#i am prepared to be a cat mother

[princelancey]

tumblr making boops a thing and me discovering that a cat may be having kittens in my garden on the same day feels right, feels good

[jq37]

Aelwyn is sixteen and preparing for midterms at Hudol. Uniform pressed and starched, head full of incantations and spell components. She doesn't mean to bump into Adaine and get orange juice all over her shirt but today isn't the day she's going to start showing weakness.

"You know, you really should watch we're you're going," she says archly, playing off the clumsy mistake as a purposeful jab.

Playing it off a bit too well because, the next thing she knows, Adaine is flipping her off and a bolt of queasy looking, green energy is coming towards her. Ray of Sickness. And she can't spare the spell slot for Counterspell because she needs it for her exams.

"You little bitch!" Aelwyn says once she's emptied the contents of her stomach down the front of her shirt.

"Good luck with your exams," Adaine says sweetly.

Aelwyn is eighteen and the oldest, mangiest cat she's ever seen in her life has just vomited on her shoes.

"My," she says, casting a shield spell around her ankles to stop the cat from clawing at them. "You weren't kidding. He is a little bastard, isn't he?"

The shelter volunteer looks mortified. "Oh, gods! I am so sorry. I tried to warn you--I mean, not that I'm blaming you but--"

"No, it's alright. I did ask you to show me stragglers."

The shelter worker gestures to another pen on the other side of the room. "I can show you the kittens we just got in or there are some very well behaved older cats as well if you'd--"

But Aelwyn cuts her off, scooping up the old cat--though she holds him at arm's length for now, just to be safe. "No need. I haven't changed my mind. I'll take this one." She looks at the tag on his collar. "Hector."

Aelwyn is three and, as of a month ago, no longer the youngest Abernant.

She's had baby dolls in the past but never a baby sister and this is exciting new territory. She's full of questions. When is she going to be able to walk? When is she going to be able to talk? When will she be old enough to have lembas bread instead of formula?

Her parents seem less fascinated by the new addition to the family than she is but her mother is amused when she slaps away the hand of a colleague of her father's who tried to touch Adaine before sanitizing his hands, standing between the much larger man and her sister.

"So defensive. Perhaps she'll be an abjurer."

When Aelwyn asks what that is, her mother says that it's a kind of magical protector and she likes that a lot. That sounds like a good thing to be.

At night, Adaine cries. Except, she doesn't hear it because the mobile above her crib is etched with runes that cast the Silence spell.

"But what if she gets hurt?" Aelwyn asks.

Her father brushes her off. That's what the Unseen Servants are for. But she thinks that's what an abjurer might be for too and even though she isn't one yet, that doesn't mean she can't start practicing.

So, every night, Aelwyn waits until her parents have put Adaine down for bed and then tiptoes into her room. She checks to see if Adaine is silently wailing and if she is (and even sometimes if she isn't) she presses her face between the bars of the crib and sticks her little hand over Adaine's face.

"Don't cry," she says, even though the Silence spell mutes her words as completely as the tears. "Mum said I'm an abjurer. Nothing will get you. Don't cry, baby."

Adaine grabs her hand with impressive grip strength for something so small and, within a few minutes, she's trancing peacefully.

Aelwyn is seventeen and her sister is off to save the world again. This time from a Night Yorb--whatever that is.

It feels cruel that Adaine should have to go risk her life again so soon after she just almost died--not almost died, she did die before being raised by her cleric.

She wants to come with, to help in some way. Surely she could be helpful--last quest they brought Gilear for Helio's sake!

But Adaine doesn't ask her and she can't bring herself to say the words she needs to have the conversation she wants. So, instead, she lightly whaps Adaine on the shoulder with her spellbook as she's packing for the quest.

"I know you haven't done much studying lately what with your grades being based on how many hobgoblins you kill or whatever ridiculous system Aguefort has cooked up," Adaine rolls her eyes at that, "But if you don't mind a little cram session before you leave tomorrow, I can show you how to cast Teleport like I said. Might help you stay a touch less dead on your quest."

Her tone is light but her eyes betray her: Please, please, please don't die again.

Adaine's expression softens but then she scoffs, playing her half of their game. "I don't know what a Hudol dropout who's been in jail for the past year is gonna teach me but do your best."

Aelwyn is seven and her father is cross with her.

"Really Aelwyn," he says and even though they're talking via crystal she can feel the frost of his glare. "You thought it was appropriate to call me at work for no good reason? How many times have I told you and your sister to not bother me while I'm working."

She hates the word bother. She doesn't want to be a bother. She tries very hard not to be. Maybe she just didn't explain herself well enough.

"I know, father. But Addy got really scared and panicky on the playground. She was breathing really hard and--"

Her father makes a noise of disgust. "I don't have time for this. She is in primary school now. Stop coddling her. And her name is Adaine, not Addy. Please speak properly. I'm raising you better than that."

He hangs up before she can say anything else.

Aelwyn is eighteen and most of the claw marks on her arms have healed, which is nice. On her lap asleep is Hector who has apparently decided he likes her enough to use her as a radiator but not enough to submit to medical treatment without using her arms as a scratching post.

"You little heat vampire," she says as she slides her thumb across the screen of her crystal, searching for a video that will help her out. Eventually she finds one that looks promising and she calls it up.

On the screen, a halfling is standing next to a cat who is actively shredding her sweater with its claws. "You're going to be tempted to use some kind of a shield spell when applying the ointment," says the halfling. "But cats can smell abjuration magic and they don't love it. You won't get close enough to do the job. Isn't that right my darling?"

In response, her cat hacks up a hairball.

"Darling indeed," she says under her breath.

But even laced with sarcasm, the word is sweeter against her tongue than she anticipated.

She sinks her hand into Hector's fur and scratches his back for a few moments before tentatively speaking aloud. "Sleeping well, my darling?"

Hector says nothing--he's asleep and a cat. But warmth blooms in Aelwyn's chest--more than enough to make up for what Hector is leeching from her.

Aelwyn is seventeen and her father has just given her the most horrible command she's ever received in her life--and she's counting being made to sink a ship full of people in that calculation.

She knows her father doesn't expect her to delicately extricate the knowledge he needs from Adaine's mind. He expects her to get it at all costs. To ransack and pillage the memories if necessary with no heed of the consequences on her psyche. He'd probably prefer it that way--the more broken Adaine is, the easier it will be to mold her into a version of herself that is more useful to him.

Aelwyn is usually a smooth talker and a convincing liar but now, she stumbles all over her words, babbling out a stream of deflections and pleas as her heart squeezes tighter and tighter in her chest until she can't hold back the truth that she's been suppressing for years anymore.

"Adaine's just…she's a baby."

Aelwyn is eighteen and her apartment is full of cats.

She's always thought that the phrase, "One thing led to another" was a bit of a cop out--clearly there were key steps between point A and point B being glossed over--but in this case, there is truly no better way for her to articulate how she went from zero cats to ten cats in such a short amount of time.

She's sure that if she was still living with Jawbone, he'd have something to say about it but that's exactly why she isn't currently living with Jawbone.

She portions out food for all of the cats, saving Hector for last because he likes to eat curled up next to her.

"My darling baby boy," she says, lifting him onto the couch with her because the jump up is a bit much for him and his old bones. She kisses him on the top of the head and then pulls out her crystal. She scrolls mindlessly for a bit before checking her messages despite the fact that there's conspicuously no notifications.

Not that she has many people to expect texts from but she hasn't heard from Adaine in a few weeks and it's unsettling. When they weren't getting along, they were still living under the same roof. She was able to keep tabs on her, more or less. Now, they're closer than they've been in ages but barely talking.

I'm the older sister, I suppose, Aelwyn thinks. I should take the initiative.

She pets Hector with one hand and drafts a message with another: Are you alive, bitch?

She's about to press send but then she frowns and deletes the draft. After a few moments of thought, she taps out a new message: Can't believe I'm gonna say this. Miss my little sister. Everything all right?

Aelwyn is seventeen--though she doesn't feel like it.

Her mind is telling her that she's sixteen and that she was just been broken out of a jail cell in Solace but Adaine is telling her that she's just been broken out of an entirely different prison after being tortured for months even though she doesn't remember any of that.

But her body feels frail and Adaine says she's been in her mind which means she must have used the hard reset.

She's suddenly feeling very vulnerable--not because of the disorientation or the of the levels of exhaustion she can feel weighing on her like leaden chains. No, it's because of the fact that Adaine using the reset means that she must have read the treacle-y note that she left there for her to find.

It was just an insurance policy, she tells herself. There was wisdom to buttering up your savior to make sure she'd do what you needed her to do.

She manages to mostly believe it. But the small, truthful part of herself that knows how deeply she meant the words is so uncomfortable that she antagonizes Adaine until she's annoyed enough to hit her with a spell, sending her into blissful unconsciousness.

Aelwyn is nineteen and she's going to kill her mother.

Well, not alone of course. Adaine deserves the kill at least as much as she does if not more. It'll be a group effort.

It's a strange mix--the cold fury at her mother mixed with the warmth she feels for her sister, sitting across the table from her. She summons a flame to her palm, a preview of what their mother has waiting for her. She watches Adaine's eyes harden with resolve and she sees the face of her baby sister, left to wail alone silently for hours, soothed by her presence. "Let's get her."

"Yes, my dear," she says, the endearment coming freely as if this has always been their dynamic. "We'll get her."

But there will be time for that later. Right now, it's time for ice cream and seeing Adaine so content in such a simple pleasure causes the warmth in her to surge so suddenly that it would be startling if it wasn't so pleasant. The urge to voice it is so powerful that she doesn't know that would have been able to stop it at any point in life, let alone now.

"I hope we get to eat ice cream and cast magic forever," she says, words that would have been impossible for her to say one short year ago and impossible not to say now.

And, to her delight, Adaine agrees.

[cloudshuffle]

cuteness aggression. yan!penacony

Sunday

"This feels... dumb. I'm not a Halovian."

Sunday looks up from last-minute paperwork, pausing. Something unfamiliar stirs in his chest. He tugs on his gloves.

"It's not dumb," he replies smoothly. "You look... wonderful."

A small pair of wings sits just behind your ears, like his own. They're not real, of course, but they function just fine - letting everyone know who you belonged to.

He rises from his seat, moving toward you. You step back until your back hits the door, shrinking away from his hand.

But Sunday simply tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, rubbing a thumb gently over the inside of your wrist with his other hand. He leans into you slightly, radiating heat like a small star, blowing sweet breath across your face.

"Adorable..." he mutters, half to himself.

"Sunday," you say, voice weak, though you aren't sure what you need to tell him. You feel very much like a small thing being cornered by a predator, his eyes dark, pupils blown.

Then he pinches your cheek, so swiftly and out of character for him you blink.

Before you can protest, he massages your face lightly with both hands.

This must be what street cats feel whenever you accost them with your affection.

He releases you just as suddenly, patting you on the head as he passes. "Prepare yourself. The guests will be arriving anytime soon."

Well, you suppose there's a first time for everything.

Aventurine

"Good evening, my sickly angel."

You scowl at him from under blankets, a cold compress on your head. "You're not funny."

"On the contrary." He lifts your medicine. "I think I am very funny."

You complain audibly, but that's about as much as you can do with your energy drained by the fever. Aventurine feeds you as patiently as a mother with a small child, though perhaps with twice as much condescension.

"Stop staring," you grumble. "It's weird."

The bed sinks as Aventurine leans over, gathering you up in his arms. "You're like a kitten when you're sick. All angry and no claws."

You hiss when he squeezes you, only belatedly realising that you're proving his point. "Kittens have very sharp claws, excuse me."

"A declawed kitten, then." He rubs his cheek onto the top of your head. "You smell different, too."

"That's weird!"

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

The Godswood

Robb Stark x reader

Summary: When the newest Lady of the North is chased into the woods, the lords of the north search for Robb Stark's wife

Warning: canon-level violence, no use of y/n, wildlings, nudity (but no smut), not beta-d (I literally typed this on my phone and posted it)

Word Count: 2.8K

Masterlist

“Robb?” the new Lady of the North’s voice rang through their chambers. “I thought I should go to the Godswood to pray,” she relayed her plans for the day.

Robb immediately exited the washroom of their chambers. “Is it necessary for you to pray in the Godswood? There is a perfectly good sept near the Great Hall.”

“I know but even you say you feel more inclined towards the nature of the north when you pray at the Heart Tree,” she shrugged.

Robb sighed. “But I am unable to bring you today. You know I have that meeting with my father and the bannermen,” the young lord argued.

“Robb, I will be perfectly alright,” she insisted, giving him a loving yet exasperated look. “If it makes you feel better I will bring guards with me but I am telling you I will be okay in the few minutes it will take me to wish for the health of your family.”

Robb looked reluctant still but grumbled out an agreement. “Fine,” he agreed, moving closer to his wife so as to press a kiss to her temple. “But do not stray from your guards. The Godswood can be dangerous.”

“I won’t,” she complied, calling after him as he returned to the washroom to continue shaving and she exited their chambers. Making her way to her father-in-law’s office, she was already shivering through the drafty hallways of the Stark family’s residence within Winterfell. Not being from the north had made residing here difficult in terms of becoming accustomed to the weather. But her husband was always willing to warm her up. And her mother-in-law, another northerner by marriage only, had given her tips of how to prepare for the cold.

Finally making it to the Warden of the North’s chambers, the guards allowed her to enter after announcing her presence in Lord Stark’s office.

Entering, she found that the first of the bannermen had already arrived. “Lord Karstark, Lord Amber,” she greeted the men. “My apologies, my lords, I did not realized your meeting had started.”

“Nonsense,” Lord Stark dismissed his daughter-in-laws concerns, always happy to see the girl that seemed to brighten his son’s life. Lord Stark considered himself to have made a few very good decisions in his life. One of them being his decision to marry Cat. But another one was orchestrating his eldest son’s marriage to the girl that stood before him. “The lords here were just telling me about their lands before the true meetings began. Is my son ready?”

“No,” she answered. “You know how particular he gets about his hair.”

The men erupted into laughter. “Wow,” Lord Karstark began, still recovering from his laughter. “Wish I had her for a daughter-in-law. My son refuses to even neaten his beard.”

“Yes, well, my son finds her input very valuable,” Lord Stark chuckled. “What can I do for you, dear?”

“I had just hoped you would assign me a guard. Robb insisted I take one into the Godswood.”

“He is smart to do so,” his father commended. “I will send you with two. Just to be safe.”

She gave her father-in-law a bashful smile. “Thank you,” she bid, exiting the office.

“Come,” the guard waiting outside the office bid. “I will assign your guards.” She followed him out of Ned Stark’s chambers to the hall where several had already been waiting for assignments. He looked to two of them, giving them orders to take her to the Weirwood tree.

“Aye,” both agreed in sync before breaking from the rest of the group. The pair then stepped up to their charge for the day. “My lady,” they both greeted.

She nodded to them in acknowledgement. “Well seeing as the assignment was already explained to you, let us go,” she explained, trying to relieve any awkwardness. She truly loathed to have guards follow her around wherever she went. In her childhood, guards were only ever needed when she left her family’s lands. But Robb had insisted on her either being with him or with armed sentries whenever she even left the Stark residence. Even just to visit the stables or library he insisted she have some sort of protection. Claiming that technically Winterfell was a fortress that could be under attack at any time.

Not much was said as the trio made their way out of the walls of Winterfell and into the forests surrounding the fortress. As she went, she could not help but shiver as the cold winds nipped at her neck and face. She dreaded the day winter actually descended upon Westeros as apparently the northerners considered this more “mild” chill to be summer as well.

Finally reaching the Heart Tree, adorned with a carved face, the new Lady Stark fell before the long reaching branches. Just as her face fell to her interlocked hands, a snapping twig broke her thoughts. Looking up, she found a wildling fifty feet or so away from her. She stumbled back, falling from her knees and onto her rear, her hands catching in the dirt.

The guard posted nearest to the wildling immediately came between her and the wild looking man. Her heart hammered in her chest as she observed his tangled hair and overworn clothes.

A yell from her other side drew her attention to the other guard who was now brandishing his sword against another wildling man holding a spear. Quickly scrambling to her feet, she moved closer to the Weirwood as if it’s branches would swat away any threats to her. Looking around frantically, she found three more wildlings creeping out of the trees.

“My lady, run!” one of the guards shouted as one of the wildlings jumped to attack him.

Scared beyond belief, she obeyed, rounding the Heart Tree to run away from the grizzled men. She had no idea where to go, she just prayed there weren’t more waiting for her behind the tree. As she sprinted through the forest, she spotted none but she was not naive enough to believe her two guards could hold five of them off. She wept as she ran, holding up her dress as she ran so it would not trip her or snag on any stray branches.

She had no idea how far she ran until she truly could not breathe. Taking a moment to rest against the trunk of a tree, she caught her breath. But it soon evaded her again as she was overcome by sobs. Her guards were surely dead now. And by the time anyone noticed she was lost the men who killed them would likely have caught up with her or she would be so lost she would never be found. Completely rattled by the idea of falling into those men’s clutches, she continued on, this time at a walking pace. Remembering that these wildlings would surely be skilled trackers, she did her best to disturb the flora as little as possible whilst taking an erratic path.

~

The guards who held the western gate of Winterfell looked in reluctant astonishment at the two bleeding guards before them. “Evander,” a sentry addressed his bleeding friend. “What happened?”

“We were ambushed by wildlings. Get Lord Stark and the bannermen, Lady Stark is still out there. We told her to run.”

A guard who overheard wasted no time, running to the Great Hall as fast as he could. He relayed the message to all the guards standing outside of their Lords’ meetings and they immediately parted to let the man through.

“Forgive me, my lords,” the guard announced his presence as he burst through the doors. “Wildlings attacked Lady Stark in the Godswood. Some of the wildlings were slain but she is still out there,” he breathed heavily.

Robb was the first to stand, doing it so fast his chair fell behind him. “Saddle my horse,” he ordered, already moving to exit the room.

Behind him, his father also stood. He looked at the still seated, mildly shocked men. “You want more titles and lands? The first man to find my daughter-in-law will have the moors.” Each man immediately stood, barking orders at the advisors who accompanied them to prepare for the search.

Eddard followed after his son who had already made it outside and was saddling his horse. “Son,” he called, catching the young man’s attention. “Just wait a moment so we may organize the search.”

Robb’s eyes flashed with worry at the prospect. “Father, just three harvests ago wildlings slaughtered the Farlands. I have to at least begin a preliminary search.”

Before the Lord of Winterfell could disagree, the commander of his guard ran up. “My lord, we have a dozen or so men prepared. Would you like us to begin a preliminary search?” he asked. Everyone in the North who had dealt with wildlings knew just how dire the situation was. They almost certainly knew the terrain better than the newest Lady of the North.

“Yes,” Robb immediately agreed, pulling himself onto his horse. His father nodded to the commander, and the initial search party saddled their horses and rode for the western gate. In their company was one of the guards who had initially gone to the Heart Tree. The other, too injured to accompany them, laid in the maester’s chambers having his wounds dressed.

Once the group made it to the Heart Tree, they found remnants of the attack. Two wildlings laid dead in the brush. “As far as I know there are three more, my lord,” the initial sentry informed Robb as he dismounted from his horse. “I had told your wife to run and she went to the opposite of the tree,” he said, pointing west. “They attacked us and we managed to fend the five of them off but once they realized she was getting away, three of them followed after her.”

Robb wanted to demand to know why they had not chased after his wife but he held his tongue. He just prayed for their sakes they were right in their judgement to return for reinforcements. “Everyone head west and spread out. She’ll know to have put as much distance between her and the wildlings as possible. And search for tracks, if she was concealing hers, the wildlings won’t have bothered.” A chorus of agreements rang out as each man took off.

~

The search had been on for hours. By now nearly every man within five miles of Winterfell had been out to search.

It was painful for Ned to watch his son slowly lose hope as the hours wore on and it became increasingly darker. Riding over to Robb, he spoke, “We will find her, son.”

Robb only nodded, holding his jaw clenched tightly. He was reluctant to admit that his wife of only two moons may already be gone. She was not of the north, she had no idea how to navigate the woods. And she would be perfectly defenseless running across any wildlings or creatures.

“I should have never let her even leave Winterfell,” he lamented.

“You cannot blame yourself,” Ned lectured. “Son, if you are going to become the Warden of the North, you cannot take every loss as personal.”

“I know, but this is my wife. The first person I am supposed to protect. If I cannot even find her in my own lands how can I lead them?”

“It will come with experience,” Ned assured. “And you did nothing wrong, you protected her as well as anyone could have.”

Before Robb could further degrade himself and argue, several calls rang out through the forests. Finally, they came near enough to be clear. “We found her!” echoed through the seemingly empty forest. Robb let out a shuddered cry of relief as he took off toward the voices, leaving his father behind.

As he rode he spotted more and more of his men, each time becoming more and more eager that they were the one who had found her. But each time they just ushered him on, pointing him further and further north. He continued on until he found several men gathered, lit only by their torches and the moonlight. They all turned to see their heir, immediately parting to reveal his wife sitting upon a fallen trunk.

“Robb!” she cried as she saw his horse approach. Her voice was broken with tears. As soon a he reached the clearing, he dismounted, immediately clambering to his wife. He had not even embraced her yet before he was throwing his fur cloak over her quivering shoulders, surely shivering from the chill that had by now reached her bones.

He immediately pulled her into his embrace, holding her tighter than he ever had before. He cared little for decorum as she buried her face into the warmth of his neck and sobbed. He himself wanted to cry in relief but held it in. When he finally pulled away only to look at her, he found several scratches on her face and mud adorning her dress. “What…” he began softly as he reached a hand up to her face.

“Just the scratch of the branches,” she assured, gently grasping his wrist in her icy hands as he continued to hold her face. “And I admit I did fall down a hill in my haste,” she explained sheepishly. Robb was sure that if she were not so incredibly cold he would feel the warmth of her blush through his gloves.

Finally Eddard Stark arrived, finding Robb holding his wife as if she were the most precious thing in the world. He let out a private sigh of relief seeing the girl relatively unharmed. Given his son’s level of depression just at the mere idea of his wife being lost to him, he was reluctant to even imagine what Robb would do had they found evidence of his wife’s death.

“It’s dark, the lady needs to warm up and rest. Let us go back to Winterfell. My lords,” he addressed the men who helped in the search, “you may spend the night in the guesthouses. Word of the day’s events have already been sent to your families.”

Robb stood from his crouched position, pulling his wife up with him as if he were afraid she’d slip between his fingers. “Come,” he bid, “you will ride with me.” She only nodded, her chattering teeth providing the answer she could not. She held Robb’s hand and with the other she clutched Robb’s cloak around her shoulders. He helped her onto his horse, moving her so she sat sidesaddle so he could sit behind her. With both arms around her to take the reins, she immediately took refuge in the warmth of his arms.

As they made the journey back through the woods, Robb wrestled with his thoughts. He wanted to scold her and tell her this is exactly why he did not want her out of Winterfell but the other part did not want to add to her distress. Similarly he wanted to ask about the wildlings but at the risk of being told something he was not ready to hear and stressing her out more, he elected to stay quiet.

But it was her who broke the silence. “I’m sorry for questioning your judgment and going. And for endangering your guards,” she apologized meekly, her voice heavy with guilt.

Robb immediately hushed her. “It’s no concern. I am just glad you’re okay,” he said with a kiss to the top of her head.

Once they reached Winterfell, Robb was quick to usher his wife past all the guards and lords, eager to get her into a warm building. As soon as the couple entered the Keep, she felt as if the biting cold was melting from her bones. Robb once again ushered her to their chambers.

