them. They had promised each other that when the time was right, they wouldn’t hide anymore. And yet, here they were, standing at a crossroads, and Paige was still hesitating. Still doubting.

Azzi was strong. She could handle it. Paige knew that. But could she? Could they? The fear gnawed at her, whispering all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways they could fall apart under the weight of it. And maybe, just maybe, she was already letting it happen.

"Are you gonna say anything?" Azzi’s voice was tight now, frayed at the edges. Paige swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears she refused to shed. "Or are we just gonna stand here pretending like everything’s fine?"

Paige opened her mouth, closed it. "I don’t know what you want me to say."

Azzi shook her head, taking a step back, and that was when Paige knew—this wasn’t just another fight. This wasn’t something they could patch up with an apology and a late-night call from different time zones. This was a fracture running too deep, a space growing between them that Paige couldn't seem to close no matter how much she wanted to.

Azzi’s flight was boarding. She didn’t move.

"Tell me this matters to you," Azzi said softly, and Paige had never heard her sound like that before—small, like she was already preparing for Paige’s answer to break her heart. "Tell me this is worth fighting for."

The answer should have been easy.

Paige had fought for championships, for her career, for herself. Fighting was what she did.

But she hesitated.

And Azzi saw it.

Paige could see the exact moment something in Azzi’s eyes dimmed, the moment she realized that maybe, just maybe, they had lost the thing they swore they never would.

The final boarding call rang over the speakers. Azzi exhaled, her shoulders rising and falling with the weight of something Paige wasn’t sure she could take back.

"It does matter," Paige blurted out, the words tumbling from her lips too fast, too desperate, rough with emotion she hadn't let herself acknowledge. "You matter. This—us—it’s everything."

For a second, Azzi froze, her breath hitching like she wanted to believe it. Like she was waiting for Paige to follow it up with something more, something real. But Paige had already hesitated too many times. And maybe words weren’t enough anymore. Maybe they never had been.

Azzi’s gaze searched Paige’s, looking for conviction, for the fight she had always known Paige to have. The same fight that had carried her through injuries, through comebacks, through proving herself time and time again. But this was different. And Azzi saw it now—there was something hollow in Paige’s voice, something laced with fear, with uncertainty. A hesitation that spoke louder than the words themselves.

Azzi let out a slow breath, her expression unreadable, but there was something heavy in her eyes, something final. "I can’t keep doing this," she whispered, voice barely audible over the noise of the terminal. "Loving you in the dark, waiting for you to be ready. I thought I could, but... I deserve more than almost, Paige. We deserve more."

Paige’s chest tightened, the weight of it pressing down on her ribs, making it hard to breathe. She wanted to tell Azzi she was right. But what good were confessions now, when they were spoken through the cracks of something already breaking?

Before Paige could say anything else, before she could fix it, if there was even anything left to fix, Azzi turned.

She didn’t look back.

And for the first time in their lives, Paige didn’t chase her.

#paige bueckers #pazzi #azzi fudd

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piracytheorist · 2 months ago

Text

In Life, And in Death (1/11)

Fandom: Spy x Family Word count: 4.1k for this chapter | 32.4k in total Rating: T Warnings: Temporary character death, graphic violence, horror imagery, body horror, mild gore, whump, language Cover art by @buf309

Summary: Anya is kidnapped, and Twilight is thrown into the horrors of a mysterious, deadly village. Forced and then choosing to survive its trials - physical and mental - he's brought to figure out who he truly is. (A Resident Evil Village fusion)

AO3

Author's Note: Probably my most insane fanfic project yet. After I successfully probed SOMEONE, aka @spencer-is-someone, into watching a Resident Evil Village gameplay, they fell in love with Ethan Winters but felt he went through too much in the game, prompting the idea "What if Loid went through all that stuff instead". And well, 32 thousand words later, here I am, inflicting this literal horror upon y'all.

I made a post about it, and the absolutely wonderful @buf309 went and made this amazing cover art, and I literally couldn't be more thankful for that. I was so amazed when I saw the first draft sketch that I went like I'M GONNA WAIT TILL IT'S READY TO POST THE FIC. Seriously, words cannot describe how grateful I am, I sincerely hope the fic feels satisfying enough for the work you've done <3

If you know how the Resident Evil Village story goes, this is pretty much the same... yes, in all of its "parts-in-jars" glory (if you know you know, if you don't you will soon), just with Twilight taking the place of Ethan Winters. There will be a few changes from the original story to fit Twilight's character, some to facilitate the adaptation from game narrative to fanfic narrative, some to fit my own tastes, and an actually hopeful ending because we were all left heartbroken after the ending of RE Village so might as well pour some healing juice to put our hearts back together same way Ethan puts his limbs back together and hope for the best.

Do take note of the warnings, please. There is one part of the story I actually had chills while writing (yes, that part for those of you who know, it will be slightly changed but the essence will be the same) and it is based on the story of a horror/survival game, so make sure you're okay to read something as intense as this.

The story is written in full, though I'm still doing small bits of editing here and there. I don't have a posting schedule, but I'm thinking of updating twice a week, or once if I see the editing is taking longer. Chapter titles are taken from track titles of the game's original soundtrack.

So yeah, long intro over, take not of the warnings, I hope you enjoy if you read on!

Chapter 1: Bloodthirsty

“Anya, don’t sit so close to the TV,” Loid said, not looking up from the counter.

Unsurprisingly, there was no response. He wouldn’t doubt that she hadn’t even heard him, let alone acknowledged his request.

He picked up a handful of minced meat to mould into a burger steak, deciding to give her another reminder in two minutes from now. Yor had just left to walk Bond, so it was only his direction she had to follow – and she was starting to make clear whose directions she preferred to follow nowadays.

He placed the burger on the pan as his body tensed. A split second later, the door burst open.

He jumped through the opening between the kitchen and the living room, but even that seemed a pointless blessing as thick smoke quickly covered the apartment.

He rushed through it to grab Anya, who trembled against him, but he didn’t have the time to move away from the shots.

Two silenced shots, piercing through his clothes and reaching into the skin of his back.

No blood. But they were pinching his skin, and he immediately felt groggy…

He dropped to his side, unable to move as figures approached him. One of them took Anya.

“PAPA!” she screamed at him.

He feebly raised his hand. “Wait,” was the only thing he could say, before his hand dropped.

More figures approached him, and then his vision went dark.

Focus, Twilight.

Don’t open your eyes yet. Don’t alert the enemy yet.

He held his breath for a moment.

He was somewhere cold, outside.

He could feel something soft but freezing underneath him. Snow?

His hair didn’t feel wet, so he mustn’t have been lying there long.

It was quiet. He could only hear distant sounds of wind and crows flying somewhere close.

He couldn’t feel anyone’s presence, so he decided to open one single eye to check.

But then both his eyes shot wide open.

In front of him stood a magnificent gothic mansion. It could be a mansion, or it could be a damn castle. It was surrounded by a thick wall, like a fortress.

He sat up. He was indeed lying on the snow, but it was the least of his concerns right now.

He had apparently been placed on the castle’s garden. Right in the middle of the winter, it was only decorated by a few naked trees as well as three scarecrows.

Those didn’t seem to do their job well enough, he thought, as crows still flew around, some even sitting on them.

He got up, checking himself for injuries. He couldn’t feel any pain or any indication of pierced skin. How had they drugged him?

It was then he realized he was now wearing his jacket.

Had they dressed him for the cold? While taking off his apron and the gloves he wore while preparing food?

What the hell?

Where even was this place?

Why was he brought here?

Where was Anya?

His attention was drawn back to the apparently useless scarecrows, and a chill ran down his spine – unrelated to the cold – when he noticed something eerie about them.

Carefully, he took a few steps towards them.

His breath caught in his throat when he was close enough to notice.

Those weren’t plain scarecrows.

Those were actual, human bodies hanging on wooden crosses.

His breath finally came out shaky, forming a cloud.

What the hell was this place?

Unable to quell his curiosity, he stepped closer, trying to notice for any details on the bodies, in case he recognized them.

All three seemed to be men, of ages between thirty and fifty, and they couldn’t have been dead for longer than a week or so. The cold might have preserved their bodies, but exposure to the outside would do as much more damage.

He couldn’t recognize any of their faces – or what was left of them.

Well, he didn’t even know where he was, how far away from Berlint or even in Ostania for that matter.

He clenched his hands into fists and turned around, looking around the walls surrounding the castle.

There was a huge metal door blocking the path outside. No climbing the wall; it was too smooth and covered in even more slippery ice. Climbing the trees wouldn’t give him enough height to swing himself out.

Which meant, his only way of getting answers was through the castle.

He must have been placed there for a reason, after all, and if they’d wanted to kill him they would have already done so.

He reached the entrance, and the door swung open easily.

The entrance hall was as luxuriously decorated as the outside hinted at. A lush burgundy carpet went up the few steps, leading to a wall where a painting of three young women hung.

The door closed behind him, and he didn’t miss the definitive clang as metal bars started descending right in front of it.

He turned, and for a few seconds he weighed his options.

He could break the door quickly enough before the bars descended too low, and slip outside.

But then again, they obviously wanted him in there, and again, it didn’t seem that killing him was their priority.

He faced forward, ignoring the sound of the bars trapping him in there.

He might as well play their game.

He walked to the painting. Underneath it was an inscription that wrote “Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra.”

Which one was which?

The women on the painting didn’t seem too different from each other. The painting itself didn’t seem all too enlightening, either; it looked like any common Romantic-style oil painting.

Well, it wasn’t going to give him any answers, would it?

He turned around, walking down a corridor and out into another, larger hall. He noticed how warm the whole building was, despite the freezing weather outside and the apparently old construction of the place.

This hall had hanging, lit candles all over the walls, though they couldn’t be the source of the heating. The lighting was low, but lucky for him, he’d been trained enough in low lighting for that not to be an issue.

He jerked back at the sound of a swarm of flies coming his way, then he sensed someone’s presence.

Flies, he could handle.

But then the flies started gathering together, and within seconds they morphed into three women, dressed in black hooded cloaks.

“Wha—?” he whispered.

“Looking for Anya?” a voice said, and he assumed it’d come from one of the women. Who had just formed from flies.

The absurdity of his situation almost made him forget that she had just mentioned Anya.

Which meant they probably knew where she was.

However, he was too shocked by the sight that he couldn’t move when one of the women, all of whom were cackling, approached him and pushed him backwards.

She swung the scythe she held in her hand, and he pulled his legs away just before she could bury it in his calf.

“Oh, he’s feisty!” the woman said with a wide smile.

Her arm then almost zapped through the air, and his left leg was exploding in pain before he could even register the movement.

He yelped in pain as she leaned closer to him and took a long sniff.

Her mouth and jaw were covered in blood, though her blond hair looked pristine clean.

“Mmm, man-blood,” she said.

She then leaned back and started dragging him, by the scythe embedded in his leg, as he still lay helplessly on the ground.

She was too fast. He flailed around, trying to grab at anything they passed by to make her stop, even though that would mean the scythe would rip his entire leg open, but then another woman reached his other side and buried her scythe in his right leg.

He threw his head back, biting down another yell of pain.

Could he just have one moment?!

The women dragged him down another corridor and into what he quickly realized was a bedroom. They removed their scythes, and he quickly reached to assess the damage, when he heard the blond woman say “Mother, I bring you fresh prey,” as she pointed at him with her hand.

“You are so kind to me, daughters,” came a voice of a woman who sounded older than them.

Older, and bigger.

She was sitting on a massive chair, holding an equally massive glass of red wine. She took a sip from it, then stood up and turned to him, saying, “Now, lets take a look at him.”

He raised his head to look at her.

And then raised it higher.

She had the build of a muscular woman, with curves proportionate to her height, which must have been about three meters tall. She wore a black wide-brimmed hat over her chin-length black hair, and a long white dress that reached down to her feet, though she moved comfortably in it.

“Well, well. Loid Forger,” she said. “Came looking for your daughter, I presume?”

He sat there, frozen.

They knew who he was – or at least pretended to be? And they knew Anya was also taken?

She walked closer to him, smiling as she put her hands on her hips. “For you to think you can waltz right in here—let’s see how special you are,” she nearly purred.

She threw her hands up in a sign for something, and two of the younger women said “Yes, mother,” as they grabbed his arms and pulled him up.

His first thought was that he was standing up surprisingly well for just having had two scythes ran through his legs.

His second thought was terror as one woman grabbed his hand, and the other produced a very sharp-looking knife.

Before he could jerk back, she sliced his palm open.

He bit back a grunt; it wasn’t a deep cut, but it would be annoying…

His last thought trailed off as the tall woman reached down, grabbed his hand, brought it to her lips… and started sucking.

Now he really was frozen in terror.

What the hell was this nightmare?

The woman pulled her head back, licking at her lips with a blood-soaked tongue.

She threw his hand away. “Hmm,” she said. “Still fresh, but only barely.”

He wrapped his hand into a fist, keeping it close to his chest.

“Then let’s devour his man-flesh quickly, mother!” one of the women said, handing a handkerchief to her.

“But I’m the one who captured him!” the blond woman protested.

“Now, now, daughters,” the tall woman said, patting at her lips with the handkerchief. “First, I must inform Mother Miranda. But later, well, there will be enough for everyone.” She threw the handkerchief aside, smiling down at him. “Put him up!”

The young women surrounded him, and though he struggled, they were too strong for him as they put heavy manacles on his wrists.

A thick build, but he could break out of them with little effort.

But then, they secured a chain to them, and the chain started going up. He was lifted off his feet, and started grunting as the full force of his weight fell on his wrists.

Don’t say anything. Don’t let them take a hold of any weaknesses.

He clenched his jaw, keeping his voice from making any sounds as they headed out of the room. The tall woman had to bend to get through that door, and one of the young women – the second one who had stabbed his leg – bent down and picked up the discarded handkerchief, smelling the blood on it and laughing, as she followed them.

Breathing hard, he looked up at the manacles.

The pain was intense but manageable, though he already felt the tingling of numbness in his fingers. By his calculations, he had about fifteen or so minutes before cut blood circulation would start causing permanent damage.

Escape, first. Then you can freak out.

He grabbed the chain and dragged his body up. Though his legs were still bleeding, he brought them up so he could hold the chain between his feet.

He was gasping by the time he managed that, but at least he had less pain on his hands and a better view of the manacles.

They were old and rusty, but seemed to have a fairly standard locking mechanism. Bringing his body closer, he fished the lockpick out from a hidden pocket of his jacket.

Biting his lip, he worked through the lock of the right manacle. Just as it opened, his feet slipped from the chain and dropped down, causing all of his weight to drop onto his injured left hand.

The pain knocked the air out of his lungs.

Think! Think! Pull yourself together!

Taking in a laboured breath, he looked back up.

The lockpick had slipped from his hand and was now too far down for him to get it. His right hand was free, but he didn’t have any other options left.

Reaching up, he wrapped his free hand around his left thumb, and with a sharp pull, he dislocated it.

As his other hand was coated in blood from the cut, his wrist slipped through the manacle as soon as his thumb wasn’t in the way.

He dropped to the ground clumsily, not managing to balance his landing.

Wheezing, he looked at his left hand.

Bleeding, and a dislocated thumb.

He gave himself ten seconds.

Ten seconds to wonder where the hell he had gotten himself into, what that tall woman even was, standing at three meters tall and drinking blood, and what her “daughters” were, emerging from flies and also participating in… blood drinking? Cannibalism?

Ten seconds, and he was back to himself.

Focus, Twilight.

He looked at his legs – they were still bleeding, but he felt confident he could stand on them. Though those scythes looked sharp, they must have split a tendon or two apart.

At the corner of the room stood a vanity table, and on top of it, along with various cosmetics, lay a small green bottle with a cross on the label.

He stood up carefully, glad that his legs weren’t trembling. He picked up the bottle, carefully reading the label.

Medical alcohol.

Not one to trust this place that much, he opened the lid, and sure enough, it smelled like ethyl alcohol.

He sat down with a grunt, pulling his right trouser up. He didn’t have any clean gauze, so his only option was to pour liquid right over the wound.

He braced himself for the sting of pain, but instead, the liquid brought a cool, numbing sensation.

And then, right in front of his eyes, his wound closed then disappeared completely.

He stared at it.

Ten more seconds.

What the hell.

He looked at the bottle again. Medical alcohol, it said. It smelled like it too.

He looked back at his leg, raising his other trouser where the other wound still stood.

What the hell?!

Uncertain, he poured a little less liquid over that wound.

The wound immediately stopped bleeding as new skin seemed to form, though it didn’t heal completely.

He let out a breath. If he were honest with himself, this wasn’t really the weirdest thing to happen in the last few minutes, was it?

He turned to his mangled hand. Just how much could that liquid heal?

He poured an equal dosage to it, and was still surprised to see his thumb painlessly slide into its place, as well as the cut close completely.

Well, at least it could be useful.

He didn’t have time to worry over the supernatural. He had to get out of there, and find out where Anya was.

He took the path of unlocked doors, as he didn’t want to waste time and noise trying to break the lock of every locked door he found. Breaking the windows wouldn’t lead him anywhere – each one was sealed shut, and though he wasn’t averse to turning into a hooligan for the sake of escaping, the entire castle seemed to be surrounded by that wall.

He needed to get to a higher floor, but the safest and most silent path led him to the basement, where he found himself walking along piles and piles of dead bodies.

He had to hold his breath as he passed them by; apparently the occupants of the castle had the habit of feasting on the blood of humans, and did it so often that the amount of bodies was too big to act as decoration for their garden.

It was all men, however. As young as twenty-three, from what he could gather with a quick look.

The fly-women seemed to be confident enough in their hunting that they didn’t take away the handgun from one of the more fresh bodies. Twilight couldn’t tell if that was a police officer, a soldier, or a man aware of what he’d been dealing with, but it didn’t matter to him. He undid the holster, as gently as he could out of respect of the deceased man, and he put it on under his jacket.

He checked the magazine. Ten bullets out of sixteen.

He looked at the man. Had he shot those first six bullets right before he was killed?

The man had a shoulder bag on him, and inside was a box of bullets, a total of forty. He slid that too over his own shoulder.

He kept the safety on the gun on, but held it in his hand. He picked up a hunting knife from one of the other bodies and walked on.

As the bodies thinned out, he found a lone skeletal figure draped in a plain canvas cloak. The limbs stood out, bare, emaciated, and rotting. While other bodies were in a similar state of decomposition, they were fully clothed, at most with a few rips in their clothes. This one was the only one so bare.

And it was holding a scythe in its hand, old and rusty in comparison to the women’s scythes, but still sharp enough to do harm.

He approached it carefully, keeping both hands on the gun.

He thanked his training for that, as the figure moved when he passed right by it.

He yelped in shock, moving away from it and raising his gun at it.

“Stop!” he said. “Don’t move!”

The creature, whatever that was, didn’t seem like it listened let alone register his words. It stood up, hunched over, then lunged at him with the scythe.

Not finding any alternatives, he shot right at its head.

The creature jerked back as a screech left its mouth.

Twilight held his breath.

His blood froze when he saw it still stand on its legs and try to swing at him again.

He shot again. He was perfectly certain the bullet got through its head.

Yet the creature moved again.

And he shot again.

Only now did the creature finally drop to its knees, but it was still screeching and growling.

Desperate, Twilight took the knife and drove it through the creature’s skull, three times, until he felt it stop moving.

It collapsed on the floor.

Hell knew if it would rise again. It was supposed to be dead already, wasn’t it?

He turned around and ran.

There were more creatures on the way. Some he slashed at with the knife, some he shot at, some he simply ran away from. A few managed to nick him with their scythes, and if he were honest, he was more worried about infections than the injuries themselves.

As he found a quiet corner, he pulled out the alcohol – or whatever that was. It seemed to work on the nicks too, making them close quickly and painlessly.

He supported himself on the wall, forcing his breath to calm down.

He had to get out. Now.

Holding the gun tight to his hand, he moved to leave, but then a buzzing and a voice sounded from behind him.

“Hmm. Warm, bright, red blood.”

He didn’t turn to look at her. He knew it was the blond woman.

He made a run for it as flies swarmed around him, until he found a staircase going up, reaching into what looked like a kitchen area.

“Where are you going, little one?”

The woman appeared right in front of him, cutting off his path. She was smiling at him, surrounded by flies, her face still stained with blood.

“I just want to find Anya,” he managed.

“Aw,” she said. She then pushed him back and he fell on the ground. She lay over him, reaching at his neck and biting.

Yelling, he took the gun and fired twice at her stomach.

She reached up, laughing as fresh blood ran from her lips.

He shot at her head.

“Your bullets cannot harm m—”

Her voice cut off when another of his shots passed through her and hit the window behind her.

The glass cracked, and it quickly shattered as a cold gust of wind blew into the room.

The gust threw the woman’s hood off her head. Twilight tightened his hold on the gun when he spotted a massive, fleshy scar on her temple, a bald spot from her long hair.

The woman shrieked, then growled. Her skin, already pale as it was, seemed to start cracking and turn grey. She looked at her hands, still gasping in pain, and then turned to him, yelling, “You stupid man-thing!”

His mind finally picked up the pace. The cold made her weak?

He stood up, raising his gun at her.

“How dare you bare your teeth at us!” she shouted, then lunged at him with her scythe.

He managed to block her attack, pushing her back, and he shot at her face.

She groaned, still standing, but she said, “What? My body—it’s breaking…”

He kept his gun up. “Just let me go,” he said.

A wild rumble came from her mouth as she turned to attack him again. She reached him, and he could only block her at the last moment, his arms taking the full blow of her scythe. “Give up!” she said, reaching back for another swing of her weapon.

He shot twice at her head, and she yelled again.

The flies seemed to drop in numbers, and her skin cracked more and more. He barely managed to avoid two more of her attacks, and then she fell on him, ready to bite his head off, he supposed in the split second it took him to kick her off of him.

He shot two more times.

“This can’t be,” she said, weakly now, her body swaying.

“Let me go!” he repeated, taking two steps back.

She screamed and reached back with her scythe, and he shot again.

And then a sizzling sound came from her body, as she started swinging wildly, not reaching anything. She groaned and groaned, and her body transformed.

It seemed to calcify into gravel, as she slowly stopped moving, her hand still up in a pose of attack.

And then it broke down.

Whatever it was, it cracked into small pieces, and what started as the form of a woman was now a pile of something on the ground.

Breathing hard, he leaned his back on the wall behind him and slid down to the floor.

His hands were trembling, his feet felt like water.

What the hell was all that?

Were was he?

Why was he brought here?

And where was Anya?

What were those creatures…?

He closed his eyes. Ten seconds. Just ten seconds to freak out.

He just had to get out. Find Anya and…

He opened his eyes, his throat tensing.

Did he really have to find her?

As far as he was concerned, right now she was a liability to him. He had to prioritize his safety first.

It wasn’t like there were piles of bodies of dead girls around, was it?

Letting out a deep sigh, he stood back up. The woman had managed to hurt him a little, but the healing liquid was in short supply and he could handle those injuries up to a point.

The woman. Who was now a pile of ash.

Calm down, Twilight. Get yourself in order and find a way out.

The castle proved massive, and he couldn’t find any viable exit paths even as he seemed to reach what looked like hallways reaching into bedrooms.

Then, a mournful scream sounded from a floor below.

“What have you done to my daughter?!”

His blood chilled. If the “daughter” had been that vicious, he didn’t want to face whatever her mother had in store for him.

#piracytheorist writes #Spy x Family #sxf ff #sxf fanfiction #ilaid #lmao that's a funny acronym #I SHOULDN'T BE POSTING SO LATE BUT I'M ACTUALLY A LITTLE EXCITED LOL

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blackbirdsblackberries · 9 months ago

Text

AQUIRING A ZOO

Chapter 1: A Ruff Day for two

Damian is humiliated. Who wouldn't be? Joker had teamed up with a bunch of other villains and had stolen a magical device that turns people into animals - why? Damian doesn't know!

While fighting however he was split from the rest of the family and hit with the ray.

You want to guess what animal he got the luck of turning into?

If you guessed a Yorkshire Terrier then you'd be correct.

It's not that Damian doesn't like the animal, he adores all animals no matter what, it's just offensive that that's what he ended up being. Couldn't he have been something cooler? A Doberman? A German Shepherd?

Whatever... Either way he is now wondering the streets trying not to get picked up by strangers - or stepped on for that matter.

While lost in thought about how he will get back to normal and whether his family are okay he didn't see the pair of legs standing in front of a closed shop.

He bumps into them, as soon as he does he dashes back and starts to growl - it's really all he can do.

He looks up at the figure who looks more confused than anything, they have a phone in their hand and pajamas on. They look half asleep.

Damian quickly deducts that the person was harmless.

Honestly, Damian was ready to just leave, walk around this person, yet when he attempted to a loud bang filled the air.

He swears it was the dog instincts, that it wasn't his own instincts, that made him run behind the person.

He's Damian Wayne! An al Ghul for crying out loud! No way is he scared of an explosion, even if it was even louder as a dog.

The person reacts slowly, clearly extremely tired. They turn to look at Damian and after a couple seconds they speak up, pulling Damian from his fight or flight response.

"Poor puppy... Are you lost?" The person bends down and slowly and carefully pats Damian. Damian is tempted to bite the person's hand off but refrains in case they call the pound.

"your coat is so well taken care of... Not to mention the fact that you're a handbag dog. You must belong to one of the wealthy elites... That part of town is so far away from here though, poor thing" their voice is soft, clearly tired. They yawn slightly.

"it's pretty late right now so the pound is probably closed, I'll take you tomorrow to check for a microchip because I don't see a collar."

Damian wishes he could scoff as a dog. Why would this stranger help him? Especially the breed he is. They're noisy, skittish and more, definitely not the type for run down apartments that this person definitely lives in.

Yet, he doesn't bite or growl when they pick him up. He squirms slightly in discomfort but soon enough they hold him properly.

Fine. He'll stay the night then in the morning he'll make his way back to Wayne Manor and find his family.

You have decided that your luck is absolute shit. It has to be. You're pretty sure whatever god is watching is purposefully planning your demise.

First, your lover of three years cheats on you.

Second, you fail two of your exams and forgot to hand in an assignment.

Third, your favorite convenience store closed early so you couldn't buy a tub of cheap ice cream so you can act out how a person in a movie would react to all of the above.

Fourth, a dog stumbles into you, clearly from some wealthy douche and now you've spoken before you thought and moved before you could comprehend.

Your landlord is going to have your head. A great way to end the shit show of a day, not to mention Yorkshire Terrier's are the most yap filled dogs imaginable. Luckily this one is quiet... Hopefully for the rest of the night.

You look down at your phone in your other hand, you were messaging your dad to ask for more money because you were recently fired from your last job.

It's not like you like asking others for money, it's embarrassing, but your dad is well off enough to send some over.

You and your family are stable, something a lot of people in Gotham can't relate to. Sucks to be them you guess.

The only reason you're living alone is because they live in Metropolis and you were studying at Gotham University.

Was the degree worth living in this dump of a city? You sure hope so. If not you'll actually become a villain.

You glance at the dog from time to time, checking for any discomfort. The dog is still, eyes blinking occasionally. Was it in thought? You didn't think dogs would think like that.

Eventually you make it to your apartment complex, it was better than the one next to it, but to be fair the one next to it was abandoned after a fire.

You head upstairs to your apartment on the third floor.

Turns out the higher the apartment from the ground is, the higher it will cost. Luckily for you your mother is paying for it, you just pay utility bills.

You struggle with your keys and the dog in your arms. Eventually though you open the door and all but throw the dog down, he was super heavy.

That or you just weren't used to holding anything that breathes.

The dog walks in and sniffs around.

"I suppose I should name you.." You speak aloud, closing the front door of the apartment and walking to the kitchen right next to it.

"how about... Buddy?" The dog huffs.

"No? Okay uhm... What are dog names? Give me a second." You search up dog names and click on an article.

"Uh, Oreo?" A huff.

"Max?" A huff.

You continue going down the list before groaning.

"Fuck me... Forget it, I'll put on the TV and the first name I see will be your name."

You grab the remote and turn on your shitty old TV. The news pops up, one of the headlines reading:

Robin seen being hit with animal ray!

"huh... What about Robin?" The dog rolls it's eyes but doesn't seem to object. You smile, relieved.

"Good. Robin it is."

#dc #dc comics #dc universe #dcu #yandere #yandere dc #dc robin #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas

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luvjunie · 2 years ago

Text

— Unforgettable ( 1 )

part one • part two • part three • part four

pairing: e-1610!miles morales x fem!reader

contains: miles rizzing you up after knowing you for two seconds, a beef patty changing the entire course of trajectory for your life. nothing too major

summary: a bump in with a certain boy at the bodega threatens to ruin your previously perfect afternoon until he offers to fix it. you assumed things would end there, and then you ran into him again. wc: 1,634

a/n: this was originally going to be one long fic but i decided to split it up, and i’m estimating around four, maybe five chapters in total. also, chapter one is cute but i thought i should let y’all know that two of them will contain some angst/conflict! this is the first series i’ve ever written so it won’t be the best, and i’m still deciding if i like how i mapped out the rest of the story so please bear with me if updates are a tad irregular 😅

To think, a damn beef patty is what started it all.

A beef patty that had tumbled out of your hands, down the sweater you’d just taken to the laundromat— your favorite one, at that— and onto the dirty bodega floor when a hard surface came in contact with you on your way to leave.

“Oh shit—“

“Jeez, what the hell man!”

You lunch gone and your good mood with it, your head lifted a great distance from the murder scene at your feet to meet the apologetic face of who had committed this unjust crime against your rumbling stomach.

“I am so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going…” The boy in front of you murmured sheepishly, palm dragging at the back of his neck.

Lips pursed, your forefinger and thumb pinched at the bridge of your nose as you willed yourself to refrain from cursing him out. New york already had enough of that, you decided as he continued apologizing.

“It’s my fault. I bumped into you, it’s fine.” you grumbled curtly, clearly irked. Shifting the blame onto yourself was your best attempt at keeping your anger at bay. The last thing you wanted to do was cut up in this nice man’s shop, especially not on a Sunday.

With a heavy sigh and a scratch to your brow, you crouched down and swiftly scooped the discarded meal off the floor with a napkin. Great, money down the drain.

“Let me buy you another one.” He said to the top of your green adidas beanie, palms pushed together to accompany his plea.

“No need.”

“I really wanna buy you another one.”

You shot up and tossed the remnants into the trash, your frustration evident in how much forced you used. “Dude, it’s—“

“I’m buying you another one.” he insisted, chin raising when he hollered at the clerk. “Yo, Lenny, lemme get another beef patty, man.”

He shuffled past you before you could decline again, the man behind the counter already sliding a fresh one past the register after having witnessed the run in.

You stared at the back of this stranger, brows furrowed incredulously. He was nice, which was unusual for someone in this city, so your innate response was to be annoyed at his persistence. People were always bumping into you and ruining your day, but no one had ever offered to fix it before.

“That’s the last one I got for the day, Miles.” Lenny, the owner of the shop informed apologetically, his Jamaican accent heavy on his tongue. He knew the boy usually came into his store around this hour for one thing, and it was always for one of his beef patties.

“It’s cool, don’t sweat it.” Waving him off, Miles slapped the cash down onto the counter and snatched the pastry up.

“Here,” He turned to you just as you were brushing your hands off onto your dark-wash jeans, breath held with what he hoped would be a peace-offering, extended out to you. “I’m sorry, again.”

You looked up at him, then back down at the patty in his hand before you gently accepted it, the pads of your fingers lingering in his palm when you did so.

“Thank you,..” trailing off, you blinked up at him, a silent request for his name. He was tall, kind of lanky, and had the prettiest brown eyes you’d probably ever seen. They stared back at you, appearing puzzled before he put the pieces together.

“Oh!— Miles.” he answered with a warm smile, hands tucking into the pockets of his jacket. It was green, your favorite color.

“Thank you… Miles.” you returned his smile with a smaller one, something about it contagious.

Caught up in the way you said his name for a moment, it wasn’t until you were already halfway out the door when he realized you hadn’t told him yours.

“Wait! I didn’t get your—“ he called out to the air, the bell on the shop’s door a taunt of his failed attempt. “Name.” he murmured, shoulders falling with a sigh.

He felt eyes on him and turned to the side, lips smacking against his teeth in annoyance at who’s stare he’d caught.

“Don’t be mad at me, man. You gotta step ya game up.” Lenny threw his hands up in surrender and stifled a laugh, shaking his head at the boy.

Even though he had nothing to be smiling about when he exited the small store—seeing as he was out of five dollars and still hungry—Miles found himself walking home that day with a smile etched onto his face, a little pep in his step and something to keep his mind busy.

Nothing happened, that was obvious, but for some reason he felt like this wouldn’t be the last time he saw you.

—

Exactly one thing was on your mind the next time you entered Lenny’s shop, and he already knew what it was before you’d opened your mouth to ask after approaching the register.

Well, maybe two things, but the second one wasn’t necessary to get into.

“Comin’ righ’tup, sweetheart.” He nodded at you.

“Thanks.” You smiled sweetly, idly tapping your hands against the counter during your short wait.

The white parchment paper cradling your all time favorite snack slid over to you a minute later. You paid quickly, your stomach rumbling just from smelling the savory treat.

Just as you went to turn around, you spotted that same boy who’d ran into you a week ago and nearly ruined your day. Miles, you remembered his name was, as you stuck an apprehensive hand out in front of you, patty pulled close to your chest and brows raised in warning.

“Chill,” He laughed, his hands shooting up in defense. “I’m out your way this time, promise.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, his playful demeanor rubbed off on you. “You better be.”

“Please don’t tell me you got the last one.” He pleaded with hopeful eyes, but wishful thinking never did much for him.

“She sure did.” Lenny called from behind the counter, eyeing Miles closely to see if he’d take the bone he threw. He then ticked his head to the side with a slightly widened stare, as if urging the disappointed boy to make a move.

“Woops.” Using your fingers, you ripped a piece off the patty and popped it into your mouth, shrugging as you brushed past Miles, who had just caught on to what the shop owner did for him.

With your back to him as you pushed the door open to outside, you missed the two fingered salute Miles shot towards the man as a thank you.

He followed after you, swiftly shouldering himself through the closing door and sliding outside, into step with you.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you my number for half of it.” He offered with a boyish grin, long legs able to keep up with ease.

You nearly choked, steps halting when you spun around to face him. What made him think you wanted his number? And maybe you did, because you definitely thought he was cute, but that was besides the point since he didn’t know that.

“Are you flirting with me?” you asked, and he perked up a bit.

“Depends. Is it working?”

You rolled your eyes. “How about my name first?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the side of the building a bit. “I kinda assumed that was a package deal, seeing as I’ll need something to save your contact under.”

Okay, you’ll admit it, that was smooth.

You put your hand on your hip, patty in the other with your head tilted in thought. “Somehow, I feel like this deal benefits you more than me.”

“That‘s possible.” Miles chuckled, and you can’t believe that’s all it took to convince you. How pretty he looked when he laughed. How good your name sounded rolling off his tongue when he’d repeated it back to stake it within his memory.

You quietly hummed to yourself, contemplating. You’d never accepted a guy’s advances this easily, and figured you’d test him in a way he’d most likely fail.

“Quick, what’s my favorite color?”

There was a pause.

“Green.”

Your jaw dropped. “What— How in the hell?” You gaped at him. “How did you know that?”

“You give away more than you know with your eyes.” He grinned. “Saw you eyeing my jacket last week, and you’re doing it again today. And your beanie, too.” With a raise of his eyes from yours, he pointed out the forest green hat pulled snug over your head and your hand mindlessly went to touch it. “But honestly, I was only like, seventy percent sure, so maybe you can call it a lucky guess.”

You quirked a brow. “Oh, so you think I’m checking you out now?”

“No, but I wouldn’t mind.”

Well, you’d managed to lose at your own game, fair and square. Holding his gaze for a minute, you had to restrain a smile from splitting through your calm and collected facade and shooed away the urge with a clearing of your throat.

“Phone.” You held your hand out, beckoning him for it.

Fetching it from his pants pocket, he did the same to you with his other hand, palm upwards. “Patty.”

Huffing in frustration, you awarded him the half he earned and snatched the device, ignoring the triumphant look on his face as you punched your digits in.

—

It was pitiful. It barely took anything for you to take interest in a guy in general— but even if your standards were ridiculously high, there was no doubt that Miles would have weasled his way into your thoughts regardless.

You’d checked your phone at least six times in the past hour in hopes of seeing a text, coming up with unconvincing excuses like checking the time, or the weather— all while blatantly pretending to be oblivious towards the possibility that a message from an unknown number might just be there, too.

And then it came.

[Unknown]: Best patty I’ve had in a while. Food always tastes better when it’s not yours :)

He had you on your stomach, features pulled into a hopeful smile with your legs fluttering in the air off one message. You’d remind yourself to get a grip in due time.

Who’s this?

You knew damn well who it was. But you wouldn’t be who you were if you didn’t play hard to get.

[Unknown]: Damn, you forgot about me that quickly?

You clicked the info button in the top right corner of your phone and saved him as a contact before you replied.

Maybe. Remind me of your name again? Micah, right?

[Miles]: Okay, now that’s just hurtful. I do not look like a Micah!

You laughed to yourself at that, flopping onto your back as you typed a response. In the back of your mind you wondered if things would progress any further than this conversation.

But if only you could’ve time travelled and spoken to your future self, because she would’ve told you that forgetting about a boy like Miles Morales, or trying to, would be impossible.

tags: @cctoma

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#across the spiderverse fanfiction #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales x fem!reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x black reader

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heroesrest64 · 1 month ago

Text

Haunting Heroes

Other parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Chapter 7: Time Slip

Chapter summary: You fall out of time and meet a couple of very familiar people

You can read the chapter here on ao3

Chapter under the cut :)

“What..?” You mumble, moving to stand up and rubbing your sore back as you turn in a slow circle. Every which way you look is just more forest.

“Another dream?” You wonder, beginning to walk through the forest. You can hear bird song nearby, and feel the warmth of the sun through the speckled treetops. It all feels too realistic to be a dream. Everything down to the smell of rain, the sound of your feet sloshing through the mud, the squishy, slippery feeling as you continue to trek through the soaked forest.

The whole situation comes to a head when you spot a column of smoke in the distance. Like an idiot, you decide to follow it.

It takes longer than you’d like to admit to get to the source of the smoke, but when you do, you find an empty camp and feel cold steel press into the sensetive flesh of your neck.

“Who are you, and what is your purpose here.” A voice hisses against the shell of your ear, and you shiver. It takes every nerve that you possess in your body to not flinch away from the voice and subsequently into the fucking sword pressed against your neck.

“I-I really don’t know. One second I was climbing down from my attic, the next I was here. Please, you have to believe me.” Your voice comes out shaky, and you can feel tears burn at the corners of your eyes. The sword shifts minutely, but you’re too scared to tell if it’s being lowered or drawing closer.

“Lower your sword, Captain. They’re not Yiga.” A new voice calls out, and you feel relief douse you like a bucket of cold water as the sword drops from your neck. You stumble forward, away from the danger lurking behind you and take in great, heaving breaths.

After gathering yourself, you whip around, eyes sharp as they zero in on your assailant. He’s dressed in armor, with a long scarf thrown over his neck like a cape. Your eyes track the sword that he tucks away before shifting to the side at a slight movement there- another man, this one dressed more lightly, although he’s no less menacing.

“Who the fuck just draws a sword on a person?! That’s so freaking rude! What the fuck, man!” You shout, berating the blonde man in front of you now that you know your life isn’t in mortal peril. What can you say, you’re in a very stressful situation, and you feel like you need to take your anger out on someone.

“I-I’m sorry. Its been a stressful couple weeks, and we didn’t know if you were an enemy or not.” The man apologizes, hands raised defensively.

“Then why didn’t you just ask like a normal person! Ugh!”

“Look, we’re sorry, okay? Is there anything we can do to make it up to you?” The other man asks, stepping forward as if to shield his friend from any further admonishments. You stare him down for a second before your eyes catch on something blue and orange dangling from his hip.

That’s-

That’s Wilds tablet. How does this man have it?!

Your head throbs, confusion and anxiety clouding your judgement, and you clutch at your head, trying to ease the splitting headache trying to take over.

“Ugh… Just- just give me a minute. I need to think.” You mumble, waving the two men off. They share a concerned look before returning to their camp. It’s way too big to be for just the two of them. It looks like there’s about nine clusters of belongings, strewn about like a tornado tore through the camp. You turn your gaze back to the two men, who are now standing over the fire and talking in low murmurs while occasionally throwing you cautious looks.

“You guys have more companions?” You ask, finally feeling collected enough to engage with the men.

“Ah, yeah. A few.” The man wielding Wild’s tablet shrugs. Not very informative, but he must still be a little suspicious.

“I see. May I know your name?” You ask, moving to sit on one of the logs surrounding the campfire. Both men share another look before taking their own seats.

“You can call me Wild, and this is Warriors.” Wild introduces. Your head feels like it’s splitting in two. It almost feels like you’re going to throw up, too. Not a good combo.

“Ah… It’s nice to meet you.”

You can barely wrap your head around the fact that these two living, breathing men share their names with two of your ghosts before you hear the sound of approaching footsteps.

Your head swivels to the heavy thudding sounds, a hulking figure shadowed by the thicket of trees slowly approaching. Wild and Warriors don’t seem too concerned, so you aren’t, either, but you’re still curious.

From the forest steps a heavily armored man, his chest plate gleaming in the sunlight, the same color as his golden hair. He has markings on his face, and a scar mangling his right eye all the way down to his cheek. His working eye, however, is a beautiful cerulean that you find yourself getting lost in.

That is, until it widens, and the man moves forward, mouth parting to say something-

Only for the men around you to suddenly disappear. You gasp, whipping your head around, wondering how they could’ve just disappeared like that only to find an empty forest path. Upon closer inspection, the tree stumps surrounding you are set up in a similar formation to the camp you were just standing in, but they’re old and rotted through. There’s no upturned dirt, and it looks like it hasn’t rained in days. Everything is wrong and you can feel bile rising in your throat that you quickly choke back.

“What… happened…” You pant, blearily looking around like an explanation might be waiting for you on a silver platter. No such luck.

Instead, the sound of a crow crying draws your attention, and you look up to find Jimmy nestled in a tree overhead.

“Boy am I glad to see you, Jimmy. Think you could guide me back home?” You ask, and the crow clicks happily, flying off ahead of you.

The path you take is oddly familiar. Is it the same one you took to get to the campsite? Was all of that just… a really convincing dream? You sigh, running a hand through your hair, only to feel a slight sting at your neck. You glance down, fingers coming up to feel the- the cut on your neck. You pull your hand back to find your fingertips stained with blood.

“Time. Was that you? Did you…” You don’t even know what you’re trying to say. Are you really trying to suggest a ghost pulled you into the past?

“Please, Time, I feel like I’m losing my mind. Just- please tell me so that I know I’m not going insane.” You beg, staring at the clock in your kitchen, pleading for it to skip two minutes and confirm that you’re not going crazy.

Nothing happens. You feel hot, angry tears burn at your eyes, a scowl beginning to form on your face.

“Fine! That’s- fine.” You close your eyes, taking in a deep, shaky breath. You might just be hanging around ghosts too often these days. Maybe their very existence makes the mind start to rot.

You end up in your living room, one of your favorite hobbies set up on the coffee table. You aren’t getting much work done, your mind constantly drifting, but it’s better than begging ghosts for answers they don’t want to offer.

It isn’t until the lights start flickering that you realize you might have company. Glancing up from your work, you squint up at the shuddering lights.

“Hey, Hyrule. Come to keep me company?” You ask, a smile quirking at your lips. the lights flicker on, and you sigh, setting aside your work.

You kind of just want to keep this interaction casual. No life altering revelations, no time shenanigans, or becoming charmed by voices down the hallway. You just want to talk to your friend normally.

“What do you guys do for fun? I can’t imagine you’re sitting around all day crocheting ghost sweaters.” You can help but laugh at the visual. Hyrule seems to laugh right along with you, the lights fluttering before eventually shuddering back to life.

“Tag!” Legend shouts from down the hall, and you whip around, not expecting him to have been listening in, much less respond to your question.

Still, though, you know he has a hard time speaking during the day in general. He probably won’t answer again.

“Tag, huh? Can we play a round, then? Or, I guess what I’m thinking would be closer to hide and seek.” You laugh, standing up and stretching a little. The lights flicker curiously, so you explain.

“I’ll be the seeker, and whichever ghosts want to join will hide in a room. Once a minute, you use your powers for a second until I can find you. Also, you can’t do something small like turning the light on and off once. It has to be at least a little noticeable.” You command, pointing vaguely into the room. You feel like you point directly at where Wild is quietly trying to puzzle out how to make the smallest grain of salt shift.

You get a round of agreements. It looks like Hyrule, Wild, Wind, Four and Legend are all willing to play, and you grin, deciding to close your eyes for the theatrics of it, and begin counting down from thirty.

Wild is the first to be found. Unfortunately, his attempts to make his power ‘noticeable’ are a bit too effective, and you call him out immediately. He throws a fit by flinging a plastic cup onto the floor.

“It’s not my fault you moved the salt shaker halfway across the table! Now pick that cup up and put it in the sink!”

Wind is next. His attempts to hide in your shower are valiant, but you took a shower in the morning, and the amount of water in the tub was suspicious, if not outright telling.

Legend is hiding in the cellar, apparently thinking you wouldn’t be brave enough to face the spider infested room despite his taunting calls. Unfortunately for him, you’re competitive, potential ‘skulltulas’ as he’d called them be damned.

Hyrule actually pulled a fast one on you, hiding outside and occasionally turning the lights on. The first couple times you saw it, you assumed a wild animal was maybe rummaging through your garbage, but when you couldn’t find flickering lights anywhere else in your house, you braved the elements and succeeded in finding another of your ghostly friends.

Lastly was Four. He was surprisingly hard to track down, but you eventually felt a brush of cold coming from somewhere in your room, and some tracking led you to your closet, where a blast of cold air met you. He was super smug about his win, if the circling chill filling your living room after the game was anything to go by.

You end up watching an anime for the rest of the night, and you barely notice when you fall asleep on the couch.

#linked universe x reader #fanfic #haunting heroes

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awkness · 10 months ago

Text

Serial killer! Platonic! Yandere Older Brother & Genderneutral Teenage Reader (Part 2)

(Part 1) (Part 3)

As reader tries to adjust to their new life without their father, a number of concerning incidents occur, including off-putting behavior from your brother, prevents that from happening. But despite everything, you make a new friend. Surely, this can only mean good things for you, right? Things must be looking up!

Content warnings: implied murder, manipulation, domestic abuse, briefly mentioned alcoholism and child abuse, and general yandere shenanigans. If I missed anything here, please let me know :3

Authors note: lmao I have no excuse for being this late I'm just slow. This was originally supposed to be the last chapter but it got too long so I had to split it up. It feels like a bit of filler but I promise we'll get to the good stuff soon it just needs some set up. Part 3 should be the last part so I'll try not to be too slow uploading (<- lying)

There were very few things about your father you liked, but his house was one of them. It was something he had inherited from his father, who Ben would inherit as soon your father could be pronounced legally dead. It came with a master bedroom, two normal bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room, a kitchen, the basement, and an attic.

The attic was something you had always been fascinated with as a child. It was spacious, fully insulated and even had an openable window. It could have been a bedroom all on its own. As a child, you had often daydreamed of moving your stuff up there, utilizing the bigger space for blanket forts and storing all the toys your little heart could desire. In reality, it was used in the same way the basement was, except it stored much more valuable items. Holiday decorations, clothes, old valuables that had no room to be displayed, and whatever family heirlooms your late father kept were shoved up above your head, taking space that could have been used for you. You had thought you had grown out of this fantasy, content with the room you had, but with your father gone and your brother running the house, the childhood dream had crept its way back into the front of your mind, tempting you with visions of a bigger, cooler room.

So, after working up the courage, you finally asked Ben if you could move up there. It surprised you just how easily he said yes.

And now you're here, Ben helping you sort through trash and treasure alike as you both clear out the room.

You pulled an unlabeled box from the seemingly endless pile, the top covered in dust and cobwebs. You try not to think about how many spiders are in the room with you now. Cleaning them out will be a trouble for another day.

The box opens easily, cardboard weak from age, a musty smell emanating from within. You look inside, only to be left dumbfounded. Why were there women's clothes in here?

"Hey, Ben, do you know whose clothes these are?"

Ben looks up from his own box, a vaguely confused look on his face. As he makes his way towards your box, you watch it drop into a frown.

"Those are moms."

"Oh." Is all you can say.

An awkward moment passes between you two as Ben stares into the box, face strange as he becomes lost in thought. You decide to break the tension.

"Why do you think he kept them?"

He looks away from the box and towards you, his body slowly beginning to relax.

"He was always a sentimental man, I guess that's reason enough for him."

You let out a snort. "What's there to be sentimental over? She cheated on him, divorced him, and then dumped us on him. She's not exactly a woman worth pining over."

"I'm not arguing with you, but you remember how he was. Couldn't ever let anything go."

He began rummaging through it, quickly getting to the bottom before closing it back up.

"Nothing but clothes. We should probably donate this."

You give a nod as you watch him put it in the growing donation pile. That was going to be such a pain to bring down to the car.

Instead of thinking about that, though, you turn your head to the box that Ben was searching through before you called him over.

"Is this one mom's too?"

Before you get an answer, you take a peek inside, only to once again be at a loss for how something like this could be in your home.

Inside was an assortment of strange objects. A broken polaroid camera, a stained photo album, and an array of metal objects like locks, deadbolts, and... were those shackles?

Before you could make out any more objects, Ben had made his way to you and reached over to close the flaps of the box.

"I doubt it, probably just more junk he couldn't throw away."

He turned around to you and smiled, hands holding the flaps shut.

"Want to do me a favor and go start bringing the donation boxes to the car?"

"Ugh, why do I have to bring them down?"

"Because you're the one who wanted to move up here."

You glared at him as his smile turned into an amused smirk, before you finally gave a huff and picked up a box from the pile.

"Jerk."

"Brat." The smile never left his face.

With only moderate trouble, you navigated your way down the stairs and out the door, making your way to the car. Unfortunately, you had only realized you forgot the keys when you tried to open the door to pop the trunk open.

You quietly mumble curses under your breath as you set the box next to the car, ready to make the trip back inside. Instead, you go completely still as you catch a look at the people across the street.

It was a small group of high schoolers your age, maybe older, who go to your school. They were standing the the yard across the street, a few houses down, talking together to throwing glances in your direction. Your ears strain as they try to make out their incoherent babble. They couldn't have known about your situation, could they? Or at least, what the official story was. It had been over a month since that happened, it doesn't make sense that they would be talking about it now. But you were just moving boxes out of the house such a short time after it happened. That looks suspicious, doesn't it? Of course it does. Why did you have to ask to move into the attic now?

You had been standing like a deer in headlights, openly staring for what felt like minutes before one of them seemingly made eye contact with you. You avert your gaze down as you feel your cheeks grow hot and your hands grow sweaty. A chorus of laughter erupts from the group.

Without thinking, you rush up to the door, fling it open, and slam directly into Ben as he was carrying. You hear it hit the floor as you speed walk past him.

"Wha- Hey! (Y/N)! What happened?"

You didn't reply. You barely even heard his words. Panic had fully taken over and kept you moving away from Ben, away from the door, away from the outside world, and all the judgemental people it contained.

You finally make it to your room, shutting the door behind you, and seating yourself on your bed, trying to get your bearings.

Tears begin stinging your eyes as your shaky hands try and wipe them away. You wonder if they were still laughing at you.

A soft knock comes from your door, and your body shrinks inward, unprepared for the upcoming talk.

"Kid? Can I come in?"

You don't reply. You know Ben is going to come in anyway.

He waits a beat before opening the door, his face the picture of concern. His footsteps are quiet, and his movements gentle as he sits next to you. You find your body leaning away from him.

"Want to tell me what happened?"

You shrug, turning your head away from him. Even if you did want to talk, you couldn't trust your voice right now.

"Alright, that's fine, we can figure it out together. Was it something to do with mom's clothes?"

You don't move. Maybe if you don't answer, he'll leave and let you deal with your embarrassment in peace.

"The attic?"

A pause.

"Something in the box you were carrying...? Or maybe something outside?"

You stiffen, and immediately try to make yourself relax. Maybe he didn't notice?

"Does this have something to do with the neighbors?"

Oh. Nevermind.

Despite your best efforts, your body language must have given you away again. You hear the bed creak as he gets up, the blinds rustling a moment later as he gives a huff.

"It's those kids across the street, isn't it?" His voice takes on an edge of irritation, and you feel yourself curl inwards again.

The bed shifts as he takes his seat next to you again, a comforting hand placed on your shoulder. His voice takes on the softer quality it had before.

"I can't help you if you don't help me, kid. Did they talk to you?"

You shake your head, trying to talk, but finding the words stuck in your throat.

"They-" Your voice falters and you clear your throat, barely able to speak above a whisper.

"They didn't have to. I could see them looking at me and laughing, I knew they were talking about me, just like all the neighbors do whenever they see us. It's like they know. And these-"

You sniff, snot beginning to run and throat burning as you talk. Ben squeezes your shoulder, and you continue.

"These people go to my school, Ben. They know me. When I have to go back, they'll talk and tell everyone and the whole school will know what happened. They'll treat me different, they'll ask questions, and I won't know what to tell them-"

Your quivering voice finally gives out, and you cover your face. Ragged, irregular breaths come out as you try to force back the wave of emotions you've just unleashed. Gently, Ben pulls you to his chest as he rubs your back, murmuring gentle reassurances you couldn't quite hear.

Moments pass until your breathing finally evens out, eyes dry but still red and puffy. You slowly pull back and he lets you, his face full of worry. His hand still remains on your shoulder, an ever-present weight.

"You've had this on your mind for a long time, haven't you?"

You give a feeble nod. The thought of having to return to school had been weighing on you, but you hadn't realized how bad it had been until now. The thought is almost enough to send you spiraling again.

"I don't want to go back."

Ben gives you a smile. "You don't have to."

Your mind freezes for an instant, any and all thought muddled into incohereency.

"What?"

"Why don't I sign you up for online school this year? I remember you talking about wanting to do it a couple of months back, so why not now?"

"I..."

Your brows furrow. You did tell Ben that you wanted to do online school a couple of months ago before summer started. But this wasn't a new wish. You had been dreaming of being homeschooled since you had dreamed of living in the attic. Troubles in finding friends and fitting in had always followed you throughout the years until you realized the futility of it all, and only dreamt of a home where you didn't have to leave, and Ben and you could spend your days in peace. But the reality of your father's abuse had made school a begrudgingly safe haven of yours and you had slowly given up on that dream, too. But now that it was fully within your hands, you found yourself hesitating. Why? There was no monster in your home anymore, you were safe, and there's no reason to say no.

"I don't know."

He smiled.