His wife immediately went to the fireplace, standing in front of it trying to warm her hands. Behind her, Robb softly grasped her shoulders, resting his chin in the crook of her neck. “I sent ahead for a bath to be prepared to warm you.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, still feeling the harsh cold of her skin. He released her only enough so she could head to the washroom where she found the tub full of steaming water.

Robb, as gently and cautiously as possible, slowly stripped her of her clothes. Mere weeks ago she would have shied away from his gaze but his constant praise and affection had emboldened her to kiss him deeply even when she stood nude against his completely clothed frame. “Bathe with me,” she asked, stepping away to slip into the water.

Never one to decline his wife’s attentions, Robb quickly disrobed before sliding in the tub behind her. He wrapped his arms around around her, pulling her into his chest as they soaked in the warmth of the water and each other.

Masterlist

[fieldofdaisiies]

A Bargain

paring: Azriel x Reader | type: angst | words: 2,2k | warnings: this story explores a little darker themes like the loss of eyesight due to fire. thank you so much for beta reading @moonlightazriel me helping me get back into x reader writing💛

Fire. Nothing but unbearable heat and blinding light, like icy spikes piercing your skin. The brightness was overwhelming until everything went dark. Blank. Plain. No colour. No shape. No figure. Only darkness. And deafening silence.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

Your fingers start to tremble around the book the moment a soft breeze brushes your legs and tells you that somewhere in the Library a door was opened. Your senses, touch, hearing and scent, have sharpened once you‘ve lost your eyesight and you are immediately alerted that someone is here. In your personal space, in your sanctuary, at this time. During the night!

You draw in a deep inhale, move your feet apart so you stand in stance. Your fingers curl into a fist  and then–

“Who is there?” you find yourself asking despite the unease brewing inside of you. You know that no one who could cause harm could technically enter this place, but still you always want to know who is close. Who is coming, so you can prepare yourself. Brace yourself.

Fear is rising within you because whoever is nearing you has loud footsteps — it is a male most definitely and if there is one thing in this world you almost fear as much as fire it is men. You try to steady yourself, listening closer, trying to make out if the steps sound familiar (if they belong to the general of the Illyrian armies) but they don’t. He walks slower, and his boots have a different sound when they pad over the library floor. It must be someone else and you—

Someone nears you and the words to ask again who it is die in your throat that suddenly seems so dry. You turn your front to the shelf, hoping to maybe go unnoticed, but the Mother doesn’t hear your prayers. A person halts next to you and you flinch, sucking in a sharp breath of air. Your body is trembling as you press against the shelf, grinding your teeth so hard your jaw starts to ache.

Your throat works on a swallow and some more silent prayers leave you that whoever is close just walks by and—

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” a gentle male voice says, interrupting the tense silence. The air whooshes out of your lungs, your blood chilling because you know there is no escaping now that he has seen you. But somehow, all worry and fear seems to dissipate when he speaks up again. He has no brutal voice, there is nothing harsh or hard in it – it sounds melodic. Almost like the voice of a singer. “I apologise, I really didn’t mean to scare you. I had no idea someone was still around at this time.”

You hesitate before you turn around or give the stranger an answer, but something soft, almost like a feather, brushes your lower arm. It is nothing more than a breath, like a cloud, it may be—

A shadow. And it is soothing and gives you a feeling of comfort. You have felt it before, shadows, like a cat's tail brushing your legs.

“You are the Shadowsinger, right?” Slowly, you turn to him, remembering Gwyn’s stories about the male with the dancing shadows around him who is training her now and who has sometimes come down here to collect books. You should have remembered his footsteps!

“I am a shadowsinger, yes,” the male says, “but you can call me—” His voice cuts off momentarily. And you know what he has realised. His eyes have probably landed on yours and he realised that you can‘t see. That you are blind. And that since the fateful day almost a decade ago.

“Azriel,” he eventually finishes, finally having found his words to continue.

You inhale a deep breath, and say, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Azriel. I am Y/N.” A smile appears on your lips. “How can I help you?”

"I am here to pick up some books Gwyn suggested to me." The shadowsinger keeps his polite distance, you can feel that, his stance broad but not intimidating and you are thankful for that. Despite his kind aura, he is still a male, a stranger, and you always have to be careful. You can’t ever risk anything again. Never again.

“Gwyn said I would find them somewhere around here, but I truly have no idea where I should start to look.”

A grin tugs at the corners of your lips at the mention of her name. Gwyn is your closest friend down here and you love her like a little sister. "She is very fond of you, Shadowsinger,” you say, voice tinged with admiration.

You can’t see the smile appearing on Azriel’s face but you can feel it, how his heart is filled with relief and joy at your revelation.

"She is quite talented," Azriel comments.

"And beautiful…" Your voice almost gains a dreamy touch, and you place the book you have been holding the entire time back on the shelf. Azriel doesn’t say anything, and you know where his thoughts have gone to.

"My eyes may no longer be able to see, Shadowsinger, but my heart can. And that’s how I know that the priestess is beautiful - she has a soul of pure gold."

"I think she isn’t the only one down here who this applies to." This time he takes a small step forward, only a little, while trying to calm his vividly swirling shadows. You can feel them brush against you and his scent fills your nostrils - cedar and night-chilled mist.

They try to stretch out while he tries as hard as he can to hold them close.

"Are you talking about Merrill?" A little mischievous giggle leaves you right after you say her name and it even draws a chuckle from Azriel. The sound is wonderful, rich and deep, beautiful.

"I think you know exactly who I am talking about." 

You feel how a blush warms your cheeks and quickly avert your gaze. "Which books do you need?"

He tells you which ones he is looking for, speaking slowly, and in his wonderful, deep voice. You know immediately where to find them all, having memorised every small detail of the Library,

“Follow me.” You set out with a smile, waving at him to come and follow you. You have ventured through the corridors filled with hundreds of bookshelves and thousands of books many times and know exactly where and when you have to turn.

You can’t see it but you feel his curiosity, his slight astonishment about you and it makes you giggle. You walk swiftly, your robes swishing over the floor when you turn one corner after the other and finally arrive at your first destination. Your fingers trail over the backs of the books, touching and feeling the binding until you grab two books and hand them to him.

The next ones are on a lower floor and the last one even lower. 

“Why are you here at this time of the day?” you find yourself asking him, walking down a narrow corridor. You have come to like narrower space because they make you feel more secure than wide, open spaces. “Or rather night, Shadowsinger.” 

“I could ask you the same - why are you awake at this time?” You can hear the amusement in his voice about your little bantering, and a smile appears on your face, but fades when you start to answer. “It is calmer at night - no rustling pages, no shuffling feet, no hushed conversation. I can focus easier during this time of the day.”

“That’s understandable,” Azriel hums, “that’s partly why I prefer night over day. No rushing, loud people, no bright lights, no— I am so sorry. I didn‘t mean to—”

“Don’t apologise. You can see and you are allowed to be affected by light. It can be too much, I know this, I used to be able to see it once too.”

“I still should be more careful with my words.”

“I don’t want you to be. I want you to be yourself. You are a polite male and I am not made of glass. I don’t break so easily, so please, speak your mind.” You hand him a book from a shelf, after letting your fingers trail over the spine to make sure it is the right one. “I have always preferred night over day. The people are more relaxed, nothing is rushing them and they are not so loud.”

“I understand. I prefer it when it is calm too.”

“Unless there is music. Have you heard Gwyn sing?”

“I have,” he says with fondness.

“And do you sing too? You are a shadowsinger.”

There is a pause and you worry he won’t answer at all, but—

“I do. Sometimes. Only when I am alone.”

You hum in answer, not wanting to push him to sing for you although you are dying to hear it. It must be wonderful with his deep tenor and his velvety voice.

“Is there a chance one can hear one day?” Your lips quirk into a bright grin.

“No, but maybe one day in the far far future.” He blows out a long breath. “Now I have a question for you.” 

You brace yourself, lifting your chin to face his face, making out nothing but blurry surroundings. You would love to reach out to trace his face, his shoulders, to feel what he looks like and try to picture him in your mind.

“Would you like to join the other priestesses, Cassian and me for training one day?”

Your heart slams to a halt, pondering. Somehow you would love it — leave this pöace for once, but training? You hesitate, the word yes burning on your tongue, but you swallow it down. It would be useless. There would be nothing you could do and you would only make a fool out of you. So instead of agreeing, you curtly shake your head and take a step back. “A kind offer, but I must decline.”

“Because of—”

“Yes, Azriel. Because of my eyes. I can’t see, which means I can’t train.”

“That’s not true. Yes, you can’t see, but for training you don’t only need your eyes. Let me put together some exercises and in return you join us for the next training. I can prove to you that you are just as capable at training and fighting as the others are.”

“Is this a promise?”

“We can make a bargain if you like.” There is a hint of amusement in his voice that makes a silly, little grin appear on your lips and erase the former worry etched upon your features. You reach out your hand. 

“A bargain it is - I‘ll join you for training, and in return you will sing for me.”

There is a pause and for a moment you worry that he won’t agree. That it was a silly idea and he will be offended and just leave it. You don’t want whatever has started between you here not to end already. You want to—

“I accept.” Azriel also extends his hand and the moment your palms touch, lightning zips between your hands. It runs throughout your entire body, but it is not the only thing you can feel. There are scars. Scars that adorn his palms, most definitely his whole hands and your heart cracks. What has been down to him? How did he get them?

Your thoughts are swiftly cut off when lightning zips between your palms and then you feel it, like a warm and thin strap something curls around your upper arm and you know it, the legends are true — when you make a bargain you‘ll receive a tattoo as a testament of it.

Azriel has fallen silent the moment your hands part and you wonder if he is examining the tattoo. You wish you could see it, know what it looks like, and admire it.

“Let me describe it to you,” Azriel starts, and then you feel how he gently takes your arm, lifting it slightly. “It‘s a thin silver band around your upper arm, almost invisible, and where the two ends meet there are three small stars. The first is slightly larger than the second and the third one is the biggest.” He strokes his thumb over your arm, a natural action he probably doesn’t even notice but your hair starts to stand on end.

“Mine is almost identical to yours. It is in the same place. Only that the band looks slightly broader.”

“I think I would love it if I could see it.”

“I am sure you would.” You can hear the smile in his voice and return the gesture. “I love it.”

So can hear him shift, moving a step away from you. “I think we should both sleep now, Y/N, but I‘ll see you tomorrow for training. I‘m sure Gwyn can lend you something to wear if you only have your robes.”

“I will ask her.” You pull your lower lip between your teeth when nervousness about the following day starts to trickle in.

“Perfect, until tomorrow then.” He hums. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Shadowsinger.”

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @cadiawrites @bookishbroadwaybish @tele86 @fuckingsimp4azriel @berryzxx

[woso-dreamzzz]

Kidnapped II

Fridolina Rolfö x Baby!Reader

Summary: You're sick

The league win is tonight.

Or, rather, the presentation of the trophy is tonight and Frido's excited. It should be a fairly easy win for the team so that combined with the trophy lift is going to make this day amazing.

It falls just short of perfect because you've fallen ill.

Frido's parents arrived nearly two days ago and, while you were perfectly fine on the plane, you're now a bit wheezy with a sore throat and a cough that just won't seem to go away.

"Älskling," She coos, bouncing you around as she gets ready to leave," You sound so bad."

You've been up most of the night coughing and Frido stayed up in solidarity, allowing her parents some sleep while she cared for you.

You cough again, as if to prove that you are feeling incredibly bad.

She measures out some medicine. Most of the team thought it was a little silly for her to be stocked up on kid's medicine when the only kid she hung out with was Cub but Frido had wanted to be prepared for if you got sick during any of your visits.

She'd be smug about it if it didn't mean that you were feeling terribly icky today.

She sways you softly as she squirts the medicine from the syringe down your throat.

"I know," She coos," Yucky, huh? I'll give this away to Mapi and Ingrid and find you some nice-tasting stuff for next time."

You whine a little and drop your head against Frido's collarbone. She keeps rocking you, rubbing your back softly as she lays kisses on top of your head.

"I'm going to call in," Frido says when her parents finally join the two of you in the kitchen," It's a fairly easy match. I won't be needed."

"Trophy is presented today," Her father replies gruffly," You can't miss that."

"Älskling is sick," Frido insists," I don't want to leave her. She needs me."

"You're not her mother," He says," You can't just pause your world because the little one is sick. Go to your match. Your mother and I will decide what to do with her. One of us will be there."

Frido puffs out her cheeks just like you do when you're annoyed. "I can stay!" She insists," She needs cuddles!"

"Cuddles that we are more than capable of giving her," Her father reminds her.

"Not sister cuddles!"

Her father laughs a little bit with an eye roll, taking you from Frido and soothing you easily when you whine against his chest.

"You know, I thought we left this petulance behind when you became an adult."

"I'm not petulant."

"Sure you're not.

Frido stamps her foot. "I'm not!"

Her father keeps laughing. "You're thirty years old and you're still stamping your foot? You're showing your baby sister a bad example."

The rumble of laughter from your father's chest has you let out your own raspy giggle that has Frido beaming at you.

"I'm staying here," Frido insists," Just to watch her a bit. It could get worse, you know."

"We raised you," Her father replies, adjusting you on his hip and bouncing slightly to help you settle," I think we know all about sickly children. She's much more well-behaved than you ever were."

"But-"

"Fridolina," He says, pulling out the full name and essentially silencing Frido with one word," If I have to drag you into that stadium by your ear then so help me I will. Your sister is capable of watching you on the tv no matter how sick she is."

Frido knows her father very well so the threat isn't empty.

She is going to the pitch even if he has to drag her there himself. It doesn't mean she has to be happy about it though.

Actually, Frido decides that she's not going to be happy at all even if the trophy is being lifted tonight. She forces herself to keep a frown on her face even when she listens to Ingrid complain about the two ginger cats that have now taken over her house.

Frido refuses to let herself be happy after being forced out of her own house while you're still wheezy and coughing.

"You can smile, you know," Mapi says," It won't break your face or anything."

"I'm proving a point," Frido replies," I am letting my parents know I'm not happy with this situation."

"Are you twelve? Because this is super childish."

Frido ignores her.

"Is this what I have to look forward to? God, I hope Cub never grows up."

"It's the principal of the matter," Frido says," My parents will understand."

It's difficult to keep the frown on her face when the team go seven nil up by the end of the match but if there's one thing Frido is, it's stubborn and she refuses to act like she's enjoying herself when you're sick in her home.

The trophy is brought out while the team celebrates and Frido gets up to join them before there's a familiar call of her name.

It's her mother's voice and Frido now knows it's her father who stayed home to look at you.

Good.

Because Frido isn't quite sure how she would react to seeing him here after her forced her to come without you.

Only...

You're being dangled over the railing to her, looking much happier and perkier than before.

"Look who decided to get over her little cold to see her sister win the league."

Frido grabs you and you clumsily fall onto her chest, giving her a big wet kiss on her neck.

She laughs. "Thank you, Älskling!"

You screech something unintelligible and Frido nods.

"I love you too!"

[linnienin]

🍰 T h e ⁕ m o o n ⁕ a n d ⁕ I C 🍰 : how are you behind closed doors?

Disclaimer: Take what resonates. I'm not a professional astrologer, i just am an avid researcher and i use my personal experience when writing my posts (Also, pls, don't copy my work, i spend lot of time on it, thanks)

We all know the Sun and Ascendant play important roles in our chart, but they are often what people see at first and what we usually display to the public.

Once we get home or we meet someone that makes us feel at home, this is when another unexpected 'part' of us unleash, that part comes from our deepest place of our personality, we don't hide our emotions anymore, we feel completely free to express ourselves in our rawest form (can also be interpreted as 'getting in tune with our inner child')

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Aries moon/IC : The forever child, kinda like a Peter Pan, and hella CHAOTIC. If you think this person appeared as balanced, laid back and diplomatic, well, you were very wrong lol. You'll soon realize he/she is the most spontaneous of all. Behind closed doors they'll sing loudly, they'll laugh loudly, they'll throw things at you (be ready to catch them or they'll break for sure 😂). Clumsy as hell, and they like it. Endless energy. Gets touchy in an aggressive mode (like when a child put their head violently against their mother's head, they don't mean to be violent, it's just the way they express love, it's bold and uncontrolled hehe) The type to workout at home and be LOUD about it (how many times did i write loud 🙈), has noisy heavy footsteps. Can burn the food lol. Can also be prone to burn themselves accidentally. Constantly finding new distractions to turn their head to. "THAT THING IS MINE, DON'T TOUCH IT". The bed is their personal trampoline. At night, they change position at least 10 times before actually find a decent one to sleep in (they'll make the bed appear as a gym, be ready for the earthquake), heavy sleeper.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Taurus moon/IC: 'AHHHHH, finally my dear bed'. I see you tauruses, first thing you do once you get home is jumping on that comfy bed and hug your pillows (yeah, you still have your coat,scarf,hat,backpack,shoes on, why bother taking them off 😂). Not picky when it comes to food, they love all dishes, just the act of eating gives them pleasure (they're here to ✨enjoy✨, that's also why you'll rarely see them cook 😂). The living ghost (that maxi blanket looks good on you, but remember to wash it from time to time since you basically slide it on the floor wherever you go lol). The hugger, literally a safe and calm space for everyone, you'll see people comes to them when stressed just to feel their healing aura. Touchy, but in a sensual and calm way, like gentle little massages/strokes on shoulders, or waist (especially when the other person is cooking, to give them extra support and maybe get a taste of that sauce they're cooking👀) Fall asleep FAST. Usually stays in bed until late morning even if they wake up earlier (spends that time fantasizing)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Gemini moon/IC: The multitasker. They can't stay still a second. Cooking while doing laundry, while listening to a podcast, while cleaning (superficially lol),while playing with their cats, while sending emails, while preparing for that exam, and oh...wait what is this smell? OH GOSH, THE OVEN! (of course of all things you forgot the food, sometimes you forget you are even human, you need those calories bby😂). Has the messier room, but also the most interesting one. Have a difficult time with silence, it's uncomfy to them, that's why they are always listening to something (tv shows, podcasts, youtube videos, music) even if they don't really care about what's being said (that's also why they know everything about anything, they absorb these facts like a sponge). Changes hobbies at the speed of light. You see them throwing ceramics one week, the next they're playing the cello (they secretly can't stick to a single hobby because it becomes too boring). Have difficulty sleeping, their brain can't seem to shut down, so usually they can take hours before falling asleep (they find sound comforting and helpful so lots of them listen to ASMR before going to bed or even listen to the sound of breathing of the person next to them to calm themselves)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Cancer moon/IC: Home sweet home. There's nothing that feels better for these natives than a good relaxing day at home (or maybe an entire life between those walls 👀). They literally can feel the mood changing the moment they pass the line that separate the outside world from their inner bubble of the home. They love to take care of their environment, they don't feel the chores to be so exhausting because it feels like helping an old friend out, and they take pride in their home too (they won't let you in easily, you need to really conquer them and show them you respect and cherish other's surroundings). They make very good cooks, but not the type to be super detailed with the ingredients, they are more intuitive, a bit like old grandma style (probably learnt to cook from a female family figure too). Make traditionals meals, can make meals from recipes thet have been passed on by previous generations in the family (and they take pride in this too). Has probably a personalized cookbook they wrote by hand with cute doodles on it. Has a specialty for making excellent sweets (and love to eat them too hehe). Has a welcoming aura. Has the coziest room. Loves to make forts with bedsheets. TV series binger. Pretends life only exist between those 4 walls. Bawl their eyes out for no apparent reason at a random time (well, they accumulated the stress from outside so now that they feel safe they let go). Likes to be held when sleeping, and if there's no one beside them, they like to hold a plushie or to curl up in side fetus position 😂

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Leo moon/IC: The beef. Oh yeah, as soon as the door closes, they can't wait to spill tea on all the people that bothered them during the day (i see u 👀). The funny and spot on imitator. Gets very touchy and loving, until you don't give them attentions anymore 😾, then they'll put on a show, and if you're still apathetic, they might break something lol (don't get them to this stage pls ). Has lots of lights decor in their room, also lots of... mirrors 👀. 48393983902 hair products, their hair routine is absolutely a ritual, if you interrupt them they'll give you the death stare (but deep down they like being caught while taking care of their beautiful mane, cus they feel sexy with wet hair, or even when blowing them, feeling like a superstar). Don't you dare telling them the food they cooked wasn't good, they take pride in it and they try their best to provide for others. Also they care for their family and friends a lot, so never talk bad things about them or you'll hear the roar of the lion. Are the best entertainers, sometimes the show gets a bit too real and you don't know where the fine line lies anymore (that's how good they are, but are you good enough to handle them?). At night, they wanna be hugged from behind to feel the heat on their back (it helps them relax when trying to fall asleep)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Virgo moon/IC: Picky af. Especially with food. They don't let you enter their room unless they like you. Everything in their home is accurately chosen and has a function, no useless stuff (even if it seems 'useless' they might use it to relieve stress or whatever). Tidy room. Don't decorate much, they're into the clean look aesthetic, usually they don't have lots of things and they're put in strategical places so that it's easier for them to clean (and they clean the home quite often). The one that knows how to do anything PERFECTLY. They become masters at what they do. Cooking? They know all the secrets. Doing laundry? They have a baggage of knowledge no one else has. Oh, wanna have segss? I just got my PhD in sexology 😂. Is into way too many hobbies, but unlike geminis they actually go deep into it until they have reached a level of satisfaction (honestly...they never reach it because it's never enough, so that's why they say they putted on hold that hobby and not that they got over it, while geminis are like well..who cares, it wasn't for me, next). Reflecting on that conversation they just had with a person 1 hour ago and re-write it to perfection in case they get to experience the same thing another time. Control freaks, i knoooow, but it's true cm'on, why would you get a panic attack when you're home? Your brain never leaves the outside world right? You overthink way too much, pls, it's okay to let go sometimes ok? Light sleeper, has difficulty falling asleep because of they're constantly ruminating.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Libra moon/IC: Lives in a castle... i'm kidding, they only wish they did lol (i mean maybe there's really someone out there that is a Libra and lives in a castle and they're reading this post laughing at me, sorry for the generalization). Loves when they have people do the things for them, it makes them feel appreciated and evalued (but also because they don't have to choose or they'll be the forever indecisive). They are the mediators in every family discussion because of their ability to remain calm while others easily fall into rage. Have a room with posters of their idols or fav celebs, is into photo collages of memorable moments. Everything in their room is somehow cohesive because of the ✨aesthetic✨. Sweets lover🧁. Randomly tries all the clothes in their closet just to see if they can make new outfit combos (and spend an entire day on it). Sips wine (or blackberry juice if they're not into alcohol, just because of the old money aesthetic) while watching rom-coms. Loves to try new foods, but don't exactly love to cook it, i mean, they try but... at some point they just lose focus, and when they see the immense chaos of mess they just did, they lose faith lol. Good listeners, probably not the best at giving advices tho (they usually don't even know what they'd have done in that situation😂).