"It wouldn't have to be permanent, just for this year. And if you don't like it, I can reenroll you back into your old school, so your options are always open. Plus, you're right, (Y/N). I know how cruel kids can be, especially when they're confronted with situations and people they don't understand. I don't want you to face that if you don't have to."

You gnaw on your lip, unsure of what to say. Ben was right on all accounts, the things he was saying made sense, and yet you couldn't find yourself saying yes. Why couldn't you let yourself have this?

"Can I think on it?"

Ironically, it came out of your mouth before you could think at all.

He nodded, his good-humored smile still on his face. You let out a small breath, so glad to still see it there.

"Of course, kid, it's a big decision. Take your time."

He gave your shoulder one last pat before getting up.

"I'm going to move the rest of the boxes in the car and go drop them off. You want me to pick up dinner on the way back?"

"Yeah, I'm fine with whatever."

"Alright. Rest up, I'll be back soon."

Unable to say much else, you nod as he gives you one last smile before he heads out the door, closing it behind him.

You rub your eyes, your body slowly unwinding from the tension just moments prior, until it gives in and you lay down on your bed.

With nothing else left to do, you crawl under your covers, the familiar comfort of the soft and worn fabric soothing your nerves. Distantly, you hear the sound of Ben's footsteps as he makes his way back and forth from the attic, the familiar and comforting sound lulling you into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning was pretty uneventful. Ben was off at work while you continued clearing the attic, sorting out the junk and keepsakes, only occasionally getting scared by the stray spiders that had made their home in the crevices between the boxes.

By noon, everything was sorted, with the only thing left being to take the boxes to be donated or tossed in the trash. But you needed Ben to help you with that, so you found yourself heading down to the kitchen, heating instant noodles in the microbe, wondering what you were going to do until he got home.

Around this time is when you usually went to go check the mail, but since yesterday, the thought of having to leave the house left you with an uneasy feeling, tension building in your spine and shoulders the longer you thought of it. A part of you was ashamed that you couldn't even walk out to the mailbox without it being a big deal, and another, much larger part, found immense relief in the thought of abandoning the task altogether, and not having any more chance encounters like yesterday. The more you considered it, the more you found your body sagging in relief. Yeah, Ben can grab it when he gets home, you're sure he wouldn't mind. It's no big deal.

The microwave beeps and you grab the noodles, all thought of the outside quickly leaving your head.

You had just dumped the flavor packet in when you heard a knock at the door.

Your heart, ashamed you were to admit, skipped a beat, and you froze mid-action, breath catching roughly in your throat. Who could that be? Maybe that was Ben, and he had just forgot his keys? No, that's stupid, he wouldn't be home this early, and he never forgets his keys. With no other answers coming to mind, you quietly set the packet down and got up to the door to peek through the peephole.

On the other side of the door stood one of your neighbors, a kid your age. You see him the most often out of all of your neighbors, often doing yard work and tending to the flowers in his front yard. He was also the guy you caught staring at you the most. Well, maybe staring wasn't completely accurate, but whenever you looked his way, you two would usually make eye contact before one of you shyly looked away. You didn't know why, and it played havoc on your nerves. He wore a hoodie despite the summer heat and had an envelope in his hand. He looked nervous.

You pull away and bring your hand to undo the locks before stopping.

For one glorious, tempting moment, you picture yourself turning around, going back to your noodles, and taking them upstairs and away from the door to eat in peace until Ben comes home.

Instead, you undo the locks and open the door.

Your neighbor looks slightly taken aback like he didn't expect anyone to answer. You try not to notice.

"Hello?" You ask.

"Oh, uh, hi! I'm Alex, your neighbor. I live right next to you, the house to the right, well- uh, my right, your left. The one with the red car and lawn gnomes out front?"

He gestures sheepishly towards his house, face nearing the complexion of a tomato.

"Nice to meet you, Alex. I'm (Y/N)."

The social protocols of politeness take over, unable to fully pay attention as your mind stalls, still in a state of shock from the anxiety of the situation.

"(Y/N)? That's a nice name." He smiles at you before quickly looking at the ground.

He hands the envelope over to you, speaking as you look over it.

"Uh, I just wanted to drop this off. I think our mail got mixed up."

Sure enough, the envelope had your brother's name and address on it.

"Oh, thank you." You say lamely.

For a beat, you wonder if you should say something more. It felt wrong to just leave the conversation as it was and close the door, but what else were you supposed to say? Before you can think about it, he speaks again.

"I, uh, wanted to say that I heard about what happened to your dad, and I'm sorry."

Again, your heartbeat skips, and you stiffen, body alert, eyes wide. You probably look like a deer caught in headlights in front of him if he wasn't still looking at the ground. The thought would embarrass you if it weren't for the sharp spike of adrenaline hitting your veins.

"I... I had a dad like him too."

And just like that, your body pauses its panic response, and you find yourself fully focused on him as he continues.

"I thought it would be easier after me and my mom moved away, and it has been, but those kinds of experiences don't just go away, and I wanted to say that you aren't alone."

You still felt a little wired from the previous scares, you you felt a strange sense of ease slowly pass through you at his words.

You stare at him, as he stares down, no words passing between you two before you finally speak.

"Thank you."

You only hesitate for a moment before continuing.

"It has been rough, but it's been more of a relief than anything. It's nice not having to hide away in my room until he leaves."

He looks up, a small smile gracing his face as he finally relaxes.

"Yeah, it's nice not having to check to see if he passed out in the house again."

You find your lips quirking up. "Or having to check his pulse when he is passed out."

"Not having to worry about him throwing a fit whenever he runs out of beer despite him being the one who drank it all."

"Not having to constantly hide food in your room so you have a supply when he does throw his tantrums"

Alex gave a disbelieving laugh.

"Yours let you get food out of the kitchen? There was a lock on the fridge and pantry when I lived with mine."

Your smile widened into one of disbelief, amusement, and shock. "What the hell? Why?"

"Kept getting upset that the food would go missing. Worst part is, every time he got blackout drunk, he'd binge eat, pass out and get mad at us for eating all the food."

You couldn't help it. You started giggling, and he started giggling, unable to react in any other way to the absurdity of it all.

"Sorry! I really shouldn't laugh-" You began, failing to stifle the laughter.

"Don't be!" He said. "He's a stupid guy, you should laugh at him."

You both share the moment, the laughter slowly dying down as you both take your first good look at each other. In this moment, you see something you can't help but talk about.

"Is that a minecraft necklace?"

He looks surprised, but pleasantly so. He glances down before holding it up with a grin. The pendant was the shape of a creeper head.

"Yeah, I'm a big fan!"

He puts it back down and his demeanor changes back to being sheepish, but not painfully so like he was before.

"I have minecraft for Xbox and a spare controller at my house. If you want, you can come over and play?"

It was your turn to be nervous again.

On one hand, you wanted to say 'absolutely'. You couldn't remember the last time you got invited to hang out, and the thought of something as normal as playing a video game with a friend was something you needed. Well, maybe you couldn't call him a friend yet, but you feel like you could, given enough time. Plus, after being so afraid of your neighbors and leaving your house, having someone come up to you and act so warm and friendly made you feel soft. It was hard to say no to that.

On the other hand, you had the nagging, unnameable feeling that Ben would be, upset, but you couldn't think up any concrete reason as to why. In fact, if you focused on that feeling too long, your mind went blank.

Sure, you were going about out of the house without him knowing, but Ben has always been supportive of you. Sure, he's never really discussed rules about going over to a friend's house because the situations never come up, but he's fairly easygoing. You were sure that if you explained why you went, he would be understanding. Happy, even.

Plus, you were only going next door, you had your phone on you, and you would be back before Ben came home, so it's not like he had to even know what happened. Not that you wanted to lie to him, but something about that option comforted you more than any of the other things you listed.

Discomfort pushed aside, you gave a smile back to Alex.

"Sure thing, let me grab my phone."

It could have been the perfect hangout. Alex's mom was nice, bringing you two snacks and telling stories from Alex's childhood despite his embarrassment, as you two hung out in the living room while he helped you figure out the controls. Soon enough, you two were building a base together, laughing at each other as a creeper or sneaky skeleton would get kills on you both.

You were halfway through making the third story of the base when your phone started ringing. You felt your heart drop to your stomach when you saw Ben's picture on the screen.

"Shit."

You immediately pocketed in and got up.

"What's wrong?" He paused the game and looked up.

"I wasn't supposed to stay so late, my brother's probably home by now."

You went over to the window and peeked through the blinds, and as fate would have it, you saw his car in the driveway.

You hear Alex speak from the couch, voice slightly concerned.

"You're not going to get in trouble, are you?"

That was the question, wasn't it?

"I... don't think so. Maybe? I've never been out late before."

"If you want, I can come with you and explain what happened. I'll take the blame."

Despite your growing worry, you felt a pang of gratitude come through. You gave a small smile.

"That's okay, he'll probably be a little mad, but I don't think it's that serious."

You headed to the door, Alex following behind.

"Hey, on the chance you don't get grounded or whatever, here's my phone number."

You look back and see him scribbling on a piece of paper before he hands it over to you. You take it and look at sloppy, but thankfully still legible writing, and give a bigger, more genuine smile.

"I'll text you later. If I still have my phone, that is." You joke, or at least try to.

He gives a smile and a wave as you turn back and exit the front door.

As it closes behind you, the warmth of the interaction slowly leaches from you and leaves you feeling cold and rattled.

You didn't fully believe the things you said to Alex. You had no real idea what Ben would like because you had never gone against what he said before. The thought alone turned your stomach into knots. It was simply how you two functioned, Ben was the one in charge and made the big decisions, and you listened. Sure, he never had any explicit rules about this, but that didn't mean anything.

As you made the short walk to your home, you began strategizing.

You should do damage control right away, start apologizing straight away, and let him know where you were and what you were doing. Wait, should you mention Alex? At that thought, you shoved the paper with his number deep in your pocket. You didn't want Ben to see it.

Before you could think about it anymore, you were at your front door. Your back tensed, and you hesitated only a moment before opening the door. Waiting would only make it worse.

Before you can fully step in, you see Ben pacing the kitchen, brows furrowed, face strained. As soon as he heard you, his head whipped up, and you felt yourself freeze like a rabbit spotted by a wolf. Frozen, unable to do anything else than stare.

"(Y/N)?"

Just like that, you were broken out of your trance, finally allowed to move again.

You step in all the way and close the door behind you.

"I'm sorry! I didn't think I'd be out that long, I wasn't keeping track of time, I-"

Your voice died the moment you looked back to Ben's face, his features looked so... angry. You've never seen him look at you like that before, never seen him look like that at all. It set off a loud, blaring warning in your brain that something was wrong, and that you needed to leave. But that was crazy. This is Ben, your brother, you were fine.

You tried to start again.

"I was..."

It tapered off as you saw him move towards you, movement swift and robotic as he kept his attention on you. Without thinking, you shrunk back.

"Ben-"

Before you could finish he's in front of you, grabbing your shoulders so tightly it's borderline painful. You grip his arms, weakly trying to push away, knowing better than to seriously try.

"Where were you?"

There was such a dangerous edge to his voice that you couldn't think, couldn't look away. Your breaths came out shallow and your voice so tiny you could barely hear it.

"With the neighbors."

That only made him angrier.

"What neighbors? We don't talk to the neighbors here."

Oh, you were shaking now.

"With- with the neighbors right next to us, the Rogers. I was hanging out with Alex-"

"Who the Hell is Alex?"

His grip got tighter as he shook you, and you could feel the bruises forming. You started pushing at him again, but your arms trembled so badly you might as well not have tried.

"B-Ben, it hurts."

Your voice was so thick with emotion that it was hardly coherent, but Ben understood.

His face blanked for a moment, body shocked to stillness as you continued to try and leave. Then, without warning, he let you go, turned his back and walked a few paces away from you, pinching his nose as he let out a sharp breath.

You listen to him as he takes deep breaths while you rub your sore arms, snot beginning to run as your eyes turn wet. As you step away, you feel your back pressed against the door, and you have the fleeting idea to open it and run away. You realize what you're thinking, and the idea terrifies you so deeply you stay rooted to the spot.

Finally, Ben turns back, face still hardened but not as severely as before.

"Who's Alex?"

You sniff. You really didn't want to do this anymore.

"He's the neighbor's kid. Our mail got mixed up and he brought it over to me, and invited me over to hang out."

You probably should have stopped there, but some scared, hurt part of you needed Ben to understand that you didn't mean this, it wasn't your fault. Your voice cracked as you continued.

"I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry. It was only supposed for a little bit, I didn't think I would be over for so long, just an hour or two. I- I didn't mean for this to happen, I should- I should of called you."

You stopped, but only because the shaking in your hands had spread to your voice, and you didn't think you could keep going without sounding like a complete mess.

His face didn't soften for a moment, staring blankly as you had gone on. After it ended, he closed his eyes, rubbed his face and gave a sharp sigh.

You couldn't read him when he looked away. Was he calming down? Did that make him more upset? Every second that ticked by frayed your already worn-out nerves. You were only one yell away from bursting into tears.

He looked up again, face the same as it was before.

"Do you know what it's like to come home with the door unlocked and see you missing, with no goddamn clue where you could be? What was I supposed to think? You didn't even pick up your damn phone!"

He stopped, took a breath, and then continued, a dangerously calm edge to his voice.

"And then you tell me you decided to stay over at a stranger's house without calling me? A person you only met today? They could of been anybody, anything could happened to you. I thought you had better sense than that."

It stung.

"I'm sorry."

It sounded small and pathetic, even to your own ears.

He let out a sigh.

"Go to your room. We'll talk about this more later."

You don't think twice. You rush away on shaky legs to your room and quietly close the door behind you, afraid of doing anything else to set him off. The bed lets out a soft creak as you sit down. You gather your quivering hands in your lap and look down on them, not sure what to do with yourself.

Before you can think about it any further, you hear the front door open and slam shut, then the car turning on and driving away.

As it quiets down, you can't help it. Stifled sobs climb their way out of your chest, feeling like they're choking you until you can't resist anymore. You collapse on your bed, openly crying until you exhaust yourself to sleep.

The next morning felt almost surreal. You woke up to hearing Ben walking about the house as he did his morning routine. Usually, you would be out of the room right now doing the same, with you both then sitting down to eat breakfast together until it was time for him to leave. This time, you stayed in bed the entire time, idly scrolling your phone as you listened to his footsteps.

A part of you expected him to knock at your door, and ask you why you weren't out yet. Instead, you heard the sizzle of eggs hitting a hot pan as they cooked, and after a short few moments, the front door opening, closing, and locking behind him. The familiar sounds of the car's engine slowly faded away, and you finally got out of your bed, ready to start your day.

You decided to text Alex. You were hesitant to give the details of what happened, simply saying that Ben was upset and things were tense, and thankfully, Alex never pushed it. Instead, he started sending you memes and talking about his ideas for the minecraft world you both started. It was surprising how easy it was to talk to him, the conversation going for hours before he had to leave to help with dinner.

When it was time for Ben to come home, you scurried back to your room, feeling relieved but guilty when you closed the door. On one hand, you could still feel the fear you had last night, and you had no idea what to do with it. It was perplexing and off-putting, and thinking too hard on it made you feel like your brain was turning to static, so you opted to not think about it at all, which meant avoiding your brother as well.

But the guilt wouldn't let you be. It turned what should have been the comfort of your room into a place of wrongness, that you were doing something awful by keeping yourself here and not going down to see him like you usually did. Your lip began to bleed, and only then you realized you had been chewing on it since you heard Ben's car pull in.

You contemplated texting Alex for a distraction as you heard him make his way into the house. And then, step by step, make his way way to the hallway, and then to your door.

And then, the knock.

"Can I come in?"

You don't know if you want to answer, so you don't.

"I know you're awake, kid. Your lights on."

Thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to figure out what to do. For a moment, your mind latched onto the idea that you could pretend to be asleep, but you immediately shrugged it off. This was going to happen anyway, might as well happen now.

"Come in."

The door opens, and you see Ben, completely exhausted, his gaze nervously flitting towards you and the floor as he carried a fast food bag in his hand.

"I brought dinner."

You instinctively perk up at the mention of food, and he takes that as a sign to step closer and sit on the far side of the bed, bag between you two, as he clasped his hands together. His leg starts to quickly bounce before he stops it.

"Figured I'd pick up something on the way home. Didn't feel like cooking.

You nod, even though there's something in you that compels you to do or say more to try and ease his nerves. Even now, after what he did, you hate to see him upset. You try to push the urge to comfort down as you pointedly look away.

Both of you sit in silence while looking anywhere but at each other. In your peripheral, you can see him fidgeting with his hands.

"I know I scared you last night, I just-"

He nervously shifts in his seat. His voice is halting but sincere.

"It worried me, seeing you gone. You mean so much to me, (Y/N). Ever since you were born, I've been there to take care of you. I can't remember a time without you, and I don't want to. You're a part of me, without you, I... I don't even know who I am."

You look over at him and freeze. You're big brother, the man who protected you and cared for you your whole life, is bunched in on himself, face strained and twitching with barely contained emotion as he doggedly stares directly ahead, like looking at you would hurt him. His eyes are red and dark circles frame them. You swallow, years of experience screaming at you to reach over and comfort him, but instead, you sit, never once looking away as he continues talking.

"I shouldn't have done that to you, kid. I should of known better. Should of contained myself. I try so hard for you, but there's times it feels like it isn't enough, and it keeps me up at night."

He sniffs, and your eyes begin to blur.

"I never wanted to be like that in front of you, you didn't deserve to see that. I-"

He wipes his hands over his face, taking a deep breath as he tries to collect himself. After a beat, he uncovers his face and finally looks at you.

"I'm sorry."

It was like a spell had been broken. You found yourself pushing a food to the side and leaning against his shoulder. He hesitantly wrapped his arm around you, and when you didn't resist, he reached his other arm around you, pulled you into his chest, and began softly rocking you back and forth.

You feel the rise and fall of his chest, and it feels the same as you did as a kid when you would run up to him when something scared you, or when you felt your emotions overwhelm you. He would hold you tight and it felt like you were in the safest place in the world. The relief of that feeling after everything you had been through was like coming home.

Still safely tucked in his arms, you spoke again, voice more quiet and child-like than you meant it to be.

"Promise me you won't do that again."

The mere thought of him acting so uncontrollably and violently towards you was enough to make you nauseous.

He squeezed you tight.

"I promise, kid, never again."

You nodded, unable to reply. The both of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity before he slowly began letting you go.

After getting fully untangled, you rub your eyes, a feeling of exhaustion settling in as your stomach rumbles.

"I'm hungry."

"Hi hungry, I'm Ben."

His reply is so quick, you think it's automatic for him.

You shoot him a glare, but it's undermined by your smile. He returns it with one of his own.

"You wanna go down and eat? I got you a milkshake too, it's down in the kitchen. But might be a bit melted by now."

You spring up, fast food bag in hand as you make your way towards the door.

"Why didn't you say so, let's go!"

You hear him let out a chuckle, and you let out one reflectively, too.

You both share the meal together, talking and laughing late into the evening, until it was finally time to sleep. You drifted off easily into a deep, restful sleep, finally at peace.

#yandere #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #yandere original character #yandere oc #yandere x reader #x reader #gn reader

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buckgasms · 2 years ago

Text

Dr's. Barnes and Rogers (Part 1)

Don't worry I am already writing part two I just needed to set the scene before we get to the goooood stuff 🩷

This is doctor kink territory y'all 💦

Tagging @biteofcherry for being a wonderful enabler. Thank you for bringing this out of me and many others with one simple question 😂

@zonkie-bee

Just note this part contains mentions of pregnancy, fertility talk and a gaslighting ex-husband (he's not in it tho). If that might trigger you just give me a day and the next chapter will be just pure filth.

You sat in the waiting room of the Barnes & Rogers Clinic, feet tapping nervously. You were here to have a fertility check up, already feeling like you knew the sad truth.

Your ex husband had been certain that you couldn't have children, that the process of trying to have a baby had been made more painful for your failures. He was a dick. But the doubt and worries continued to plague you.

Finally a friend gently suggested you go to the best fertility clinic in the city. Then you could get actual answers and real solutions. It took some persuading but you decided to try it. What did you have to lose?

At that moment the office door clicked open and Dr. Barnes popped his head out. "Are you my 10am appointment?" You nod and he steps back, and you shuffle in, hoping he doesn't notice how flustered you are at how absolutely gorgeous he is.

You take a seat on the comfy couch, as he sits in an armchair across from you. You try to relax as he welcomes you and picks up his paperwork.

"So, your papers say you're worried about your ability to conceive? Are you married or trying for a baby currently?" He asks, a strand of hair falling into his face as he looks at you with kind, professional concern.

"Um... No not married anymore. That's um.... That's why we split. I just wanted to know...if it was...me? My ex said.... It was me..."

He nods, a glimmer of anger seems to cross his features. "It's never anyone's fault sweetheart..." you smile a little, a flutter in your stomach but then he moves on. He asks questions about your diet, physical activity, and of course your previous attempts at trying to get pregnant. It brings up some painful memories and he is very sympathetic and gentle with you.

"I know this is hard, you're doing so well. Don't worry sweetheart, we'll sort all this out together ok?" You look at his sweet, handsome face and smile. You feel better already. After a further few questions he leads you into his consultation room and explains the tests he's about to conduct.

The big examination bed with stirrups looks a little intimidating but his hand presses at your lower back and guides you with more confidence. "I need to take a sample, which might be a little uncomfortable but I'll do my best to be gentle ok. Just take off your skirt and underwear and get comfortable in the stirrups." He heads out of the room and you hear him chatting to another man in the corridor.

After a few moments you are legs akimbo and feeling a bit ridiculous. But the leather beneath you is soft and smooth, and the room is warm so you feel as comfortable as you'll ever be. He comes back in and he clears his throat at the view of you.

From his perspective the most beautiful perfect angel is laying spread out on his chair, her most intimate parts there for him to enjoy, but for you, you just feel nervous.

"Ok sweetheart, just relax while I check you over. Don't be embarrassed about any reactions you might have. Totally normal." You huff out a laugh and scoot down at his guidance, goosebumps breaking out as you feel his warm breath fan over your intimate area.

The way he probes you makes you bite your lip as you try not to moan. It's honestly the best pelvic exam you've ever had. By the time it comes for him to take a sample you are almost totally unaware of why you are there in the first place.

When he announces he's finished you are mortified to hear yourself whine in disappointment. Thankfully he either doesn't here or pretends he doesn't so you can chide yourself for being such an embarrassment as you get dressed.

"Ok sweetheart, I'll give you a call once we get the results." You shake his soft hand and he squeezes it gently as you smile and make you way out of his office.

⚕️

So here you were a few weeks later. You felt so nervous because when Dr Barnes called you he didn't actually tell you the results. He just told you to come in because he needed to discuss things face to face.

Finally the door clicked open and you were greeted by the handsome face of Dr Barnes. You smiled tightly as you walked in but were surprised to see another doctor sitting in the office on the couch. "This is Dr. Rogers, I wanted to have him here for this consultation, I hope that's ok?"

You nodded,trying to ignore how gorgeous both these doctors were before dropping your bag to the floor and sinking into the seat. It must be really bad if it takes two hot doctors to tell you what's written on that paper.

"Are you ok sweetheart?" Barnes asks, looking concerned at you, reading your mood as Dr Rogers turns towards you, his face also reading concern. Your eyes well up and you sink backwards into the cushions. "Can you just get it over with and tell me I'll never.... That I can't...." You broke into sobs and they both came over to you, rubbing gentle hands over your back and shoulders.

"Oh honey! No! I'm so sorry, it's not like that at all!" Barnes curses and squeezes your shoulder. You hiccup a sob and look up at them both. "What do you mean?" Dr Rogers tuts and grabs the paper from his colleague. "What my partner has stupidly failed to mention to you is that, you are in fact very much able to have babies and you don't have anything at all to worry about in terms of your fertility..."

You glance between them both, Barnes looking sheepish and Rogers looking concerned before collapsing into a combination of sobs and giggles. You can't stop laughing from sheer joy and tears of relief slip down your cheeks. Both of the doctors chuckle in surprise at your reaction. Once you calm down a more comfortable mood fills the room.

"I've always wanted a family of my own. Thank you, I feel like I can have that again now..." You smile at them both and they smile back, "just need to find the right man huh?"

"Well what about another route?" Doctor Rogers draws your attention his way and you cock your eyebrow at him. "What would that be?"

He settles back emanating confidence and professionalism, Barnes reclaims his seat and watches. "We have a trial programme, you can sign up for an insemination and we will monitor you from now until the birth of the child or children. There is considerable remuneration and you can even be provided with new accommodation should you desire it..."

You were dumbfounded. You'd never heard of anything like this before and it certainly sounded life changing, but pretty amazing at the same time. "There has to be a catch?" You say suspiciously, unable to believe this is actually real.

"Well, the insemination process is... revolutionary so it requires some open minded thinking..." Barnes says and you feel a bloom of excitement in your stomach as he looks at you.

"And once the baby is born? Is there still help or monitoring? Or are we just out in the world alone?"

You chuckle but they seem to take it quite seriously. "Absolutely not! We... I mean the programme is very interested in the life span of the child. Besides if you are successful you might want to have another perhaps?" Rogers tries to act casual but you feel like you've stumbled on something there.

Barnes hands you an envelope. "Inside is all the information plus the potential candidates for the donors. Take it home, read it and if you want to take part, call me. If not, no harm done."

⚕️

At home you spent a little while pretending to ignore the envelope but finally you caved and had a read through.

There was very little information about the medical procedures other than the things you might expect. Thorough examination process, compatibility, tests and so on. The next set of documents were mostly about the remuneration which almost made your eyes pop out of your head. Thirty Thousand dollars for the first year! All medical costs covered! It also detailed the new accommodation which sounded like the most luxurious apartment on earth. It was almost too good to resist as you looked around your rented studio flat, your instant ramen going cold as you read.

Finally there was a piece of paper that detailed the potential donors. Only two in fact. A tall blonde, with blue eyes, physically fit and a doctor! The other was a slightly shorter brunette, with blue eyes, physically fit.....and a doctor....

Oh...

⚕️

Part two

#doctor barnes #doctor rogers #stucky x reader #doctor bucky #doctor steve rogers

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thebruno65 · 2 months ago

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What if everyone survived the first trial? Chapter 1: Part 1

This is pretty much a direct follow-up to my last post in which I depicted everyone surviving the first trial. So, what if that actually happened? In these set of posts, me, and you all (hopefully) will try and depict this alternate universe where ASU-NARO really did fuck up bad and had not a singular death in the first trial.

So, we begin all the way back in the first trial themselves, in which… everyone survives! And are able to escape over to the central hall of floor one. Like so!

As you can see, Alice is still absent for the beginning of the chapter, thought this time, its going to be a little different. Since Hinako has to live here, it means that Alice HAS to stay behind and choose Split, whether he wants to or not, meaning that they both pass their trial at the same time. So, unless Alice gains the power of super speed, they’ll have to meet with each other, and with that, Reko later would join the two.

I think Hinako could care less about what Alice really is and decides to keep her mouth to the rest about him, and maybe she can call it them being even, as he did decide to split with her.

Then we have Kanna, which has a full 180° in personality when we meet her now, as Kugie is still alive and well in this timeline, meaning she wouldn’t be all depressed and afraid like the original. Which will make Sou’s plan a bit different without Kanna, but that’s for later.

And finally, Keiji will be a bit less relaxed this time around, as Megumi is still alive too, maybe either cooperating with leading everyone, or even have Megumi take over leader. Either way though, I don’t see her straining too far away from Keiji’s own ideas, not to mention that Megumi doesn’t really hold too much on Keiji herself.

Aside from those guys, everyone else stays relatively the same when we get introduced. With the former dummies getting the same introductions and maybe some explanations for their trials.

So, with introductions and that out of the way, we begin the investigation! And right off the bat, there is one difference I would like to propose, that is: Joe doesn’t partner up with Keiji and eventually be part of the Russian roulette. Why? Well, in the original, Joe follows Keiji because he doesn’t trust him being a cop. But now that Megumi is here to pretty much back him up, or straight up tell everyone he is an ex-cop, there is no suspicion from Joe anymore, instead leaving Megumi in place of Joe, leading to these groups!

I don’t see much happening until the blue room game, everyone just sort of… investigates and goes pretty much the same as the original.

So, we’ll just skip to the Russian Roulette minigame. So, Sara, Keiji, Q-Taro, Kai, and Megumi are suddenly trapped inside the blue room and yada yada, we all know this. Now the interesting part is going to be in who gets to be the shooter, as in the original, Sara was the one chosen because she was not only trustworthy enough, but also that Keiji couldn’t use a gun after his trauma. So, Keiji def still trusts Sara and recommends her, but that’s when Megumi steps up and offers herself to do so along with Q-Taro.

Now the interesting part about Megumi is that she is most likely more reliable and trustable than Sara, at least for now. She showed she can be a leader at the beginning of introductions and also that she is a professional detective, and unlike Keiji, doesn’t have any trauma when wielding said gun (that we know of). So, in a surprising turn of events, I think Megumi ends up winning the Majority vote, much to Keiji’s Dismay, ofc he doesn’t show it.

Since canonically, Sara was able to win this game without any casualties, I doubt Megumi would otherwise, making everyone’s view on her improve. I like to think that after that, she and Sara talk a bit, I doubt Sara would have a grudge on the fact she wasn’t chosen, as it makes sense why Megumi was, and besides, it wasn’t her the one that volunteered herself. And Megumi did show she was capable just now.

And why not, I like this to be the scene where these two spark a little friendship, this would prob lead to Keiji being just a bit more distant than usual to Sara, but not enough so he’s out of the picture.

So, now that that’s over, Instead of partnering up with Joe for the rest of the chapter, I instead thought of partnering her up with Ranmaru, to kinda set up that dynamic from 3-1, since he isn’t dead here meaning he wont be a dummy for that to work there (in fact, I have no clue how I’m going to work around 3-1 at all… if yall want, leave some ideas!)

Aside from that little change, nothing different really happens, maybe aside from the fact that the scene between Kanna Mishima and Sara just gets replaced with something else, since there is no reason for Kanna to be glum about her sister’s non-death.

Anyways, Miley time! And also voting time! As usual, this is the test voting, so technically everyone could live if they were able to see the message behind the door… but I’m not going this route, there are already 8 more people that I have to somehow dwindle down to a small number by chapter 3. I know that technically since there are more ppl they should realise, but for the sake of people dying, I’m going to have to go this route… Onto the votes!

(the rest all had either 1 or no votes)

And sadly, I don’t see Mishima surviving either. The entire reason as to why he got voted out was because he made Nao vote for him, and then Sou votes for him too. While he never actually states why, my guess is that he too overheard Kazumi and Nao’s conversation along with Reko and used it to his advantage. So as unfortunate and disappointedly as it seems, the professor is still the first one to die.

Kinda sucks thought I could maybe have worked around it, but someone has to die here, and Mishima already had a very valid reasoning in the original one.

But enough about that, you may be wondering now, why do Hinako and Megumi have 2 votes? Well, Megumi’s is obvious, we know who vote her and why they did it (*ahem* ex-cop *ahem*)But what about Hinako? Well, I’m going to go throw a curveball and say that Naomichi voted for Hinako, why? Well one because I needed more characters to do something and have more drama to compensate for the increase of characters.

But two, Kurumada around this time still has this whole ideology of “kill the weak and stay strong” which was shown in 3-1a and his minisode. So, I think this voting could potentially work as a way to see how Kurumada is early on, as he was also shown to not have much remorse either until he spent more time with everyone and when they took care of him. But this hasn’t happened, so for now, I’m going with this idea.

Of course, Hinako wouldn’t really mind the vote, she is shown to be suicidal and not really that afraid of death. But Megumi is in probably a mix of scepticism and anger. And when Kurumada reveals he voted for Hinako, she puts two and two together and realised Keiji voted for her.

This turns into an argument between the two, maybe even getting the Keiji and Megumi backstory earlier on, having the group be split in who to trust and not. Heck, maybe use this as a way to give us an option to either have Megumi or Keiji as the leader, which will continue on for later chapters.

But anyways, that is how chapter 1 – Part 1 could potentially go with everyone alive! I know this isn’t much change, but trust me, i believe part 2 is going to start to deviate further from canon.

Lemme know if you would change anything about it, leave some ideas for the next chapters, and please PLEASE give me a way to somehow dwindle the cast more, bc if I just go with how canon is, we will have 12/11 people still alive by the time chapter 3-2 rolls around.

One idea I had is to give out 2 sacrifice roles instead of one, but that will still only get rid of 2 more people. Another one I had is to try and have 1-2 more deaths in the sub-games, but yet again, same problem. And the last one I had is to move chapter 3 up to chapter 4 and make a custom chapter 3 myself, but that takes a shit long time, and will just become very head-canon-ey and maybe even bias towards it. So please tell me how to fix this. Until then, see you in Chapter 1 – Part 2!

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beardedjoel · 2 years ago

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pretty little wife | meet cute, part 1

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨ summary: 8.3k words; you didn't feel like going out for your friends birthday that night, but it turned out fate had very different plans for you. or a flashback to the night joel and pretty wife met. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, relationship not established here like the other chapters, unprotected piv, public sex, rough sex, sub/dom relationship, dirty talk, pet names for reader, alcohol consumption a/n: this was getting super long and has been so much fun to write so i'm splitting it into two parts to also show their first date! i'm actually so obsessed with them its getting delusional and not even funny anymore but i digress

You hadn’t particularly wanted to go out tonight, but it was your friend Hanna’s birthday and her soft, doe-like eyes when she’d begged you to come had you giving in quickly. Sure, you had what felt like a million things to study for, homework piling up, but the more you thought about it, the better a night out sounded.

She’d picked a relatively nondescript dive bar as her venue of choice, saying that it had cheap drinks, and seeing as it was her 21st birthday, she wanted to get drunk for as little money as possible.

You and about ten other girls file into the bar, immediately having what feels like every set of eyes in the room on you all. You’d bet it’s not every day that an overdressed, loud group of young twenty-something’s walks into this place ready to get plastered.

You all crowd around a few tables, pushing them together, and Hanna spots a jukebox, excitedly gushing over the way she’s going to put on all of her favorite songs later and dance when she gets drunk enough.

After your first cocktail, you’re already having so much fun that you wonder why you even had any doubts about coming out tonight. You laugh hard at something one of your friends, Rachel, says and your face falls immediately as your attention catches on something across the room. Not something, but someone.

A man, who you’d guess is somewhere in his forties or fifties from the looks of it, is sitting with his own group. Even in the darkened shadows of the room, you’re mesmerized - he has a grumpy smile on his face as he chats with the person next to him. He runs a hand through grown out, dark curls and you can see the top half of his body above the bar top, muscled and broad and so inviting.

You force yourself to blink, about to look away, when you see his eyes catch on yours. You feel your heart sink, hoping he didn’t catch you staring so intently, but swear he gives you a little wink before turning back to his beer that he’s nursing in one hand. Your insides flutter at the gesture, hoping your delusional self didn’t just imagine him sending that wink your way.

You feel your stomach twist, and realize that despite how attractive you think he is, you’re typically way too shy to make the first move, so it’s unlikely much will come of this newfound attraction. You couldn’t help but continue to glance at him while you chat with your friends for the next hour, drinking in his mannerisms and ruggedly good looks, wishing you could hear what he was saying across this crowded, noisy room.

You’d never felt like this before upon simply seeing someone, and it made your brain buzz more than the alcohol was, a steady little humming in the back of your mind. In fact, you hadn’t had more than a cocktail at this point, and were actively trying to blame this crazy feeling you were having on anything other than the handsome stranger you just couldn’t seem to stop staring at.

You decide maybe another drink would help, so you break off from your friends to go up to the bar and order something.

You’re looking over the list of cocktails on a concerningly sticky laminated menu, scrunching your face up in disgust. You knew this place was divey, but their list of cocktails is downright depressing. Your first one hadn’t been very good, either, so you decide to change directions and order a beer instead.

You glance around the room as you wait to catch the busy bartender’s attention while they flit around, taking orders and making beverages. Your eyes widen a bit as they land on Handsome Stranger, who is now openly meeting your gaze without shame.

You try to avert your eyes out of pure embarrassment, but you keep yourself staring for a moment too long before nervously chewing your lip and gazing down at the bar, pretending to be overly interested in the menu again.

When you gather the courage to glance back up at where he was sitting, Handsome Stranger is gone, and you survey the area in a tiny panic, swinging your head to the side only to see him curving around the edge of the bar and walking straight towards you.

He’s coming over. Oh god.

He settles himself against the bar right next to you and clears his throat a little, cocking his head.

“Hi, there,” he says, and your jaw nearly drops at the husky, rasping accented voice that drips off his tongue like one of the sweetest sounds your ears have ever heard. You actively fight a shudder that wants to wrack your body, thinking of what that deep rumble would sound like against your neck, your lips, your everywhere.

You give him a nervous chuckle and swallow hard, hoping he doesn’t notice. “Hey,” you reply, wishing you suddenly felt less shy under his dark, brooding gaze. You suddenly are overly aware of how loud the room is, a myriad of classic rock, pop, rap, and everything in between blaring through the speakers from the jukebox the entire night. The realization hits you that you two may have to get closer to hear each other coherently and your stomach twists a little in anticipation.

“Listen, I don’t usually do-“ he starts, but you can’t catch what he’s saying over the noise, so you scrunch your brows together and cup your ear in his direction.

“What’s that?” You feel like you practically yell the words to him, your cheeks heating as he starts to lean closer. His face is merely inches from yours now, his mouth angled towards your ear. You get a better look at his face now, his dark, wiry beard with a few graying patches, and some deeper set lines in his face surrounded by speckled, tan skin. He’s rugged and handsome and everything that turns you on personified. It’s actually insane, now that you think about it, to see someone so seemingly perfectly made for you looks-wise, let alone have them interested in talking to you.

“I said…” the man says, clearing his throat again. “I don’t usually do this kinda thing, but…” he trails off, studying your face for a few moments. You watch on intently, already enraptured by his words, not even able to form a follow up to prompt him to continue speaking.

“But you’re so damn beautiful I had to say somethin’ to ya before you snuck away,” he says. His voice hits deep in your core now that it’s closer, sending you belly swirling in a sickly addictive feeling, one that you already know will be hard to shake tonight. You blink hard, wondering if he’d managed to speak to the wrong girl, but he’s looking right into your eyes without an ounce of doubt hidden behind those dark irises.

“I… don’t know about that…” you mumble, but he cocks his head further, brows knitted together.

“Would never say somethin’ like that if I wasn’t telling the truth,” he replies a bit more seriously. You bite your lip and decide that maybe you do trust him - that this handsome, mystery man really does have eyes for you in a bar full of attractive women.

“Well, thank you,” you say, puffing your chest up a bit with a smile. “You’re not too bad looking yourself,” you add on, finally feeling a bit of your icy shyness melting away.

He chuckles lightly, rubbing a nervous hand behind his neck, leaving a red mark in its wake. “Would you have a drink with me?”

You lick your lips and then bite the bottom one, contemplating. You don’t fail to notice Joel’s eyes flick down to that exact spot, then to your throat where you swallow again.

“I’d like that.”

“Somewhere quieter?” he calls out towards your ear, and you nod enthusiastically. He orders you two drinks, shooting an eyebrow up when you request a beer as well, and leads you to a small, cozy booth off to the side where there at the least aren’t speakers directly over your heads.

“Now,” he rumbles out, folding his hands on top of the table “What’s a girl like you doin’ here?” he asks as you slide into the seat across from him and settle in.

You breathe an amused laugh through your nose. “My friends,” you say, motioning with a thumb over your shoulder in their direction, where they’re seemingly still having a great time together, a fit of giggles as they all sip their drinks. “One friend wanted the divey experience tonight for her birthday, I guess. Cheap drinks.”

Handsome Stranger’s eyes flick past you to your friends, and you see a flash of recognition as he processes Hanna’s extremely gaudy 21st birthday sash. You can see the gears turning, see him putting the pieces together as his lips part from the tight line they’d been settled in.

“Hmm,” he grumbles, eyes back on you and seeming to consider you for a moment, taking in your face and making you feel your body temperature suddenly rising. You want to tug on your collar, do something to alleviate it, but can’t give him the satisfaction.

“Shit,” you mumble under your breath, breaking completely under his stare. “I- I’ll be twenty two soon, so… I’m not…” you trail off, losing all conviction in whatever message you were trying to convey. Handsome Stranger has been too quiet, too guarded regarding this new information, and you feel your stomach turn nervously.

“Did I just mess this up?” you blurt out, your face betraying you completely and contorting into a worried expression. He gives you a tired sounding chuckle, running a hand through his beard then back around to his neck.

“No, darlin’, sorry. I - I don’t have a problem with it. Jus’ needed a second. You look… a bit older, so I was surprised, I guess.”

Your shoulders sag in relief - you hadn’t expected to be so devastated at the prospect of losing your new acquaintance’s attention so quickly, and only because of your age. You’d always been interested in older men, and had even been on a few dates with some, but nobody that pulled you in immediately like the stunningly gorgeous man sitting in front of you now.

You lower your eyes to your lap, wringing your hands together. “You don’t have to be nice, I understand if you’re not interested. I’ve ended up being too young for a lot of guys I’ve talked to.”

“You’re talkin’ to a lot of guys my age, are you?”

Your eyes shoot back up to him, finding a new confidence that he’s still flirting with you. You shrug casually, fluttering your lashes a bit as you smirk. “Maybe, maybe not.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, frowning. “I gotta say, I don’t think I like that.”

You lean forward on the table, folding your arms in front of you as you rest your forearms down to support yourself. You stare into his dark yet warm eyes and try your best to cock an intimidating eyebrow.

“And why is that?” you ask, upping your voice an octave, trying to sound more innocent.

Handsome Stranger takes a deep breath, sighing and mirroring you by leaning himself closer to you. You can inspect him even closer now, smell the beer on him and whatever that musky, manly scent is that he carries with him, something you can already tell will be addictive.

“‘Cause I want you all to myself.”

You stun at his words a little, knowing that your face is giving it away - your confident, fierce facade fading in an instant. You lick your lips nervously, his dark, desirous tone digging deep inside of you, lodging itself in your core and starting another pooling of arousal between your legs. You finally turn your lips up a little, meeting his gaze with a hard stare again while you put your chin in your hands.

“You’ve got me right here, don’t you?”

He seems to like that, breaking the intensity between you two with a small laugh, leaning back and taking a long sip of his beer.

“I’m Joel,” he says, and your smile widens as you consider the name on him, finding it suits him perfectly. It dawns on you that you’d been so absorbed in the conversation you didn’t even realize that you had no clue what his name was, that you may have even been content to fall in love with the man right here tonight and not even know his name.

You tell him your name in return and it gets a genuine grin out of him, like hearing it for the first time was an answer to a question he’d long been asking himself.

“You know, I could ask you the same thing - what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

“Don’t think I look like the kind of guy who spends his nights in a place like this?”

“I mean… sort of…” you say shyly, trying not to laugh nervously. “You come here a lot?”

Joel seems amused by the way he’s getting you to blush and stutter. “Sometimes, with some crew from work. But that‘s what I'd expect, not… someone like you, honey. Ain’t no place for someone like you.”

“Well,” you twist your lips to the side teasingly. “I’m here, whether you like it or not.”

“Or not?” Joel chuckles incredulously. “Think I made it clear I certainly like it.”

You just give him a smug smile and sip from your drink, trying not to make a sour face in front of Joel, who seems to actually be enjoying his beer quite a bit. You’ve never been a big fan of beer, but it’s at least better than those stomach churning cocktails.

“So, here with people from work… what do you do?”

“Contracting. Jus’ started my own company, actually. With my brother.” Joel tells you, and you give him an impressed raise of your eyebrows.

“That’s really cool. Very impressive that you’re the big boss.” You lean in again to show your interest and toss your hair over your shoulder.

Joel’s eyes flash a little darker. “Like hearin’ that name from you,” he chuckles, “Otherwise it’s been a lot of pressure to be the boss, I guess.”

“Is it going well, though?”

Joel nods with a little shrug. “S’okay. Pickin’ up now so we’re doin’ good.”

You give him an encouraging smile, trying to think of what to say next, feeling like a nervous mess around him, wanting him to think you’re interesting and worth his time, not just some young girl with nothing to offer.

“Now what about you? Assume you’re in school?” he asks.

You try not to roll your eyes at the sore subject and breathe out a sigh. “Yeah, I am. I just… I’m not really into it.”

Joel looks on curiously. “Uh-huh. Boring classes?”

“Not even that. I just don’t… like it. I’m so tired of having no clue what I’m doing. I thought about teaching, doing something like that, but I don’t know…” You let out a small sigh. “Sounds entitled or stupid maybe, but I just can’t find my passion there.” You feel your frustration coming out unfairly onto Joel, dropping your hands onto the table with an irritated thud.

“Not at all, sweetheart,” Joel says, laying one of his hands on the table, offering it to you as he slides it over, resting it on top of yours. “Some people ain’t meant for school. I didn’t really have a choice to not go to college, but worked out alright for m’self, right?”

You nod with a thoughtful look, despite barely knowing much of anything about how things worked out for Joel, but you believe him. Or at the least, he sounded happy enough to be owning his own contracting company.

“Thanks,” you say simply, offering him a grateful smile.

Joel leans forward again on the table, not moving his hand from yours, and you feel hot all over. “‘Course. Now how ‘bout I help you find what you’re passionate about, hm?”

An hour and several more drinks later, you’ve moved over to Joel’s side of the booth at his insistence, where he pulled you nearly onto his lap, your thighs crossed over his as your ass is planted in the booth right next to him. A steady arm of his is wrapped around your back and pulling you close to him, stroking relaxed circles as you two chat. You feel perfectly content, buzzed from the alcohol and comfortable in Joel’s embrace, despite this being the first night you’ve even met him Something about him has put you at ease yet excited you, a consistent skittering of electricity across your skin where it connects to his.

You’ve discovered that you have more in common with a man in his mid forties than you might have thought. But along the way you’ve noted enough differences that you two have to keep the conversation balanced, having different interests and perspectives to add into the mix. Your banter has some kind of alluring pull with Joel, never stopping the beautiful flow of chatter and laughter you’ve found together until he leans in on a quieter moment, kissing your cheek and then moving to your neck. You feel your breath hitch at the warmth of his lips, your body stiffening yet going soft for him, breathing out shakily.

“Mm,” you whimper quietly, unsure if he can hear it over the noise of the room.

“Like it when I kiss you here, hm?” he rumbles, moving his lips to your ear where he ghosts his lips over your sensitive earlobe then back down to your neck.

“Uh-huh,” you manage to say, eyes fluttering as you lean further into him. He keeps kissing every sensitive little bit of skin on your neck, trailing down to your collarbone and inward. “Jesus…” you whimper as he suddenly sucks lightly on your neck, testing you.

“I gotta mark you, let everyone know…” he murmurs, sucking another spot not even inches away. You squirm, grinding your ass into the seat as you rub your legs together, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel. “You’re mine tonight.”

You feel your cunt clench around nothing, squeezing tightly and wishing some part of him was filling that void, letting you squeeze around it while he practically makes you come just by putting his lips to your neck.

“Mhm… yours…” you mumble, lolling your head back in the throes of your pleasure.

“Taste so good, sweetheart, bet you’re just as sweet everywhere else, too,” Joel says, his tongue flicking along where he’s just sucked harder, testing the waters.

You can only moan quietly, not even daring to think about the other people in the crowded bar who could be witness to your overly raunchy public display. In fact, you find that you barely care, not with the way Joel’s lips feel like heaven every time they touch you, the way he’s making little satisfied noises next to your ear as your body responds to him.

“Joel…” you moan wantonly, starting to go more limp in his hold as he continues teasing you. He slips a hand between your tightly squeezed together thighs, bringing his palm up to cup the outside of your jeans. You know he must feel how warm and damp you are, even through the few layers there - he’s thoroughly teased you to a point where you’re hurting, your cunt aching and pulsing for him, dripping and soaking your panties.

“Christ…” you hear Joel exhale, his breath catching for a moment in his throat. “Fuckin’ soaked for me. Someone needs to get taken care of, doesn’t she?”

You only nod as he palms you harder while he’s speaking, desperate and unable to even find the words. You’re completely undone, trying to come to terms with the fact that Joel is about to ruin any other man for you in just a few short moments together.

“C’mon, then, let’s go,” Joel announces, patting your thigh, urging you to move. You follow him, beckoning you out of your seat with him, grasping your hand as he leads you to the bathroom. Your skin tingles where he holds your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours, and your palms sweat as heat courses through you, settling and pooling deep between your legs.

You two burst through the door, saying a silent thank you that it’s just a single person restroom at this bar - no stalls, no other people to shoo out of the way. Joel slams the door behind you with built up aggression and you hear the lock click.

He’s on you before you can even register that it’s happening, pressing himself close and wrapping one of his large palms around the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. He pulls your head towards his eagerly, crashing his lips into you, not giving you an inch of space with the way he’s tugging your head closer.

You both ravenously clash teeth and tongues and lips until you’re practically breathless. One hand bunches on his shirt, clutching him to you, the other wrapped around his neck, burying itself in the dark hair that curls down. Your bodies draw together over and over, starting a steady grind on each other, barely even registering where one body begins and ends as you both chase pleasure using the other's body.

You moan quietly when you start to feel him against your steadily aching cunt, his erection warm and pressing against his jeans. Your hands shake a little with excitement as you reach in between your bodies to grab him outside the denim, and he groans into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, finally pulling his lips away from yours. He looks down at your swollen, puffy lips, chin red underneath from his scratchy facial hair. He can’t take his eyes off of yours though, so bright and eager for him as your pupils blow out with desire.

“Don’t usually do this either, get random girls into the bathroom with me, swear,” he adds, and you laugh a little against his lips.

“I’m hearing a lot of that from you tonight,” you tease.

“Jus’ the effect a girl like you has on me,” he quips back, and you find your cheeks warming and flushing at his words. Despite having just met him not even a few hours ago, you find that you believe him, that you are someone special to him. This strange connection, this pull you feel towards him has you questioning many things, and especially the fact that you’re fully about to fuck someone in a public restroom - something you’d never have imagined yourself doing.

Until Joel.

He seems more in control now, leaning forward to pepper your face with kisses, catching the corners of your mouth and pulling away just before you can meet his lips again. You pout as he does it for the third time, moving his lips right underneath to your chin, soothing the irritated skin there from his beard hairs. He finally gives in, kissing you with an open mouth, lapping his tongue sensually against yours, while his hands slip down your back and to your ass. You nearly melt, the intense softness of the way his mouth is moving on yours is starting to make you dizzy. You lean closer for support and Joel catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger as soon as he pulls away from the kiss.

“Get on your knees f’me, hm?” he says, studying your expression to read your reaction to his request.

You only consider it for a moment, the hardness of the floor on your knees, the dirtiness of it all, but your body and mind both tug at you, your knees feeling a buzzing, like they need to go down and touch this cold, unrelenting floor for him. You’d never considered yourself a very dominant person in your past relationships, but you’d also never had anyone trying to dominate you.

Not like this, at least. Not with the tone he’s using, the way he’s looking at you like he knows you’ll do it for him, like he knows you want to listen to him. To be good for him.

Your knees bend, settling in front of him as you place your hands on his hips. You lick your lips absentmindedly, thinking about them settling around the cock you can see pressing against his pants. You feel a new flood of arousal at the thought, the way you’d never have considered doing something like this in the bathroom of a bar, but you like this side of you that Joel is bringing out.

“Fuck. Good girl,” he rasps, and you stop, your lips popping open at his words, like something in your brain suddenly clicked into place at what you heard.

“Can you s-say it again,” you ask quietly, reaching up slowly to his belt.

“What? Like being called a good girl, do you?” Joel’s smile curls into something sinister, and he tucks his fingers under your chin, making sure you’re looking up at him from where you kneel. “Jus’ happens I like to fuck good girls, so you’re in luck.”

You can only remind yourself to breathe as his words flood you, douse you in complete and utter arousal on every inch of your body, leaving you speechless. Your skin practically tingles as you wait for his next move, hands frozen on his belt.

“I’ll be good for you,” you whimper when he releases your chin, your head falling down a bit with the sudden loss of his support. Your hands get back to work, and Joel watches with satisfaction, a hand coming down to stroke the back of your head. You nearly find yourself purring like a cat, feeling a rumble of satisfaction deep inside of yourself at the gesture.

“Mm,” Joel says, his eyes narrowing down at you. “Much as I want your mouth on me, we’ve got our whole lives for you to suck my cock, pretty girl, and tonight… I need to fuck you. Like nothin’ I’ve ever needed before in my life.”

Before you can even reply his hands tug you up from the floor and you stumble into his arms, caught by the sheer size and strength of his entire body against you. He swings you as you crash into him, pressing you back against the sink counter. His hands expertly unbutton your black, skintight jeans, unzipping them and starting to shimmy them down over your ass, his lips still attached to yours.

“God damn it, makin’ it hard, ain’t you, with these tight little pants…” he murmurs, moving his full attention to pulling down your jeans, finally getting them to your ankles.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like my jeans?” you ask innocently as you step out of them, and Joel takes in your black lace panties, wetting his lips at the sight. Joel just growls in response, a resounding yes, bumping you so that your ass hits the counter again.

“Up” A simple command, but you’re too lost in the moment, feeling every inch of his body burning into yours, so you hesitate. “Don’t make me ask again,” he snips, and you feel your insides twist, your cunt clench around nothing inside of your soaked panties at his commandeering tone. You stand on your tip toes and let him help hoist you onto the counter. He steps forward between your legs, his face now level with yours and his hips coming flush with you.

“Look at that… perfect fit,” he comments with a smirk, looking over the way your bodies are coming together, the way his cock will shortly have the perfect angle to slide into your tight hole.

You give him a little giggle. “Perfect…” you echo, smiling as you look between your legs and then back up to his face.

Joel’s thumbs dig under the waistband of your panties, starting to pull them down with the help of you lifting your hips. He holds them up, inspecting the slick, shiny stain you’d left, taking up most of the underwear. He simply shakes his head, fingering the wetness and smirking before balling it up and stuffing it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Amused, you smile dazedly at him and reach out to grab at his arms, pulling him closer. Your fingers dig into his muscled biceps and you bite your lip at how absolutely fucking hot it feels.

“Look at that little pussy, doll, so pretty, ain’t it. Gonna be all mine,” Joel says, peering in between your legs as he works on his belt and zipper. When his cock springs free from his jeans you try to hold back your stunned gasp, but Joel notices it, the way your eyes widen as you breathe in sharply. He’s not just big, he’s thick, and while you have some experience, this is certainly new and uncharted territory for you.

“Hey,” Joel says, pulling you back to reality as he puts both hands on the sides of your face. “I know, but we can go slow if you need. Won’t be upset.”

You’re reeling with so many different thoughts - the rational part of your brain wanting to take Joel up on that offer, but the absolutely batshit crazy for him part of your brain doesn’t care one bit, only wanting him to take you, make you his.