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Scorpio moon/IC: Collectors. You enter their room and thay have all type of weird stuff like miniatures and gadgets looking at you like... ok wow, it's a creepy good kinda feeling (i found they're into animal's skulls too). It's not rare to hear them talking to themselves, they're not crazy, it's their way to release stress lmao. Headphones on 24/7. Not available for your bullshit, they got stuff to do. "Don't disturb or i'll kill you" on the door. Plan a whole murder but archive it because in this world it's not worth making it. But they have a heart i swear, just for those they love, that's it. Likes playing with kitchen tools, to test all their abilities. Just in case. They plan all the best hiding spots. Just in case. Learning that new taekwondo move. Just in case. Yeah, they're a liitle paranoid 😂. Can leave a bit of dust specifically so they see if someone touch their things. Likes boiling hot food and beverages. I swear, how can you even drink that tea and not burn your tongue, i'm impressed. Is the last one to fall asleep in the whole building, or family members, usually stay up until very late. Sleep few hours, i honestly don't know how they can even stand, they're for sure resilient. Don't like hugs, but gives them when they feel like it. They're like cats, 100%, you got a cat? Good, that is not a cat, it's a scorpio moon. (I love them tho hehe)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Sagittarius moon/IC: Clumsy af, but has great humour. Tell the best stories ( can add quite a lot of beef in them, but they don't make it sounds like they're saying bad things hehe ). Has the jungle room, i swear, they have all type of things dangling from walls and the ceiling, sometimes to the point of almost looking like a laser room lmfao (prepare yourself to train like Catwoman). The one that pushes others out of their comfort zone (and kinda use this excuse to escape outside with them too 'cause can't stay inside a building for too long 😂). Probably lives somwhere in the countryside or dreams of living around nature, like in the mountains, in a forest, near a river etc... Constantly jump between rooms and hit themselves with some furniture, has constant bruises on them legs (their energy is too big to be contained between walls sigh). The big portions eater, they can eat all the leftovers from others and still not feeling heavy, i admire their digestive system lmfao (i could never). The funny face eater too, they're the living anime's characters. Binge watch survival shows. Wanna be free, so don't force them into stuff they're not interested in (they'd join by themselves if they want to). When don't know what to do, scroll endlessly their phone through meme pages. Send memes to EVERYONE , even when it's like... why did they send me that? Well, ok let's laugh (ya know, they don't have reasons, they are pretty simple people after all). The first one to try that weird stuff because you only live once so why not make it an adventure? Leaders, but need a counselor. Loud sleeper, can snore. Usually spread their limbs to the whole bed, and if you need to join them, well, good luck (you'll be sleeping on the couch sometimes😂)

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⁕ Capricorn moon/IC: your pacific homie. They do the same things every time they come home (like a programmed robot lol). Routine lovers. They need a predictable environment because their energy gets sucked by the chaos of the outside world. They aren't into decorating much, but they do have a passion for artistic hobbies, some of them can paint or play an instrument/sing, they have their tools for that hobby and that's it, the rest is quite minimal and practical. Can wear the same outfit on repeat too, it's like they don't care, or they have better things to care about (Mark Zuckerberg kinda vibe with the same tee over and over again). Loves traditional meals, meals they always ate since they were a child, not so open to try new food. Have a...peculiar relationship with the family (particularly their mother). I have noticed they usually don't talk much when having lunch/dinner at the table, they don't express much, and don't make eye contact to avoid people making questions. Quite reserved, need a lot of alone time to recharge. However, there's a need for them to have someone by their side to share those things too, they're absolutely afraid to end up alone, it's their worst fear, so even if they don't open up much, they want someone that understands them with just a look (however, communication is key guys, sometimes you succumb to the other person, especially if they have a strong personality, to just avoid conflict, and this is to your own detriment, you deserve better!). People say that this placement don't like physical touch, however, i'll say they veery rarely initiate the contact, but deep down the like it when others take initiative and show affection to them, it makes their heart warm even if they might not show it (but i can still see that subtle change in the expression 👀). The stable sleeper, they sleep in a position and that's it.

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⁕ Aquarius moon/IC: Step into home=step into my fantastic spaceship and leave earth for a while bye. The crazy calm gal. Constantly crunching their bones (why tho). Tries to walk on walls just to see if they can bend gravity. Wanna try to glue their shoes with the Pattex and attach themselves to the ceiling like the guy in the advertising(Can be content even with swinging from the chandelier). Throw random parties and invites everyone (even strangers lol). Likes when people stay over to sleep, just to see them all in their worst condition (usually drunk)😂. Have the tech room, and when they enter it, they turn off their lights, turn on their displays and pick up their hood, and voilà, they're in a Mr.Robot mood (can be good hackers for real tho). Don't know how to show emotions so they instead react with a weird funny expression that could mean everything and nothing at the same time. Yeah, they can be confusing as hell (is this part of their plan? I dunno). Record a video of themselves everyday talking about their experience on this earth, just in case someday someone (maybe an alien) finds these recording and place them in the Interspatial Galactic Museum. Thanks for your contribuition. Can sleep with eyes open. I'm kidding hehe, they actually can sleep well, because they know they did their job that day, so rest in peace (and you'll never know when the world will end, might be today, so gotta enjoy the sleeping hours). (but honestly, there's some truth behind the sleeping with eyes open, because of all the screen time on their devices, the melatonin production is at 0 basically lmao, turn on the night filter when looking at your devices!)

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⁕ Pisces moon/IC: Walks in, continue walking, get to their room, get on the bed. Wakes up. Moment of realization: ohh, i didn't know i just got home, i was in my head thinking, but good thing that now i can relax. Proceed to search for food ready to be eaten (without too much cooking involved). Free to daydream with 0 consequences (hmm...maybe you should organize your time better cause that exam won't pass by itself). A literal softie, their room is full of plushies and pillows where they can drown in. Always lose track of time. Has a messy but cozy room (very bad at tidying their things). Leave 3789132789 clothes piled on the bed lol. Lost in their thoughts. Intuitive eating (can binge eat tho if not careful). Can burn the food because they just forget they even put it on the first place. The master procrastinator. Has a calm vibe , and won't disturb anyone (you probably won't even notice them). Have artistic hobbies, but can't focus on them for too long because they get easily distracted. Can lose the entire day to watching videos or social media, and even if they're aware, they still continue doing it. Are into spiritual stuff, probably got 17932701 cristals and a personalized altar for them too, with others meaningful pieces and some candles. They're always in the bathroom, even when they shouldn't be there, it's just their favourite place. Can take veeery long showers, if you live with them, be ready to wait A LOT before they actually get out (or just sneak in😂privacy who?). Loooove to sleep. That calming time at night when everything shuts down is the best feeling in the entire world to them. They can't wait to go to bed honestly, they even get excited. Afternoon naps are also a thing for them. Like to sleep on their stomach.

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A n d ⁕ y o u ⁕ h a v e ⁕ r e a c h e d ⁕ t h e ⁕ e n d !

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

I hope you enjoyed this post,

and i wish you all a great day! 🍰

⁕ L i n n i e ⁕

[frost-queen]

Tempting fate // part 6 (Reader!Featherington x Colin Bridgerton)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @bubblybrianna97 , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , 

@m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampthing07 , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury ,  @imagines-by-her ,  @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @iixchloee, @cherrysxuya , @dutifullyannoyingfox , @wolf-phoenix-lover, @mellowdreamlandpost-blog ,

@markive-m, @esposamultifandom, @mswwvaleska, @itsalyssadawnuniverse, @magical-spit, @winter-solstice24 , @bloommart, @mushy-mushroom04 , @iamaslytherin0 , @writingfortheunloved , @superhighschoollevelfashion-blog , @kamiliora , @itsfromaboyband-blog , @redhoodsoutlaw , @anonymouscherries , @gayandfairycore , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @niktwazny303 , @markive-m , @lovesanimals0000 , @randomgurl2326 , @dutifullyannoyingfox , @h-l-vlovesvintage , @bee-unknown , @dd122004dd ,

@blueeclipsepaperstudent, @stcrrjoon, @akilatwt , @angelitadiaz , @bloommart, @luvcexe, @klallx, @miniemonie2001 , @mrs-jjmaybank , @fallout-girl219 , @i-heart-raven-xmen, @aoi-aster , @marvelho3, @live-awkward , @solsticesage , @hemmingsleclerc

Summary: Colin remains desperate for your attention. Yet you are not so eager to give it to him. Being at the brink of despare, he might need a little help to have you just where he wants you. [ part 1 & part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 7 & part 8 & part 9 & part 10]

You adjusted the shawl laying over your elbows, your sisters walking a bit further with their husbands. Phillipa was holding a parasol for the sun on this glorious stroll. – “Y/n do keep up.” – Portia called out seeing that you had lingered behind. – “Yes mama.” – you answered, quickening up your pace to hasten yourself over to them. You came joining Prudence’s side. Her arm locked in with her husband Robert Huxley. – “What a splendid weather is it not.” – Robert pointed out cheerfully.

Receiving not much later a slap against his shoulder from Prudence. He looked confused at his own wife. – “No one wants to have this dull conversation about the weather.” – Prudence let out with a bored expression. It made you chuckle softly. Prudence took in a deep breath, preparing herself to ask you something rather delicate. – “Is there something between you and Penelope?” – she asked, her eyes gliding across to where Penelope walked with mother.

Phillipa and her husband right behind them. – “Of course not.” – you said with a delicate smile. – “Liar.” – Prudence countered having leaned closer to you. – “I must agree with my wife on this matter Y/n. There definitely feels like something in going on between the two of you.” – Robert pitched in the conversation.

Prudence turned her head to him with a smile. – “Good to see you agree with me.” – she outed. Robert chuckled. – “I always agree with you.” – he said to let her have no doubts. Prudence’s eyes twinkled with delight. Robert snuck in a kiss against her cheek. You hoped that would let them forget about Penelope and you, but it didn’t.

Prudence let go of her husband’s arm and entangled hers around yours. – “What is it? What gossipy thing has happened between the two of you?” – Prudence whispered, leading you a bit away from her husband. Robert kept a respecting distance, still wanting to be close to his wife, but not intrude.

“Nothing.” – you answered making Prudence groaned annoyed. Her head fell back as the deep groan emerged from her mouth. – “Is this about the Bridgerton’s?” – Prudence asked as you came to a stop. Staring in shock at her. Prudence’s reaction to you was to smile wickedly. – “I am no fool Y/n.” – she whispered out letting go of your arm and join her husband’s once more.

Clenching your hands, you hurried back to them. – “This has nothing to do with Colin!” – you called out. Prudence turned around to you. She opened one hand explaining. – “Penelope and Colin have been friends since forever.” – she then glanced down at her other hand that she opened up to the side. – “I was told you were at the Bridgerton household, hinting you are having more interactions with Colin now that you’ve grown up.” – she clasped her hands together with a cheeky smile.

“One and one go together.” – she finished. – “What?” – you called out confused with wide eyes. – “Oh right, you were not aware. That night you were off God knows where, I came to the Bridgerton household to come and fetch you. You weren’t there of course but it was suggested.” – Prudence explained. Prudence took her husband’s arm again to continue the stroll in the park. – “By whom?” – you wanted to know, rushing after her.

“Our very own Penelope.” – Prudence informed you, making you stop and stare. – “Keep up Y/n.” – Prudence called out having walked further. You slowly came in motion, going in a slow pace after them. Head trying to grasp the information you had just obtained.

“Y/n!” – you heard loudly, making you gasp. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Colin Bridgerton make his way over. Not wanting to talk to him, you started walking off. – “Y/n wait!” – Colin called out quickening up his pace to come nearer. – “I want to talk.” – he let out going in pursuit of you. Lifting the hem of your dress a bit up, you started running. Running away from Colin. Having no desire to hear his excuses. – “Y/n!” – Colin called not letting you off the hook.

Robert turned around having heard your name. He nudged Prudence against her chest, turning around with her to see it for herself. Prudence gasped loud, grabbing her husband tight by the wrist. Digging her nails into him from excitement and entertainment. – “Y/n! Let us talk.” – Colin told you as you ran through the leaves of a willow tree. Running up to the thick bark to hide behind it.

Colin was about to enter the shadowy part underneath the willow as well till he got stopped. – “Colin?” – turning his head Penelope Featherington approached. – “Pen.” – Colin breathed out, letting his hand drop from under the leaves he had moved to create an entrance. He bowed to her as Penelope curtsied. – “Are you alone out here?” – she asked, getting on her toes to look past him.

“My family is by the lake.” – he pointed out. Penelope saw that Colin’s attention got drawn to the willow tree. – “Colin, you must simply tell me more about your travels to Paris. Tell me all about the culture, the food and wardrobes.” – Penelope suggested with a sweet smile. She gently nudged him when he was hesitant.

Penelope lured him away from the willow, strolling further away as she listened to his stories. You removed yourself from behind the bark, somewhat relieved your sister came in. If she hadn’t stepped in, you wouldn’t be able to get rid of him that easily. Going under the leaves, you got out in the open once more.

Gaze locking on your sister Prudence and her husband a bit further away. Prudence shaking her head, arms crossed. Her husband giving you a sheepish smile. Exhaling soft, you went over to your mother. Knowing Colin wouldn’t dare to come near with her by your side, if he ever dared to attempt it once more.

Having the uneasy feeling that Colin would try something no matter what, you told Portia you were not feeling well. She allowed you to take the carriage home. With a quickened pace, you made your way up to the path where the carriage awaited. The footman opened the door for you. You set your foot on the little step, already hoisting yourself up to get in the carriage. The footman was about to close the door as you were hovering to sit down.

The door suddenly getting held open by force. Colin Bridgerton came in the door opening, panting loud. – “Y/n let us talk.” – he breathed out. – “Colin!” – you screamed out startled. You didn’t want him anywhere near the carriage so you moved forwards, grabbing the door by the open window frame. You started pulling at it, the door bumping against Colin’s back as you tried to shut it.

Colin kept holding the door, making it for you unable to lock him out. – “I need to talk to you!” – he called out in desperation. – “I do not wish to speak with you.” – you made clear, pulling harder at the frame and shoving him back so you could close the door. – “Y/n! Hear me out!” – Colin kept the door open with all his might. You screamed loud in agony as he wasn’t giving up.

Colin saw no other solution so he set his foot on the little step, hoisting himself up. You cried it out in a panic as he was about to get in the carriage with you. – “Get out!” – you ordered him, pushing hard against his chest. Colin was sturdy and easily kept his position. – “Let me talk to you!” – Colin said annoyed that you kept pushing him off. Push after push, you shoved him against his chest, not wanting him to get in the carriage.

The carriage wobbled a bit from the movement as you didn’t want to think about the prying eyes it drew in. Colin Bridgerton standing half in a carriage, legs still out as something was clearly preventing him from getting on. – “Get out!” – you repeated loud at the brink of screaming your lungs out in frustration. You gave Colin a few more hard pushes as his foot slipped on the little step. It made him loose his balance as you could easily push him out of the carriage.

He fell down on his back on the gravely road. You stuck your upper body out to grab the door, wanting to slam it shut. – “Y/n please.” – Colin begged moving himself more upright. For a moment you stared at him, before your expression contracted in anger, slamming the door firmly shut.

The carriage got in motion as Colin came up to his feet. – “Y/n wait!” – he called out running after the carriage. Some ladies snorted loud seeing how Colin was so pathetic. He couldn’t possibly catch up with the carriage, slowing down as he was out of breath. Hands on his knees, he was panting loud. Defeated he returned to his family. Anthony waited eagerly for him, pushing Benedict a bit aside to come and meet him. – “And?” – Anhtony asked curious.

Colin shook his head, lowering it. Anthony exhaled deep, moving his hands to his hips. – “Do not worry brother, we’ll find a way.” – Anthony encouraged, swinging an arm over his shoulder. – “How?” – Colin called out frustrated. – “I messed up! She’s never going to talk to me ever again!” – Colin shrugged Anthony’s arm off. – “Don’t be absurd.” – Anthony answered.

“Every opportunity she takes a run for it!” – Colin called out angrily, taking a rock as he threw it in the lake. – “Colin!” – Violet scolded him for his bad behaviour. It made Colin sigh loud, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. Letting himself fall down in the grass, he gave up. Physically drained.

There was nothing he could do against the feeling. He couldn’t stop himself from feeling guilty for ever threating you so dishonest. Thinking back about it, he knew he sure was the fool.  He did truly liked you. At that time, he didn’t think it was strong enough for marriage. Not that soon. His brother made him think deeper about what he truly felt. Yet the damage was already done.

Seeing you with that other lord the other day, truly send him over the edge. Feeling you slip through his fingers as he was losing something, he didn’t want to lose. The feeling eating at him. That night Colin couldn’t sleep. Laying awake with taunting dreams of seeing you dance with that other lord.

Having to watch from the side-line as you gaze lovingly up to him. Imagining him standing in a corner, forgotten as you got married to the lord. Imagining you waking up next to him, his arms all around you as he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to stop the feeling and stop making excuses. Best of wishes to that Bridgerton.

Dancers took each other’s hands, brushing past each other to change positions. The next ball off the season had started off. The Bridgerton’s standing collectively together. A tray of drinks moved past as Colin snatched a glass from it. Drinking almost the entire content in one breath. He needed to drink himself some confidence. Getting a moment alone with you to talk, wasn’t going to be easy.

Colin found himself more and more being drawn to the stairs where newly guests would appear. Hoping each time the door opened, it would reveal you. The patience was nerve-wrecking. Almost making him break out in a sweat. The doors opened as he anticipated the moment to see you, yet it were others. After a while it didn’t seem like you would come. A girl having found her way to Colin, chatting to him about herself.

He rather wished to speak with you, but the distraction was welcoming at such dire times. The doors opened once more. Portia Featherington stepping out. Her daughters Phillipa and Prudence with their husbands right behind her. Colin caught them in the corner of his eyes, turning his head. Penelope stood in the centre, yet his gaze was drawn to you. Standing a bit behind your sister. Eyes to the floor as he noticed you were fidgeting nervously with your fingered gloves.

Colin’s gaze remained locked on you as you descended from the stairs. Joining the others at the ball. Colin excused himself from the girl, finding a way through the crowd to get to you. Your family moved to the side to settle as your eyes widened. Staring in front of you at the nearing of Colin Bridgerton. You immediately turned around, wanting to escape him. – “Y/n.” – Colin shout-whispered, keeping his voice decently down.

Pushing lord and ladies aside to force a way through to you. – “Please Y/n.” – he begged wanting nothing more than to have you speak to him. Graveling to get your attention. He quickened up his pace nearly touching the ribbon around your waist as it slipped through his fingers. A lord walked across as he came blocking his path to you. It made him groan frustratedly that he was losing sight of you. 

You were panting, trying to stay out of Colin’s clutches. You were distracted by looking over your shoulder for a sign of him, that when you turned your gaze to the front, you gasped loud. Anthony Bridgerton standing in front of you as he came blocking your path. – “A word Miss Y/n.” – he said.

Breathing shakily, you turned a quarter to run off when you were greeted by Benedict Bridgerton. – “I have no clue.” – he stated hands open so you couldn’t pass. Backing up, you knew they were trapping you. Anthony joining his brother’s side. – “You tricked me!” – you called out. – “Apologies.” – Anthony spoke as you suddenly felt a grip on your upper arms, making you gasp loud. You got spun around, looking up to Colin’s eyes. He was panting a bit, staring yearningly at your eyes. – “Please listen.”

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[beefrobeefcal]

Like a Cigar feat. Max Phillips x menstruating!f!reader

Summary: You have cramps and Max has a holistic way that might help.

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,879

Content Warnings: dubcon (bc vampires and their hypnosis), reader is a menstruating person, period sex, poor managerial skills, if he were her boss there would be hr concerns, p in the v sex, neck biting, blood

Author's Notes: This came about from a discussion about periods on discord and this is dedicated to @noxturnalpascal and @strang3lov3's cat, Gizmo.

Thank you to @strang3lov3 and @noxturnalpascal for cultivating this with me, and to @bitchesuntitled and @jennaispunk for their eyes and love.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

“Dammit.”, you swore under your breath as you dug around in the cabinet under the bathroom sink.

Only one regular tampon and one panty liner were not enough to get you through the night. The iron-rich flood that was about to destroy your underwear had arrived and you were not prepared.

Moving out of your ex’s apartment and having to start again in a city you didn’t know was hard enough, but realizing at 2 am that you had no period products when all the signs and your health app had warned you this was coming nearly had you on the verge of tears.To top it off, you had nothing to dull the twisting aches of pain but an old sock and maybe some rice to MacGyver a heating pad. 

You hastily shoved in your final tampon, slapped the panty liner in your underwear, put on some old sweatpants, grabbed your keys and headed out to your car.

+++++

The speakers in the 24-hr Walgreens were blown out, causing John Dever’s Suzanne’s Song to sound like two sick frogs singing along to a car occasionally backfiring. 

The cramps had really hit you hard en route, and you shuffled slowly to the Feminine Hygiene aisle. Turning the corner down that aisle, you saw a man. An extraordinarily well-dressed man at 2:16 am in a Walgreens. 

You’d assumed that you would have seen a staff member or maybe another uterus-haver being in the aisle, but not this. The man turned from examining a pack of ULTRA tampons in his large hand and smiled wide, toothy grin and nodded at you. If you weren’t so exhausted and hurting, you would have been creeped out, or at least slightly unnerved, but in your iron-deficient and cramp-fueled haze, you nodded sluggishly and turned to face the wall of catch-it-all and plug-it-up products. 

Your brain ignored the man and focused all your energy on picking the products you needed, bending slightly forward to try and lessen the pain in your abdomen. It wasn’t until you heard the deep inhale beside you that you clued into how close the man was standing to you now. 

“Can I help y-”

“You’re bleeding.”

His tone was low and blunt, and carried the sound of the grin on his clean shaven face. 

“Excuse me?” You turned to him with a wary scowl, feeling the inherent feminine rage start to boil up at his audacity. 

“I said you’re in pain.”, he responded in the same blunt, grin-fueled voice.

You narrowed your eyes at him. It was then you realized just how well dressed he was; a light gray three-piece suit with a butter-yellow dress shirt underneath the vest. The gold cufflinks and rings styled him expertly and his hair was perfectly coiffed in a short, neat cut. He was extremely overdressed for the occasion of meeting you amongst the pads and tampons at this time of night.

“Who the fuck are y-”

“A period expert.”, he said while flashing a perfect smile at you.

You felt like you were about to be sold a used car with sawdust in the gas tank.

“A period expert?”

“Well, more of an expert in blood, but periods fall under the umbrella. And guessing by your being here at this hour, and you-”, he raised his brow and looked you over, his eyes darkened as he subtly flicked his tongue and wetted his bottom lip. “You look to be in the throes of Mother Nature’s cruelty.”

You took the lord’s name in vain under your breath and turned back to the neon coloured boxes of overpriced and taxed tampons, and clenched your jaw. You were not in the mood.

“I can help.”

“I’m sure you think that.”, you grunted through your clenched teeth. 

You heard him hum a slight laugh; whether it was authentic or not, you couldn’t tell. What you could tell was that he was getting closer. As you squatted down, trying to alleviate your cramps and scope out the bottom shelf, his shoes stepped into your peripherals. 

You stood up with an irritated sigh, and as you were about to turn to face him, to tell him to back the fuck off, you stopped. Or you were stopped. Stopped by some unseen force, making it harder to access your freewill. 

“I can help.”

The smooth, deliberate tone was behind you and close enough that each syllable came with a breath that moved the hair at the base of your head, causing your body to erupt in a wave of goosebumps. Any and all irritation faded, and your senses dulled slightly. A warm, euphoric haze curled itself around you and all you heard was his words I can help bounce softly around your skull. From the corner of your eye, you vaguely noticed his hand moving in a slow, twirling motion. 

His hands softly held your arms, just below your shoulders, softly squeezing and rubbing them soothingly, and he leaned in, taking in a deep breath. 

“God dammit, you smell good. You smell like you’re in desperate need of some help and I am just the guy for you, sweetheart.”

“What are you - a… a gynecologist?” Your words were slightly drawn out, and to you, they sounded like they were spoken into an echo chamber.

“No. Not at all. Not a medical professional, but you could say I take a holistic interest in all things blood. And you’re full of it.” His voice sounded like it was eons away, echoing through space and time towards you, but based on his touch and the breath on your neck, you knew he was close. But the fog you were in made it easy enough for you not to care. 

“My name is Max. Max Phillips, and I am going to help you, sweetheart.”

You sluggishly opened your mouth to say your name but he tsk’d you. “No… I don’t care about your name. I care about the current state you’re in.”