You slowly shake your head, meeting his stare from under your brows. “Don’t…” You wet your lips, pouting them out for him. “Go slow. Fuck me like you mean it, like I know you want to.”

Joel completely breaks, shaking his head and his expression twists into something completely feral, part of him gone to that other side of him, the one you know that needs you just as badly as you need him.

“So fuckin’ obedient. Such a good girl.” You clench at his words, finding your body practically has an involuntary response to hearing his praise, drunk on it and desperate for more. He smirks, pressing himself close, both hands snaking around to the globes of your ass as they sit on the counter and squeezing. He delivers a swift slap to one of them before tugging hard, bringing you flush with his cock now resting at your entrance. You moan and gasp with the pain and pleasure of his palm smacking your flesh but give him a needy look as encouragement.

“Gonna take me like the dirty little slut you are, lettin’ me fuck you in this bathroom,” Joel growls out as he presses forward, the head of his cock bursting into your entrance with one swift push of his hips. You whimper and nod to answer him, completely distracted now.

You can feel yourself clench all over, just the thickness of his head is overwhelming, but he doesn’t stop, just slides into you inch by inch and you swallow hard and try not to tremble too much. You feel his head kissing deep inside of you, and your mind is swimming, wondering how you’re even taking so much of him right now.

“Good girl, that’s right, take it so good…” Joel mumbles, his eyes hazy and dreamy as he feels you tighten and contract around him. He gently kneads where he’s holding onto your ass to try to soothe you.

Your hold on his shoulders reaches a death grip as he starts to move inside of you, slowly at first. You find yourself appreciating that despite telling him to fuck you hard, he’s still being careful at first just in case. You buck your hips forward, pressing him just the tiniest bit deeper. Joel hums a little and chuckles at your insistence.

“That eager, are you?”

“I told you to fuck me like you want to,” you snip back, rolling your hips into his again.

Joel leans forward to bury his face against your neck, sighing. “Gotta stop sayin’ that, darlin’, makin’ me crazy.”

His lips flit down to your chest, where your low cut tank top is askew now, tits half falling out. He palms one of them before pulling your shirt down so that they’re both spilling out.

“Don’t keep these pretty things from me, wanna watch ‘em when I fuck you,” he says, and you smirk, seeing how worked up Joel already is over you. It makes you feel so good, so desired, so unlike any other man you’ve been with before.

He slides his cock into you a little faster, picking up speed with each thrust until you’re sure you can’t take it anymore. You know your face is contorted into a mixture of pleasure and pain, unsure how your body is even accommodating his girth right now, feeling like you’re being split open, your insides completely full of him.

“My god, oh my god,” you mumble breathily, your brows knit in a concentrated look, trying to focus on the pleasure rather than the pain.

“Thas’ it, babydoll, you got this, focus on me,” Joel encourages you, and you try to relax your body, feeling yourself finally adjusting more to his size. “Good girl, take it so good, yeah.”

He looks down to where your bodies meet with a satisfied smile, seeing you stretch over and over as you take his cock repeatedly. He’s starting to hit a heavenly pace now that your body is molding to his, taking him like you were made for it as he starts to jackhammer into you. You moan his name quietly under your breath, holding back as you hear the drone of the muffled music outside the bathroom, reminding you that you’re in a public space.

“Feels good, don’t it?” Joel grunts out as he, “Be a good girl and be loud f’me. I can see you holdin’ back.”

“Feels so good… so big, Joel,” you moan out a little louder,

“Thas’ right, baby, my big cock fits perfectly in this tight little cunt, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, yes,” you nod eagerly, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, anchoring yourself to him while he pounds into you. You’re deliriously accepting all of it through the pain, the kind that’s nearly addicting because your body knows it’s good. You respond heartily to him, squelching, pornographic sounds reverberating in the bathroom as he pumps his length in and out of you.

“Christ, you’re so fuckin’ eager, so fuckin’ wet… c’mere,” Joel says suddenly, pulling out of you and yanking you by the hips off the counter where you land on shaky feet. He spins you and thrusts you against the counter, fumbling slightly as he grabs at your ass cheeks and spreads them apart. One hand slams onto your back as his cock slides between your legs and splits you open again, the sting of the stretch coming right back to you for a moment as you gasp. He pushes down, laying you flat onto the cold countertop, your bare tits pressed against it.

“Up a little, let me see those perfect tits, honey,” Joel says, a hand going to your hair to yank on it, making you arch your back enough to get your chest off of the linoleum. “That’s right, there we go, so fuckin’ pretty,” Joel says, keeping his hand buried in your scalp, your locks gripped tightly in his palm to continue keeping you right where he wants you. You feel your tits bouncing like he wanted, your nipples grazing against the countertop each time he thrusts you forward. The sensitive buds send wave after wave of arousal through you each time they contact the cool surface, and as he lifts your hips slightly you nearly choke as he hits something deep and pleasurable inside of you.

“Oh… oh… n-no it’s too much…” you mumble, feeling like your eyes could start to cross every time you feel him pressing near this part of you, so you flutter them shut.

“Uh-uh. Eyes open, wanna see you lookin’ in this mirror at how pretty y’look right now.” Joel yanks tenderly on your hair, not as hard this time, keeping your attention. You pop your eyes open, and look at yourself, heavy lidded, cloudy, hardly recognizing yourself or anything around you. Only able to feel the way Joel is impaling you with the strangest, most intense, pleasurable feeling you’ve ever had inside of yourself.

“Wh- wh- it feels so - o-oh my god, I c-can’t,” you cry out at the tail end of your sentence as Joel jolts his hips harder, flesh slapping against flesh repeatedly.

“S’okay, you’re takin’ it so good, doll, that’s jus’ your g-spot, baby, don’t worry,” Joel says soothingly, switching over to a protective mode for a moment when he can see the worry flash in your eyes.

Your mouth falls open and you let out a languid, fraught moan as he tilts your hips a little more, catching the spot on a new angle. If you were being honest, you’d never stimulated your g-spot before - not by yourself, and certainly not with any other men, and now you were wondering how you’d lived without doing it for so long. It felt like the sweetest build up of pleasure, filling a hole deep inside of yourself with warmth, starting to tingle all the way through your body to the tips of your limbs.

“Fuck… don’t stop, don’t stop, please,” you cry out, feeling your knees shake, supported by Joel as he presses against you and keeps a tight hold on your hips. “I’m - shit - I’m coming, Joel. Harder, please.”

“So,” Joel spits out with a thrust. “Fuckin.” Thrust. “Polite.” Thrust. “Pretty girl.” He ups his pace even more, something you weren’t sure was possible and you’re bouncing forward, the edge of the counter digging into your torso and head nearing the mirror as he gives you his all.

You explode, a scream of his name clawing out of your throat when the pressure snaps suddenly, sending you practically convulsing, limbs taut and shaking as you clench in spasms around him.

“Babygirl, she feels so tight, squeezin’ me like that,” Joel murmurs in a wavering voice, continuing his unrelenting pace. He wraps his hands underneath where you lean against the counter, cupping your tits and pulling you up as he leans down to meet your body - flesh against flesh, the sweat forming on your back soaking into his soft flannel shirt. You can feel the damp warmth of the fabric, like he’s been sweating through it this entire time, and it smells earthy and like sex already. You feel your orgasm reach a peak at the thought of leaving your scent on him tonight.

“J-joel, come inside me, fuck,” you cry out, meeting his gaze in the mirror with a heady look. For once, Joel follows a command instead of giving one, grunting with a final push of his hips, shooting his spend deep inside of you.

“D-dirty little cumslut, wantin’ me to fill you up, make you mine, mmm” Joel says with a groan, his hips bouncing a few more times while he rides down his high.

You can only nod, feeling fully fucked out and limp while he finishes using your spent cunt. You know it’s risky, that you should have thought more before tossing the idea of a condom aside in your mind, before asking a virtual stranger to pump his seed into you, but you truly don’t care. You only care about Joel, about giving to him what you knew he wanted. He didn’t even have to say it, but the way he fucked you, so rough and unrelenting, he wanted this, wanted to mark you in some way that would stick with you long after he pulls out. He wanted you to go home, find his cum leaking out of you onto your legs for the rest of the evening, be reminded of what he gave to you, how he ruined you.

You both stand in place, breathing heavily until Joel makes the first move, pulling himself out and tucking his cock back into his jeans. You feel raw, achy in the best way, and Joel notices your hesitation to move and wraps an arm around the front of you, bringing his lips to your ear.

“Good girl,” he whispers, biting the lobe and you shudder. “Good fuckin’ girl, y’know that? God…”

“I like being a good girl for you, Joel,” you say lazily, shutting your eyes as you lean back into him.

“Music to my ears, sweetheart. Now let's get you outta here, it’s late and you need some rest.”

Joel leads you out of the bathroom after you both adjust yourselves back to some semblance of normal, a hand on the small of your back as you enter the loud bar, seemingly much less crowded now than when you’d entered the bathroom.

You see your friends, still grouped together but with a few more young, attractive men in the mix, crowded around a tiny table. Your friend Georgia spots you, waving you over with a slightly tired, exasperated look on her face. She’s the assigned designated driver for the night, and you can see that she’s more than ready to start heading out. You peek at the time on your phone and it’s after one in the morning.

“Come on,” she mouths, beckoning you dramatically and you can see your friends gathering up their things, saying their goodbyes to their new male counterparts.

You turn to Joel with an anxious look, and he grasps one of your hands, squeezing tightly.

“Go on, then,” he says softly, “Don’t keep them waitin’.”

You nod with a disappointed smile, wondering if you should have offered to go home with him instead. But the fact that he didn’t ask has already gotten in your head, so you lean forward to kiss him goodbye instead. He gives you a hungry kiss, one you could easily fall right back into, drag him to the bathroom again and let him do everything he just did all over again.

He lets you go, nearly pushing you away with a small growl. You hurry over to your friends, who are shoving your purse and jacket back into your arms and ushering you away. You sneak one last glance back at Joel, standing with his hands in his pockets, wondering how your life could ever be the same after tonight.

You’re in a complete panic, only minutes from your house, tears brimming in your eyes.

“Please, Georgia, we have to go back, we have to - I don’t,” you feel around your bag for something that isn’t there, that you know isn’t there. A scrap of paper, a note, anything.

“Babe, you need to calm down and tell me what’s going on,” she replies, cool and collected as usual.

“Th- the guy. The one I was with. I didn’t get his phone number. Fuck, I don’t even know his last name. I -” A small sob escapes you, and you don’t know where all this emotion is coming from all of a sudden. It’s like when you’d been with Joel, you felt so calm, so even, and you hadn’t even had a chance to think about your emotional investment in what happened tonight.

“Shit. And you think he would have wanted you to have it?” Georgia asks.

You blink, looking over at her, stunned that you hadn’t even thought of whether he wanted to see you again or not. You two hadn’t had a chance to discuss it before you’d been dragged out of the bar, but you’d gotten the sense he was intoxicated by you just as you were him.

“I - think so? It seemed like maybe he would have. But now I’ll probably -” your voice cracks and shakes a little bit. “Never see him again.”

Georgia squeezes your shoulder softly, rubbing circles on it. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s going to be okay though, alright? You never know, the world has weird ways of working things out sometimes.”

You sigh, knowing the chances of that are slim, seeing as nothing that spectacular has ever happened to you before, and you don’t see why the universe would start now. “What if he’s still there, though? We could go back, please…”

“The bar closed twenty minutes ago, you know he’s not there anymore. I’m sorry,” she replies, giving your shoulder a final squeeze before putting both hands on the steering wheel and pulling up in front of your apartment. The last thing you want is to go up to your cramped space, shared with two roommates, nothing feeling truly yours. You want to scour the streets, walk around Austin until you find Joel again, until you can throw yourself in his arms and know you’re going to see him again and again and again. You can’t believe it took you losing him to realize just how much of a hold he has on you after those few short hours spent together.

You hug Georgia a teary goodbye and trudge up to your apartment, each step feeling heavy and painful, until you reach your bed and lay down, crying until you finally find it in you to get up and get ready for sleep.

You’ll be okay, just like Georgia said. You’re still drunk, and that’s it, that’s why you’re so emotional right now. Tomorrow you’ll just be happy you had incredible sex and can move on with your life. Surely, that’s exactly how it will go.

In the morning, you find the pit in your stomach hasn’t dissipated in the least, flashes of memories from last night torturing you as you try to function the next morning. You could barely sleep last night, the few drinks you had not even able to lull you into any kind of rest. You pace your room, thinking hard with a hot mug of coffee clutched between your hands.

You know now that you have to see him again, talk to him again, even if just to confirm whether or not it’s what he wants to do. Then you could have something definitive - closure, or a new, budding relationship with the man who absolutely fucking ruined you.

You stop dead in your tracks as an idea hits you, one that could potentially lead you back to Joel. Your heart pounds anxiously as you pray that the idea works, that there’s something there, not just delusional, hopeless hoping. You rush over to your phone and quickly dial Georgia’s number.

“Georgia!” you call out a bit too loudly, barely able to hear yourself over the rushing in your ears. “Hey,” you say more timidly.

She groans sleepily on the other end of the line, and it’s not until then that realize you’re up way too early for how late all of you stayed out last night.

“Shit, s-sorry, I know it’s early, but…”

“What, babe? What could possibly be this important?” she groans into the phone teasingly, and you feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment and shame that you woke her for something as silly as this, but you’re a woman possessed, on a mission to find Joel.

“I know, I know. I just couldn’t sleep. I feel like… he’s the one, or something. The guy from the bar. The connection was so crazy, and the sex, and I’m rambling now, god, sorry.” You take a breath, steadying your nerves. “My point is, you were sober last night. Joel said he was there with his work crew, so did you see anything? Any shirts or trucks or anything with a logo or a name for a construction type crew? Please,” you say, murmuring the last, begging word more to yourself or whatever higher power is in control of your current predicament.

You can hear the rustling of Georgia’s sheets on the other end and another sleepy sigh. “Let me think on it, okay? When I can wake up some more. I promise I’ll text you about it later.”

You two end the call and you start pacing again, your heart thundering in your chest, knowing every minute is going to be agony waiting to see what Georgia ends up texting you. The day drags on, hour by hour a wasted mess of a day, with your nerves too frayed to concentrate on much of anything - homework, studying, TV - none of it helps to distract you enough.

When your phone pings that afternoon you pounce on it, flopping down onto your bed with shaky hands, opening the notification from Georgia.

Miller Contracting.

Two words and you’re off to google after shooting her a thank you text with as many exclamation marks as you could slam out in the few seconds you wanted to spare before moving on in your search.

You find his business immediately, their shoddy little website that’s clearly was not made by any professional. It kind of makes you chuckle to think of Joel trying to make a website. The page features an uncomfortable looking photo of Joel and another man, who you can only assume is the brother he said he owns the business with. You immediately smile looking into his eyes, his hair looking a little more cropped and coiffed in this photo than it had last night. Underneath it, their phone number is listed, and your eyes widen, mouth going desert dry as you punch it into your phone.

You hesitate, your finger hovering over the send button, needing to be sure of what you’re even going to say. What if he doesn’t answer, or it’s his brother, or they even have a secretary or something? Your mind spins but you force yourself to dial the call, anyways, driven forward by an unseen force that you’re quietly grateful for as the line trills in your ear.

Ring. Steady breath. Ring. Another. Ring.

taglist: @aphterthoughtt@bbyanarchist@amy172@hazzaismyreligion @ohheypedrito@msmorningstaarr@kamcrazy123@madhere@huffle-punk@jupiter-soups

#your honor i love them!!!!!!!!#fic: pretty little wife #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #x reader

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anacdoce · 4 months ago

Text

New Beginnings

Chapter 1 - New Year's Eve

The beautiful screenshot above is from @iizven, and I'm so in love with it!

Pairing: Astarion x you (f!reader, implied sorcerer with no magic anymore)

Rating: T

Word count: 6.4k

Warnings: post game events; fluff; Astarion is trying his best; a bit of angst to spice it all; sequel of "I wish" and so Astarion is mortal again.

Summary: After your recovery you decide it's time to move on and follow Astarion's plans. Neverwinter awaits you, as does the end of the year that is almost upon you.

Will this new beginning go as expected?

a/n: I confess, it was not my intention to make a sequel from my first fic "I wish", but a dear friend of mine, inception me with some ideas, and here I am, sharing on the last day of the year the continuation of a story that is very special to me.

As a thank you, I gift this small sequel to @iizven, not only because she is responsible for it, but because she has been a true friend, giving me the support and motivation to keep writing.

This is for you, my dear. Hope you like it. <3 (a late Christmas gift if you want).

To wrap up my ramblings, I just wanted to mention that what was originally meant to be a short one-shot ended up being much longer than I anticipated. As a result, I decided to split it into two parts.

Now please, enjoy it.

Happy New Year to everyone!! ❤️

Next chapter

Read on oa3

The end of the year draws near, and you’re preparing to leave Waterdeep to reach Neverwinter before that.

It’s been a few weeks since you had Shadowheart’s blessing for your departure. Your wounds have healed, your body is mended and nothing holds you in Waterdeep anymore. There is no hope to recover your lost magic, so everything that could be done has been done. And despite Gale’s continuous pleading, you feel it’s time to leave. Not that you’re uncomfortable or anything, nothing like that, because there is no better host than Gale—he really makes you feel at home—but you know Astarion is waiting. He never tells you he wants to leave, always placing your well-being above all else, but since you heard from Shadowheart’s mouth that you no longer need her by your side as a cleric and that you are released from her hands, he started to gather things—making your packs, collecting maps and goods for your future journeys together. And you don’t want to delay that any longer, because the more you wait to leave, the more he’s growing impatient.

And finally, that day has come.

“Are you sure you want to travel at this time of the year? The winter in the north can be harsh.” Gale tries once more to convince you not to leave while he’s helping you to put your backpack on.

“It’s not that bad in Neverwinter. You know that, wizard.” Astarion replies with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

“Well… I know, but…” Gale mumbles, clearly unwilling to give up his fight. “But it can be very windy!”

“It’s fine Gale. We’ll be alright.” You try to reassure him for what feels like the tenth time on that day.

“Oh, Darling, he’s not really worried about me.” Astarion remarks dryly.

Gale snorts, darting Astarion with a deep and hurted glare. “That’s not true. You know that.”

Astarion clicks his tongue and turns to fetch his cloak, and Gale seizes the opportunity to get closer to you, holding your arm, and lowering his voice just for you to hear. “Stay until the Wintershield celebrations. At least until then. You would make me very happy if we could celebrate the start of the new year together.”

“I know you would… But, and after that? You would ask me to stay until the end of winter. And after that, until the snow has melted, and after that until the flowers have bloomed…” You state as he shakes his head in denial.

“No. I promise. I won’t ask you that.” Gale insists.

“It’s fine Gale, it’s time to leave.” You smile at him, staring into his eyes trying to make him realise that you’re ready to move forward with your life. You need this.

“But… your magic? I haven't given up on that yet.” He nervously adds. His eyes, restless replying to your stare.

“Let it go Gale. I’m fine. I have accepted it. You should too.” You place your hand over his, holding it affectionately.

It’s not entirely true, you think about it everyday, because you miss it… desperately. But there is nothing you can do about it, and there is no point to dwell on that any further.

“Never.” His face, serious.

Shadowheart approaches, pulling Gale gently to her side. “Alright, that’s enough. This is not a goodbye, is it? We’ll see each other again, shortly. I’m sure of it.” And Astarion huffs from behind you, displeased. Shadowheart ignores him and continues, “I’ll stay in Waterdeep a while longer, and we can celebrate the new year together.” She places her arm over Gale’s shoulder, making him smile at her gesture.

“We’ll keep in touch. And it’s like Shadowheart has said, we’ll be together in no time.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all very touching.” Astarion interjects with an exaggerated sigh. “Now, shall we go?”

You nod. It’s time.

Hugging them both, you remember the last months together. They meant so much to you. They're truly your friends, and you’ll miss them dearly. “Thank you for everything.” You mutter. “No words are enough to express my gratitude for both of you. I will never forget everything you have done for us.” You squeeze them against you.

“Oh shut up…” You swear you can hear Shadowheart sob. “You’re going to make me cry.” And she releases you breathing deeply, trying to control her emotions.

Gale, on the other hand, holds you tighter. “Please, take care of yourselves. I’ll always be here if you need me.” He presses a soft kiss to your cheek before stepping back.

Astarion approaches you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Have you said all your goodbyes, my love?” He whispers in your ear.

You glare at him and smile, your vision beginning to blur as tears gather in your water line.

They wave their hands at you, and Astarion does the same, almost awkwardly, wanting to go unnoticed. Then he holds your hand firmly and waits for you to take the lead on the first steps of your new adventures together.

After a big deep breath, you turn around and step forward, moving away from your friends. A few tears escape your eyes despite your best efforts to hold them back. After all, many things happened in the previous months, and if you’re here today it's because of them.

“Sweetie, are you alright?” Astarion asks, concern flickering across his face. “We can stay if you want…”

“No, I don’t want that.” You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss it. “What I want is right here by my side.” You smile at him tenderly.

“I promised to make you the happiest woman who ever lived. And I intend to. I will fulfill my promise, Love.” His words spelled with confidence.

“Oh, my Star, but you already do.” And nothing in this world is more true than that.

You intertwine your fingers on his, brushing your thumb on the back of his hand, and you proceed your path, leaving behind the sweet and sour memories of the past months of your life.

—

Together, you decide to travel along the road near the coast, taking the shorter route to Neverwinter. You feel more and more excited with the idea of traveling around Faerun with Astarion, the more distant you are from Waterdeep. You need something like this. You both do.

When he was gathering all the things for your journey, Astarion packed a book about Neverwinter—filled with maps of the city, its traditions and costumes, and some important history facts. Each night, as you settle to rest, you read a bit of it, and you finally start to understand the fascination Astarion has with this particular city. You can’t wait to arrive there.

In the meantime, you’re enjoying each and every day of this new adventure together. You missed those days, alone with him. Only the two of you, as friends, as lovers. Never was he so tender with you, something you thought it wasn’t possible. Maybe the events of the past few months left their marks, because… well, let's just say that your near-death experience is something still very present in his mind. There are nights that you catch him hovering over you trying to hear your heartbeat, to make sure you’re alive while you’re sleeping. You can’t blame him. You would do the same… He still worries about you, and you’re sure he always will, as you will with him.

For some time now, he has been trying to teach you how to use a dagger, because now that you don’t have your magic anymore you have to use something else to defend yourself, but you’re a menace with it. He tries to conceal his despair when he teaches you a simple move with the blade, but you can see behind his twitching eyes that the frustration is there. So one day, you suggest trying a bow instead—perhaps you can learn it more easily, which he promptly agrees to. And how joyful he is when he sees that at last you found something you can learn and be good at it. Since then, he has been more relaxed and less alert with everything around you, because now you can defend yourself. But despite all that, in each archery lesson he always ends up confessing: “Even so, I would prefer if you knew how to properly use a dagger…” To which you always retort, “And I would prefer if you acknowledged you’re not a vampire anymore and stopped playing with your knives so recklessly like you do every day…” Because honestly, Astarion’s mortality has given you new worries to care about. This elf is like a wild child on the loose, and sometimes you’re almost sure he forgets he’s not a vampire anymore… and Gods! How your heart wants to jump out from your mouth… Things he always did and never were an issue to you, like playing with his daggers, now gives you shivers all over your body. Your husband enjoys the thrill of danger, a trait you’ll have to learn to deal with, because that will not change. Not now, not ever.

On one stormy evening, you find shelter in a cave somewhere in the Sword Mountains. After setting up camp, you grab your Neverwinter book again, and curl up in Astarion’s lap on his bedroll, as he drinks a hot cup of tea. You read it for a while, gently cradled by his free hand on your head, brushing strands of your hair with his delicate fingers, and every now and then his hand strays to your neck, stroking the scars, the scars he gifted you some time ago. He often touches them, sometimes without even realising it, sometimes longing for the taste of your blood in his mouth, and sometimes because he needs the reassurance that you’re not going anywhere, that you love him, and that you chose to spend the rest of your life with him. Even after all you have done he still doubts himself… and you believe that will never really change either.

And now he’s doing exactly that—caressing the two dots his not anymore sharp fangs left in your skin, in what seems to be a lifetime ago…

Discreetly you look upwards, to his face, trying to examine his expression. “Is everything alright, Star?” You inquire, not sure of what’s happening inside his mind.

“Oh, yes. Everything is perfect, Darling.” He flees, as his hand, retreating to your hair.

“Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” You insist, leaving his lap to sit beside him.

Astarion smiles, and you sense some gloom on it. “I know.” He answers. Then, he spreads his legs open, reaches for your hand and pulls you closer. “Come here, my love.” He snuggles you against his chest, wrapping his arms around your tummy. “Now tell me… what did you learn about Neverwinter today?” And he rests his chin against your shoulder, tilting his head towards the book in your hand.

Flipping the book open, indulging him, you clear your throat dramatically before speaking. “So, today I learned about the Feast of Lanterns.” And you try to give your voice a mysterious flourish to intrigue him.

“Uuuh, the Feast of Lanterns? What is that?” He asks, tickling your belly at the same time.

Giggling, you try to escape his tickles, and when he stops you bring the book closer to his face. “It’s a celebration of the New Year. See?” You explain, pointing to an illustration of the city illuminated by lanterns. “Everyone makes a lantern, every living soul in Neverwinter makes a lantern. And on the evening of the new year, they light them, filling the city with a warm glow and making wishes for the year ahead.”

Astarion pulls back from you, frowning, one finger waving in the air in front of your nose. “No, no! You promised!”

“What?!” You query, confused.

“You’re forbidden to make wishes, remember?”

“Oh, come on! Are you serious about this?” You exclaim, incredulous.

“Of course!” Then he leaps over you, making you tumble onto his bedroll, his perfect warm body over yours. “You can’t wish for anything else in this life. I was the last wish you could spell with your soft silky lips.” He purrs into your ear.

“Is that so?” You chuckle, running your hands down his back, until you reach his shirt waistband, pulling it slightly over just so you can touch his bare skin.

“And since your last wish was fulfilled—because I’m here, very, much, alive—no more wishes for you, Love.” His nose, caressing your cheek, slowly reaching to your lips. “But…”

“But?...” You gasp, feeling his breath invading your senses.

“But…” A soft kiss. “You could always…” Another kiss. “Just ask.” And another.

Your hands slide back to his shoulder plates, but this time inside his shirt. “So, I can’t make a wish, but I can ask for something. Is that it?” You try to nibble his lip, but he leans his head backwards just in time to evade your attempt.

“Correct.” He confirms, his voice like velvet, while he unbuttons your shirt, cupping your breast contained in your bra with his hand next, making you arch your back in response to his touch. “As long as I am what you'll ask for, my love.”

“Oh, my shining star…” You hold him tight against you, murmuring, “You will always be everything I’ll ask for.”

His eyes glitter, reflecting the light of the candles nearby, staring into yours. “Promise?”

“I promise.” One of your hands leaves his back to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear.

He keeps just staring at you for a while longer, probably absorbing everything you just said. And from one moment to the next his expression changes, and he’s no longer bearing his soft and reverent beautiful smile, reserved to you when he’s lost in his love for you. That smile turns into a mischievous one, and you know he’s plotting for something. “Well, I could always open an exception.” His voice, provocative.

“An exception? To what, I may ask?” You play his game.

An open, victorious smile, spreading in his lips. “Yes. I will let you wish for only one more thing, at this precise moment.”

“Oh, how generous of you!” You lead your hand into your chest, feigning surprise.

“Darling, you know I can be a very generous man.” He purrs. “Now, if you want, and I know you do want to, I’ll let you wish for a kiss. A warm and breathtaking kiss from the most perfect elf you have ever met.” His tone, turning into a seductive one. “But be careful.” He warns. “You have to formulate this wish very wisely, or the elf may flee and you’ll be miserable, wondering forever how the most unforgettable kiss of your life would have been.”

Such a bastard. You think for yourself, letting out a giggle at his smugness. “Gods… I can’t let that happen. I would be heartbroken… I can’t let this perfect elf escape. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“I thought so, Sweetheart.” His two fingers, running across your chest to your right shoulder, tucking aside the strap of your bra.

“Alright. Lets see…” You stray your eyes from his, looking at the ceiling of the cave, pretending that you’re thinking, while he starts to trail small kisses on your shoulder all the way up to your neck. “This is very… hard… indeed…” You confess, your body reacting to him, butterflies invading your stomach. Even after all this time, this man is still capable of making you feel like a teenager waiting for your first kiss.

“Very hard, Love.” He teases you, pressing his body against yours. “Now tell me your wish.” He demands.

“I wish…” You start, moaning in the middle of it, feeling his tongue on your ear. “I wish to be kissed by the most perfect, beautiful elf that have ever walked on this earth. I wish to be kissed by the one and only owner of my heart.” You pause, holding his chin and making him look at you, painfully interrupting his magical ministrations on your ear. “I wish to be kissed by you, Astarion. Right. Now.”

“Very good, my dear. I think I can make that happen.” He blows the candles near you, letting the cave be only illuminated by the dim light of the almost extinguished campfire a few steps ahead from you. Then he closes his face to yours, muttering into your lips. “Let's make this wish come true.” He whispers, claiming your lips.

And he wasn’t lying, he never lies to you. He gives you the most perfect kiss ever. Like he always does in each kiss he gifts you with.

It doesn’t matter how loud the thunders roar outside, it doesn’t matter how strong the rain falls, or how cold the wind blows… in reality nothing matters when you’re lost in his arms, when your bodies are entangled like one, celebrating the love that unites you. Everything else vanishes… It’s just you and him. And you really wish it will always be like that.

—

A week later, you arrive at Neverwinter, a stunning city in the north, divided in two by the Neverwinter River and now painted in white by the snow that began falling some days before. It’s a really impressive city, facing the Sea of Swords. It brims with energy—very lively but not chaotic like Baldur’s Gate, and very well organized. There are merchants in every corner, showcasing the most exquisite jewels you have ever seen, because these folk are masters in the craftsmanship of jewelry and glass. Their gardens are a marvel too, with their flowers blooming every year round, coloring the beautiful streets of the city.

Nothing feels out of place here, and despite all the torments the city has endured, it stands resilient, rebuilt time and again with an indomitable spirit. Perhaps it’s the hardiness of these people, of the people from the north, used to surviving harsh winters, that has shaped Neverwinter into one of the most prosperous cities in Faerun. And you’re really impressed by it, as is Astarion. You can see how mesmerized he is, how his eyes glitter, especially when you pass through the jewels merchants…

“Darling, look at that!” He points to a silver tiara adorned with emeralds and diamonds. A very impressive piece of jewelry. “I would love to see it in your head, my love.”

“It’s way too expensive, Astarion. And I do prefer the crown of flowers you usually make for me… that is too much.” You try to dissuade him, seeing how enchanted he is already.

“But it would be perfect for you to wear tonight. You would look like a queen, can you imagine?” He leans closer to you, lowering his voice. “And no one said that we should pay for it.” He winks, smirking.

You open your mouth to protest, but before you can utter a word, the merchant approaches you, all charm and good manners. “Ah, I see you liked it.” The man gestures towards the tiara. “You have good taste. It’s one of our most intricate works, and it would look stunning on you, miss.”

“Yes, it would.” Astarion agrees, stepping behind the man and making gestures with his hand pointing to his pocket, trying to provoke you.

With your eyes wide open you keep glaring at him, shaking your head discreetly. “Thank you, sir. It really is mesmerizing.” You say with a polite smile. “But I’m afraid it’s a bit too extravagant for my taste.”

“Now, now, my sweet. You should try it at least.” Astarion insists, and you know that by now he’s just trying to annoy you.

“Yes, of course! Allow me.” The merchant removes the tiara from the display case and carefully places it in your head. “There. Beautiful, like a princess. Let me fetch a mirror so you can see how astounding it looks on you.” And the man hurries to the inside of the store leaving you alone outside.

“Stop it!” You huff seeing how Astarion instinctively observes his surroundings, studying a route to flee.

“It’s the perfect opportunity, Love.” He notes, still smirking.

“Astarion, we just arrived! Are you trying to get us arrested on our first day in Neverwinter?” You object, harshly.

“But—”

“No.” You cut him short.

Before he can argue further, the merchant returns from the shop and gives you a hand mirror. “Please, miss, take a look.”

Reluctantly, you lift the mirror in front of your face, keeping your gaze fixed on Astarion, darting him with your sternest glare ever, while he pouts displeased.

“It’s really stunning.” You admit, finally looking at your reflection. But at the same time you take the tiara off of your head and return it to the men’s hands. “Thank you, once again. We will think about it.”

“Of course, miss. It was my pleasure to assist you.” The merchant bows his head and takes his leave.

“Oh, you can bet we will think about it.” Astarion mutters.

You pull him to get back on the path, wrapping your arm around his. “Forget it, Love. I will survive without it.” It’s obvious by his face that he’s not going to let this go. You adore him, more than anything, but you have to admit that this obstinate side of him sometimes picks your nerves. You roll your eyes, giving yourself a deep breath. “Now, let's find an inn for us to stay. I need a bath, and we still have to find some lanterns.” You remark, proceeding forward.

“And a warm meal. I’m starving.” He adds, while peeking behind his shoulder to the store you just left.

—

You both knock on every inn door you encounter in the city, but as expected, every one of them is fully booked. No rooms, no lanterns, nothing.

Astarion senses your growing despair as you follow a tip from the keeper of the last inn you tried. You’re getting tired, he can see by the way you drag your feet over the ground, and you’re probably starting to believe that you won’t be celebrating any New Year’s Eve tonight. But he’s still hopeful. He knows you will find something. Won’t you?

By the end of the day, you arrive at the Driftwood Tavern, far from the city center but with a stupendous view over the sea. And fortunately they have rooms to spare. No wonder why, with those ridiculous prices for one night! He thinks to himself, not wanting to share his thoughts with you this time, sparing himself another of your infamous eye rolls followed by a snort.

The rooms are really cozy. At least that. He throws himself to the bed, kicking off his boots, and watches you undress your traveling clothes.

“I’m going to take a bath.” You announce with some weariness. “We can look for something to eat afterwards. Want to join me?”

“I would love to, my sweet. But we have to hurry, we still have to find at least one lantern for tonight.” He replies, placing his hands behind his head.

“Forget it. We arrived too late. No lanterns for us, Star…” You mutter, a hint of sadness in your tone.

Astarion raises his torso from the bed by supporting himself on his elbows to take a closer look at you. Tossing your clothes to the floor, you pass through him to the washroom, your face closed and not in the mood for jokes or funny stories. “We still have time, you know?” He tries to uplift your spirit.

But he doesn’t hear a word from you. Only the sound of your steps in the room next to him.

Getting up he reaches the door to the washroom and peeks inside just in time to see you pouring water into the tub and instinctively trying to warm it with your hands.

“Shit!” You yell, scowling. “I can’t even warm my own water!” You kick the tub, frustrated, regretting it right after. “Ouch!” You yelp, holding one foot in the air giving tiny jumps with the other.

Astarion predicts that this will not end in a good way for you, so he tries to warn you, “Darling, please, be—”

Too late.

You stumble on the bucket, now empty of water, and you fall to the ground. He steps towards you but stays put in the same place, as you wave a hand for him to stop.

“Let me have my moment of misery, please.” You hiss, holding your knees and hiding your head between your naked thighs, muffling your voice.

“Love, you don’t need to be miserable—”

“Don’t!” You snap. “Just… leave me for a while.”

And he knows too well that when you’re like this the better thing for him to do is just to let you curse all the Gods you need to recover your good mood. But he can’t help to tenderly smile watching you like that, sitting naked on the floor, infuriated. It’s obvious he won’t let you waste New Year’s Eve being sad. For him it’s a night like any other, but he knows it’s not like that for you… For you it’s a time for new beginnings, and he knows how much you need that. He will find you a godsdamn lantern and make you smile again. And maybe, on his way to find it, he can sneak into a certain store… Who can blame him for wanting to spoil the women he's deeply in love with? You will be the most beautiful and happy woman walking the streets of Neverwinter tonight.

But before he can go on his demand, he needs to take you out of there. It’s so cold and your skin is already prickling from the chill, and he can’t have that. You’re not getting a cold because of your stubbornness. Astarion grabs a robe, hanging on a chair nearby, and walks to you, covering you with it, kneeling beside you. You lift your head from your legs, ready to protest, but he doesn’t let you. “You can sulk all you want, but you will do it on the bed, in the comfort of the warm blankets and not on this frozen floor, my love.” Without waiting for your permission, he lifts you up from the ground, holding you in his arms. As he expected, you don’t resist, you let him carry you, wrapping your freezing arms around his neck and resting your head on his shoulder. Even against your will, you find solace in his arms, and he smiles again, leading his cheek to meet the crown of your head.

Placing you in the bed he tucks the blankets around you. “I’ll ask the innkeeper to send someone to warm the water for you. Then I’m going to get us something to eat and a bottle of wine.” He pinches your chin softly. “I’ll be back in no time.” Reaching for your forehead he presses his lips against it, murmuring. “I love you.” And he kisses you.

He basks in your small smile for a moment, and then he leaves you. He needs to hurry, there is a job that has to be done.

—

It’s already dark when Astarion leaves the inn, and there’s no living soul in the streets. Snow falls steadily, blanketing the cobblestones. It’s cold and it’s almost dinner time, so perhaps it is not that strange that he doesn’t see anyone but himself sulking the streets of Neverwinter at that time of the day. He buttons his coat all the way up to his neck, protecting his chest against the cold, and starts walking, the snow crunching with each step he takes. The tiara’s store is still far away and he doesn't have much time.

It's an easy and simple plan. He will get in and get out from the store without any setback, preferably with a particular tiara on his pocket, a well deserved gift for the one who makes his heart flutter every day. Oh, he’s picturing in his mind how stunning you’ll be with that jewel on your head, enhancing the preciousness of the real treasure that is you. And grateful, you will be very grateful for his gift, “Astarion! You didn’t need to! But I love it! Thank you, Love!” you will say hanging your arms around his neck. Yes, he can’t wait to see you smile again. He will give you plenty of reasons to smile again tonight. And in the meanwhile he’ll look for a lantern, of course. He can’t forget about that. Maybe he can steal one too, from someone. But he can’t return to you without—

Silence.

Only the sound of the wind and the snow falling around him. And it bothers him… Why in the sweet hells is this bothering me so much? Something is odd. Well, he already pointed out all the motives for the emptiness of the streets… but still, something isn’t adding up. He may not be a vampire anymore, but he’s a rogue after all, and his instincts are still very sharp.

Stopping in the middle of the street he looks around one more time, his eyelashes starting to become filled with the white snow, like his hair.

Nothing.

There is nothing stepping out from the ordinary.

When he’s about to start walking again his eyes catch a movement far ahead from him. A kid crossing the street, running at a fast speed. The sound of his steps echoing for a time after he disappears from Astarion’s sight. Was he scared?

Stepping away from the lamplights, Astarion turns his stealth mode on and walks silently in the shadows. And just a few steps before reaching the corner from where the kid appeared fleeing, Astarion stops again, hearing what appears to be the clanking of metal. Metal hitting metal. He recognizes that sound perfectly. The sound of armor.

What in the hells?

Now he needs to see what's happening. Why is he hearing like there is an army gathering around the corner?

More cautiously than before he crouches and approaches slowly. At the end of the wall he freezes, pressing himself against it, and holding his breath to let his elf ears catch all the sounds they can get. And just like he predicted, a group of men stands just around the corner.

“Remember.” He hears a man whispering. “We must stay together until we are inside the castle.”

“After that, everyone knows their role to play.” Another voice adds.

Astarion’s heart races, adrenaline flooding his veins. He shouldn’t be there. Nothing in this smells good. What are they talking about? What castle?

Looking into the horizon he sees the dark silhouette of the imposing Castle Never in front of him. No way… He widens his eyes. Who are they?

He tries to listen to more of their plans but the beat of his heart is bumping in his ears, like drums beating loudly, and he seems unable to concentrate. Mortality has its downsides it seems, and he's still getting used to it. But his curiosity makes him stay a little longer, and he ventures to peer around the wall. Counting them, he says there are about twenty men there, armed to the teeth, like if they’re going into a fi—

Whistles.

Dogs barking.

More armed men marching into them. Into him.

Fuck.

In a blink of an eye they are surrounded by guards, Neverwinter guards, probably.

“Greycloacks!” One of them yells.

And the chaos erupts in an instant. Guards rush forward, unleashing their dogs. Swords are drawn and the clash of steel fills the air, and he has stayed long enough. It’s now time to leave.

But when he spins on his heels a guard is behind him accompanied by a growling dog, his short sword pointed at him, the cold metal of it against the skin of his precious neck.

“Easy, easy.” Astarion protests, raising his hands in the hair.

“By order of Lord Neverember you’re under arrest.” The guard sentences.

“Me?” He asks in a high-pitched tone, incredulous. “But I have done nothing yet!” He exclaims with the continuous sound of men yelling and fighting around the corner as background.

“Kneel!” The guard commands, and the dog approaches Astarion’s legs showing him his dangerous teeth.

“Just wait a moment!” He waves his hands nervously in the air. “You’re arresting me on what charges?” Astarion tries to gain some time. There must be a way to get out of here. Mustn’t it?

“On the charges of conspiracy and treachery against Lord Protector of Neverwinter!”

Astarion laughs. And he laughs so hard that the guard seems to be confused, diverting the sword for a moment from his neck. “Oh, this was fun.” He catches his breath before speaking again. “Well, it seems this was all a very big misunderstanding. You see, I was just passing by. Walking down the street as a normal citizen of Neverwinter.” The clamour of the fighting is calming down, and by the protests he can hear, the so called Greycloacks are losing. “I’m just visiting, I may add. Me and my wife. Can’t wait to celebrate the New Year with you folks. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to get back.” He steps aside from the guard but almost instantly the man reacts, throwing him against the wall and the dog starts barking in anger.

“If that were true you should be with your wife right now, and not wandering the streets alone. You’re a Greycloack, gathering here to conspire against our Lord!”

After the big commotion on the street has calmed down, people start to appear, opening the doors and windows of their houses to see what’s happening outside.

“I’m not! I told yo—”

“I said kneel!” The guard growls, exalted, and Astarion concedes that, maybe, this time is better to oblige than to try to dissuade him. He stretches his neck to the side, trying to alleviate the pressure from the sword that is there again, remembering him of his fragile mortality, lowering himself to the ground just as the guard commanded.

“Fine!” He agrees against his will, huffing.

Stupid son of a b—

“Astarion?” He hears a very familiar voice calling his name. He closes his eyes in the hope that when he opens them again everything was just a dream and none of this is happening. After a while he opens them, turning his head to the side, seeing the one he hoped had never left her room, standing there, staring at him with so many questions in her eyes.

“Why, hello, Darling.” It’s the only thing he can think about to say right now. Shit.

“Hello? But… What happened?” You ask, approaching him quickly.

The guard blocks your way to Astarion, extending a hand to you. “Sorry, ma’am, but this man here is under arrest for breaking the law. I ask you to not interfere.” He tilts his head upwards suggesting you to step back. “Now, move away please.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but this man is my husband! And I want to understand what’s happening!” You argue, stepping forward, defiant.

A small smile of pride tugs into Astarion’s lips, you can be a pain in the ass when you want to, he knows that too well. “See, this is my wife.” He mutters to the guard.

“Ma’am I told you to step away! This man is a Greycloack and he was caught conspiring against the Lord Neverember!”

“A what?” One more step forward. “You’re making a mistake, he’s nothing of that sort!”

“I won’t ask you again! Backwards!” The guard yells at you, spitting in his anger.

“Sweetie, please—”

“Shut up!” The guard orders, kicking Astarion on the leg.

At that moment Astarion knows that if you still had your magic your closed fists, alongside your waist, would be sparkling with electricity right now, because your eyes are burning and twitching, and that man would be doomed. But since you no longer are able to cast your spells, the only way you have to release that growing warth is to jump to the guard and start punching him the fastest you can. “You will not beat him in my presence!” You keep punching him, giving Astarion a window of opportunity to escape.

But when Astarion is about to get up from the ground and try to take the short sword from the guard that is clumsily trying to defend himself from you, other guards approach, stopping Astarion before he can do anything.

It takes three of them to stop your fury and to restrain you beside Astarion, your hands tied together.

“As you were so eager to join him—there! Arrested together!” The guard scoffs. “Some nights in prison will do you good to calm your temper, you crazy woman.”

“Hey!” Astarion scolds, frowning. No one is allowed to insult you in front of him. But the guard ignores him, moving away.

“And what about him? What is going to happen to him?” You inquire.

The guard turns once more and answers, shrugging his shoulders, “We’ll see if he’s a Greycloack or not.”

“He’s not!” You hiss.

“If he’s not he has a lot to explain. Now shut your mouths or I'll split you right now!” And with no more words the guard steps away, moving to reunite with other guards ahead from you.

Astarion hears you sigh deeply, and then you lean your head backwards, meeting his own.

“I’m sorry, Darling… I really am. I didn’t want any of this to happen…” He apologizes.

“Not now, Astarion. Please.” You retort, your voice laced with sadness.

His heart shrinks with your reply, because he truly means it. He’s truly sorry. The only thing he wanted was to make you happy, to make you smile, and he failed. Miserably.

Stupid. How could I be so stupid?

He holds your hand, squeezing it right after, and he waits. It takes a while, and he’s starting to get worried, but finally you hold his hand back, squeezing it softly too, tranquilizing his insecure heart.

Everything will be alright. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll fix this.

Watching the guards gathering the new prisoners, he hopes that they’ll get you out of there soon, because the snow is not giving signs to stop falling in the near future and it’s getting really cold. He’s getting really cold, and you, you’re getting cold too, by the way your hands are freezing already.

If you get sick because of me, I won’t forgive myself.

It’s enough already that he, with no right to it, had robbed you of the chance to properly celebrate New Year's Eve.

Thank you so much for reading my story. Likes, reblogs and comments are very welcomed!

Lots of love 🖤

#astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion fanfiction #cured astarion #ana writes bg3 fanfic

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siolixz · 6 months ago

Text

~Veils Of Crimson~

Chapter 5: part 1

Pairings: oz cobb x reader (Carmine Falcone's daughter)

Oz got what he wanted. As he always does. Reader slowly begins peeling back the veil around her- the truth will come to light soon.

I decided to split this chapter in 2 parts because in part 2 there is a scene in which something not that nice happens and that's all I'm gonna say.

I took my inspo from Driving Miss Falcone by (https://www.tumblr.com/genevievedarcygranger here on tumblr), check out the story if you can.

Enjoy, give feeback if u want ily xoxo.

Warnings: mature language, Oz is a manipulative bastard, smexy stuff happening at the end.

Apparently Sofia and Oz have got themselves a partnership. One based on mutual suspicion and distrust, you thought. When you guys left that night, you were in the backseat, Sofia and Oz in the front-with Oz driving. “Just like old times” she said, like old times my ass- you guys didn’t talk to each other at all during the drive, except Oz glancing at you in the back every so often-everything was quiet.

You finally saw what your brother and sister were up to, it was…different, to say the least.

If they wanted to get their product on the market and somehow overthrow the Falcone operation, they needed manpower and connections, lots and lots of connections.

Sofia was really going forward with this mad plan. She knew virtually nothing about how this world works and yet she found herself a kingpin. Great.

Talking to the second in command of the triads wasn't easy but Oz’s smooth talking pulled them through- as he told you.

You talked to Sofia as well, that night, she stopped the car outside and you had the chance to talk to your sister, that didn’t go as smoothly:

“I heard you two are gonna sell ‘Bliss’ tomorrow- at Oz’s club. I wanna be there too, ya know? Not be put on the side lines like today at the meeting.”

“That can’t happen.” Sofia lit herself up a cigarette while she had that poker face she always carried since coming back from Arkham- her words were cold.

“Why is that?” you asked

She took a deep breath and continued “I thought about it and I think the best course of action is if you stay put- at Oz’s place if you like, until we come back. We don’t know how Zao will react.”

There was a prolonged silence as you tried to process what she just told you. The street light that was illuminating your sister's face only further accentuated the harshness in her eyes.

“Stay put- like a dog, ok, got it.” you looked around, looking for anyone who might've been walking by and hearing.

“That is not what I wanted to say, If it makes you feel better- Viti told me to leave as well.”

“Ok so why don’t you?” you shot back- angry at her orders.

Sofia took a step closer, the scent of smoke and expensive perfume infiltrated your nostrils while she looked at you like you just cussed her out “Are you fucking kidding me? Not you too” She probably felt betrayed- but in that moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Sofia, this shit you got in your head, about taking over- this ain’t our game to play. We don’t even know the rules.” Your voice almost broke in desperation. Desperation that your sister might still listen to reason- might still turn back from this crazy plan that might get her killed. How could she know anything about being a kingpin?

“No. This is my birthright and I am taking it, this shit you’re talking about- all those snakes back at home, they said the same as you-” The memory of the people you knew very well from back home ignited her need for revenge even more you were well aware of that.

“This path you’re going down on, it’s dark and littered with blood and death, after escaping from that hellhole, I thought you had enough.”Your voice broke at the last word.

That place already took so much from her, why is she so stubborn?

For a moment, something flickered in her eyes—a shadow of doubt, perhaps—but it was gone as quickly as it came.

Her jaw clenched, and she shook her head. “No, it seems I haven’t.” The finality of her words made your heart clench. You knew the pain inside of her was way greater than any need for power, you knew it ate her alive every day.

“Alright-”

Sofia took another drag of her cigarette “Seems like you already got yourself nice and comfy next to another murderer and schemer,”she said, her voice sharp and cutting, each word a deliberate slice.

A smirk played at the corner of her lips, taunting. "Or perhaps 'under him' would be more accurate."

Your jaw clenched, a hot flash of anger surging up your neck. You balled your fists by your sides, nails digging into your palms. “Oh, shut up, Sofia!” The words came out more forcefully than you intended, vibrating with the pent-up frustration that had been simmering inside, both of you bound by the unspoken truth of who you were and what you had become.

You took a shaky breath, feeling your chest tighten as the rush of emotions threatened to spill over. “You’ve been cold and distant ever since I saw you again,” you said, your voice wavering between anger and hurt. “What did you want me to do?” Your eyes searched hers, hoping to find some flicker of the sister you once knew.

“I lost my dad and my brother in the span of one week,” you continued, your throat constricting. The memory sent a sharp ache through your chest, but you pressed on, keeping your chin up despite the burning behind your eyes. “And it seems like my sister has forgotten my entire existence.”

You swallowed hard, shifting your weight as the vulnerability made you feel exposed. “I am—we are—women in this world,” you said, the words quivering with the raw truth of it. “All we have been taught is that we need to be protected and that we need to be subservient.” Your gaze hardened, eyes narrowing slightly as you looked at her. “I am sorry I can’t change the game. I would love to, but I can’t—and neither can you.”

She looked at the ground before lifting her head and responding, her eyes didn’t look remorseful. “I know and that is ok… I’ll make new rules.”

“Yeah, good fucking luck with that.” you turned and left after that comment.

Whatever the fuck was she thinking? Let’s change 100 years of tradition and indoctrination because I am back from a mental asylum and need to be respected as the head of the Falcone mob.

Back at his place, after the meal- you and Oz retreated to the bedroom. He was sitting on the couch, whiskey in hand, eyes narrowing as you spoke, letting you say your piece.

“Say something” you commanded of him, Oswald barely kept his mouth shut and now he was as quiet as a mouse

“Listen, sweetheart, there’s a lot of things I can say but one is pretty darn clear” he sipped the last bit of whiskey he had left.

“your sister…she ain’t right in the head no more. I know this might seem hard to understand, but I saw it with my own eyes I mean, she shot two people point blank and ever since coming home-” you couldn’t believe what he was telling you “ she ain’t the woman you used to know.” he said softly- like that time in the restaurant when he told you about Alberto.

You looked down at your feet “I guess” He came next to you on the bed “Look at me” he said- your eyes stayed on the ground

“Look at me. Don’t go crying now.” you lifted your head from the floor and looked into his brown eyes

“Your sister is ambitious, yes, but without me doll, she ain’t got much going for her- I mean yeah she’s the daughter of Carmine and ambitious as hell since coming back but that’s about it.”

“She also has the drug-”

“-Yes yes and that, but that’s about it. We need a bigger fish to pull these ones out of the water. Viti is gonna help us with that.” He looked at you with a small smile and a twinkle in his eyes- like before he said a joke.

“Viti doesn’t even like you guys-” you were confused, your mind racing as you watched Oz rise from the couch and walk toward one of the lockers on the wall, you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of secrets he kept hidden.

What else could he be hiding?

He opened a dossier and sat back down beside you, flipping through it like he had all the time in the world. When you saw the photos—Viti with Luca’s wife—you couldn’t hold back a surprised laugh.

Now that you didn’t expect.

Oz leaned back, smirking, his eyes cold as he glanced at you. “See, they all got secrets.”

You turned to face him, feeling that familiar knot in your stomach, but you still had to ask. “Yeah- what’s yours?”

Oz’s gaze locked on you, and for a split second, you saw something flicker—was it a warning? Maybe a little too sharp, a little too calculating.

He smiled slowly, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I ain’t got none.”

The club mission was a failure, clearly.

The wreckage of the car outside was enough proof of that. As Oz slammed the door open with a force that made the hinges groan, you could feel the tension in the air—the kind that felt like the world itself was about to come undone.

“Where the hell are you!?” he bellowed, his voice sharp, panic mixing with anger. When he saw you, his face twisted into something hard, something you hadn’t seen before. Without another word, he grabbed you by the arm, yanking you toward him.

“Did you talk to your sister?”

“N-no, why?”

His words came in a rush: “Sofia—she made a deal with the Maronis. As soon as the deal was done, they tried fuckin’ kill me.”

You froze, the weight of his words crashing over you like a tidal wave.

How could she?

The question burned through your mind, but before you could respond, Oz was already on you again.

“Give me your phone. Now.”

He was forceful, more so than ever before. His hand darted into your pocket before you could even think, his fingers wrapping around your phone. There was no hesitation. No gentleness. He ripped it out and, before you could react, crushed it beneath the cold barrel of his gun, the sound of the phone shattering filling the room.

“What the hell are you doing?” The words left your mouth before you could even stop them, the confusion and disbelief clear in your voice.

Oz didn’t flinch, his eyes cold as ice. “We can't stay here. Come on, we have to go.”

When Oz came back home and told you the news, you knew who did it.

Sofia.

How could she?

Gone was the sister you once knew and loved and she was replaced with a psychopath who would stop at nothing to achieve her goals, a monster.

The police came and questioned you- they asked you where you were and you told them you wanted nothing to do with your sister, for you- she died 10 years ago.

Things changed so much over the course of a few weeks- Oz had his own operation after stealing it from the Maronis, you thought he had what he wanted now, but no.