Max’s hand moved around your front to your lower abdomen and he pushed down with his palm. You let out a long, slow breath mixed with a groan, and he huffed a low chuckle into your ear. 

“I know, sweetheart.” The mock pout on his face came though in his voice. “ It hurts, but I’m gonna fix this for you.”

His voice, his words, and his weird twirly hand movements had you sink further into the fog and it felt like a fever dream. Max seemed to move faster than your eyes could process it, flitting to the front and returning with a shopping cart, then loaded it up with what seemed like one of every kind, size, colour, and brand of period products - a smile on his face the whole time. You watched as Max walked behind the pharmacy counter with no objection from the staff, almost like they couldn’t see him, and he loaded up a white, prescription paper bag with several large scoops of acetaminophen and ibuprofen tablets. He then led you to the till where he paid for a ridiculously huge variety of pads and tampons, and some cheap chocolate from the impulse area by the registers.You carried a paper bag full of the painkillers as Max ushered you out into the parking lot, towards the backseat of his vehicle. But the whole thing felt like you were watching it unfold from above your own body and not actually participating. 

Once you were seated in the back Max got in on the other side and flashed you another megawatt smile. 

“Okay.”, he said with a gusto and slapped his hands together. “Let’s get started.”  

He pulled the sack of pills out of your hand and tossed them into the front seat, along with the bags of items. In one swift motion, he grabbed your calf, turned and pushed you down, and your neck and head were at an awkward angle, butted up against the door handle and window

The haze that had enveloped you was lifting and the reality of the situation you were in was drawing on you. 

“What the fu-”

“You’re fine.” Max’s tone was as sharp as the pad of his finger pressed into the crotch of your sweatpants. 

“You’re fine, sweetheart. I’m just helping.” His dismissive and snide tone began to push you back into that fog, but this time, you tried to fight it. 

You tried to sit up, but his deep brown eyes seemed to darken into the shadows the streetlights threw over him. You stilled, your limbs feeling heavier as you stared into his eyes, dulling your senses so you could only focus on him. A car honked loudly at the intersection in front of the Walgreens’ parking lot, but to you, the sound of it was muted and dulled, and far away. You laid back again, neck and head squished up against the door, as he maintained eye contact.

“That’s a good girl. No need to fight it. I’m gonna make it all better.”

And you trusted him to do it. For some unknown, god-forsaken reason you trusted him. 

In one quick movement, your sweatpants and underwear were down to your ankles. He hummed and his tongue jutted out the corner of his mouth as he struggled to get the second pantleg over your Birkenstocks. 

“There we go.” Max tossed your clothing into the front seat and looked down at your core. 

He reached forward and gave the now-rust coloured tampon cord a tug, seemingly trying to gauge how easily it could be removed.

When you made a small noise expressing your concern, his eyes darted up to yours. “Knock it off. I’m helping you, remember?”

His hand moved up your thigh, roughly digging his fingers into your skin to keep you still, and his other moved back down between your legs then tugged the tampon out of you. He smiled as he held it up, noting how weighed down it was already with your blood and he placed it on the centre console. His finger then came in contact with your copper-toned nub. Rubbing small circles, he looked up at you and leaned in slightly, his non-occupied hand moving in a slow circular motion in the air.

“Fuck…”, you managed to breathe out. Your own voice once again sounded foreign and far away.

He smiled at you with a tooth-filled, smug smile, and you watched as fangs appeared, lengthening his canines, and your immediate slight panic was tampered down by a well duh! feeling. Between the fog and his cool finger pad drawing tight, soft circles on your clit, you let the ebb and flow of the situation take over.

“Good. You got it. Just helping you out, sweetheart.”

Max pushed his middle finger into your wet, hot heat, eliciting a gasping soft moan. 

He smiled and wiggled the tip of his finger inside you. “You’re too easy, Bloody Mary.”

Before you could answer, he pulled his finger out, pushed you further up against the door and crowded himself up against you; the angle your neck was at should have hurt, but whatever spell he had you under had you not caring about your current circumstances, and it also seemed to be dulling your pain. He pressed his body down on yours, his nose buried into your neck, and inhaled again. He groaned, his eyes rolling up into his head, then took one of your ear lobes into his mouth, gently sucking it.

You let out a sigh that made your body feel like a deflated mylar balloon, just barely floating along. But as Max became more engrossed in your scent, specifically your out-in-the-open penny-flavoured pussy, his control over you began to slip. The feeling of him sucking and licking and nipping at your ear and neck started to lose its muted sensation, and the haze that had wrapped itself around your mind was lifting. The clarity you suddenly felt as more than one of his fingers pushed into your hole made you suck in a staggered breath. He lazily pumped his fingers in time with the licks and sloppy open mouth kisses he lavished your ear and neck with. 

Despite that clarity, you couldn’t stop him. He sounded so… euphoric. His moans and his grunts and his groans, hums and small huffs of delight were hypnotic all on their own. That and you had never had someone seem so engrossed in having you lay starfish and make you cum. At least, your ex wasn’t like that - he’d haphazardly finger you with untrimmed nails and rub your clit raw, spend three minutes panting and whining in your ear as his dick missed your hole like a fly not being able to find a window and then crowed like a rooster when he came… why did I stay with him? you thought.

Max seemed to sense your mind wandering to past events and he lifted himself, hovering over your cramped up torso against the car door. His furrowed brow seemed exaggerated by the shadows being draped over him, and the dim light of the streetlight outside casted eye shines on his black orbs. His fingers continued to piston in and out of you harshly. The discomfort of his rhythm paled in comparison to the outright pain of the cramps that had your uterus in a vice. 

“Turn off your fucking brain or I’ll do it for you.”

You swallowed and nodded as best as you could with your chin crunched down against your chest, and he lowered himself back down, resuming his mouth’s work on your neck, and you felt a slight sting. You let out a soft moan, and in response he licked where his teeth had grazed you then hummed and  grunted as he kissed and sucked the spot, the vibrations adding to the stimulation on your neck. As soon as you started to let yourself get lost in euphoria, you could feel your orgasm building. 

“I can feel it”, he hummed, bringing his face to yours. “Can feel her quivering and shaking…”

You let out a panting mewl as his breath huffed over your face in a laugh. You clenched on his fingers and wanted to grab him to ground your body, but you couldn’t. It was like you had no control over anything but your breathing and everything was tingling with pins and needles, completely useless to you. 

“Good… finally. Jesus, took your fucking time.”, Max said, rolling his eyes. He pulled out his fingers and shoved his fingers into his mouth, humming satisfied, and closed his eyes in relishment.

It was so abrupt. He took away his hand before you had fully come down and you looked up at him confused as he sucked on his fingers. His brows raised and his other hand came up, making a circular motion, telling you to get a move on with… something?

“Wha–”

“My fucking pants! These are a cashmere-wool blend and I saw the Wal-Mart brand, multipack underwear you were wearing, Bloody Mary - I know you can’t afford my dry cleaner!”

You stared up at him like he had three heads, not putting the pieces together.

He leaned forward and his voice dropped into a low, menacing tone. “I am not going to fuck you with my pants on, Bloody Mary. My hand is a fucking mess because of you so make with the no pants.”

“Shit…”, you muttered as you sat up, shaky hands pulling open the dark, expensive looking belt. “Do you want to have anything else taken off? Like your shirt or vest?”

He rolls his eyes and shrugs off his overcoat, then his suit jacket, then muttered, “You deal with the fucking buttons.” He opened his hands to indicate he was talking about his vest, impatiently raising his eyebrows to tell you he was waiting.

With your shaky fingers on his buttons, you clumsily opened one at a time. The bliss from your previous orgasm had subsided and the cramps in your abdomen came roaring back along with a wave of hot nausea. Max groaned in irritation and impatience, watching your face contort. His hand snaked around to the back of your head and gripped your hair.

Yanking down, he forced your face up to look at his. The shadows cast across this face seemed deeper, highlighting every crease and fold in his skin as he scowled at you. “Focus. I’m doing you a favour, sweetheart.”

You felt the warm, liquidy feeling begin to ebb and flow over your mind again as you stared into his eyes and your hands seemed to be under his control, deftly unbuttoning his vest and dress shirt. He still held you by the back of your head, hair scruffed like you were a feral cat and not a docile, hypnotized, bleeding human.

Once Max had his smooth abdomen on display, your hands moved back down to his pants, unbuttoning them then pulling the zipper down, getting a peak at the pair of dark blue - with little red umbrellas - European style briefs underneath. Under his control, you tugged them down, showcasing the impressive outline of his semi-hard cock. You raised a brow as you gazed down from the awkward angle from which he held your head and made a complimentary ‘huh’. Even if the circumstances were different, you’d have a hard time kicking him out for eating crackers in bed. 

“Take a fucking picture next time, Mary.”

Your eyes jumped up to him and he scowled at you impatiently. 

“My dick could be out, rammed into your bloody slash, kicking your cramp’s ass, but you’re being pretty fucking ineffective with your and my time.”, Max snarled. “So knock off the ogling and get back to work!”

The tone at which he barked reminded you of the manager you had when you were 15 with your first summer job at McDonald’s. He had chastised you for cooking the fries too long and berated you in front of the entire crew on your shift, and left you in tears, sobbing on the dirty staff bathroom floor. This time though, the beratement made your hole twitch and ooze, and heat bloomed in your pelvis. 

On your own volition, you pulled down his underwear to where his pants had landed mid-thigh and tugged both the rest of the way to his knees. Even though you were working as quickly as you could given the cramped conditions and the weird hold he had on the back of your head, Max still seemed to think you were moving too slowly and he shoved you back against the door and grabbed your leg at the knee, yanking your crimson core towards him. 

“Finally.”, he grunted as he lined himself up and sunk into you. He wasn’t the biggest you’d had but he was thick and it felt amazing juxtaposed to the cramps. He let out a deep, low groan as his dick disappeared into you, feeling the hot, slick grip you had on him once he was fully seated in you. 

“Please… fuck-move…”, you moaned, you eyes closed and brows pinched.

“Thank fuck you have manners.”, Max muttered as he started to slowly pull out and then push back in.

He kept the slower pace and at first you thought it was for your benefit, until you opened your eyes a crack then jumped - Max was staring at you intensely, mouth pulled into a tight frown. He looked like he was concentrating hard on something. He noticed you looking at him and he narrowed his eyes.

“Pacing yourself is important.”, he grunted out through clenched teeth. “It’s a good strategy in 

not overwhelming yourself… and- fuck…” He stopped and worked to regain his composure. “And it’s effective to do something at a steady speed so you don-don’t get tired.”

Beyond the steady, rhythmic pace at which he repeatedly impaled you, his words made you want to recoil from him. He sounded as if Patrick Bateman wrote a ‘how to’ guide for managerial sex. It was clear he was enjoying this far more than he wanted to let on and his ‘pace’ was him trying not to blow his load quickly…

Which lead your thoughts down a tangent: do vampires have loads to blow? Is it like you imagined Edward Cullen’s cum being glitter glue-esque when you were 18? Was it like that neon green slime you saw at the Dollar Store? Was it just like regular cum but maybe Count Chocula flavoured?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the pinch you felt on the inside of your thigh and you caught Max glaring to you while he kept pace, 

“Am I boring you?”, he spat out venomously. “I’m doing this for your fucking benefit, you know…”

You started to get lost in his eyes again, missing out on his face contorting as his features became gargoyle-esque. You only noticed when he began to quicken his thrust, becoming harsher and he leaned down almost nose to nose. The menacingly intimate proximity made your cunt tighten and flutter, bringing you right to the edge of another orgasm.

Before you could react, his face moved fast to your neck and he bit down. That was all you needed to set off the stick of dynamite in your pussy and you came hard, flooding any crevice or space that existed between you with your crimson tide. 

Max released his bite and pulled back, mouth red, wet and dripping.  “I bet you’re one of those leftists who just fucking loves unions.”, Max growled lowly, keeping up his brutal pace as he fucked you through your orgasm.

You have no idea why, but you nodded in response, panting a breathy, pained “Yes!” as you shook and cried out. His eyes rolled back and let out a groan turned high-pitched whine and stilled as he arched his hips into you, unloading whatever mystery goo vampires jizz. 

Whatever vulnerability you thought might come post-vampiric sex never came, and before you could crawl out of the haze your mind was in, Max was wiping his crotch with your discarded leggings then fixing his pants and dress shirt. Then he was shimming your panty liner-saddled underwear and now-sticky leggings back on you. He opened the car door behind him, got out and walked around the vehicle. The door you were butted up against opened, and you fell back against him, and Max’s arms hooked under your shoulders and pulled you out, unceremoniously dropping you on your ass. He turned back to the car, pulling out the bags of pads and tampons he'd gotten and the paper bag of painkillers and threw them at you.

“There. All fucking better.”

Stunned, you watched him get into the driver’s seat and made the engine roar to life. He hit the gas and drove forward to the end of the lot then turned around. As he passed you to get to the exit, you watched as he picked up your bloody tampon and put it in his mouth like a cigar.

****

A month later, you woke up to the telltale twinge that heralded your period and as you rummaged under the sink through the ridiculous amounts of period products, you wondered if you should make a trip to Walgreens. 

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[gnocchibabie]

Desire and Blood (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen/Strong OC (Jaenara Velaryon)

Tags: AU - canon divergence, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, Targcest (uncle/niece)

Wordcount: 4.7k

Summary:

Against all odds, the love between childhood friends prevails and the Dance of Dragons is avoided.

However, peace comes at a cost. With the unexpected proposal of marriage between Alicent Hightower's son and Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, can love truly blossom between sworn enemies? Or will Jaenara Velaryon be reduced to a mere pawn?

Love may yet arise where enmity once thrived, but Aemond's relentless pursuit of power threatens to shatter everything they hold dear, including each other.

A/N: You can find the previous chapters on my masterlist!

If you are liking this series, please consider showing some love on my AO3 posting of this fic :) thank you x

!!! This chapter contains dialogue in High Valyrian, which will be designated by bold and italics...enjoy :)

A week had slipped away since Jaenara and her family had settled into King’s Landing. She found herself passing time by discussing plans for the upcoming coronation with her mother or entertaining little Aegon and Viserys. Occasionally, she rode out on dragonback with Baela and Rhaena, savoring the freedom of the skies above. When she was up amongst the clouds, the princess forgot all about what her life had become down below. Sitting atop Aetherion, it was as if nothing else mattered.

Yet above all, Jaenara found herself occupied with a careful dance of avoidance whenever Aemond Targaryen crossed her path. She had escaped several close calls, ducking into unoccupied rooms whenever she saw the prince at the other side of a hallway. Jaenara had often wondered to herself if she could continue to keep up this game of cat and mouse well into their marriage, but the prospect of having to constantly hide from the man who was to be her husband did sadden her. Ever so slightly. 

Currently, the princess found herself in the castle gardens walking shoulder to shoulder with Helaena. Jaenara had not had as much alone time with her aunt as she would have liked, and was eager to reconnect with the one member of the Targaryen-Hightowers she could actually stand to be around. Helaena seemed to be pleased with the company, though it was difficult for Jaenara to tell at times. Her aunt had always been a somewhat emotionally distant person, even when they were children.

“My mother tells me that the planning for Rhaenyra’s coronation is almost finished?” Helaena inquires.

Jaenara and Jacaerys had both been closely involved with the planning of their mother’s name day ceremony. The preparations had proven to be stressful, even now plaguing the princess’ mind. Temporary discomfort is a small price to pay for mother to sit the Iron Throne - Jaenara had told herself. Though, she could not say she felt the same way about the looming, permanent discomfort she would soon find herself in…

Rhaenyra had even tried to include Aegon in the ceremony planning as well. An offering for the position he had given up for his older sister. Though he had seemed less than interested, opting to disappear for hours at a time instead. Even now, Jaenara wondered where her uncle often took off to, leaving her sweet aunt and their children alone. She questioned if she would be condemned to such a fate as well - Aemond fluttering about doing gods know what while she was left to care for their babes alone. The princess decides it is best not to mull over such depressing possibilities that she may soon enough find herself in.

“Yes, her name day will be here before we know it - just a short week away. Though I find myself anxious about the festivities.” Jaenara finally responds. 

“I understand,” Helena breathes, “I am not one for crowds either.”

“Well then we must stick together until the whole ordeal is over.” Jaenara reassures her aunt. And herself.

“I would gladly,” Helaena giggles, “Though when your wedding day arrives, my brother will stand at your side, not I."

Jaenara sighed - another formality she had been dreading heavily. She’d venture to guess that the moment her mother’s name day passes, planning for the wedding will begin immediately. The princess knew that her scarcity of interactions with Aemond would not last for much longer. Not if either of their mothers could help it. 

Jaenara felt she had little to discuss with her betrothed. What else was there to say?

Helaena came to a halt, bending down to pick up a large, green beetle. Jaenara winced - she had never been one for bugs, save for the pretty butterflies she had often chased with her aunt in their youth. She watched as the beetle began to travel up Helaena’s arm. Jaenara found that Helaena looked serene, her blonde-white hair picked up by the breeze and a content smile on her lips. The princess decides to take advantage of the peaceful moment to ask her aunt a troubled question.

“What is it like? Being married, that is.” Jaenara’s face grows serious.

Helaena removes the beetle from her forearm with a gentle touch and places it on a leaf below.

“It doesn’t really feel like anything,” She says, though her aunt does not sound particularly bothered by the dreary thought, “Aegon does not pay me much mind. Save for the times we have…done our duty.”

Jaenara clears her throat awkwardly.

“So, I suppose it is not so bad. I am free to do as I please. As he is. Though I think Aemond will make a better lover.” Helaena finishes. Jaenara looks at her aunt as if she has three heads and scoffs. She looks back at the princess with a coy look on her face.

“What a terrifying thought.” Jaenara sounds defeated as the two women resume their walk. A calm silence passes over them once again, as does the gentle breeze.  

Helaena looks as though someone is speaking to her and finds herself gazing up at the sky for a moment - and then to her niece.

She smiles, as if the clouds have told her a secret.

— — —

On the far side of the Red Keep, The One Eyed Prince begins to lay the groundwork of his plan to put his soon-to-be wife on the Iron Throne. Aemond has decided he must get in the good graces of his family - especially Jacaerys - if he is to carry out familicide without raising any suspicion that he had a hand in it. Something easier said than done, Aemond knows. Any amount of decency he could afford the heir and his brother would be met with scrutiny. A few kind words will not undo years of victimization dealt on both sides. 

Aemond clenches his jaw as he searches for his nephews throughout the grounds of the Red Keep. Locating them had proven to be challenging, though not as much as finding their sister. Aemond knew that Jaenara had been purposefully avoiding him. One evening, he had even caught sight of her ducking into her mother’s chambers when he had turned a corner, entering the same hallway as her. Her elusion frustrated the prince. If he could not speak to the princess and build up a rapport with her, then she would assuredly be the first to point her finger at him when news of Jace’s murder came about.  

Just when Aemond is about to give up entirely, he spots Jacaerys and Lucerys in the training yard, wooden swords in hand. Aemond lurks back for a moment, watching them practice their drills. Their moves are quick and calculated, proving that his nephews had become even more skilled fighters during their time away from the Red Keep. Though their moves had a certain unrefined quality to them. Aemond finally moves from his spot, drawing nearer to the princes. Lucerys spots him first and mumbles a curse under his breath, as hid older brother turns to meet Aemond’s eyes. Aemond smirks at the boys, and he can tell it takes all of Jace’s strength not to throw down his play sword and saunter off. 

The prince stands tall over his nephews, to hide the uneasiness he feels about approaching them. He’s pulled his long, sleek hair into a bun. His own sword, a practice blade worn smooth from countless hours of swinging, hung loose at his side

The air is tense around the group and a short silence hangs over them. Clanking of wood and metal and grunts fills the yard as the princes all stare at each other.

Aemond finally clears his throat and breaks the quiet.

"You're both too cautious," he remarks in a voice that carries authority but also a hint of patience. "Don't overthink your strikes. Let them flow naturally. It's about instinct as much as it is about technique."

Jacaerys narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You must think of us as fools, uncle. Why would we listen to you? You do not practice the habit of fighting honorably - Luke and I’ve both seen that.”

And what would you know about fighting honorably? Aemond remarks to himself.

Where is the honor in gouging out a boy’s eye? 

He inhales a deep breath to calm his rising frustration.

Lucerys, ever the more reserved of the two, held his ground but watched Aemond with a cautious curiosity.

Aemond knows he should not make the jest, but before he can stop himself, the words fall from his smug mouth.

“Fools? No - I only see two Strong boys before me.” 

Both of the brother’s harden their gaze. This time, Jacaerys does take off, with Luke trailing behind.

Fuck.

“But!” Aemond is quick to add to his lecture, desperate to keep the boys where they are, “Honor in battle is not always as straightforward as the songs would have it. There are times when survival demands unconventional measures.”

“And how,” Jace has stopped and turned to face his uncle once more, “would you know anything of a real battle?”

“You forget I train with Ser Criston Cole.” “You forget we trained with Daemon Targaryen.”

Aemond chooses to bite back another remark about how - despite training with one of the realm’s most formidable soldiers, the brother’s still lacked the necessary knowledge and skills.

Instead, he walks back towards their place in the yard and motions for the Velaryons to follow him. Jace stares at him a moment, lets out an exaggerated huff and mutters, “Come on, Luke.”

At their return, Aemond demonstrates a quick feint, his movements precise. “You’re signaling your intent with your movements, Jacaerys. And Lucerys, you hesitate before every strike. Be bold, but calculated. Like this," he continued, demonstrating a fluid series of strikes and blocks. Luke, with a touch of reservation, takes up a fighting stance in front of his older brother.

Aemond nodded approvingly. "Let's try it again. And this time, don't hold back."

For the remainder of the afternoon, Aemond guided them through drills and techniques, offering pointers in between bouts. Slowly, the initial wariness between the boys and the Targaryen prince faded, replaced by a grudging respect for his skill and knowledge.

When the sun had begun to dip into the horizon, the three young heirs sheathed their swords. Aemond found a rare smile breaking through his usually stoic demeanor. He did not find any joy in the times he sparred with Aegon, which had been few and far between lately. His brother had no real interest in learning and bettering his skills. And Criston Cole was becoming predictable - through no fault of his own. Aemond simply had no one else to spar with that was anywhere near his level. He found unexpected fulfillment in teaching his nephews.

Jace finally deposits his wooden sword with the others in the training yard, Luke following suit. 

With a huff and an expression that makes the prince seem physically pained he tells his uncle, “Well. That was rather…I did not think I’d ever see the day where you would give us any kind of genuine advice. Nevertheless, I am…grateful for your counsel uncle.” 

“Yes. Thank you, Aemond.” Lucerys adds curtly.

Aemond gives them a nod as acknowledgment.

Naive fools.

With that, Jace and Luke begin their journey back into the Red Keep. Aemond watches the boys stride away side by side. He almost resigns himself to turning in for the day, when a thought suddenly enters his mind. 

“Do you know where I might find your sister?” He calls after them. 

Jace remains silent continuing his walk. Aemond rolls his eyes.

She has sworn them to secrecy.

Lucerys seems to take some sort of pity on his uncle after their shared afternoon - much to the dismay of Jace, “I think she spoke of spending time in the gardens…” the younger brother’s sentence trails off when he sees the look Jacaerys gives him. 

Aemond nods gratefully, though no one sees it, and sets off towards the gardens, his mind already racing. He knew spending time with Jaenara was another crucial part of his plan he needed to begin sowing the seeds for. As much as she may detest it.

The believed that if he could convincingly pretend to be infatuated with his niece, to the extent that she truly believed his feelings were genuine, it might help divert suspicion away from him regarding her brother’s eventual murder. She may even come to defend him, when the time comes. Though this would prove to be a challenge.

“You can expect a union that does not harbor any illusions of love” Aemond’s own words from her first evening back at King’s Landing echoed in his mind.

Aemond lets out a frustrated groan and picks up his pace.

When he reaches the gardens, Aemond finds Jaenara and his sister seated on a weathered stone bench in deep discourse, while their ladies-in-waiting linger nearby, amusing themselves.

The distant laughter of the two maidens surprises Aemond and stirs a hint of a smile on his face. He couldn’t remember the last time his sister had laughed so freely. It was then, he realized, he had never heard Jaenara genuinely laugh. Everything she let out in his presence was nothing more that a scoff or dry laugh. This, he thought, was a nice change of pace. Happiness suited her.

I should leave them. Aemond’s resolve falters for a moment, and he pivots for a swift and silent retreat. Yet, his sister catches sight of him before he can vanish.

"Aemond!" Helaena's voice rings out, compelling him to sigh and reluctantly turn back to face them.

Helaena's eyes glint with mischief as she waves a hand, beckoning him over. Meanwhile, the fleeting smile on Jaenara's face vanishes, replaced by an indifferent gaze.

"Aemond," his sister greets again, her tone laced with curiosity. "Where have you been?"

"Just sparring with your brothers," Aemond replies, his gaze drifting towards Jaenara.

The surprise in Jaenara's eyes is evident and impossible to conceal.

"With Jace and Luke?" she questions, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You seem…unscathed. I trust the same can be said for my brothers?"

"It was just a training session - nothing if not civil. I only meant to give them a bit of advice," Aemond responds, a smirk playing upon his lips.

Helaena suddenly springs to her feet. "I don’t believe you two have had many opportunities to speak as of late. I will leave you to catch up" she suggests, a faraway look on her face. "I must attend to the children." Her lady-in-waiting follows closely behind as she departs.

Jaenara starts to rise, offering to assist, but Helaena insists she stay. Aemond can't help but conceal his amusement at Jaenara’s desperate state.

The princess exhales sharply and resumes her promenade through the gardens, without so much as a glance over her shoulder at Aemond. With a huff, he follows behind her, as her lady-in-waiting mirrors.

The prince wishes he could dismiss the attendant, wishing for a moment alone with Jaenara to speak without restraint. 

He thinks of another solution.

Aemond peers down at his niece and lets High Valyrian fall freely from his lips.

“You have been avoiding me.” 

Jaenara does not remove her eyes from the path in front of her.

“You have not sought me out.” She retorts, her tone cool and collected. Aemond lights up. He had not expected his niece to be fluent in their mother tongue, and hearing her voice enunciate the ancient words caused something unknown inside of him to stir. 

“I am now,” he replies evenly, “ And I have to say, I had not expected you to be so fluent in Valyrian. Not even my brother speaks it so well. That idiot can barely piece together a single sentence.” 

Jaenara laughs, “I am a Targaryen. Every Targaryen should speak their language. Understand their history.”

Aemond nods, “Something we can agree on, niece. Though I have to say, you speak it better than I thought a-”

“Then a bastard would?” Her words are laced with a bittersweet acknowledgment that catches Aemond off guard. His niece had never spoken the truth of her parentage in front of him - or anyone for that matter. In truth, Aemond found him unsettled from her acquiescence. Though he understood the only reason she dared to acknowledge the truth now, is because no one around them had a clue what she was saying. 

“You’re not laughing, uncle. Very unlike you - you who never passes up an opportunity to remind me of my blood.” Jaenara still seemed unfazed, her attention drifting to a cluster of blue irises at their feet. She bends gracefully to touch the silky petals, and Aemond finds himself captivated by the way her dark hair spills like a cascade of black silk over the blossoms. He clears his throat.

“You are to be my…ābrazȳrys (wife). I no longer wish to humiliate you over things out of your control, such as your parentage.” Aemond’s voice is steady and controlled, betraying his inner turmoil over making such remarks.

Jaenara lets out a laugh, though it sounds hollow. Much unlike the laughter she had shared with his sister. Her lady-in-waiting shifts uncomfortably behind them. “Actions speak louder than words, Aemond.” The princess rises from her spot amongst the flowers, turning to face her betrothed.

Aemond is filled with a stubborn determination at hearing her challenge, and takes a few steps towards her - until he can feel his niece’s breath fan over him. He stares down at her, and finds that he enjoys how she does not shrink under his gaze.

“Pār nyke jāhor gaomagon.” - Then I will act.

Jaenara laughs again, but it is quickly put to an end.

“I do not know why you laugh, Jaenara. I am being sincere.” His gaze is hard. 

She considers his words for a moment, and turns back to the garden path. The princess returns to the common tongue. 

"Come along, it is growing darker," Jaenara says, her voice carrying a hint of finality as she resumes their journey along the garden path. Aemond follows silently, his mind still processing the weight of their conversation. The sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the estate grounds, while a cool evening breeze stirs the leaves of ancient trees. When the couple finally reach the stone archways and paths of the Red Keep, Aemond speaks up once more. 

“You will have breakfast with me. Tomorrow” It is not a question, though his tone remains soft..

“I will?” Jaenara asks, an eyebrow raised in defiance.

“This is me taking action.” He offers her a wry smile.

Jaenara exhales and looks to her handmaiden, who skillfully avoids her gaze. “Fine. I will see you in the morning” She stomps off to her chambers, lady-in-waiting trailing behind. The princess does not get to see the small, honest smile that settles on Aemond’s lips. 

— — —

Early the next morning, Jaenara awakes to a polite knock on her chamber door. Alora, her lady-in-waiting, entered cautiously, offering a sheepish greeting. "Good morning, Your Grace."

The princess rubbed her eyes wearily and yawned. "Good morning, Alora. And please, call me Jaenara when it is just us. No need for formality in the privacy of these chambers." she replied with a tired attempt at a smile.

"Oh! Yes, my lady—I mean, Jaenara," Alora stumbled over her words, feeling conflicted over addressing a princess so casually. "Um... Aemond - the prince - sent me to assist you with dressing. He wishes to have breakfast with you?" She sounds uncertain.

Jaenara sighed lightly and pushed herself to her feet. "Very well. Let's not keep him waiting," she said, giving Alora a reassuring glance.

Alora deftly combs out Jaenara's long, ebony hair, swiftly braiding half of it and letting the rest fall down her back. As the princess gradually awakened, she engaged in light conversation with the younger girl, easing her nerves. 

With gentle assistance, Alora helped Jaenara into a splendid dress—its upper half a deep shade of black, its lower half a rich crimson. The sleeves were wrought with golden embroidery. Once satisfied with her handiwork, Alora guided Jaenara to the dining room, where Aemond awaited their arrival.

“Thank you, Alora. I think that will be all for now.” The princess smiles at her lady, dismissing her. Jaenara hesitantly pulls out a chair across from Aemond.

“Good morning.” She offers. An honest attempt at niceties. 

Aemond hums, sounding pleased. “Good morning.”

It remains quiet for a while, as the two begin to serve themselves and take a few bites of the breakfast that has been prepared. The prince steals glances at his niece, observing how her dark curls frame her face. Watching her spoon her food gracefully. Noting how her dress clings to her.

At last, Aemond ventured to break the quiet. “That dress suits you well.”

The princess pauses her cutting of a sausage. Jaenara had not expected to hear that kind of comment so early in the morning. And no less from Aemond of all people. She narrows her eyes at him.

“What?” She asks, as if offended.

Aemond pauses, mid-bite. “I only meant it as a compliment. The Targaryen colors agree with you.” 

Jaenara continues with her meal, deciding that pretending as though she had not heard her uncle was the best course of action.

Why did he say that? Does he mean to mock me?

The prince breaks the silence once more, wanting to change the subject. "I hear your mother's name day preparations have been finalized."

Jaenara swallows a mouthful of food and clears her throat. “Um…yes. I believe so. Everything should be in place by now. The ceremony will be in…five days? I believe.”

"My mother seems unusually eager for the occasion," Aemond remarked. "She and Rhaenyra have been quite chatty lately."

“You’ve noticed too?”

“It is hard not to.” Aemond admitted.

Jaenara shrugs, “True enough. Well, they seem happier anyway.”

Aemond only hums in agreement. “My mother, although…she seems to be even more excited about the wedding than the coronation ceremony.”

Jaenara sputtered on the ale served alongside their meal.

A smug grin spread across the prince's face.

“Oh? Is that so?” She asks as nonchalantly as she can. 

“Oh yes,” Aemond sounds amused, “I hear her and Rhaenyra have taken to planning a few things.”

"What!?" Now Jaenara could not hide her surprise. Her outburst drew the attention of nearby servants, and Aemond grinned at her fluttering.

“Um - I only meant. I had not known they were already planning the ceremony.” She finished, dabbing a napkin to the corners of her mouth.

“Well someone has to. We certainly have not spoken about it.” Aemond remarks.

Jaenara almost feels guilty. She searches Aemond’s eyes for any indication of regret or sadness over their lack of time together. 

“Well then…what would you like to discuss about it?” The princess makes an attempt to turn to the matter.

Aemond considers the question. “What kind of cake would you like?”

Jaenara lets out a true laugh at that, catching Aemond off guard.

“If I must tell you,” She says while catching her breath, “I am fond of lemon pastries.”

Aemond makes a noise of agreement. He recalls that her mother favors the sweets as well. “Then we shall have them.”

Jaenara looks up from her meal and the couple lock eyes. She stares intently into his, trying to decipher his unreadable expression. 

What are you doing, uncle? She is left to wonder. Jaenara feels a crack begin to form in the walls she had put up to keep Aemond out. But the fracture is filled as quickly as it appears when she considers that Aemond is simply playing his part. Putting up a charade. The princess looks at the man before her, and can only seem to remember the cruelties that he has dealt. Her heart hardens.

"Why do you care?" she questioned, her tone accusatory. Despite their heartfelt conversation in the garden the day before, Jaenara only continued in her struggle to believe in her uncle's sincerity.

“Because I want to care.” Aemond is taken aback, though he makes an effort to sound earnest.

The princess scoffs and takes a swig of ale. She rises to her feet.

“I am full.” she declares, signaling an end to the meal and perhaps to their conversation. Jaenara stands and walks the length of the table, drawing near to the door but coming close to Aemond.

That strikes a chord within the prince, “You are about as stubborn as a damn mule,” he mutters under his breath.

The retort is not lost upon the princess’ ears. Jaenara spun around abruptly, facing her uncle where he was currently still seated. "Excuse me?" she exclaimed incredulously.

"Damn it," Aemond whispered to himself, closing his eyes briefly. 

“And here I thought you were being truthful yesterday when you said you no longer meant to belittle me.” She bites.

Some unseen force compelled Aemond onward. He reached out and gently but firmly grasped his niece's wrist.

"I only meant..." He struggled to find the right words. "Gods, you're infuriating."

Jaenara felt a stirring within her at his touch, but she pushed the sensation aside, focusing instead on his words. "I’m infuriating?" 

Now, Aemond raises his voice. “Yes! Infuriating. I am making a sincere effort to get to know you, and I am met with nothing but resistance. There is nothing we can do to change the marriage we will soon find ourselves in,” He rises from his chair, hand still gripped around Jaenara, “but I am making a sincere attempt to make it more bearable. For you.”

A part of Aemond understood that his words were primarily to uphold a facade, to maintain the illusion of feigned interest in his niece. Yet another part of him recognized sincerity in his sentiments. He couldn't help but feel pity for Jaenara. This thought had crossed his mind repeatedly—in the quiet of his chambers, in the stillness of the night, and even yesterday as he watched her depart from the estate gardens. She had undoubtedly drawn the short straw amidst their betrothal.

Jaenara Velaryon was being forced to marry Aemond, a scarred and flawed second son by his own reckoning. While Aemond had initially perceived the proposal of marriage to his own bastard niece as an insult, he couldn't deny the faint attraction he harbored towards her— a sentiment he was certain she did not reciprocate. 

The princess regarded her uncle with a peculiar mix of curiosity and contemplation, allowing his words to sink in. Jaenara's relationship with her uncle had always been incredibly strained — tense. Yet, as she observed the furrow in his brow and the genuine anguish in his eyes, she sensed a truth in his earnest plea. She reflected on her initial hopes—that they might spend their lives avoiding each other, barely exchanging words. Yet, standing before him now, she reconsidered. If Aemond—of all people—could muster some semblance of kindness, however feigned, Jaenara resolved she could reciprocate. Even if it was nothing but a lie. 

For in the convoluted dance of courtly alliances and familial expectations, sometimes even the semblance of civility could hold more weight than honesty in securing fragile peace.

With hesitant resolve, she reached out, gently clasping his hand in hers. Aemond feels goosebumps form on his skin from the additional contact. 

"Aemond," she began quietly, meeting his gaze squarely. He makes an effort to memorize how his name sounds on her lips.

Gods be damned, he thought. 

"I apologize. I hadn't fully appreciated your efforts. You are right. For this marriage to have any chance of contentment and peace, we must find common ground. We must make an effort to get to know each other."

The princess finished her apology, her words hanging in the air between them. All Aemond could manage in response was a silent nod, fearing that his mouth would betray him if he were to open it.

Jaenara withdrew her hand from his with a slight hesitation. "Well…I should be going. I intend to meet with my mother to discuss our impending wedding. There is much to plan," she added, her voice faltering slightly as she hurried out of the room.

Aemond stood there, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. He glanced down at the hand that had briefly held his niece's, flexing his fingers thoughtfully, a mixture of uncertainty and determination swirling within him.

A/N: As you may have noticed, this chapter is structured a little differently! I decided to make these changes for narrative purposes/so everything flows better. Because of this, I will be revising the previous two chapters, so the next chapter may take a little longer to come out (I also have a job interview coming up, so I will be doing a lot more than just brainstorming and writing now T-T) Anyways! As always, thank you for reading :)

Tags: @toodlesxcuddles

[websterss]

SEE YOU AT THE MEADOW — GUILDFORD DUDLEY

REQUEST: yeah julie I’m gonna need you to continue writing fics for Guilford cause i’m pretty sure you’re the only one atm. so just a small request (reader is an ethian maid for the dudley’s so her and guilford just grow a bond over the years. she could be a cat and sometimes she’ll shift to lay in his lap to get pats or she’ll walk with him in the morning when he’s a horse to keep him company for a bit. just some good friends to lovers type vibe) I LOVE YOU JULIEEEEEE💗💗💗💗💗💗💗@raggedyoldwitch

WARNING(S): fluff

WORD COUNT: 2,002

PAIRING: Guildford Dudley x Ethian!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

You were only a child when Lord Dudley’s second son made his first transformation. The news was short-lived when you and your mother were made aware of Lady Dudley’s death. You hadn’t received much news on the matter but whispers amongst the kitchen maids settled on Guildford being at the cause of it. You were just as grave as he was, especially when all the whole servants were dismissed besides Bertie.

Your mother begged to stay but Lord Dudley was persistent on having you leave them. it wasn’t until you transformed yourself into a cat that he was swayed.

He even thought that if you had so easily controlled when you could shift between forms then perhaps you’d be able to help his son accomplish the same.

You didn’t though…

It was only the beginning of your friendship. A little girl trying to help a boy, who thought he was cursed. His only contrast to his curse was that he fully believed for you to be given a gift. That got him a pebble thrown at his head.

”You cannot hit me. I’m of importance!” Little Guildford protested, rubbing at the spot he was sure to receive a nasty bump.

“Really. I did not know.” You proceed to throw him another rock.

“Stop that!”

“You are not even trying!” You sighed. "It's easy. Look!" You bent at the waist as your body morphed. Your human form no more as a brown and black tabby cat. Your fur is a mixture of colors, brown and black as though someone ran out of paint and used what was left on your animal form. You meowed at him once and sat down as him saying 'see'. A second had only passed when you shifted back.

“I am trying. Am I not!?” He scowled.

He began throwing rocks back at you. Some of them land pretty much in your exact area, others missing you by a long shot. But after a while, he became distracted by a passing squirrel. A pebble hit him straight on causing him to topple over onto the grass. Your eyes widened as you rushed over to him.

”Oh dear…quick what is your name?”

“You fool!”

“Okay, what is my name?”

He shoved you away. The shove causes you to fall on your bottom.

”You little bastard!" You exclaimed, before shoving him back twice as hard. He stumbled and fell back into a rose bush.

You two tumbled around before you were pinned by him. His breathing stilling as he watched your own eyes widen.

Your eyes widened in fright at the position you’d landed yourselves in. It felt like both of you were holding your breath as you watched each other’s expression. He’d never been this close to you before, and he found himself studying the way your eyes seemed to glitter in the moonlight.

“Y/n, Guildford, supper is prepared!”

Both your eyes widened at the soft voice of your mother, but by the time you’d both looked around she was nowhere in sight. Guildford looked back down at you, his expression a mixture of nervousness and confusion as he tried to figure out what to do next. His father was expecting him for dinner but he didn’t want to leave you alone here in the forest. He opened his mouth to speak. But for some reason, he just couldn’t find the words.

“I’m…I’m never gonna get this.” He relented, sitting back to allow you up.

You sat up too, brushing a strand of hair from your face. You then looked as he sat down next to you, a look of helplessness on his face.

”…don’t worry.” You told him, noticing how dejected he looked. “We can try again the next day. Night will come again.”

He shook his head. “You repeat it over and over. It’s not working. It hasn’t worked and it will not! It’s an unavailing attempt. It’s no use in getting our hopes up!”

You reached out and lightly hit his arm. “Hey, what sort of defeatist attitude is that? There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel, right?” He didn’t answer for a moment before he turned his head away from you. You didn’t notice the blush on his face.

You sigh. You watched him silently for a moment, not wanting to speak and say something that would upset him further. After a moment though you spoke up anyway.

”…you should head inside.” You said quietly. ��Your father will have your head if you’re not there soon enough.”

“Let me see you in at least. Your mother will have my head if you’re not there, soon enough.” He offered his arm and you grasped it.

You linked your arm with his and together he slowly began walking you back to your cottage. He tried to ignore the way your hair swayed with each step you took or the way your scent that of the poppies and lilacs in his mother’s garden you worked hard to revive again. But it was a hard task for a young growing boy who’d only just begun to notice these things.

When you reached the entrance, you both halted in your tracks at the sound of a raised voice coming from inside.

“My heavens, look at the lot of you. Filthy!” Your mother scorns you as she reaches forward to pull a leaf out of your hair. “Go…I’ve run you a warm bath already. Then dressed and down for supper.” You let go of Guildford bidding him a bye with a small grin. Then ran up the stairs.

“Guildford…” She eyed then sucked her teeth grabbing hold of his face. “Oh, that girl. Look at you! It will bruise!”

“If it lessens your worries, I got her back!”

”She's supposed to be helping you, not damaging your face.” She shakes her head.

His cheeks burned a deep red in embarrassment as she continued to fret at him. “I’ll be fine…it’s just a bump and a mark.” He mumbled.

She took her hands away, still in a disapproving mood as she crossed her arms. Before a smile cracked at her expression. ”You like her, don’t you?” He looked at her, his expression wide as she began to tease him. ”That’s how it starts. Yes! First, it’s just a bump and a mark, then it’s a broken bone, then you’ll be bedridden!” She then scolded.

"Well then Y/n will join my demise…" He shrunk in on himself.

Your mother laughed at his remark. “I believe she could just be my lord. That girl could be a little nightmare if she tried.” She then ruffled his hair before guiding him towards the stairs. "Go, clean yourself up before the food grows cold."

"I'm not a lord." He called over his shoulder.

"You will be." She chimed shaking her head as she watched him ascend to the second floor.

-

"And when that April with his showers soote-" Guildford had stopped reciting the poem from the book in his hands. His smirk grew as your animal form perched itself on his lap. He reached forward to scratch behind your right ear. "Shall I continue or are you simply here to be a distraction?"

The feline version of you closed its eyes at the sensation of his fingers scratching at the sweet spot behind its ear. You released a little noise that sounded a lot like a purr making it clear that you were enjoying the attention. You then used your front paw to paw at the pages of the book, as if telling him to go on.

"Very well then..." He emits a low chuckle.

Your little furry self settled down in his lap and listened to the dulcet tones of his voice as he continued with the lines.

His reading was like music to your ears. He made the words soar off the page and flutter around the room. You hadn't seen Guildford this calm in ages, not since the death of his mother.

The two of you remain in the library for hours, him continuing to read aloud to the little animal on his lap. But it's not till you release a sneeze that has him stopping, has him anticipating what would come next. He sighs moving the book onto the side table as he sits back. He holds his breath as he sees ripples of black and orange begin to transform your cat-like self. It's not long till you release another sneeze in your human form.

"Bless…" Guildford clears his throat. He keeps his hands and arms on the armsrest.

You get your bearings. Your hair is messy from when you slept on your side in cat form. And of course, you're only in a night dress. You look at Guildford, and he looks back at you.

He attempts to avoid looking at your nightie, but he's only a man, after all.

You palm down your hair, in hopes it doesn't appear untamed.

He watches you do this, his eyes darting over your face and down your body. He knows he should look away, but he can't. Not when you looked like this. It was just like in the forest all those years ago as children, the feeling of nerves and the rapid heartbeat.

"Sleep well?" He reached up caressing some of your locks behind your ear.

You nod your head as if his soft touch has you forgetting how to speak.

He can see the blush on your cheeks and he knows he's the reason why it's there. "You're adorable." He says, almost as if on autopilot.

You roll your eyes as you climb off his lap. "Fool..."

He watches you cross the room before stopping you at the door. Your hand holding onto the handle.

He lets out a sigh, his leg beginning to bounce. “You do know it is very uncouth for you to be wearing that in my presence.”

"It's my nightwear, Guildford. What do you expect me to wear?" You respond, half turning your head to look at him. "Besides, it's not the most inappropriate attire you've worn around me."

His face turns a few shades darker red as his mind drifts to that exact memory. The image of you in his thin white undershirt, with nothing else on…it hadn't been that many years when he convinced you to go with him to a lake. You had shifted into your cat form by accident leaving you rendered embarrassed and well without clothes. He doesn’t want to be having that sort of thought right now. Not when you were standing a little less than an arms-length away from him, in your very night clothes.

"Thought so…" You muse with a chuckle. "Good night Guildford." You bid him goodbye opening the door to make your way out.

He almost lets you walk out. But his mind has other plans. Before he could think better of it he bolts up and pauses at the door. You're only a few feet from the door before his voice catches your attention.

"Where are you going?" He softly chuckles.

"To bed. Some of us sleep before dawn Guildford."

"Care for a stroll through the meadow again…keep me company?" He looked down before he met your bemused gaze again.

"I'll ask Bertie to pack us fresh carrots."

He quirks an eyebrow at your words, but he can see how you consider it. After a moment, you let out a sigh. "I would never miss it." You bid him with that adorable contagious grin and go to your quarters for the evening. "Night, my lord." You were heavy with the emphasis of his title. Guildford let his weight fall against the threshold, knowing he had the morrow to look forward to. 

[thequeenofthedisneyverse]

can we have villain kenji dating headcanons please😞🙏

Oh boy...well, I can try

Villain! Kenji x Fem reader

Mentions of blood, fighting (not with you), and death/character death (not you), you being morally grey...and Kenji being a simp.

He's a complete sweetheart to you and WORSHIPS the ground you walk on. Ever heard of a feminist nut-case? It's him. He respects you wholeheartedly and sees you for you because his mama raised him right.

Super gentle and a soft-talker with you. You're...actually the ONLY person he's like this around. To everyone else, arrogant prick x10 on a regular basis.

He likes to cuddle you after a long day and whisper sweet-nothings into your ear. "I missed you so much" "I love you so much, baby" "stay with me, please" cue the cutest goo goo eyes you've ever seen. How could you say no to him?