Sofia and Sal were after him and he was a man emboldened by the flame of ambition and power.

His behavior changed, he started acting differently towards you- sure, he was still the same passionate man you knew but he was different- whenever he would visit you he would look at you differently, a certain gleam in his eyes. Like a guy that just won the lottery.

You felt numb, your whole life has been destroyed and he was the last thing you had- maybe you should’ve been more careful.

Victor visited you often “to check up on you”- you would often talk to the young man about different subjects, about family and how things can change. You found a friend in Vic soon enough and you knew he felt the same towards you.

When you guys would eat dinner together- after a hard day at work for both of them you would smile at each when you placed their food on the plates.

You would joke with BOTH of them at the table- you would share stories; you would also say ‘thank you’ and ‘please’ to BOTH of them. So why on earth did Oz send glares Vic’s way whenever you would look at him? Like he wanted to yell.

Whenever you would talk to Victor, he would always interrupt you two- with something HE had to say.

Oz acted like a spoiled brat- wanting all of your attention.

You mostly ignored his ugly looks and snarky remarks towards the young man; he must’ve had a hard day at work.

Sometimes after dinner- he would send Victor away and as he came back to the room you shared he would turn you around on the bed and fuck you until you were sore. Your sweet Oz was gone those nights- replaced with a brute of a man. His grip so hard on you it would leave bruises.

This ‘relationship’ you two had- it turned more into an ownership of you and he relished in that fact. He would whisper to you at night how you two couldn't leave each other- Sofia would kill you both.

He was all you had left.

You would lie awake, longing for your old home, where butlers moved gracefully through the halls and your siblings waited to hear your stories- where you’ve been; what you bought lately and all the gossip you would share with them over dinner.

You cried at night more than once, quietly, longing for the laughter and innocence you had left behind.

There had always been hints, moments when you glimpsed the truth: Oz was always two steps ahead.

His charm was his greatest weapon, wielded with precision until he claimed everything he desired.

Now, as he kissed your forehead, a triumphant smile playing on his lips, he said, “I did it. I showed them all.” His voice brimmed with pride. “I’m the king now.”

His power outstripped even that of your father’ and his influence spread across the underworld of Gotham City like dark tendrils- nothing moved without him knowing or having a say in it, he ruled with an iron fist all the unseen acts that plagued this city.

He was richer than your father ever was; he rebuilt Crown Point- he made the people believe that someone was looking out for them and he reveled in his victories.

When he would turn to you and ask, “Are you proud of me?” you would nod, a hesitant ‘yes’ slipping from your lips—whether out of fear, habit, or the last remnants of genuine admiration, you couldn’t say.

When he told you that you would become “Mrs. Cobb,” dread took root in your chest. The proposal wasn’t accompanied by the rush of joy you once dreamed about.

Instead, it was a heavy proclamation, laced with inevitability.

Oz’s love, though real, was cold and calculating, much like your father’s had been and his passion, though fierce, masked an unnatural need to control.

The friendly man who once drove you around and helped you with the smallest of tasks had faded, replaced by a king in his castle, imperious and unyielding, his word was law in this tower he built for you.

“It’s all for you-all of it.” he would say

He presented the ring—a dazzling 9.7-carat oval diamond that seemed to mock your lack of freedom. He had you right where he wanted. The dutiful wife, the future mother of his children—a living doll.

You played your part, mostly.

The penthouse’s grandeur became a gilded cage, its wealth unable to fill the void left by days spent alone.

The designer clothes and generous allowances he handed you no longer brought excitement, just a hollow echo of the life you once knew.

You didn’t know what you felt for him anymore, was it love? You knew him very well and you cared for his well being, he was your husband after all.

But this love you carried for him, it twisted and turned when you would ask yourself “was this necessary?” you would’ve loved him even as a driver and as a club owner. You never asked him to do all this for you.

The penthouse you lived in was a masterpiece of modern opulence mixed with the old grandeur of the Falcone villa.

High ceilings stretched above great windows that overlooked Gotham’s skyline, capturing the sprawling city in all its moody grandeur. Sunlight poured through the windows during the golden hours, casting long, warm shadows across the polished marble floors. Despite the luxury, an eerie silence lingered, interrupted only by the soft ticking of an antique clock and the quiet whispers of the house staff—a stark contrast to the bustle that once filled your childhood home.

Everything spoke of power: the leather-bound books you never touched, the marbled flooring and opulent pieces of furniture; the grand piano that hadn’t played a note since it was installed, and the chandelier that sparkled overhead like a captive constellation.

One late afternoon, as the sun dipped and painted the city in hues of gold and amber, you sat in the living room scrolling through your phone, disconnected from everything around you. The soft sound of footsteps pulled you from your trance. A maid stood beside you, her hands clasped, eyes wide with nervousness.

“Ma’am, a letter arrived for you.”

“Who is it from?” your eyes didn’t leave the phone you had in your hand.

“A woman- her name is Selina Kyle.” the maid answered

As you opened the black envelope and read the context of the letter your jaw dropped. This woman- she was your half sister, she wanted to know you- to meet you. She said she was scared to write this letter in case you didn’t want anything to do with her, but she had to get in contact with you; she had a plan to get-

“Good evening, sir.” you heard the maid that gave you the envelope greet the master of the house.

Shit.

His footsteps echoed on the marble floor, each one a drumbeat against your chest.

He knew every corner, every inch of this house, and you dreaded that he might have seen you hide something.

“There she is,” he exclaimed, “how are you doll?” he came over and kissed you. After the quick peck he went over to the bar he had near one of the windows to pour himself some whiskey.

“I’m good, you?” you tried your best to not look suspicious- he was too perceptive, always watching and always knowing.

“Good, good- I met up with a bunch of congressmen tonight- bunch of ass kissers.” he chuckled in his glass and poured you some wine as well.

“Oh- I don’t want anything to drink Oz.”

“Why? Something the matter- " he raised an eyebrow at you as he turned around" -don’t tell me you’re gonna make me the happiest man alive tonight.” he proudly announced

“No- I'm just… very tired, ya know? I was going to head to bed.” you stepped away from the couch and went towards the older man “Maybe you can join me.”

Distract him.

He smiled at you “Can never say no to you, can I?” He asked “I have to give some phone calls and I’ll join you.”

You smiled at turned around to leave.

“Why don’t you put on one of the dresses I got you. Show them to me- just like old times.”

Oz loved reminiscing, he loved telling you stories of the things you used to do back then- how you acted. You were kinda spoiled but oh well. You were now too.

He would encourage you to buy whatever you wanted, whatever you needed and desired– it was yours. He was happy to see you spoiled and enjoying the sort of things this life- your life together brought you.

Sometimes after he would come home you would play dress up for him and show him all the things you got yourself as he sipped some cognac on the couch and compliment you, saying how most of the things you got for yourself reminded him of when you were younger– still the same tastes.

Oswald waited patiently until all that was left would’ve been the lingerie section- that was his favorite, after all the anticipation he was more than ready to pull you on the couch on top of him or under him. Completely not caring if one of your maids or butlers would walk past or hear.

You promised him you will and got your phone and the book from the table; climbing the steps until you got upstairs in the master bedroom you two shared.

A big and gorgeous room filled with the opulence Oswald was so keen on sharing to the world. You shoved the letter in your purse and went into the closet to change.

After dressing up, you laid on the bed and at one point you must’ve fallen asleep because the feeling of having your dress pulled up with the familiar weight of your husband's body next to you as he was grabbing your ass woke you up.

“Are you tired sweetheart?” he whispered in your ear as his hands went to your pussy, softly rubbing circles on top of your panties.

You nodded, knowing it won’t make a difference for him. He pulled your leg over his body as he laid next to you.

You turned the upper part of your body to kiss him, he grabbed your breast as well “You look beautiful baby.” He whispered next to your ear.

You loved this man and you hated what he had to do to get here- you loved his ambition and calculating nature; you hated that he placed your sister in a mental asylum and that he got rid of everything that reminded you of any sort of normality- he wanted you all to himself.

What did he do to Victor? Where was he? He was your friend.

As he grabbed your lips between his you tried to forget. You had a lead now- something you could be doing, you had to read the letter once again but you were sure now that maybe this woman could help you two.

You had to see your sister.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note: I already wrote part 2- I just need to edit it and add some things. The story will end here with them 2. I hope that I could showcase Oz's nature well enough.

I don't want to say a lot about the next part but it will be- something, to say the least. I wanted to really tune it up but I think AO3 might be a better place for that lol still have one story left to write with Oz, about him and his daughters, I can't wait to show you guys.

Also, If you have any sort of ideas or something about one-shots, pls tell me- give me some inspo. Thank you for reading :))))))))))))

#oz cobb #the penguin #the penguin tv #oz cobb x reader #oswald cobb x reader #the penguin hbo #oswald cobblepot #the penguin x reader #oz cobblepot #colin farrell penguin #penguin tv show

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nolita-fairytale · 2 years ago

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don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: the honeymoon pt. 1

summary: the infinite undressing and undoing of mrs. berzatto -- or how you and carmy spend your mini-moon at the langham hotel.

warnings: so much smut so this chapter is 18+ only!! also the smut is from carmys pov and im shaking!! husband!carmy who comes with a warning label of his own, swearing, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov, she/her pronouns

wc: 4.9k

listen to: the official don't want to walk alone playlist

a/n: surprise! i decided to split the honeymoon into two chapters because it was getting way too long and i refuse to cut any of it so there's that.

on another note: this series, this world, is so special to me because it is my first: first series on tumblr, first series for carmy, first time writing fanfic again as an adult that i actually followed through with. it was the universe that got me through unemployment. the fic that helped me fall in love with writing again, so i will always hold this world near and dear to my heart. but aside from occasional one shots here and there, it may be time to let them ride off into the sunset, into their happily ever after. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part three | masterlist | part five

Before he can even get the door properly closed, you’re all over him, your mouth covering his own with kisses that feel like promises, as your hands multi-task, fumbling with the door to get in closed the rest of the way.

“As much as I loved celebrating with our friends and family, I’ve been waiting for this moment all damn day,” you say, in between kisses, satisfied as soon as you hear the clicking sound of the door locking.

“Hmmm and what’s that?” Carmy asks you, coyly.

His lips curve into a cocky smile mid-kiss, and he hears you chuckle, knowing exactly what buttons to push to wind you up.

“Getting you alone, Mr. Berzatto,” you giggle underneath your breath, taking a few steps away from him.

Carmy watches you in awe, his eyes traveling from your kiss-swollen lips, to the way your hands begin to trail down your body, to the careful steps that you take backwards. His breath hitches in his throat as he watches your fingers delicately undo the first button on this goddamn blazer dress he thinks he’ll never be able to get out of his mind – not after tonight, that’s for sure. He watches them dance over the second button from the top down, peeling it open, as a bright pop of red begins to peek out from underneath your dress.

“Carm?” you ask him, your eyes flickering down to your hands as you undo the third button, then the fourth, before returning your heated gaze to him.

“Yes, baby,” is all he can reply, as if he’s under your spell already.

Carmy gulps, his pants feeling incredibly tight, the air noticeably thick as he watches your little strip tease.

It’s just a few more buttons before your dress falls open, revealing the crimson red set you’re wearing underneath.

Red Floral Lace. Mesh. See-through.

“Come get me,” you beckon, as you let the dress fall to the floor.

“Fuck,” he growls on an exhale, before charging towards you.

It’s all hot, all-consuming kisses as he pushes you back onto the California king-sized bed, eagerly following as he lays his body on top of yours. Long gone is the sport coat he was wearing earlier, and he thanks whatever deities he may owe this to that he really only has to get three articles of clothing off.

Carmy pulls away, because he’s gotta get one goddamn good look at his wife.

His wife.

His breath picks up, as he drags his fingertips over the straps of your red lace bra, down to the mesh cups, watching your face twist in pleasure as his fingers run over your already-perky nipples.

“You like?” you ask him, a small amount of vulnerability in your voice as you do.

“Do I-, baby, have you seen yourself?” he stammers, in disbelief that you could even ask, only to be met with a smirk because you know you look good.

But that’s not what you’re asking. You want to know if Carmy likes it, because you have much more where this came from – lingerie, you mean. And instead of telling you, Carmy has bigger and better plans to show you instead. He begins to leave hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck, across your chest, nipping at the top of the bra cup with his teeth when he gets there.

Carmy’s eyes move to yours, watching you for a reaction so he knows that he’s giving you exactly what you want. To his delight, you hiss in pleasure, arching your back as an invitation, offering your body to him in a silent effort, begging for more.

“This why you put on this dress?” he rasps, in reference to the fact that you had insisted on doing an outfit change from the courthouse to the reception. His tongue snakes out, running over the mesh fabric that barely covers the nipple of your left breast.

You moan, letting out a small giggle in between breaths, as you cook up a witty reply.

“‘S not like I could wear anything underneath my wedding dress. Had to come up with a plan B,” you counter him, just another part of your seduction.

Carmy lets out a well earned-groan and it’s music to your ears as he continues to move down your body, worshiping you with his mouth, his tongue, muttering to himself that he’s not sure whether he would’ve preferred that – you in your wedding dress, nothing underneath – or this, all fire and lace.

But he doesn’t have time to think, settling on the fact that as long as he gets to have you, he’s not sure he cares.

“This is so fucking sexy, baby,” he groans, shaking his head in disbelief as he sits up on his knees, taking you in. He almost forgets to breathe for a moment, as it dawns on him that you’re his, and that you’re here, all spread out for him tonight, aching for him and only him.

Before you can get in a word, he’s pushing your legs apart, settling down in between them to get exactly what he wants. You let out a gasp of surprise, considering he hasn’t taken off our panties, your eyes fluttering shut as he pulls them to one side instead.

“Fuck,” he hears you whine, as he buries his face between your thighs. “Oh my god, Carmy.”

His favorite thing.

Tasting you. Bringing you the kind of euphoric pleasure that makes you feel high.

He loves the way you say his name, and how it changes, when his tongue traces tight circles around your clit; how it changes when he flattens his tongue up against your wet heat, painting broad strokes; how you cry out when he’s busy tracing abstract shapes across you till you’re completely lost in your own pleasure. Carmy moans against you, as he feels you thread your hands through his golden locks, and the sensation of your fingertips running along his scalp goes straight to his cock.

“Carmy, don’t stop!”

And how could he? How could he deny you the one thing you’re asking for? His mouth on you, bringing you higher and higher, winding up that coil buried so deep inside you that it has to explode, knowing that it’s him and only him that makes you feel this way.

You’re pulling at his hair, grabbing at the bedsheets, bucking your hips up into his mouth, writhing underneath the weight of his hands that hold you in place. He can’t keep his hands off of you, desperate to feel the way your body responds to him at every touch – holding your hips down, pressing your legs wider, grabbing at your breasts as he dips his tongue inside of you.

“Oh my God. Carmy, fuck. Don’tstoppleasedon’tstopdon’tyoudare-!”

The feeling of your orgasm ripping through you completely rendering you speechless as you come. Carmy slows down the movements of his mouth, working you through your orgasm, wanting you to know that he’s here for you, that he’s got you as you come down. He uses his tongue to clean you up, watching you carefully as you try your best to catch your breath, committing this image to his memory.

There are two places he feels like this – triumphant, untouchable, on top of the world – in the last push of a hard won dinner service, and when he’s right here, between your legs, in the falling action of your climax as he waits for you to come back to him.

Carmy waits for you, watches as your eyes begin to flutter open, your breath still heavy, as you look down on him.

“Shit. Who knew married sex would hit so differently,” you pant, let out an incredulous laugh from how hard you just came.

Carmy grins up at you, and he loves the way it feels as you pull him towards you once more. Your hands are desperate, needy, impatient as they tear through the buttons on his shirt, practically dragging the top over his head and tossing it onto the floor with a vigor he knows only comes from how much you need him.

“You good, baby?” he asks, cockily, because after years of this, he thinks he’s earned the right to know just how good he always makes you feel.

“Just need you, Carm,” you rasp, propping yourself up so that you can chase his mouth with yours. “Need you so much. Need you inside of me.”

“I know, sweet girl. I-,” he begins to say, before freezing, as if there’s an alarm going off in his head, his voice full this time as he swears, as if he’s just forgotten a really important date:

“Ffffffffffffffffuck.”

“Everything okay?” you ask, sitting up this time in response to his sobering pitch.

Carmy can feel the heat rise to his cheeks as he flushes red, completely embarrassed that he’s put the heat of the moment on pause for this, knowing fully that he won’t be able to stop thinking about it now.

“Yeah just I just gotta-... give me like… five seconds. I promise,” he nods, though his eyes silently plead with you.

You shake your head as Carmy leaves you, his footsteps rapid and hurried as he practically sprints over to where you left the suitcases in the hallway. He swears underneath his breath, rummaging through his bag before finding a certain plastic tupperware, a feeling of relief washing over him. He can hear you laugh as he runs through the room, tucking it safely in the mini fridge, and he can only imagine that it’s quite the sight to see.

By the time he returns to the bed, cheeks flushed, and an apologetic look in his eyes, you’re sitting up on your knees, waiting for him with an amused look on your face.

“Do I want to know?” you ask, skeptically.

“You’ll thank me later,” he chuckles, still embarrassed. Shyly, as he steps towards the edge of the bed, he works up the nerve to ask, “Will you uh.. Think we can pick up where we left off?”

Still stunning as you were moments ago but now with that post-orgasm glow, you wrap your arms around Carmy’s neck, pulling him in closer so that he’s standing across from where you kneel.

“You can come back to bed. But lose the pants, jerk,” you reply, feigning disapproval.

He nods, eagerly taking off his pants as he joins you back on the bed in only his briefs.

Carmy’s intent on making it up to you, his mouth back on yours as soon as possible, lowering you to the bed as his hands grope at any exposed flesh he can. He’s dragging the straps of the red bra down, but refuses to take it off completely. Keep it on, he insists, because he can’t get the image of you riding him in it out of his mind. It’s not till he’s tearing your panties down your legs, tossing them somewhere on the floor that you know he really means business this time.

“No more interruptions,” he promises you, as he settles in between your legs, his briefs long gone and his hard, aching cock desperate to feel you.

As Carmy presses into you, reeling over the fact that every time feels like the first – it’s that glorious, that wondrous – you know, without all the trauma of your actual first time. You’re all tight, wet, heat pulsing around him and for once, he doesn’t have to think for a moment.

Carmy’s always been a thinker – an overthinker, really, calculating each and every move with strategy – rarely ever a doer because that’s just not who he got to be. But with you, inside of you, it’s all instinct, and breath, and I love yous, both in pursuit of your shared pleasure. In these moments, he gets to be a doer, responding to your every moan, taking the lead when he knows what will set you off, showing you just how much you turn him on with every kiss, every touch, every thrust.

It doesn’t take long for you to push him onto his back, reminding him that he has some making up to do for the earlier coitus interuptus and that he should let you fuck him instead.

But as you climb on top of him, turning around so that your back is to him, he swallows, admiring the view you’re so intent on giving him. He can picture it clearly, exactly – your head thrown back, biting down on your bottom lip, brow furrowed as you sink down onto him – even though he can’t see your face.

Instead, he listens to the way you whimper his name as you begin to move your hips, traces the curves of your body as you settle into a satisfying rhythm, digs the pads of his fingers into your hips and your ass because he just can’t not touch.

It’s music to his ears as you let out a keen-like moan when he begins to meet your hips with thrusts of his own, speeding up the perfect rhythm you’ve set. He can feel you squeezing around him, chasing your own high as you fuck yourself on him, and he can feel that familiar tightening at the bottom of his belly.

“Fuck,” he grits out, his jaw tightening as he can feel it coming.

All it would take was a few more thrusts, a vigorous pace, take hold of your hips and showing you just how he wants it. But instead, Carmy sits half way up, reaching out for you as he stills your hips against his. His movement causes you to shift as you realize he’s sitting all the way up, wrapping an arm around your waist, the new angle causing you to squeeze around him.

“Baby,” you whine, beginning to grind your hips in circles where you’re connected.

“I wanna see you. I wanna see you cum again,” he requests, his voice tender yet intent, as if he plans on embedding the words into your skin. And as he leaves little kisses against your shoulder blade, his words go straight to your heart.

“Okay,” you agree with a soft whisper.

Carmy sits back just enough to let you switch positions, before propping himself up on both hands that rest behind him. With the softest smile he thinks he’s ever seen, you climb back onto his lap. Grabbing the back of your head, he pulls you to him, kissing you like he wants to give you the world and then some. Your hands smooth over his strong shoulders and inked arms, then you’re reaching down between the two of you, guiding him back into you as you take him once more.

He swears his eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels you again, beginning to move your hips in perfect harmony together. This new position is passionate, intense, intimate. Your hands are cradling the back of his head, kissing him like he is oxygen, as he surrenders to you, to the moment, to the dance between you.

“I like this,” Carmy finally says, as he notices the way the straps of your bra hang loosely off your shoulders.

“Me on top of you?” you smile, devilishly.

“This,” he repeats, his eyes hungrily taking in the image of you on top of him in this sexy lace little thing, as he toys with the red elastic. “But that too.”

You grin before pressing your lips against his once more, because he truly has no idea what else you have in store for him.

“Feel so good, sweet girl,” Carmy grunts out, his thrusts becoming deeper, harder, sloppier as the feeling returns. “You feel so good.”

You throw your head back in a moan, and he knows you’re letting him set the pace. He’s so goddamn close to cumming, as the two of you chase both of your highs this time.

“I love you, Carmy,” he hears you whine, your head leaning against his shoulder. “So much. I love you, baby.”

He can feel it – feel you – and he knows you’re close.

“I love you,” he manages to get out, in between a clenched jaw.

His hips stutter, and you’re tightening around him, losing all control, surrendering to your release as you cry out. Watching you come undone around him, feeling you contract and release around him, calling out his name till your voice is hoarse is what brings him there with you. Carmy continues to fuck up into you, filling you, as his hands begin to slow down the pace of your hips.

You’re magic to him – somehow just as and more electrifying as the day he met you, the day you told him you loved him, and today, the day you both said, “I do.”

“I think you’re right,” is what he says, in between pants, finally breaking the tension. “Married sex is a whole ‘nother level.”

“Cheers, Mrs. Berzatto,” Carmy toasts to you.

“And a cheers to you too, Mr. Berzatto,” you reply, clinking your champagne flute with his before drinking.

After coming back to reality – recovering from your joint discovery of just how damn good married sex is – you and Carmy spent a few more precious moments in each others’ arms, sharing languid kisses and whispered words. And after cleaning up, you both came to an agreement that if this weekend is anything like how it started, you will absolutely be in need of fuel – Carmy encouraging you to order a few things for room service off the hotel’s late night menu.

So here you are, drinking clinking glasses of fancy champagne over overpriced burgers and truffle fries, as you begin a new journey with your husband, thinking to yourself that there’s no other way you’d want this to be. Wrapped up in his Ralph Lauren Oxford shirt that you’d gleefully pulled out of his suitcase after your quick rinse off in the shower, Carmy’s got one of those looks of deep admiration in his eyes while he listens to you you wax philosophical about something or other.

It’s not that he’s not listening – it’s just that he cannot get over the fact that you made it here – something his twenty-five year old self probably never would’ve believed.

“Any chance you’re still hungry?” Carmy asks, a hopeful look in his eyes as he watches you polish off the last bite of your burger.

“Actually, yeah. Someone wore me out,” you answer cheekily, with a flirtatious shrug.

He smiles, “Good. Stay right here.”

As you watch Carmy jump off of the bed, beelining for the minifridge to retrieve whatever he put in it earlier, you note that it’s the second time that he’s left you tonight whatever the hell it is he’s keeping in that goddamn plastic tupperware. With an arched eyebrow, you ask:

“Watcha got over there?”

Carmy climbs back onto the bed, kneeling as he offers the square-shaped box to you, careful not to knock anything over on your shared room service tray. He begins to peel back the plastic lid, pulling it away from the storage container, earning a well-won sound of surprise from you as you realize exactly what it is.

“Tiramisu?” you gasp, completely moved by your husband’s gesture. “Carm, when the hell did you have time to make this?”

He gives you nothing but a boyish shrug, before gathering your two unused spoons that came with the silverware sets that room service brought up with your late night dinner.

“Had a little extra time at the restaurant this week,” is all he says, which you know is a lie.

You send a skeptical look his way, because rarely does he ever have extra time at the restaurant where he’s just hanging around. Sure, a tiramisu isn’t wildly difficult to make, but it’s been off of The Bear’s menu for years now.

And you should know. You’re the one who put it on there in the first place.

“Thought you didn’t bake,” you challenge him, as you pick up one of the spoons off of the room service tray.

“Yeah ‘s about the only thing I can do… considering it requires little to no baking at all,” he shoots back, picking up his spoon as well.

With no hesitation of being first, you dig your spoon into the soft cocoa powder covered cream and espresso soaked lady finger dessert, before raising your spoon to your lips for a first bite.

“Ohhhh, baby…” you practically moan, your eyes closed as you throw your head back in pure bliss.

Carmy snorts with laughter, but he’s satisfied with your reaction, knowing that he did a damn good job with it.

“Would you two like to be alone?” Carmy teases you, pointing his spoon to the tiramisu then back to you. “Thought this was our honeymoon.”

You lift your head, rolling your eyes playfully, before going back for seconds, “Don’t be jealous. You’re still the only one making me moan like that.”

And suddenly, the room feels about five degrees hotter, as Carmy feels heat rise to his cheeks. But he’s not quite ready to go there again, just yet, so instead he just explains:

“I know we both promised we wouldn’t do any of the food today, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to show you how much I love you in the only way I know how.”

“It’s not the only way,” you tease him with a smirk, as he shakes his head incredulously.

You can tell you’ve made him blush, which is only a little bit funny considering the dirty things that came out of his mouth barely an hour ago. But the silver lining is this, and it’s not lost on you: after all this time and all of these years, it’s good to know that on your wedding day, you still know how to flirt with your husband.

Carmy’s eyes are fixed to the tiramisu as he focuses on digging his own spoon into the tiramisu, inhaling the spoonful right away.

Damn. It is good, he thinks to himself, though he’s usually quite hesitant to give himself a compliment.

“So what were you and Sugar talking about?” Carmy asks, curiously changing the subject.

“Oof. You really wanna kill the mood with that answer?” you counter him, and he can hear the reality of the situation in the way your voice drops.

“That bad?” he pries, hesitantly.

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him. While you’re not sure you want to ruin a perfect night by talking about Donna, you also feel like there’s no escaping it either. “Sugar and I’s talk was great but… she was upset… about your mom not coming.”

With a quick raise of his eyebrows, Carmy nods along, only slightly disappointed by the answer.

Leave it to Mom to ruin a perfectly good day without even showing up, he thinks to himself.

“Are… you… okay about it?” you drag out, cautiously.

“Yeah,” he answers with a curt nod. You’re not convinced, eyeing him carefully as Carmy chooses to charge through.

“Didn’t really expect her to come anyways. Would’ve been more drama than it was worth.”

“Bear,” you sigh in response to the impossible situation, because there’s no way that he’s not at least a little disappointed.

He shrugs, his eyes evasive of yours as he scoffs dismissively, shaking his head.

“Welcome to the fuckin’ family, I guess.”

You really don’t want to get into it now – not on your wedding night – so you shut your mouth even though you’re not exactly satisfied with his response. You know Carmy has every right to not want his mom there knowing that everything he’s said is true, but it still hurts your heart that he’s closed off his heart to her like this – that it has to be this way.

You let out a heavy exhale, before digging back into the tiramisu, pushing the thought out of your mind. And just when you think you’re done talking about it, Carmy presses you once more, his voice softer this time as he asks:

“What’d you uh… say? To Sugar?”