This man doesn't know when to stop gifting so whenever he even THINKS about something you would like you better prepare for there to be a box of whatever product it is on your doorstep.

Gamer girl? New gaming equipment in your favorite color. Book girl? New books on your doorstep. Baker, artist, crafter? All of it on your doorstep.

You ask for something? Consider it done. You LOOK at something in the mall? It's yours.

If he thinks a certain outfit would look good on you or he finds a certain candy, you like? All yours...just please don't leave him.

Ken lets you ride on his motorcycle from time to time. He prefers you in the back with your arms wrapped around him because it's a comforting feeling, not to mention safe. But if you want, he'll let you sit in the front but it's rare.

A guy cat-called you once while Kenji was there with you. Yeah uh...that guy was sent to the hospital. It was the first time you've ever seen him so...angry. You've heard rumors of Kenji's temper but seeing as he was so sweet to you, you just thought the rumors were just...rumors.

That was until you literally had to pull him off the guy so he wouldn't kill him. Seriously, he was strangling him after punching him in the face 10 times.

It was...kind of hot to be fair.

Kenji's hair was disheveled, his nose bleeding, and a fiery look in his eyes. And you found his act of rage a little sweet. If he was willing to strangle a guy for just catcalling you, what would he do if a guy touched you?

You then realized you found a good guy who's willing to stand up for you! Albeit a bit crazy, but still a good guy.

After his anger went away, the soft side of him came back and apologized to you profusely.

"I- I'm so sorry baby, p- please don't leave! Y- You were never supposed to see that side of me, shit! I'm a good guy I promise I am! He...he just, he deserved it! He shouldn't have been talking to you like that! You're a princess to me baby, a queen! And you deserve to be treated like one...please don't leave me..."

He meant every word of it girl...every. last. word. Especially the "don't leave me" parts.

Before you came along, Kenji was alone. So utterly alone. His beloved mother was dead. His father....ugh (don't even get him started on that). No friends or relatives to talk to or come by. One-night stands didn't do anything except a couple seconds of bliss.

So, like I said, so completely and utterly alone.

But when you came along...you changed that. An angel from the heavens that chose him to spend their time with.

This man would let the world burn if it meant to save your life. He doesn't like people very much anyway.

He introduced you to Lillith, his black IBM female boa. Let's pretend you like snakes.

Snake ahead, TRIGGER WARNING

You find her absolutely adorable and sweet. She likes you a lot too! You let her hang around your neck or arm when Kenji brings her too your dates or when you hang out at his house.

Kenji loves that his two favorite girls are getting along. He has many pictures of you two chilling in his phone and looks at them from time to time to actually feel something other than anger or nothing while he's out.

You brought back a light in him that he thought had died a long time ago. A reason to live...well, apart from baseball, killing Kaiju's, and ruining his father's legacy of course.

Fancy dining places are a must. You can't blame the man for want to wine and dine you...and showing you off to the press a little bit.

Hmmm...you found it odd that the guy that cat-called you hasn't pressed charges or uttered a peep about what ken did to him. You understood why the news hadn't caught footage of the incident tho.

It happened late at night when you and Kenji were coming out of a bar. It had been raining that night and most of the lights went out due to the water getting to the electricity.

So, it would be hard for the cameras to pick up faces very well due to the darkness and most of them circuiting out too.

But it was so strange...nothing from him.

You got your answer when you turned the news on though.

The guy that cat-called you was found dead in a trash bin next to the EXACT same bar you had your date with Kenji. Ishima Agama was his name.

He seemed to have suffered horrible lacerations, burns, severed limbs, and much other nasty things.

His death...didn't bother you though. You figured Kenji must've done it. I mean...who else would've done it? It only happened two weeks after Kenji pummeled him, and it was in the exact same place it beat his ass.

You always trusted your gut and your gut says it's Kenji. But instead of seeing this as a red flag, you saw it as a green one!

He killed for you just because of a cat-calling degenerate. That's the nicest thing a guy has ever done for you!

After dating for about a year or so, he told you that he was Ultraman! Which...is the coolest freaking thing ever!

He saved Japan from Kaiju's countless of times! So, what if his methods were a little violent? The Kaiju's were too. That's how violent animals were supposed to be treated right? Either with sedatives or brute force.

He was so confused as to why you were so cool with it but as you explained your reasons...he knew you were a keeper.

After that little adventure he introduced you to the idea of Kaiju meat. Something Kenji has tailored to him and a few other rich people (let's pretend Kaiju's don't have radiation). Turns out the KDF also sells a few cutlets of meat to a few rich folks who want a taste of a rare "delicacy" meat.

It's actually quite good when it's cooked and served right, better that wagyu.

Sooo, yeah, you two lovebirds get along great!

His anger issues, arrogance, or murderous tendencies to affect you because you love him for who he is...and for the fact that he never acts that way toward you.

That's all I've got, if you guys want anything more specific, lmk!

[ctrlsht]

Fragment of the Past 03

pairing: patient!jungkook x psychiatrist!reader genre: thriller & yandere au

summary: You are a well-known and respected psychiatrist and author. You start treating Jungkook, who suffers from PTSD after surviving an extremely traumatic incident. As you help him confront his traumatic past, he begins to act strangely, and you start uncovering something about him that will change everything.

chapter summary: You thought that you could finally escape from Jungkook but little did you know that he has something more to hold against you. You endure everything that he did to you but he was too much until you can no longer take him anymore.

chapter warnings: hazing, fraternity, blackmailing, manipulation, smut, non con/dub con, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), mc was traumatized, stalking, murder, major character death word count: 11.3K

parts: (1) | (2) | (3)

note: This fiction will contain multiple mental disorders and psychology facts. I conducted my own research to avoid spreading misinformation, but there may be aspects I've overlooked, so I am open for any corrections.

"Why are you here? Aren't you aware of the restraining order?" You threw your pen on the table and stood up from your seat, while a sinister smile curled his lips. He continued to take a step towards you and you immediately pushed the buttons that connected to the reception desk. He only laughed before he spoke.

“It’s 9 in the evening, Y/N. No one’s here except for the both of us.” His words send shivers down your spine.

He was right, Soyeon and your other colleagues went home 3 hours ago and you’re the only one left inside. 

You love to overwork but right now, you wish that you just continue working at home. 

He’s going to kill you before the night ends. You’re sure of it. 

You reach your phone with a shaking hand as you scroll to your contact list and click Detective Jung’s number. 

“Who are you going to call? Detective Jung?” His words were like whispers from the depths of darkness.

Detective Jung isn’t answering your calls. 

“You’d be arrested once you come near me.” You tried to threaten him, but it only sounded like a joke to him.

He took a seat in his usual position as he intertwined both of his hands.

“I commend you for your cleverness when you ask for a restraining order against me,” He crosses his legs and touches his lips. “Unfortunately for you, it won’t stop me from attending our sessions."

“It’s my first time attending an evening session, is it also your first time, Dr. Y/N?” He said with a malevolent grin stretched across his lips.

“I swear, before the sun rises tomorrow, you’d be arrested.” You spoke, clenching your jaw. 

“With how fast you climb to the top, I thought you were smart, Y/N. But I was wrong.” He pokes the inside of his cheek as he smirks. “You should know by now the reason why I’m not in jail for killing my mother.” 

You weren’t able to respond, like a cat caught your mouth. 

“I thought that you’ll do great in kicking me out of your life so I came prepared. I even thought that you’d approach a different detective for this one, and fortunately, you still decide to approach Detective Jung.” He pauses to let out his laughs. “Don’t you know that he was the reason why I’m still free? He’s my best friend, Y/N!” A sinister laugh erupted from his throat as your body started to shake. 

“I even came up with a plan with my lawyer if ever I was arrested but damn Y/N, I somehow wish that you give me a thrill. You made my life easier than I expected.”

As he said those words, your legs turned to jelly, and a tightness gripped your chest. 

You’ve underestimated him and his power and now, your life's on the line. 

“Go ahead and ruin my reputation. Upload those recordings online, I don’t care anymore. I can’t stomach you anymore, Jungkook.” You spoke in a serious tone, before fixing your things.

“Are you sure about that?” He asked, a smile evident in his voice.

“If you think you need to use those recordings to destroy me, feel free to do so. I won't participate in this any longer. I refuse to be a part of your games, Jungkook.” 

“Oh, Y/N.” He sighs before he continues. “If you think that this is all about you, you’re wrong.” He stood up and took out his phone from his pocket. You’re about to go but he thrust his phone in your chest. “Watch it because you’d love to see what kind of a person your best friend really is.” He smirks and you look at his phone. It was a video and you were scared to play it. The thumbnail is Taehyung standing in front of a man with their eyes blindfolded. Taehyung looks so young in here and you aren’t sure what’s happening. One way to find out. 

You wish you didn’t take his phone. You wish that you just proceed on walking out of your clinic, leaving him inside because when you play the video, you immediately hear a painful scream coming from a man. It wasn’t Taehyung who’s screaming, instead, a man was kneeling and bleeding while his eyes were blindfolded, and Taehyung was hitting him with a baseball bat.

Holy shit. 

Taehyung looks so young in the video. His hair was blonde, it’s his hair when he was 17 or 18, as you remember. You can’t believe what you saw. The man that he’s hitting is begging for him to stop but he doesn't. Instead, he hit him harder. 

Your hands were trembling, almost dropping the phone as you stopped the video from playing. 

What was that?

“Why do you look so scared, Y/N? It’s your best friend.” Jungkook slowly took the phone from your hand. 

Your body trembled uncontrollably, fear had taken hold of your very core. You looked at him, shaking your head.

“That’s not Taehyung.” You said.

“Oh Y/N, I wish you’re right, but it was him.” He chuckled. He takes a few steps back and places his right hand on his pocket as he scrolls to find something on his phone. 

When he finds it, he shows his phone once again. You were confused because it’s a group of male people and when he noticed your confusion, he zoomed the screen and you saw Taehyung in the photo.

“He’s part of underground society way back before he was an artist and that's when I knew him, Y/N. He was one of the people who performed the initiation rites for the new members, and that video you just saw? It’s what he does for the society he’s in.”

You can’t believe it, you refuse to believe it. Taehyung won’t do that. He won’t harm—

“Why do you look so shocked?” He asked with a grin on his face, mocking you. “You should know that, as his best friend.” 

“That’s not him.” You said, trying more to convince yourself. “Taehyung can’t do that. He won't take part in that kind of behavior.”

“Then you don’t really know your friend.” He placed his phone back in his pocket. “Stop being too naive, Y/N. Everyone has their own secrets to keep.” 

“Do you really think that I would believe you? Whatever shit you’re trying to pull, you won’t make me believe you.” You said in your sharp tone.

“But the people will.” He took a step towards you with a smirk on his lips. 

“You may refuse to believe it but the people will. They will believe so easily in whatever’s happening in that video.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat resonating with the intensity of the madness you feel. You never felt this kind of anger before. It’s too much that you wanted to kill him.

“What do you want?! What do you really want!” Your rage erupted like a blazing fire, smacking his chest aggressively. You keep on smacking and pushing him, while he doesn't even show any hint of pain. “Why are you doing this to me!” you shouted, tears welling up in your eyes and when you got tired, your hits became slower until you decided to stop. 

Jungkook held your wrist and looked at your eyes with intensity. You cannot resist him anymore because you’re too tired. 

“What do I want?” He repeated the question while staring at your eyes. “It’s simpler than you think.” His words were soft as a smile formed on his mouth. “I want you, Y/N.” 

You sob before you release your wrist from his grip. “I can’t have another session with you. You’re not cooperating.” You respond, letting out a weary sigh.

“That’s not what I mean.” He shook his head, slowly scanning your face down to your body. “I want you without your clothes, laying down while I am on top of you.”

You immediately shook your head. “No fucking way. I won’t let you do that.” 

“Then you agreed to let me upload your illegal voice recordings with your patients along with the video of your best friend, beating the hell out of an innocent man. I bet the people will love to see what their idol really is, right?”

You’re already bursting out of tears, shaking your head. “Please don’t involve him anymore.” 

“It’s your own fault, Y/N. The only thing that I want is a session with you until I recover, yet you pushed my limits. Now, you have to face the consequences of your actions.” He takes a step towards you, leaning forward to see your face full of tears and wipe them using the both of his finger thumb. You hit his arms and took a step backwards.

“You’re sick.” You turn around to gather your things and when you’re about to leave, he speaks.

“I’m telling you, you don’t want to test me because you wouldn’t like the ending.”

—

That same night, you didn't go home; instead, you went straight to Taehyung's place. He wasn't there because he had a shoot, but you waited. You couldn't wait any longer. You couldn't bring yourself to believe what you had seen unless it came directly from him. You've known Taehyung since birth, and you were certain that the videos and photos you had just seen couldn't be him because you knew he wouldn't do such things.

Yet you don’t understand why you felt betrayed even though you haven’t talked to him.

 When he arrived, that’s the first thing you ask him and it’s too obvious that he didn’t anticipate it. As the longer he can’t respond, the ache you feel worsens.

“Answer me, Kim Taehyung. Are you a member of an underground society?” You repeat the question, emphasizing every word.

“Where did—

“Just answer me!”

Taehyung was taken aback with your screams and a fear is evident in his face. He stood there frozen, unable to move or look away. He sighs before he speaks.

“Yes.”

Your body hunched, eyes closed as a tear streamed down your face. You lowered your body, squatted and your shoulders shook with each shuddering sobs.

“Y/N, w-why?” Taehyung immediately went to you but when his hand landed on your shoulder, you stood up, immediately pushing him away.

“You beat people, Taehyung! You beat them to death, you monster!” 

“Y/N, please let me explain—

“Explain what?! How the fuck you beat them until they die?!”

“It’s not my choice! They were threatening to kill me if I didn’t do what they wanted!”

You glared at him, choosing not to respond. 

“I thought it was a normal organization when I joined but I was tricked! I tried to leave but they didn’t let me and they even threatened to kill me if I reported them to the police! I was just 17 years old at that time, Y/N! I didn’t know what to do!” 

He was trembling as a tear formed in his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because I was scared that they would involve you. It’s a trap.”

“So you were still involved with them?” Your voice raised and he immediately shook his head.

“No! I managed to get away when we were caught doing the initiation rite, but I managed to run away without being caught. I wasn’t the one performing the initiation rite during that time so it was easy for me to run away.” He explained.

You only stare at him, imagining the 17-year-old Taehyung standing in front of you. During that time, you don't remember anything that may hint he was in danger. The only Taehyung you saw was the jolly and energetic Taehyung, not knowing that he was facing a dangerous situation.

Little did you know that 12 years from now, you’d also face the same situation like he does.

You took a step towards him and wrapped your arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably. You can’t imagine he faced that problem all by himself at that age. You were supposed to be with him as he faced his battles, but he was all alone. 

“Why didn’t you tell me even after you managed to run away?” You spoke, choked sobs wracked your body as he stroked your back gently. 

“It’s okay, it’s all in the past.”

You were in that position for a few moments until you calmed down. You break away from him and wipe your own tears. 

“How did you find out?” with that, you’re back from reality, the reason why you are here. 

“I saw a video of you beating a man. That’s how I found out.” His mouth hung open as his breath came in short.

“Where did you watch it?”

"An anonymous sender sent me the video. I couldn't bring myself to save the video because I can't bear to watch it again, so I deleted it," You reason out. You can’t tell him the truth because it will only complicate things more. “But I already reported it to the authorities and a security specialist and they guarantee that the person responsible for it will be caught.”

You felt bad for lying but you can’t tell him the truth. It wasn’t a good idea to confront him about this manner in the first place but you were not in your right mind when you decided to go here. You were caught off-guards. 

You just need to make sure that no one will see that video again. How? That’s also something you don’t know yet. 

—

Jungkook hasn’t bothered you lately, and it only worsens your anxiety. You know him and he won’t simply stop. You don’t know what’s his next move but soon, he’ll come after you. 

You always check what’s trending on social media, watching out for any news that can relate to you and Taehyung, but you’ve always found nothing. You even checked on Jungkook’s latest activities on their media pages and there’s nothing suspicious, yet you can still feel the lash that Jungkook tied on your neck.

You’re on your way for a book interview because your newest book entitled ‘The Paradox of Choice’ is about the launch. You’re nervous and you’re overthinking everything without a specific reason why. 

The feeling you felt right now is different from your previous book launching because right now, you don’t feel good. 

Maybe because you've been stressing lately with what’s happening right now or maybe because something is going to happen.

You wish it wasn’t the latter. 

“Three more minutes!” The crew announced.

This book launch is coming along with an interview at an evening talk show. You’ve experienced guesting in several talk shows yet, you felt so anxious that your trembling worsened as the minute passed by.

“Hey, are you okay?” Your assistant held your hand as you stood up. You looked at her and gave her a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Yes, I am okay.” 

As you get closer towards the stage, your heartbeat increases. You pause for a while and take a deep breath, while closing your eyes. 

You can do this.

“Good evening, Dr. Y/N! How are you doing?” Park Jimin—the host asked you with a wide smile on his face.

“I’m great, how are you?” you try to connect the level of your energy to his. 

“I’m great as well! Are you ready? I know you won’t get too nervous since you have been a guest in several talk shows and interviews, right?” Oh, how you wish that’s your case.

“Of course! I look forward to this!”

You had a few talks with Jimin, explaining how the show will flow and you also reviewed the possible questions that he’s going to ask you. You were starting to get comfortable being on the stage. The rolling is about to start when your eyes land on a familiar figure wearing a black hoodie along with a headphone on his head. Your eyes widened in a complete terror, as your pulse raced with each thudding heartbeat.

Jeon Jungkook is here, staring at you with a demonic smile on his face.

“Rolling! We’ll begin in 3… 2… 1.” He was looking at you while he spoke on his headphones. Your surroundings turned into a blur as you felt that every movement was in slow motion. You notice that Park Jimin is already talking with so much energy and you try to wake yourself up.

“What inspires you to write this book? Was there a particular experience or realization that led to its creation?”

You grip your hand to stop its trembling before you answer. “People tend to choose their biggest life decisions when they are in an emotional state, and this book will teach everyone to always think twice or even thrice whenever they make big decisions for themselves. I, myself once experience choosing a decision that I wish I did not choose, and it lend me to regrets, which I don’t want people to experience that’s why I wrote ‘The Paradox of Choice.’” 

You try not to look at Jungkook after you respond but your own eyes are betraying you. There’s a sly smile on his lips as his eyes bore into you. 

You fucking hate it when his eyes are on you.

“How did you research and gather information for your book? Can you describe your process?” You froze on your seat when Jimin asked you that question. Your hands tremble even more, gripping it tightly to stop. You glance at Jungkook who’s standing meters away from you, playing his lips with his fingers. 

You don’t want to answer this because your method of gathering information for your book is what he obviously uses against you.

‘I record the sessions with my patients and analyze it to add an input to the book.’

It was the answer that you cannot say while he’s watching. 

Instead, “I did my own research with the help of my patient’s own experiences.”

Even in your peripheral view, you could still feel his eyes digging into your soul.

Once the shoot is done, you immediately storm out of the stage and lock yourself inside the comfort room for god knows how long. 

You stood before the sink, hands outstretched beneath the gentle stream of cool water pouring from the faucet as it ran down to your hands. 

You slowly rub both of your hands but the trembling of it isn’t stopping. You rub it even further to steady your hands, until you suddenly outburst silently. You can’t scream or cry, and the only thing you can do is endure the anger you feel right now. 

The soft hum of fluorescent lights filled the space with white glow, opposite of what you feel right now. Your hands are still trembling as you look at your face in the mirror. 

You look so horrible. 

When you’re stressed out because of your workloads, you can still appreciate the beauty you have, but right now, you really look so miserable. 

Jungkook is doing his excellent job in fucking you up. 

This is driving you insane. He’s driving you insane. You’re fed up with all of his shit and it’s too much already. You don’t even know what you did wrong for him to do this to you. The only thing you did is help him cope up with his trauma–or more like fake traumas. 

So you don’t know where you went wrong with him. 

Your assistant called your name on the other side of the door, asking if you’re fine which you’re not. You did your best to calm down before you decided to come out. 

It’s almost midnight when you’ve finished packing your things and ready to leave. Everyone’s out already and you don’t know who was left. You’re supposed to go home an hour ago but you choose to rest for a while before you go. 

The basement parking lot was nearly empty when you arrived; not even the guards were visible. But, as you approached your car, you noticed a tall, muscular man standing beside it, wearing a black hoodie, with both of his hands inside his pockets, clearly waiting for you.

He looked up when he noticed your presence, he stood straight, greeting you with a smirk on his face. 

“What took you so long?” Jungkook asked, a sly smile still on his face. 

“What do you want?” You pondered, glaring at him. 

He scoffed, “You always ask the same question over and over even though you already know the answer.” 

You didn’t respond, ignoring him, as you walked towards the driver’s seat but before you even opened the door, he already blocked you. 

“Don’t ignore me while I’m talking to you.” He threatened, eyes buried on you. 

“I have no more business with you.” You answered, passing by him as you opened the front door. 

“As far as I remember, we still have business going on.” He said, provoking you even more. 

You placed down your things on the passenger seat and before you could even hop on, he spoke.

“You’re brave enough to ignore me now. Why? Do you think I’m already done with you?” His voice dripped with a mocking undertone, a wry smirk played on his lips as he spoke.

“Or you’d be glad to see you and your best friend in the news by tomorrow morning?”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him as you balled your fist. “I’ve already done what you want. I let you continue our remaining sessions but you go beyond that and pester me for almost 3 times a week! What more do you want?!” 

He tilted his head, licking his lips, trying his best to hide his teasing smile. He clicked his tongue before he spoke. “That's the second time you ask that question. Do you have other questions in mind that you’d like to ask?” 

“When will you ever stop?” He instantly laughed at your question. 

“You didn’t even hide the fact that you already want me out of your life.”

“I never try hiding it.”

“You’re becoming stronger and bolder now, Y/N. Well, I prefer this rather than seeing you crying your ass out begging me to stop. Unless, you’re crying as you scream my name.” He wore a suggestive smirk, provoking you even more.

“You’re sick!”

“You’ve been asking what I want and I’ve already told you, Y/N. I hate it when I keep repeating myself. You’re not stupid, you know that.” He arched a brow, a scornful stare bore into you. 

“And you’re delusional if you think I’d agree with that.”

“Then suit yourself and make sure that you won’t regret your decision.” He smirks, biting his lower lips.

“What are you gonna do?” You asked but when he didn’t answer and turned away, you screamed at him. 

“Jungkook, what the fuck are you going to do?!”

He scoffed before he looked back. “You’ll see.”

—

You want to die.

You just fucking want to die and bring Jungkook along with you.

Your emotions churned like a violent sea, a mix of anxiety, anger and fear that threatened to overturn you. Your heart pounded with rage, and your fingers trembled with fear as you held your phone, trying to avoid dropping it.

A video posted on twitter is playing from your phone, a video that you saw a few days ago.

You felt like throwing up when you saw that video again. Taehyung's face is blurred, but you can tell it's him. People might struggle to identify the person beating up an innocent man, but it won't take long for them to figure it out.

‘I wonder if you guys have any hint of who’s that man on the video? I bet you guys know because you love him so much. But I also wonder if you know your idol’s true color.’

The caption says, and the account is made to specifically attack and throw hate to people.

This could be Jungkook, but you weren't certain because he could have asked others to do it to avoid implicating himself. He has a reputation to maintain as well.

101k views, 5k reposts and 26k likes. 

‘Holy shit. Why do I feel like it’s Beom Seok from Horizon?’

‘This should be taken down.’

‘Eun Dae used to be a member of a fraternity before he become an idol lmaooo’

‘Taehyung was also rumored to be part of a frat before but it hasn't been proven yet.’