You take another breath, a sympathetic smile on your lips as you explain:

“I told her that I was sorry… that things are the way that they are, but I really just think she just needed someone to listen to her.”

“Yeah.”

A half beat.

“And I told her that… well, I told her that… we get to change things. You and I. Her and Pete. With the baby coming and everything too and… and us. Getting married, you know?”

Carmy hums in response, nodding his head as he processes what you said. Returning his gaze to you, it feels like he’s looking right through you, his blues so intense as he softly speaks again.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Me too.”

You wait a beat, then another, noticing that your champagne glass is almost empty. You reach for the bottle, topping off Carmy’s flute first. You search your mind for something else to talk about, because you think he may actually be done talking about Donna this time, a small laugh escaping your lips as you think about today.

“Hmmm?”

Your eyes move to Carmy’s, then back to the almost-empty champagne flute that you’re refilling as you smirk with, “Bold move putting me on the spot like that with the vows.”

He laughs, a blush running across his cheeks as he shyly replies:

“You know, we got there, and I uh… well, I wanted to. Should I uh-, you know… think we shoulda talked about it before?”

“No, I actually kind of liked it,” you reassure him, raising the champagne flute to your lips once more. You take a sip, before continuing to flirt with your husband. “You’re gettin’ the hang of this whole… romantic gesture thing, Berzatto.”

“Anything for you, Berzatto,” he shoots back, emphasizing your new last name in a way that makes your heart flutter at the reminder.

You hum a satisfied hum in response, relaxing a little more into where you sit on the bed.

“Though if I had known ahead of time, I guess I could’ve prepared something. ‘S too bad,” you say playfully, causing Carmy to smile.

“We could do it now,” he offers, his voice going up at the end like it’s a question, and there’s something so boyish in his charm that it makes your heart melt.

“Hmmmm,” you begin, pondering where you’d like to start. He had promised to love you forever, and you him, but as you think about all the ways you want to love him, a smile spreads across your lips.

“Okay,” you accept, ready to play along. “I promise… that on the days you want breakfast burritos… that I will go to the place you like a few blocks down from ours.”

“Even though you think the place across from our place is better and closer?” he asks, unable to hide his shock as his eyebrows raise then lower.

You giggle, “Even though I think the place near ours is way better and is so much more convenient to get to, Bear.”

“Wow uh. Okay then,” Carmy says, taking this as an invitation. “Then I promise to always make sure to check that they put extra green salsa in the bag for you, no matter where we get the breakfast burritos.”

You grin, nodding your head alongside a, “You’re too good to me.”

This time, you take a moment to think it over, taking it more seriously now.

“I think… we should promise… to always have each others’ backs; to always be each others’ teammate.”

Carmy nods his head in agreement, “Yeah I uh… I think that’s great, babe.”

Two of you settle into a comfortable quiet, eating tiramisu and drinking champagne, while Carmy continues to steal glances your way when he thinks you aren’t looking.

He takes a beat. Then another, before propping his head up on his hand where he lays on his side across from you.

“What about this?” he proposes. “We promise to love each other, even when we disagree.”

“Even when you’re being a dick,” you tease him with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. Even when I’m being a dick and you’re fuckin’ fed up with me,” he agrees with a head nod. “What else?”

“That we grow old together,” you say, without question, before painting him a picture of what you dream it could look like.

“And we promise to take care of each other when we’re cranky and smelly, and you’re telling the grandkids about your glory days as a hotshot chef….” You take a beat, giggling at the thought. “... while I roll my eyes because you’re yelling at someone to bring you your old chef’s knife so that you can show them that you still know how to perfectly Brunoise a carrot.”

“Oh, you’re gonna have to pry my chef’s knife out of my cold dead hands,” he warns you, humorously.

You laugh, “Honey, I knew that when I signed the marriage license.”

“I think we’ll be those grandparents, don’t you? The ones that pass on all of our recipes to the kids and the grandkids, and even when we’re not there anymore, we live on in everyone’s kitchen,” you conclude, and you can’t take your eyes off of him. “You know? You and me.”

“Yeah.”

You exchange a silly laugh, because neither of you know where to go after this, your and his hearts warmed by the thought of growing old together. You’ve been together for years now, but in so many ways, it still feels like you have so much life ahead of you; a life with Carmy that you’re only just getting started.

Carmy waits a beat, allowing your shared laugh to subside.

“I like the sound of this. Of us,” he declares, his voice soft yet sure.

“Me too, Carm. Me too,” you agree.

589 notes · View notes

maboroshi-no · 8 months ago

Text

Hamefura LN 14 Chapter 1 Part 1 Summary

I am currently reading Hamefura LN14 and will post summaries after each chapter.

Chapter 1 is a bit long so I split it in two.

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Chapter 1: The Encounter at the Party (Part 1)

Break at Cyrus's Fields

Katarina and Maria are helping Cyrus with his fields. They are all taking a break at the moment.

Cyrus and Maria are talking about work. Katarina thinks they're so serious for talking about work during their free time. She turns her gaze away from them and looks at the fields.

Cyrus's fields have expanded since Katarina and Maria started helping. They will harvest fall crops soon. Katarina can't wait.

Katarina Would Like to Eat Rice

Katarina remembers that if she had been in Japan, it would soon be the period to harvest rice. New rice is delicious and she can't have enough of rice with dried plums and pickles.

Katarina inadvertently voices that she'd like to eat rice.

Maria asks her what she means, so Katarina explains that, while looking at the fields, she remembered that it would soon be the rice harvesting period. And then, she wished she could eat rice.

Cyrus is surprised that Katarina would know about the rice harvesting period and realizes again how much Katarina likes Japanese food.

Katarina thinks to herself that it is only natural since her grandparents were rice farmers. She would help them with planting and harvesting rice.

Katarina remembers that in Sorcier, people eat bread and Western food, so there is no rice there. On the other hand, people eat rice and Japanese food in the neighboring country Sharma, which is similar to Japan. Incidentally, people also eat rice and Japanese food in Cyrus's region since it is bordering Sharma.

Katarina has been wanting to go to Cyrus's region since she heard they ate Japanese food there. However, she can't freely go there since it takes 4 days by carriage.

Cyrus is happy that Katarina enjoys his hometown's food so much. His parents send him home specialties after the fall harvest every year, so he offers to share some with her. Katarina jumps with joy and invites Maria to enjoy the food together. Maria chuckles and accepts.

Katarina wonders what food Cyrus will share with her. Tsukemono? New rice? She is about to ask Cyrus when she sees him make a very content smile.

Maria Has Been Tense Lately

Katarina asks Cyrus if something happened. Cyrus snaps back to reality. He whispers to her that he just felt glad since Maria has been smiling ever since Katarina invited her to help at the fields. Maria has been tense lately but she was able to calm down after coming here and interacting with Katarina. Katarina didn't know that Maria was tense.

Katarina remembers that Maria's family was attacked a few days ago. While she and Cezar were able to rescue Maria, they could only catch the thugs. They couldn't catch Sara, who was taken away by the "handsome seductive enigmatic uncle". As a result, they couldn't get any information about the organization except that they were targeting Maria. Following this, it was decided Maria's family would be protected at the Ministry and escorted by guards whenever they went out. Katarina can understand why Maria would feel tense.

Currently, Maria is not escorted by guards. Even so, she is still in the Ministry of Magic in Sorcier (the second most-guarded institution of the safest country in the world) and with Cyrus, who is a Ministry director and a powerful magic wielder, martial artist, and swordsman.

Katarina originally invited Maria to the fields to get some help for the harvest but she is glad that Maria could relax because of it.

Looking at Cyrus's happy face after Maria's smile, Katarina feels like she is third-wheeling. She turns her gaze towards the fields.

Mole Alert

Katarina notices an area of the fields where the earth is bulging. She shouts at Cyrus: "They got us! The enemy is here!"

Cyrus quickly stands up. He keeps Maria behind his back and asks Katarina where the enemy is. Katarina points to a hole in the ground. Cyrus is confused. Katarina explains that there's a mole: their natural enemy as farmers. Cyrus frowns and Maria bursts out laughing. Seeing Maria laugh, Cyrus relaxes his face a little.

Cyrus explains to Katarina that, while a mole is indeed a farmer's enemy, she shouldn't carelessly use the word "enemy" given Maria's state. Katarina realizes that she needlessly scared Maria and apologizes to her. But Maria laughs even louder, to the point she is holding her stomach.

Pondering Measures Against Moles

Cyrus inspects the hole and confirms there is a mole.

Katarina never saw a mole in her fields but she remembers that in her past life, her grandmother often had moles damaging her fields, which would make her furious.

Katarina is surprised there would be moles in the Ministry grounds. Cyrus replies it isn't so surprising given the natural setting here. He just never took measures against moles because they never damaged his fields until now.

Cyrus ponders about measures he could take against moles. Katarina also ponders about them on her side.

Katarina remembers that in her past life, her grandmother would bury some kind of nail that would make a piercing sound when it detected a mole. She eventually took it off because it became too noisy. Anyhow, it's not like she could find this kind of device in this world.

Katarina wonders if she can leave in the fields something that would give off a pungent smell that would drive the moles away. With this line of thought, she comes up with a great idea.

Katarina's Measure Against Moles

Katarina summons Pochi. Cyrus asks her why she did. Katarina explains that she will have Pochi poop on the fields to scare off the mole. Cyrus is blank. Katarina explains that she heard that tanukis didn't get close to fields if they smelled dog poop, so she thought it might work on moles too.

In her past life, her grandmother would collect dog poop from the neighborhood and put them on the corners of her fields. Katarina couldn't help her back then because dogs hated her, but now, she can provide the dog poop since she has a dog.

Katarina orders Pochi to poop. Pochi barks in understanding and takes the posture.

Katarina loudly cheers Pochi on while he is trying to poop.

Maria shyly reminds Katarina that Pochi can't poop since he is a dark familiar. Both Katarina and Pochi are shocked after hitting upon this realization. Pochi cries in apology and Katarina apologizes to him in return for asking him the impossible. Seeing them, Maria burst out laughing again.

Cyrus reminds Katarina that it is wrong in the first place to leave dog poop on the prestigious grounds of the Ministry. Katarina thinks to herself that Cyrus still created fields on the prestigious grounds of the Ministry.

Katarina understands that it would be troublesome to leave dog poop here since it is smelly and people can step on it. Cyrus tells her it isn't that troublesome, but she still shouldn't do it. Anyhow, Cyrus tells Katarina he will think about how to put in place the measures he used in his hometown and asks her to stop thinking about measures. Katarina gladly leaves the issue to him since he is a "pro-farmer". When Pochi barks in agreement, Cyrus makes a little step backward.

Cyrus and Dogs

Katarina asks Cyrus if he feels uneasy with dogs. Cyrus tells her that's not it.

Katarina asks Cyrus if, by any chance, he'd like to get along with dogs but can't because they hate him. She is hoping to find a fellow in Cyrus. Cyrus denies it: he had a dog as a kid and often held it.

Katarina feels jealous of Cyrus, but she is glad to have Pochi now. She pets Pochi's head and Pochi seems to be enjoying it.

Looking at them, Cyrus tells Katarina that his dog would also close his eyes in contentment and wag his tail when he petted its head. He and his dog were always together, like siblings. Unfortunately, it died in an accident one day, right before his eyes. Since then, he has felt a little scared about interacting with dogs or even animals in general. Hearing this, Katarina takes Pochi in her arms and hugs him tightly.

Cyrus stays silent with a distant gaze while reminiscing about his dog. After a while, he suggests to Katarina and Maria they work a little longer and call it a day. Katarina and Maria accept without asking questions.

They all finish work and go home.

Katarina realizes upon going to sleep that she forgot to ask Cyrus what food his parents will send him.

Katarina Ponders about Cyrus's Trauma

The next day, Katarina is in the carriage and she is idly thinking about what Cyrus told her about his uneasiness with dogs.

It seems like not only Cyrus can't handle young women, he can't handle dogs either. That's a lot for one person. It is not so rare for capture targets in otome games to come with traumas, so she wonders if that's what it is.

In Fortune Lover 1, the capture targets had childhood traumas. For example, Alan suffered from always being compared to the perfect Geordo, and then Maria made him realize his strong points. Though, the actual Alan didn't end like this for some reason: he developed his talent for music and grew into a carefree person

As for Keith, since he was unneeded by his biological parents, treated coldly by his adopted mother, and bullied by his adopted sister, he was supposed to become a distrusting frivolous man who played around with girls to satisfy his need for love, until Maria taught him about true love. But the actual Keith is the reliable son of the Claes family, gets along with his adopted mother, eagerly takes it upon himself to protect his older sister, and has grown into a pure good young man.

Katarina Talks With Keith in the Carriage

Katarina glances at Keith in front of her. His straightened back and neat clothes show that he isn't a playboy but he still exudes sexiness as a remnant of his sexy character status. Even so, he doesn't use his sexiness, which is a waste.

Katarina inadvertently voices, "What a shame". Keith asks her what is. Katarina explains that she thinks it's a shame that he exudes so much sexiness but doesn't use it.

Keith is wide-eyed for a moment, then frowns and makes a deep sigh. He agrees and tells her he was told the same thing several times. Keith looks dejected, so Katarina apologizes. Keith says it's fine.

Keith reminds Katarina that they are on their way to an important party. Katarina realizes that it is indeed not the time to think about Cyrus or the game.

Keith insists that Katarina should ready herself for the party. Katarina begs him to let her idle until they arrive. She promises she will focus and conduct herself properly during the party. But she will exhaust herself if she keeps being focused, so she needs to idle and she can only do it when they're alone together.

Keith is choked up for words. He finally accepts since "she can only do it when they're alone together".

Katarina looks out the window. There's such a nice weather. She wishes she could have farmed today and indulged in sweets after work.

The Sorcier Kingdom Founding Anniversary Party

Today, the Sorcier Kingdom Founding Anniversary Party is held. A lot of foreigners have been invited. The atmosphere is similar to the International Assembly, but unlike it, it is not meant for socializing with people, but for everyone to enjoy this Sorcier celebration. It also lasts only one day, contrary to the International Assembly.

A lot of foreign emissaries will be there, so unlike in Sorcier-only parties, Katarina will need to walk around and greet everyone. She has been told to be careful of her surroundings since the dark magic organization might sneak in. People are thoroughly checked at the entrance but it is still possible. Katarina needs to be cautious while not acting rudely.

The party is held in the largest hall of the castle. Out of respect for the customs of the other countries, ladies don't need an escort for this party.

Katarina and Keith enter the venue together.

There are a lot more people compared to the International Assembly. They are dressed in various kinds of clothes: Japanese style, Arabian style, Chinese style… There are also a variety of skin, hair, and eye colors. Even so, everyone talks in the same language.

Katarina feels amazed by this sight. Keith tells her that such a variety of people is expected since more countries have been invited to this party compared to the International Assembly. Katarina is amazed that Keith guessed exactly what she was thinking. Keith chuckles and tells her it is normal since he has been her brother for 10 years already.

Keith reminds Katarina to be careful not to cause trouble. After recalling what happened during the International Assembly, Katarina replies that she will.

Keith and Katarina greet the Sorcier nobles, along with the foreign nobles they met at the International Assembly. Katarina is surprised she hasn't seen her friends yet, not even Geordo who always rushes to see her.

Katarina is thirsty, so she tells Keith she will go have a drink. Keith says okay while reminding her with his eyes not to eat or drink too much.

Encounter at the Buffet

Katarina goes to the buffet and is amazed by all the gorgeous food prepared for the anniversary party. She originally intended to just have a drink and go back but she thinks it wouldn't hurt to enjoy the food a little as long as she doesn't overeat. She picks up a lot of food and starts eating. After emptying her plate, she picks up some more food.

Katarina suddenly hears "You're eating too much". She startles and looks towards the voice. She realizes the words weren't aimed at her: a man she doesn't know is scolding a woman who has picked up a lot of food like her. Katarina feels an affinity with the girl.

The two people are dressed in kimono-like clothes so they probably come from Sharma, the neighboring country with a Japanese-like culture.

The man tells the woman that a lady shouldn't eat so much at a place like this. His scolding reminds Katarina of when Keith scolds her for the exact same reason. The woman retorts she just doesn't want to miss out on the banquet of the great country Sorcier. She will hardly have other opportunities like this. The two people appear to be siblings. Katarina deeply agrees with the sister and can't help silently cheering her on.

The sister notices Katarina and they make eye contact. Katarina notices the sister has black hair and eyes, and that she's beautiful. The sister notices Katarina's plate full of food, just like hers. At this moment, the two girls feels like they understand each other despite coming from different countries: enjoying a banquet is more important than lady etiquette.

The brother makes a deep sigh and tells the sister he wasn't telling her not to eat, just not to eat too much. His words also remind Katarina of Keith. The sister retorts that she can't avoid filling her plate since there is so much food. But it is not like she will eat everything at once she will just take a little of everything. Katarina silently agrees, it is exactly what she was doing. The sister notices Katarina's agreement and also nods to herself. Katarina feels like she could greatly get along with the sister.

The brother replies that, in that case, it would be more proper to just take a little of one or two dishes she likes. Katarina feels revolted by the brother's words and feels like she can't get along with him.

The sister feels revolted by her brother's thinking and feels like they will never understand each other.

The brother tiredly tells her they will talk about it later. She reminds her that the King will come give his greetings soon, so she must put her plate away. Hearing this, Katarina feels like she would rather eat all her food than put her plate away. She starts gulping down her food. The sister thinks the same thing and starts gulping down her food too. The brother is shocked to see his sister rushing to eat her food rather than putting away her plate. He is even more shocked to see Katarina doing the same thing.

Katarina and the sister have both finished their plates. When they put away their plates, they both smile and nod their heads at each other.

The King's Greetings

Trumpets announce the King's coming. The King appears with the Queen at his side, and the four princes behind them.

The King makes a speech, thanking everyone for coming to the party held for the 300th anniversary of the founding of the Sorcier Kingdom.

After the speech, the foreign attendees go to greet the royals. The Sorcier nobles stay back since they were told beforehand they didn't need to greet the royals for this party.

Katarina starts picking up food again but the sister is dragged away by her brother to greet the royals. Looking at her reluctantly leave, Katarina says "Do your best" in her direction. While she isn't sure the sister heard her, she feels like she said "Yes" in response.

Katarina would like to talk with the sister again and become friends with her if the opportunity arises.

Katarina Talks With Cezar

Katarina suddenly hears someone say "You're eating too much". When she turns around, she realizes that it's Cezar.

Katarina thanks Cezar again for helping her when she lost control of her dark magic. Cezar is glad to see she is well. After all, the last time he saw her, she had fainted.

Katarina remembers what happened at that time. Cezar visited her the day after they rescued Maria, and when she thanked him for his help, Geordo suddenly appeared, became jealous, and gave her an adult kiss in front of Cezar. Because she was so inexperienced with love, she felt overwhelmed and fainted.

Katarina feels embarrassed after remembering this. She starts explaining to Cezar that it wasn't because she was unwell that she fainted, but because she wasn't used to kissing. Midway, she feels panicked about explaining how inexperienced she is about love.

Looking at her, Cezar chuckles and realizes again that both Katarina and Geordo are still very young. Katarina is confused by his reaction.

Cezar asks Katarina if she hated it when Geordo kissed her. Katarina is confused: she felt embarrassed at the time but she can't tell whether she liked it or not.

Looking at her pondering so hard, Cezar changes his mind and tells her she doesn't need to answer him after all. He would prefer she didn't. Then he lightly strokes her head. Katarina is confused and wonders if Cezar doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

Cezar feels a threatening look piercing his back and decides to stop at this. He advises Katarina not to move out alone since there are a lot of people. He will go call her family for her, so he asks her to wait here.

After Cezar leaves, Katarina realizes that she has dropped her guard again after seeing the gorgeous food.

Katarina wonders if Cezar will be able to find Keith in this huge crowd. Especially since she knows where Keith is. She decides to join Keith once she has finished eating.

Keith's Lecture

Katarina suddenly hears someone say "You're eating too much". It is Keith.

Keith scolds her for not going back despite telling him she would just go have a drink. He was worried and couldn't seem to get out of the conversation. Fortunately, Cezar spoke to him and told him where she was. Katarina is amazed that Cezar could find Keith so quickly in this huge crowd.

Keith tells Katarina she should pull herself together since she caused trouble to Cezar. Katarina sincerely apologizes. Keith ends his lectures.

Katarina eats the rest of her plate with Keith's permission.

A Look Towards the Royals

Katarina notices that the number of people has decreased. Keith doesn't agree: it only looks that way because all foreigners have gone to greet the royals.

Keith shows Katarina the long line of people waiting to greet the royals. It is way longer than in usual parties. At the end of the line, the royals are repeatedly greeting people with a smile.

Katarina can see that Alan is starting to tire out since he is not good at socializing. Next to him, Geordo must also be tired even if he doesn't show it.

When Katarina looks at Geordo, she has the feeling their eyes met for an instant. It startles her. Keith asks her what is wrong. Katarina explains that she felt like Geordo and her made eye contact even though she was mixed in the crowd. She thinks it was probably her imagination. Keith pretends to agree while thinking to himself that it was probably not her imagination.

Cyrus and Maria

Mary calls Katarina. There are also Sophia, Nicol, Maria, and Cyrus with her.

Katarina is surprised to see Cyrus with everyone. She asks them if they all came together. Mary replies that she, Sophia, and Nicol came together, then they saw Cyrus and Maria together at the entrance, and then they all stayed together.

Katarina is shocked that Cyrus and Maria went to the ball together. Cyrus kept saying until now he was too embarrassed to ride in a carriage alone with her or talk alone with her, but he finally did it. Katarina feels so happy and proud that Cyrus has finally reached grade schooler-level maturity in terms of romance.

Maria explains that she actually met Cyrus at the castle. It was Sora who escorted her on the way to the castle. Cyrus proudly confirms it with a face that seems to say "Of course since I can't ride in a carriage alone with her". Katarina feels so disappointed. She wonders how Cyrus will be able to make progress with Maria at this rate.

Maria was told to attend this party since many people wanted to talk with her as a Sorcier celebrity. She doesn't seem escorted by guards so Katarina wonders if both Cyrus and Sora were assigned as her guards this time. Or maybe Cyrus was assigned as her guard but he asked Sora to escort her on the way to the castle because he couldn't ride in a carriage alone with her. This possibility seems more likely.

Katarina asks Cyrus in a low voice if he was the one who asked Sora to escort Maria on the way to the castle. Cyrus readily confirms it since he can't ride in a carriage alone with Maria. Katarina is shocked that Cyrus is okay with Sora and Maria being alone together. Katarina doesn't understand why Cyrus would be wary of Dewey but not of Sora. Sora should be a greater threat since he is good at sweet-talking women. If Sora fell for Maria, Cyrus's chance would drop to zero.

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

Katarina: Umm, are you okay with Sora and Maria alone together? Sora might have feelings for Maria, you know?

Cyrus: No, Sora doesn't have feelings for Maria. Even I can see that.

Katarina: Huh? What do you mean?

Cyrus: What I mean? Well, however I look at it…

Katarina: However you look at it, what?

Cyrus: Lady Katarina, didn't you notice?

Katarina: Notice what?

Cyrus: …

Katarina: Wait, Lord Cyrus. What is it? What do you mean?

As Cyrus fell silent, I asked this with a little loud voice.

Cyrus: Lady Katarina, I see that you still are a child ignorant of love.

He said this with a little tired face.

Wh-Whaaaat~?! Cyrus, who is no better than a grade-schooler when it comes to romance, dares tell me I'm a child ignorant of love?! I don't want to hear that from YOU!!

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

Nicol Kept Being Approached By Foreigners

Katarina is about to retort something when Mary pulls her arms, offers her some sweets, and forcibly separates her from Cyrus. Katarina still wants to yell at Cyrus but she is intrigued by the sweets.

Mary tells her these sweets are probably a new creation since she has never seen them before. Katarina tastes them and finds them delicious. Maria asks if she can taste them too. Katarina accepts even though it was Mary who offered them. Maria finds them delicious. Then Sophia and Nicol taste them too and find them delicious.

Mary is glad they could finally join with Katarina. Katarina assumes it was hard to find her given the number of people. Mary replies it was not the case since she assumed they would find her at the buffet. Katarina feels dejected that people would figure her out so easily.

Maria explains it was because they kept getting approached by people and could hardly make a step. Katarina is not surprised people would ask Mary, Maria, and Sophia out since they're pretty. Mary explains it was rather Nicol who kept getting approached. Katarina is shocked.

Sophia explains that Nicol's charm is particularly effective today given the number of foreign people. Nicol was not only approached by young women but also men and women of all ages. Some of them were high-ranking people in their primes, so they had to deal with them carefully.

Katarina is amazed by Nicol's charm which fascinates people of all genders, ages, and countries. Even with these beautiful girls with him, he can boast about being the most popular one.

Mary admits that Nicol's charm was so troublesome that she felt like wrapping a cloth around his face.

Even after hearing the rumors, Cyrus still can't believe the number of people who approached Nicol.

Sophia mentions that Nicol has been especially courted by large foreign men. She thinks they're probably considering loving Nicol as a woman. Nicol sharply stops Sophia. His tone is sharp but his face looks tired. Katarina doesn't know if it is because he was approached by large men, or because of Sophia's fantasies, speech, and conduct.

Cyrus Came to the Party to Escort Maria

Cyrus changes the subject. He confesses that it has been a while since he went to a party and he feels overwhelmed by the number of people here. Katarina is surprised that Cyrus doesn't go to parties but realizes that she indeed never met Cyrus at a party. Cyrus explains that he doesn't feel at ease at parties and is also busy with work, so he always rejects the invitations.

Still, Cyrus is not the only one. Many nobles at the Ministry don't go to parties, like Larna / Susanna Randall, who only goes to important parties. Ministry people are also swamped with work.

Maria apologizes to Cyrus since he had to push himself to go to the party for her. Maria seems to think that Cyrus was forced to attend the party to guard her. Katarina rather thinks Cyrus volunteered to do it. After all, Cyrus would do anything to protect Maria.

Cyrus tells Maria that he planned from the beginning to attend the party and volunteered to guard her after hearing she would also attend it…because he was worried about her. Katarina can imagine that Cyrus had to muster a little courage to say the last part.

Maria is happy to hear this and warmly thanks him for "being so concerned for his subordinate". Maria seems to have taken it as the considerate gesture of a superior towards his subordinate rather than a romantic gesture. As the heroine of an otome game, Maria seems to be dense when it comes to love. Katarina feels sorry for Cyrus.

Katarina thinks to herself that in Cyrus's place, Geordo would have clearly told Maria that he was worried about her because he loved her, not because she was his subordinate. Cyrus doesn't need to be like Geordo but he needs to work hard if he wants the dense Maria to notice his feelings.

Katarina really wonders how Cyrus could romance Maria in the game. Maybe he had a sad ending where he only married her in his dream? She can tell that Cyrus is losing to the 14-year-old Dewey and that he will just end up as a good superior at this rate. She sometimes wants to push Cyrus but he always says that he can't be alone with Maria. It is frustrating. Even today, he probably planned from the start to join with Mary and the others so he wouldn't be alone with Maria. Even though he accepted to guard Maria, he won't make any progress with her. Cyrus is just so hopeless.

#hamefura light novel #hamefura #my next life as a villainess: all routes leads to doom #katarina claes #maria campbell #cyrus lanchester #keith claes #cezar dahl #alan stuart #geordo stuart #mary hunt #sophia ascart #nicol ascart #pochi hamefura

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