Fucking hell. Taehyung must know this shit already and you don’t know what to do. It should be taken down but the video was posted 2 hrs ago and you just saw it right now. Even though it was taken down, people already saved it from their devices.

You were still in the middle of breaking down when your phone rang, and when you saw the caller ID, your blood erupted.

It was Jeon Jungkook. You scream on your phone before you decline the call. You were about to turn your phone off when he sent a message that angered you even more.

‘Decline the call one more time, you will see the video again and I will make sure that the face of Taehyung is visible for everyone to know that it’s him.’

Your hands grew cold and started to shake when your phone rang once again. You had been clenching your teeth before deciding to answer the call.

“How are you, Doc?” He greets you in his sweet voice that only annoys you even more. “Do you think that I wouldn’t do it?” He added, releasing a sarcastic laugh. 

“Take it down, Jungkook.” Your words dripped with menace. 

“You’re the one who made me do it. It’s your fault, Y/N.”

“You monster! Why do you have to involve him?! He didn’t even do anything!” You screamed, pulling your hair out of anger.

“I know but you care for him so much. It’s a natural thing to involve him.”

Your tears run through your cheek as you collapse from the ground. You’re starting to lose your sanity. 

“What do you want?” You spoke in a low voice.

“You want to know? Come here at my place and I will let you know, Y/N.”

—

You’ve expected that Jungkook is living in a high end luxurious apartment building but you didn’t expect that it would be in the highest floor, a penthouse. 

Jungkook noted that he left the door unlocked so you can enter without him opening it for you. You were scared of what could happen inside his penthouse given the fact that he’s a dangerous person by murdering his own mother but you’re desperate to stop him. 

Your heart was pounding when you opened his double-door and as expected, it was unlocked.

You are greeted by a huge area of floor-to-ceiling windows that frame breathtaking panoramic views of the whole city lights. The living room is adorned with designer furniture, a monochromatic symphony of blacks, grays, and whites, and a wall adorned with abstract art that speaks Jungkook's taste.

The place is beautiful, opposite to the person living in here. 

“You came.” You immediately turned around when you heard his demonic voice behind. He’s in the corner of the stairs from the second floor as he slowly steps down, hands in his pocket with a smirk on his lips. 

“Take that video down.” You glared, speaking with your teeth.

“Or else, what? Are you going to report me again? ” He stopped in the middle of the stairs, placing his hands on the railings. He scoffs when you don't respond. “You should know by now that it won’t work, Y/N.” He added, continuing to step down. 

“I’m already here, so tell me what the fuck do you want?” You raised your voice, itching to know what he really wants. 

“Why are you in a hurry, Doc?” He was about to touch your face when you blocked his hands, throwing it away.

“Take that video down, Jungkook.” You spoke, trying to contain yourself. 

He smirks before he turns away and takes a step towards his kitchen island, pouring wine on his wine glass. 

"I've already done that for being such a good and obedient girl." He sips on his wine, not breaking eye contact with you. “But I can upload it again if you choose to test my patience.” He adds. You bite the inside of your lower lips to prevent yourself from attacking him. 

“Why did you even ask me to be here?” 

“Didn’t I tell you before? I want you, Y/N.” 

He poured wine in another glass and walked towards you, handling the wine for you, but you just glanced at it and returned your gaze to him.  

“Let’s not waste time and tell me what the fuck you want so I can leave now.” You said in gritted teeth.

“I already told you, so stop being stubborn and drink this wine before I change my mind and upload the video with your best friend's face clearly visible along with the illegal recordings you had with your patient.” In an instant, he shifted from a playful smirk to a sudden seriousness, dropping the playful facade. 

You take the wine in his hands and he asks you to drink but you immediately shake your head. “I’m not going to let you poison me.”

“If I’m going to do that, I already did when I first walked into your office. It’s easier to kill you than to kill my mother, if that’s what you want to hear.” His words sent shivers down your spine, forcing yourself to sip in the glass as the taste of rich, velvety smoothness of the wine caressed your tongue. He smirks when he is satisfied with your sip. 

“See, you’re still alive.” 

He turned around taking a step forward and telling you to follow him, but when you didn’t, he looked back and his unyielding gaze bore into you. “Are you coming or do you want me to drag you from where you stand right now?”

You swallow hard, trying not to prevent yourself from showing any signs of fear, but it was harder than you thought because you’re in his territory. 

“Are you going to kill me?” Your words come out as a whisper but he was able to hear it and when he does, he grins. 

“Why, are you scared?” He took a sip from his wine, eyes fixed on you. “To answer your question, no, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Then where are you taking me?” 

“We’ll have dinner, now start to move before I drag you to the dining table.”

You indeed had dinner with him and several dishes were served on the long table. By just looking at what is served, you immediately remember that you hadn’t eaten anything yet since morning and everything you see is appetizing. The whole dining room was magnificent. The space was bathed in a war, golden glow of crystal chandelier that hung from a high, ornate ceiling. If you were in a different situation, you’d love to stay here.

Obviously, your life’s on the line and you can’t just eat and relax right now. 

“Don’t you like the food? Why aren’t you eating much?” He asked before he took another bite of his steak.

You’ve tasted what’s in front of you and it was so insanely good, but you can’t eat much by just thinking of what situation you have right now. 

"I'm not hungry," you reasoned out, then sipped your glass of water. You glanced around to see if there was anyone else in the vicinity, but you saw nothing, not even maids or cooks. It was the perfect opportunity for him to kill you, with no one else around except the two of you.

“I doubt. I know that you haven’t eaten anything. Go and enjoy your meal. It won’t harm you.” You only stare at your plate, trying to wash away the negative thoughts you have. You took another bite of your steak and you can’t help but to crave more on how it tastes so good. 

“I could tell that you like the steak, but you’re having a hard time enjoying it. I wonder what’s running through your mind.” He placed both of his elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers. 

“Will you let me go after this meal?” Your question made him chuckled, loud and mocking. 

“Here you go again, so desperate to leave me.” He commented, wiping the corner of his lips with a table napkin. 

“If you just tell me what you’re planning to do, then I wouldn’t keep asking you.” You answered, taking a sip of your water. 

“This is the plan you’re asking about. Didn’t I tell you before that I wanted to take you out for dinner to show my gratitude for being my therapist? That’s what I’m doing right now.” He grabs his wine glass and leans back before he whirl the glass, taking a sip from it.

“That’s it? That’s what you want? To take me out for dinner?” You asked like you can’t believe what he just said. 

“Why, what do you expect?” He placed his elbow on the arm rest and played with his lips; the mannerisms he does when he’s enjoying something. 

“You must be kidding me right now. I know you want something more. I know you, Jungkook. I know you.”

“If you claim to know me so much, then you should know that I am serious with what I want from you.” His eyebrow furrowed, gazing at you with intensity. “That’s the problem with people like you. You think too much and it leads you to danger.” He scoffs.

He stood up from his seat and took a step towards you, while you didn’t move an inch from your position. 

“From the moment I walked into your office, I know from myself that I want you. With your long hair falling back beautifully to the tight black dress you wore, I immediately agreed to take the sessions with you.” He stood beside you from your seat, resting his hands on the backrest of your chair while you were there, completely frozen. 

“Hoseok and my lawyer Namjoon told me that I should act like the incident causes me trauma to prevent them from suspecting me to be the culprit. I did not agree because it’s bullshit but they keep on convincing me.” He chuckled as he remembered something. “I planned on attending a single session and I won’t show up again but when I saw you sitting on your office chair with a bright smile on your pretty face, I thought that attending sessions with you won’t be that bad after all.”

He caresses your hair and you try not to flinch, clenching your jaw. 

“I do enjoy the sessions we had because you’re so entertaining to watch. You talked as if you know everything but the truth is, you don’t. I just let you think that way because you’re so passionate about what you do. I don’t want to ruin your ego, Doc.” 

He kept on caressing your hair and when you couldn't take it anymore, you stood up, facing him with anger on your face. 

“I’m done with my meal. I’m going home.” You gazed at him with a piercing stare, picking up your things. 

“You think I will let you leave just like that?” An ominous aura surrounded him when `he spoke. You’re trying to strengthen yourself as you take a step towards the door, but before you even made it, he spoke again. “Get back here, Y/N.” He threatened. 

“Stop playing with me, Jungkook.” 

“Try to take another step and I will make sure that before this night ends, your career is over as well as your best friend’s. You know that I can do it, Y/N. You wouldn’t like to test me again.” A cold, sinister flowed from his voice.

You didn’t dare take another step, afraid of provoking him even more. You hate that he can control you with just the use of his words. You still have the lash on your neck, making him take control over you. 

“That’s right, be the good girl that you are, Y/N.” He said, with a smirk on his lips. He placed his hands inside his pocket as he slowly walked towards you. “I don’t understand why you keep giving me that kind of behavior but you can’t stand by it.” He towered over you and he tried to touch your cheek but before he even did it, you avoided his touch and took a step backward.

He smirks, staring at you before he speaks again. “Even if you try to avoid me, I will still find my way to you, Y/N. If I were you, I wouldn't waste my time doing that.” He walks back to the long table and grabs his wine glass and takes a sip on it without leaving his eyes on you. 

You didn’t move nor say anything, observing his movements. You’re at his territory and you couldn’t risk provoking him because he can do anything to you without the people knowing what’s happening inside his penthouse.

He grabbed the new bottle of wine and opened it, filling up your wine glass, walking towards you, and handling you the glass. You only stare at it and Jungkook gestures to you to take it. 

“Hurry up and get it, Y/N. My arms are starting to numb.” He said and you are left without a choice, so you take the wine from his hands. “Go drink it.”

You look at the wine glass and there are a few bubbles underneath it and you swallow hard before you take a sip from it. 

“Finish it up, Y/N. Don’t make me tell you everything you have to do.”

You wanted to cry but you didn’t let your guards down. You’re starting to regret going here. 

You chug the wine while your hands are trembling and he smiles after you finish it. 

“That’s right, you’re such a good girl.” He took the glass from you and placed it back on the table. 

After a few moments, your heartbeat increases rapidly and your whole body starts to tremble. Jungkook was just looking at you as he enjoyed his wine and you suddenly felt so weak, your head started to ache.

There is something wrong with the wine.

You take a deep breath, fighting the weakness within you. You wouldn’t want to show that you’re getting weak in front of him. You walk back to your seat and grab your things before looking at him.

“I really have to go. I have a lot of things to do.” You spoke in your low voice, being careful of your actions.

Jungkook pouted in a sarcastic way. “There’s no way I’m letting you go.” he answered before he smirked. Your headache worsened but you didn’t show any signs of your weakness.

He walked towards you and you admit that you’re getting scared of what he might do. You step back but there is no more space because the table is already bumping your back. He raised his hand to touch your face once again but you blocked his touch.

And in a snap of a finger, he aggressively grabbed your face using only a single hand and his eyes suddenly filled with darkness. “Stop resisting me, Y/N. You can’t win over me.” He spoke in a low but sinister tone. 

Your limbs trembled uncontrollably, unable to withstand the weight of your fear. After a few seconds of staring at your soul with so much intensity, he already released his firm hold on your face but he didn’t move away. Instead, he slowly traces your face with his fingers.

Your weakness worsens and you can’t move nor think anymore. The only thing you can do is let him touch you.

“I love it so much when the cause of your weakness is me.” 

Your eyes widen as you gasp silently when his lips crushes on you. It was hard and you tried to move away but he gripped your arm, unabling you to move. You were trying to push him but because of your weakness, it didn’t even move an inch. 

“Open your mouth, baby girl.” He commands as he speaks in between his kisses. 

“Jungkook s-stop—

“I told you not to fight me.”

His lips went down on your neck sucking your skin and you used all your strength to push him away but he was too strong. He locked your hand on the table as he shifted his kiss on your lips and neck. Your body is shaking and tears are now flowing from your cheek and when he notices it, he stops, staring at you without removing his grip on your hand from the table.

“If you keep being difficult, I fucking swear that you wouldn’t make it out alive and I will make sure that your bestfriend will fall on the ground so hard that he can never recover.” He whispers in your ear, making you stand frozen with a pounding heart. 

You were too weak to fight and you’re sure that it’s not only because he’s dangerous but there is something in the wine you just drank. 

He stares at your face, like memorizing every feature of it. He lifts his hand, slowly wiping your tears away. He traces your face before he moves closer to peck your forehead. His lips were soft on your skin, but it only sent shivers down your spine.

“You don’t have to be scared because I will bring heaven to you.” He whispers before he sucks your ear lobe. 

He held your waist while kissing you, pushing his tongue inside. His lips were so soft and you could taste the bittersweet of the wine he just drank a few moments ago. His hands were traveling around your body while his lips were still on yours. You wanted to push him and run away but you know that you couldn’t do that because before you even reach his gigantic door, you’re probably dead. 

“Do you know how much I crave for you, huh?” He tried to speak in his desperate kisses as his breath became heavier. “From the first time I step in your office, you never leave my head. You fucking drive me insane.”

He lifted you up to the table as his kisses became aggressive and you were just there, being helpless. 

He cupped the back of your neck as he sucked it leaving a bruise before his hands traveled down to your thighs and caressed them. His hands were burning through your skin and you deny that your body starts to burn as well. He lifts you up and your thighs are in between his body carrying you to an unfamiliar room and the next thing you know, you’re already laying down on a bed. 

Your back slowly touched the soft mattress as he started to crawl on the top of you. Your body is trembling and your heart is beating so fast as he brushes your face with the back of his fingers. 

“This is what I really want, Y/N. Me on the top of you.” The room is dark but you could still see the glimpse of his face with how the moon illuminated the darkness of the room. He gently strokes your face down to your neck, until it reaches your chest. He leans forward and places his ears on your chest, listening to your pounding heartbeat. “Just by listening to your heartbeat is enough for me to get turned on.” He whispers in your ears before he brushes his lips to your neck, immediately feelings his hot and wet breaths. 

Your breath rose when you felt his fingers crawling underneath your shirt, fingers wandering at your bare skin. You suddenly flinch when his fingers rub your breast, making him smirk. “You like it when I touch you like this?” He asked in his low and seductive voice, and when you didn’t respond, his fingers circles your nipples slowly causing you to moan. 

You’re wearing a dress and he slowly lifts the end of it, completely taking your dress off and when he did, he gave a peck on your breast before removing your bra. A sudden sense of unwanted pleasure filled your body as he sucked your left breast while massaging the other one, leaving a tingle on your stomach. It didn’t take long before his lips connected on yours, slipping his tongue, letting out another moan. He moves his mouth down to your neck once again, sucking it while his other hand is trailing down your back.

His fingers travel down on the waistband of your underwear, leaving soft kisses. “I’ve always wondered how your bare body looks, and it’s exactly how I imagine. So sexy and gorgeous.” He played with the waistband of your underwear before he slowly pulled it down, leaving you gasping. 

You’re at the verge of crying when he spreads your legs apart, exposing your bare pussy, leaning down and leaving a kiss on your pelvic bone. You tried to push your body deeper in the mattress to avoid his kisses, but he only grips your hips firmly to prevent yourself from moving. “Stop fighting, Y/N.” He said with a stone voice. 

He leaves a last peck on your pelvic bone, moving down on your clit before he kisses it, leaving you panting. You resist yourself from whimpering but when he slides a tongue on your clit, you groan. You were fighting the pleasure that you felt, but the more he keeps on licking your folds, the more your body burns.

"Fuck baby, you taste just like how I imagined it. So sweet for me."

You were disgusted at yourself for feeling something so good, and disgusted at him for doing this to you. 

“You act like you don’t like what you feel, but with how wet you are, it only proves how you love this so much.” He said—almost sounds like a whimper. Your eyes widened when you felt his fingers circling your clit before he slowly inserted it inside. You moan so loud when he moves his fingers as he licks your clit and you cry with the burning sensation radiating to you. 

You weren’t a virgin and you’ve hooked up several times, yet you can’t admit it to yourself that he was doing good eating you out. 

“No matter how you say that you hate me, your body will never lie.” He whispers, as he drag his finger inside and out in a quicker motion. 

No matter how you stop yourself from moaning, that sound escapes your mouth. 

Pain leaves you when he pulls his fingers and when you look at him, he removes his shirt revealing his chiseled and sculpted body. He leans forward to slide his fingers inside your mouth, letting you taste yourself before he slides his tongue. A moan escaped you when he rubbed his fingers on your clit, feeling your wetness, before he inserted his finger once again. 

You’re trying your best not to let out another moan but your body is betraying you because you were moaning in between his lips that you could feel his smirk. 

“Don’t be hard on yourself and let yourself enjoy it, baby girl.”

After a few moments of him fucking your pussy with his fingers, your whimper as you reached your orgasm. You shred a tear when you realize how your own body betrays you. 

He withdraws his fingers as he continues to suck your neck while his hands are circling to your waist down to your hips and grinding his body on you. He then pulls himself to take off the pants that he’s wearing as your body starts to tremble.

You stare at his movements as he pulls down his pants and you gasp when he pulls it down, completely exposing dick. 

His huge, holy shit.

He strokes it and it arouses you even more. You hate yourself right now more than you hate him because you can’t believe that you’re craving it. 

“Please Jungkook, don’t.” Your voice quivered with desperate pleading.

“Stop acting that you’re not enjoying it because your body says otherwise.” He scoffs before he kneels in between your body and pumps his dick, gripping it tightly.

“Spread your legs for me, baby girl.” He commands as he parts your legs. Your eyes widen when you feel that he’s rubbing his dick on your folds as your wetness overflows and a moan is released on your lips. 

“That’s right, moan for me.” He said, almost sound like a whimper teasing you even more and it didn’t take long when he slid his dick inside you making your nails buried on his back. 

“Fuck Y/N, you’re so tight!” He moaned as he went deeper. He placed his hand on your back and a pain filled you when he dug deeper. He was sucking your neck as he kept thrusting in and out. You were pulling his hair, as he groaned on every thrust he made. He stops from time to time to suck your nipples and kiss your lips, making you moan continuously. 

"You're taking me so well, fuck. That's right, take me so well."

You’re starting to cry with the unwanted pleasure you feel but Jungkook only kisses your tears away. And with a hard thrust, you’re about to come. Your breath comes out heavily as you keep on whimpering with every thrust he does. Jungkook curses, his thrust becomes harder and you start to tremble.

“Yes baby, cum all over me and show me how much you enjoyed this.” His words almost sound like a whimper and it only motivates you to reach your second orgasm. 

And when you did, you cried louder as he thrust harder and deeper for the last time. 

—

You were lying on his bed without your clothes, while he was beside you, sleeping peacefully as if he hadn't disrespected you an hour ago. His bed was the softest and most comfortable you had ever experienced, its softness enveloping your body in a gentle embrace. However, all you could feel was disgust and anger at what he had done to you.

 You should be running right now but your body froze and you can’t move them even an inch. It happened three times in a row, and you've been begging him to stop, but he doesn't listen, as if he were possessed by a devil. He's already a monster himself, but you didn't anticipate him forcing you to comply. Most especially, you loathe yourself because your body responds to his desires, leading him to believe that you genuinely enjoy what he's doing, but in reality, you're horrified.

The room is dark, and the moon casts its enchanting glow upon it. You're gazing at the full glass window, where the distant city lights flicker in the distance. An emotional numbness envelopes you, leaving you unstable and broken.

You slowly turn towards the person beside you, and as expected, he's asleep. You can't believe how different he appears when he's sleeping, nothing like the person you know. Instead, he resembles a man who wouldn't harm a soul when his eyes are closed. However, the burning anger you feel hasn't subsided. You can never forget what he has done to you. 

The anger surged within you and you wanted to lash out, to make him feel the same pain he has caused you. You clenched your fist and the thought of killing him gnawed at the edges of your sanity. 

You looked around to find something to protect yourself from him. Slowly, you raised yourself from lying down, careful not to make any movements that might wake him up. With trembling hands, you reach your dress from the floor and put it on before scanning the room.

You've been here for quite some time, but this is the first occasion you've had to observe his entire room. As expected, his room is quite spacious, yet you can't discern the color of the walls as darkness covers the entire space. Your eyes catch a glimpse of a chest of drawers in the corner of the room, and above it, there are photographs adorning the wall. As you take a step closer, your heart rate quickens upon seeing the photos that are affixed to the wall.

The room might be dark but it’s evident that the polaroid photos on the wall are you. There are a lot of photos of you and they are a mix of a photo from your social media accounts and a photo that he took without you noticing it. 

He’s been stalking you for a quite long time already. 

A memory comes back when you’ve felt that someone is looking at you or when you’ve felt like he’s around and you brush it all away believing that you were wrong but it all makes sense because he’s been stalking you and you don’t have any idea of it. 

Your trembling hands worsened as your jaw clenched, turning around with your eyes glared at his sleeping figure.

Your anger consumes you, and with every fiber of your being, a raw, primal fury pulses, urging you to harm him. As your rage intensifies, a dark abyss opens in your mind, and your thoughts race. You take a step toward the bed where he's lying down as your heart thunders in your chest.

‘You fucking monster.’

Even if there isn’t enough light, you still manage to look around to find something. You returned to the chest drawer opening it and you gasped as you saw more photos inside. You didn’t try to look at them one by one focusing on finding something.

‘I will fucking kill you’

From the drawer, you walked around and opened every cabinet inside his room to find something you’re looking for and when you did, your body suddenly froze. 

A gun.

With your heavy breaths and trembling hand, you took it out from the drawer and took a moment to stare at it. 

But before you’ve processed everything, you heard a voice speak.

“My little Y/N, what do you think you’re doing?” 

You immediately stood up, turned around, and saw Jungkook standing 7 feet away from you. The room was so dark that you couldn't see his face, but you could make out his silhouette. He was wearing pants but nothing on top.

You pointed the gun at him but he only laughed it out. Your entire body froze as you pointed the gun firmly on him and your heartbeat echoed loudly on your ears. Your breath came short, as if your lungs were struggling to keep up with your racing thoughts.

He walked slowly toward the bedside table and switched on the lamp, causing the room to fill with a warm glow. It wasn't very bright, but it was enough for both of you to see each other.

He grins as he sees that you stepped back, holding the gun firmer when he took a step towards you. 

You’re shaking so bad but you can’t hold your guards down because anything can happen in just a matter of seconds. 

“What, you’re gonna shoot me after I satisfy you?” He said with a grin on his lips. 

“I’m going to kill you.” Your voice is low but every word you say is sharp enough to show that you’re serious but he only scoffed at your words.

“Really, you’re going to do that?” His voice was seductive, provoking you even more. 

You try to find any signs of fear on his face but you find nothing. Instead, it only worsens your emotions. You weren’t sure if the gun that you’re holding is loaded and you only pray that it does. 

It’s your first time holding a gun and you don't have any idea of how to use it but your life is in danger and you have to act accordingly. 

You cocked the gun and pointed it out at him once again. 

“Do you even know how to use that?” He pouted as if he cares but it was full of mockery and sarcasm. 

“Don’t come near me.” You whispered as you held the gun firmly.

“Come on Y/N, don’t embarrass yourself.” He took a step back and sat at the edge of the bed, while his eyes were on you. “We both know that you aren't capable of doing that. Didn’t I satisfy you enough?” 

“Shut up.”

“As far as I remember, you love it so much when I eat you out. Did I think that wrong?” He rested his hand on the mattress behind him. “I love every reaction that you make when you feel so good. I love it when you dig your nails on my skin because you can’t contain the stimulation. And by how you feel so weak with my touch and kiss–

“Shut the fuck up!”

Your heart raced, your body trembled and a cold sweat broke out on your forehead. your thoughts worsen into chaos and an overwhelming dread washed over you. You can’t take the words he said. You just wanted him to shut up.

He stares at you with so much intensity, like he can see through your soul. “You should’ve checked if the gun was loaded, babe.” He commented shifting his gaze to the gun you’re holding. 

You shook your head as you pressed your lips firmly. “You monster. I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Then kill me,” He spoke in his low voice. “Shoot me, Y/N.” He slowly stands up and walks towards you, making you step backwards. You panicked even more but you tried your best to stay still and point the gun towards him. 

“Show me how brave you are, Dr. Y/N.” Your back bumps into the cabinet behind you when there is no more space for you to step back as you were shaking so badly and you can no longer hold your tears. He pressed his chest on the muzzle of the gun while looking at you with so much intensity. 

In the blink of an eye, he firmly grabs your arm, attempting to wrest the gun from your grip, but you hold it even more tightly. You push him using your elbow, but he chokes you, and you tremble in pain. He's strong, but your determination is unwavering, and you won't lose to him this time.

You step forcefully onto his right foot, and when he shows his weakness, you swiftly break free from his grasp. However, he manages to trip you, causing you to fall and drop the gun.

You immediately crawl to get the gun but he pulled your leg away from it. 

“You can never escape me, Y/N!” He spoke as his hands circled around your neck. 

Your eyes were starting to blur, preventing you from seeing anything for a few moments. A sense of helplessness washed over you until your eyes caught the gun a few inches away from you. He was focused on choking you to death while you’re focused on reaching the gun. Desperation clouded your thoughts, urging you to stay stronger and when you finally reached the gun, you immediately pulled the trigger in his direction. 

You stood up when he released you, as a searing pain tore through his body upon being struck by the bullet, leaving him gasping for breath. You held the gun firmly while he endured the pain in his rib that had been hit by a bullet.

You cocked the gun one more time and pointed at him. 

You panted heavily as a panic gripped you, the inability to catch your breath adding to the rising sense of fear. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to let a sound escape his lips. 

He pressed his hand on his rib, looking at you with the same eyes that you despise so much. Despite being shot, he can still manage to look at you with mockery. 

"Do you believe that after what you've done, you have already… won?" He smirks as he slowly falls on the ground, enduring his physical pain. “I was in your position months ago. Holding a… gun as I shoot my mother. How ironic that the person… who tried to heal me was also the person… who would try to kill me.” He felt an agonizing, relentless throbbing at the site of the gunshot trying to ease the pain. He tried to stand up before he continued. “You’ve said a lot of times that my actions are… bad but look at you right now… Doing the same… thing.” 

“We’re not the same!” You shouted, holding the gun with your two hands. “You ruin my life, you monster!” You felt a seething rage, a burning intensity that threatened to overtake you. 

He only smirks at your response. “Really? Because last time I checked… I shoot my mother for being the monster that she is.” 

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to me!” Your fingers were trembling, itching to pull the trigger. 

“You might keep on denying it but we both know the truth.” Even in his situation, he can still play with a sinister smile on his lips. 

“You’re fucking wrong—

“Come on, Y/N! Look at you!” His eyes blazed with fiery, smirking at you as he cut you off. “You’re just like me! We’re really meant to be!” You are consumed by fury, your thoughts a turbulent storm of anger as his sinister laugh triggers you even more. Your heart pounded in your chest, tears streaming down your cheek and without you noticing it, you’re shooting him continuously.

“Fuck you! Motherfucker!” 

You continue to curse and pull the trigger even though he's already lying on the ground. Your anger blinds you to the point where you can no longer process your actions.

“I’m not like you! I’m fucking not like you!” You screamed along with every shot you made. Your heart pounded on your chest, as your words dripped with outrage. The only time you stop is when the gun is out of bullets. 

The room was surrounded by blood as you observed his lifeless body lying on the ground. You couldn't recall how many times you had shot him, but judging by the considerable amount of blood scattered about, it was evident that you had shot him numerous times.

Your vision swam before you, blurring the edges of reality as the world around you seemed to spin. You glance at the gun you’re holding and you immediately drop it off. Your whole body trembled uncontrollably, making you collapse on the floor. 

Blood. There’s a lot of blood.

The surroundings fell into an eerie silence and a chill ran down your spine. You're suddenly suffocated by fear as you crawl backward.

He’s dead. I killed him.

The only thing that you hear is the ticking sound of the clock and nothing else. You slowly look around but the only thing you see is blood. 

“But look at you right now, doing the same thing.”

“You’re just like me! We’re really meant to be!”

You covered your ears as you heard him. He was dead but you can still hear his sinister voice. 

“You can never escape me, Y/N!”

“STOP!”

—

The horizon blazed with a rich, golden hue as the sun's first rays pierced the darkness. Birds whistled as the day began. The air, now filled with the promise of warmth and life and with each passing moment, the sky emerged from its darkness.

Yet the horror you’ve made is still there. 

You’re under the glass window, watching the world to start its day. The room is still covered in blood–your body is still covered in blood. The sun has risen yet you wanted to stay in the dark. You don’t know what to do anymore. 

You suddenly heard the ringtone of your phone, making you feel more vulnerable. You covered your ears to prevent yourself from hearing it yet the sound seems to hunt you. 

After the call dies, you thought that it won’t ring again but before you can even have a peace of mind, it rang once again. 

Your legs tremble when you stand up. You do your best not to look at the corpse laying on the ground as you walk out of the room. 

His living room is exactly how it looked the last time you saw it. You look around to see any living thing but you sense nothing. Your phone is still ringing when you spot it on the top of the dining table where you ate last night. 

Where he forced you to drink a wine that made you weak. 

Tears welled up in your eyes when you saw the caller’s ID. 

It was your best friend.

It was Taehyung. 

“Thank god you answered! Where the hell are you?! I’ve been calling you since last night but you aren’t answering! You’re gonna kill me for worrying to you!”

Hearing his voice broke you down. Your tears flowed continuously as an uncontrollable emotion poured out on you. 

“Y/N, what happened? Why are you crying?” A deep concern is evident in his voice. 

You were shaking, crying with broken sobs as you covered your mouth in an attempt to calm down.

“Y/N! Speak up! What’s wrong?!”

“Tae… Please help me.” You attempt to speak. 

“Where are you? I’m going there.”

“Taehyung.”

“Y/N, what happened?”

“I made a grave sin.” 

“What?”

Your wailing sobs echoed through the whole area as you fell on your knees. He keeps asking what happened but you’re having a hard time admitting it. 

“Y/N, how am I going to help you if you can’t tell me?”

After a few moments, you started to calm down. Your sobs gradually subsided, a quiet hiccup escaped you as you closed your eyes briefly.

“I killed a man.” The words escape your lips and a new set of tears forms on your eyes. 

You never thought that you would resort to killing him. Out of all the things that happened, you wanted to end everything without harming anyone. You’re a well-known psychiatrist who has an advocacy that despite of who you are and what you’ve become, your mental health matters. 

You know yourself well. You know your strengths and weaknesses, and the cause of your happiness and sadness. But that’s what you thought. 

You can’t control your emotions. 

No matter how you try, you will always have a hard time controlling it.

There are a lot of reasons why people act without thinking when they are emotional. According to a study, physiologically, emotions can activate the body's fight-or-flight response. When emotions trigger this response, stress hormones like adrenaline flood the system, preparing the body to respond to perceived threats. This physiological reaction can reduce the ability to think clearly and may lead to impulsive actions.

“Where are you?” After a long pause, Taehyung finally spoke. 

“At Jeon Jungkook’s place. One of my patients.” You respond in a low voice. 

“Message me the exact address and I’ll be right there.”

You weren’t in your right mind when you pulled the trigger. You didn’t like what happened. 

Therefore, you weren’t just like him. 

It was his fault, after all.

-end-

a/n: finally, it's complete! Thank you so much for joining me in writing this JK fic. It's my first time delving into the thriller genre, and I've truly enjoyed the experience. I also hope that you all enjoy reading it as well. Have a great day, everyone!

taglist: @idkjustlovingbts @koohrs @minshookie29 @aajjks @softie00 @exquisite-bands @kingofbodyrolls @floralflowexs @oopscoop @yoonjinhusbands @ash07128 @kookiesbunny @cinnikoi @yluv-damara-13 @hoseoksluv89 @darkuni63 @iloverubberduckiez-blog @fangirl-death-rose @looneybleus

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Imagine a meet cute where Eddie is alone on a stormy night and he thinks someone is breaking in, but you’re just crawling under his trailer because there’s a stray animal under there and your rescuing it!!

Eddie usually didn't mind being alone in the trailer, being alone meant he had a sense of freedom to do whatever he wanted, but tonight is one of the nights he really wished Wayne was home. The news issued a severe thunderstorm warning that lasted from 2pm to 2am so Eddie made sure to have everything he needed prepared ahead of time. Pizza was on the table as was a few beers and all the movies he could ever want to watch was on the floor next to the couch. He settled in around 7pm and all was going as planned.

That was until 11pm rolled around. The storm was getting worse and there was so much noise surrounding the trailer that Eddie was starting to freak. As a trash can knocked over right outside of his window, Eddie finally decides to investigate. He puts on shoes and a sweatshirt and starts mumbling to himself about how stupid he is acting, "Why am I doing this? It could be a killer or some shit, what the fuck am I doing? Getting killed that's what you're doing Eddie my god." As he turned the corner he nearly screams as he runs into someone. He took a step back and realized that it was the newbie that just moved in the week prior.

He bite backs his scream and watches your movement. You lay on the ground and stretch your arm out as if you're trying to grab something that is under his trailer. "Oh sweetie come out please, it's okay I promise." He grows even more confused and curious as he watches you scoot to be closer to the side of trailer home. "It has to be scary out here all by yourself sweetie, I have some food you can have..." You call out trying to ease whatever is under the trailer.

He clears his throat and finally gets your attention. "Uh...What are you doing under my home?" He asks and if he looked any closer he would've been able to see your cheeks redden. "There's a baby possum...it's mother, well she didn't make it." You stand up, brushing off your jeans and start to explain more of the situation. "You know Susan? She lives like three trailers down I think, anyway she ended up hitting their mom and now it's alone and it has to be terrified! I mean look at this weather!" You started sniffling and Eddie couldn't tell if it was because you were crying over the situation or if it was because you were getting sick from being outside for so long. He really hoped it wasn't either, he'd hate for you to get sick but he also couldn't handle seeing someone so pretty and clearly so sweet cry.

"Look, I can try and help. I think I have some I don't know maybe some cat food? Would that help l think I have some, I know we have grapes..." You two finally agree on the grapes and about an hour later you finally rescued the baby possum from under the trailer. Eddie walked you and the baby that was just rescued to your trailer and you properly introduce yourselves. By the time you got to your front door the two of you seemed pretty smittened with one another and a date had been planned for the next night. Hopefully the storms would be passed by then and neither of you ended up with a nasty cold.

[blackynsupremacy]

THERE’S SOMETHING

ABOUT YOU.

CHAPTER 3

pairing: smallville!clark kent x blackfem!oc

fandom: smallville (2001-2011)

guest starring: aaliyah haughton as lyric james

also starring:

sam jones iii as pete ross

allison mack as chloe sullivan

kristin kreuk as lana lang

summary: ever since lana lang has moved in with the sullivan’s, clark kent’s nightly telescopic views of the galaxy and daily glimpse of the sunrise tend to get lonelier. that is until a moving truck, a wandering amicable feline, and her frustrated owner, lyric james, makes her debut in his life as her family are the new owners of the old potter house next door. things between the new neighbors start to shift as clark is tasked as her personal tour guide at her new school. one little slip is all it takes for her to learn he’s more than meets the eye in this small town.

contains: lots of words, friends to neighbors, use of gifs and photos for visuals, tooth rotting fluff, a bit of angst/arguing, lyric and clark getting closer, mild swearing, cute moments, slow burn, main audience is black readers but everyone is welcome. lyric’s thoughts, clark’s thoughts.

taglist: @rosiestalez @camiesully @paisholotus @ellethespaceunicorn @afrowrites @afrogirl3005 @tryingtograspctrl @zombigrlll @simply-the-best23 @jkr820 @gxuxhdjdu @sabrinasopposite @elitesanjisimp

please read: CHAPTER 2

lyric’s heavy eyes open as soon as her ears hear the siren sound of her alarm clock. darkness envelopes the room. her vision shifts to the alarm clock that reads five am on the dot. her hand slowly reaches to press the button that ceases the alarm. she’s early for once. so early that the sun hasn’t come up yet. wait—the sunrise. even though she’s half asleep and her thoughts are hazy, it all comes back to her memory: her family ate dinner with the kents last night, she also remembers clark, his loft, the telescope, and his invitation to watch the sunrise before school. her deep, brown pupils try to adjust by glancing at various objects in the room like her vanity, her closet, her various posters of her favorite musicians, and noir who’s four paws down on lyric’s chest, her pink button nose a mere centimeter from her owner’s.

“g’mornin’, baby girl. how’d you sleep, hm? you hungry?” lyric coos to her with a raspy voice as her fingertips caress the black strands of noir’s fuzzy head. the feline mewls in response and jumps down from the bed making a soft thud as all four paws strike a perfect landing on the hardwood floor. noir gazes at lyric in expectancy, her signature move of swaying her tail on the floor indicating that she was indeed hungry.

“okay, okay. i’ll get you breakfast, but i gotta be quick.” lyric complies and she sits upright to turn and remove her comforter. as soon as her feet connect to the floor, she makes her bed and trudges out of her bedroom to make her way to the kitchen downstairs, noir traveling not too far behind her. when she reaches her destination, she spots both of her parents continuing their normal routines in a comfortable silence. crystal was preparing breakfast and joseph was reading the news as he munched on a red apple from the table fruit bowl.

“good morning, y’all!” lyric cheerfully greets her parents. a hug and a kiss on the forehead for her father. a hug and a kiss on the cheek for her mother. they were both shocked to see their daughter up so early, but they enjoyed her enthusiasm nonetheless.

“good morning, honey!”

“good morning, sweetheart.”

they respond still continuing their tasks.

“you’re up real early. i guess that means you’re ready for your first day at school?” joseph inquires as he watches lyric grab noir’s usual cat food and purple monogrammed food bowl from the cabinets before she squats down to pour out an appropriate amount, in which noir immediately indulges in. everyone, but lyric notices the wide, dimpled grin spread across her face before she answers,

“uh, yeah! i think i am. it’s a fresh start and no one knows me like that, so—i’ma make the best of it!”

“hmm! first, you’re up at five. now, the cheerful mood. i haven’t seen you this excited and confident to go to school if it’s not the last day of it before summer, lyric. not to mention that sunshiny smile! this wouldn’t have to do anything with a certain boy next door would it?” crystal teasingly jests, her own dimples appear to match her daughter’s expression.

“no, mama! it’s not like that. clark is sweet and all, but i just met him. we ain’t even friends like that yet, but i do appreciate him for by showing me the ropes on my first day. i can’t stay too long because we gotta meet before the bus comes!” she responds to fetch herself a bowl and spoon to pair them with frosted flakes and milk to quickly refuel her energy for the day. crystal feigned a surrender as she raised her hands.

“okay, baby! i’m just saying it sounded like you and clark had a nice time up in that barn after dinner when your father and i left the kents. neither of us didn’t want to disturb you two and we were glad that y’all were getting along, so martha and jonathan said it was fine for you to stay in there for a couple more minutes before clark walked you back home.”

lyric pauses her eating and she feels her face burn up at the realization of why her parents went off without her after the kents graciously invited the james family to have sunday dinner last night.

“ma! ya’ll heard us and ya’ll left me!?” lyric fake gasps and pretended to be hurt, a chuckle leaving her mouth.

“we’re sorry, baby girl. we just haven’t seen you so happy ever since—“ joseph added before lyric finished his sentence.

“omar?” lyric’s tone shifted from bright and jovial to monotonous and cold. there was now an uncomfortable beat of silence between the james’ family, crystal sending a glare to her husband before softening her brown eyes on her daughter. lyric broke it by clearing her throat.

“baby girl, i’m sorry—“

“it’s okay, dad. really. i—uh, i’ma go get ready. i can’t make us all be late, right?”

lyric awkwardly stood from her chair to wash the dishes she used before giving her parents an affectionate hug and goodbye, hurrying up to her bedroom to get the day started.

lyric sits on the stool at her vanity mirror dressed in a beige top with a sleeveless brown vest and matching cargo pants. around her neck she wears a silver military dog tag pendant and around her right wrist, lays a silver bracelet and the other, her black wrist watch. after the routine of adjusting her onyx tresses and enhancing her natural features with light makeup, she puts on her signature hoops to finish off the look. her fingertips leave a lingering touch when the needle pushes through the clasp. her chest gets heavy at the mention of omar’s name a few moments ago.

why the hell did he have to bring him up? wasn’t the reason us being here not to talk to about him? i can’t really be mad—i guess this change has cheered me up to some degree.

the comforting touch of noir’s paw tapping on the back of lyric’s leg awakens the girl out of her head and she gathers the furry bundle of mischief into her arms, pecking her head and stroking down her back. lyric simpers as the cat purrs at the touch and nuzzles her head under lyric’s chin in approval.

“you’re ‘bout to be on your own for a few hours. you better behave. don’t you do anything fast while i’m gone, you hear me, girl?” she playfully reprimanded and squats to release noir from her embrace. noir lets out a meow in response. lyric takes the sound as a yes, but knowing this feline, no promises are set in stone. her eyes peer down at the watch to read it’s a quarter till six. it was still dark, but she knew it would be a matter of time before the sun rose and she didn’t want to let clark down. with her black satchel carrying her camera and new lavender backpack with the required academic supplies, she headed down the stairs to see that her parents were about to depart to their workplaces. joseph places a house key in lyric’s palm, urging her to be responsible for it. the family exchanges the encouraging words of “have a great day and be safe. i love you.”, before they all go their separate ways.

lyric takes her walk to the kent house. the familiar path she’s treaded on a few times feels like the long bustling, sidewalks of her home, but there was no bustling. no horns honking. no people rudely bumping into your shoulder and getting mad at you because they weren’t looking where they going even though their head was down. it was only the quiet sounds of birds chirping and the creaking of the wooden stairs under lyric’s feet as she approached the front door of the kent household. her knuckles reach to knock on the door and she waits not ten seconds later to see the pleasant face of mrs. martha kent. the ladies greet each other with beaming smiles.

“good morning, lyric! how’re you this morning? please come in! why don’t you look pretty. i assume you’re ready for your first day at smallville high?” the older, auburn woman inquires as she steps aside to let the young girl enter her home.

“good morning and thank you, mrs. kent! i won’t front, i’m a bit nervous, but i’m excited for a fresh start! clark asked me if we could meet before the bus came to watch the sunrise. is he around? i hope i’m not too late. i don’t usually get up this early.” lyric chuckles as she clutches the strap of her bag and hikes it up onto her shoulder.

“oh, no, sweetie, you’re right on time! he’s over at the barn now waiting for you. before you go, how’s that cat of yours?” they both snicker, knowing about noir’s quirks. lyric assures that martha of noir’s wellbeing before she bids martha a goodbye and exits from where she came in. the girl roams the path to the barn not without spotting clark’s father, jonathan, up and tending to the livestock. she calls out for the man and waves to greet him a good morning which he positively reciprocates. after the friendly exchange, she’s already entering through the barn door. her feet taking her to ascend the wooden staircase before she calls out for the farm boy,

“yo, clark! are you in here?”

lyric reaches the top and goes around the corner to spot him near the open window, leaning forward on the sill with his bended elbows. clark’s head turns at the sound of her voice and instantly smiles at her timely arrival.

“good morning, lyric!”

lyric returns his greeting with her own grin before sauntering her way closer to take her position beside him at the window. her feet shuffles to give each of them space.

“good morning, clark. i hope i’m not too late.” she responds as she notices the sky about to change colors.

“nonsense! you’re just in time for it to start. you got your camera?”

“got it right here!” clark watched the girl as her hands ventured into the black satchel that she routinely held to reveal a black canon digital camera.

the teens both leaned on the sill. their eyes catching the horizon as the sun slowly, but surely ascends to take its place in the sky reflecting an iridescent, golden light mingling with the fading blue of the once midnight sky. each star disappeared with one ultraviolet ray at a time. with an awestruck countenance, lyric held the camera up to her right eye, adjusting the focus settings to capture every major and minor detail of this moment. lyric generally thought sunrises were beautiful from afar and went along her way, but seeing this up close? it was a treasure. this was something that was given to humans everyday, free of charge and she just couldn’t believe that she could take this for granted. one from her city couldn’t really enjoy the sunrise due to the hectic nature of getting on the train or due to the blockage of buildings that reach the clouds. lyric’s index finger pressed down on the button several times. she beamed when that metallic click reached her eardrums, a sound of her passion, her livelihood, and her emotions. clark’s blue eyes pulled away from the sunrise momentarily to gaze down at lyric because he could already hear the sound of heart thumping at a rapid pace that almost had him concerned for wellbeing, but that fear dissipated as he simply watched her work the camera at the desired angles. he marveled at the beautiful golden light reflecting off the melanated skin of her face and arms. the indention of her dimples protrude as the top row of her pearly whites rest atop her glossed bottom lip. he noticed the tiny sway of her dark hair dance with the small breeze of the morning wind. clark was impressed at her focus and drive to get a good shot of the sunrise. he realized that for lyric this wasn’t just hobby or a past time. it was her art form. her element. clark was so stuck in his trance of staring that even lyric noticed his pupils of blue scoping down at her figure. she halted her movements immediately and slowly let the camera down to her torso. embarrassed, she cleared her throat and stifled a giggle. lyric had an idea to break the silence and break the barriers of her craft.

“hey, clark—earth to clark!”

her voice knocked him out of his trance, his head shaking a bit with rose tinted cheeks of embarrassment for making his neighbor feel awkward. the farm boy cleared his own throat before stammering himself.

“uh—oh. um, sorry, lyric. were you saying something? i didn’t mean to stare for so long, it’s just the way you took a picture of that sunrise. you looked like you were in another world for a second. you seem to love photography, huh?” he questioned, shifting his posture and placing his hands within his pockets.

“it’s all good, clark. by the way you were watching, it looks like i wasn’t the only one in my own world.” the teens pause to chortle at her wit. lyric inwardly smirked as she picked up on that his cheeks flushed a shade of rose and a hint of nervousness in his laughter before she resumed the conversation and gazed at the memory holding device within her hands.

“yeah, i do, but it’s just a hobby. i just like to take photos of different places and things that give inspiration. to be real with you, i haven’t really taken pictures like this since my fr—uh, my family moved. i guess i owe you one for the spot. thank you!” clark received her dimpled grin of gratitude in which he returned with a lopsided smile of his own. he also couldn’t help, but have a gut feeling about her tone mentioning the move of her family from new york. it was filled with a twinge of hesitancy and—sadness? regret? being the empathetic guy that he was, he wanted to check to see if he said anything wrong. the “protecting the privacy” part of him wanted to respect that boundary, so that this connection wouldn’t be ruined.

“it’s no problem, lyric. what are good neighbors for? are you ready to head out to the bus stop? i don’t want to be the reason you miss your first day.” clark geared up for another school day by gathering his signature red backpack that toted the academic essentials.

“yeah! let’s go.” she replied, but then an idea came alive in her brain and she called out for his name, he responds by turning to face her and raises a brow to signal “yes?”. he didn’t want to rush her, but he didn’t want the two to get in trouble by making both of them late, not on her first day of all.

“do me a favor. put your bag down, stand near that wall, lean your back on it, and look at me. don’t move! i just wanna try something. i swear we won’t be late!” lyric pleads and sighs in relief when he does as he’s told and holds the pose before averting his gaze to lyric whose focusing her camera on his tall frame. within three seconds, he hears the familiar metallic clicking sound and once lyric gives him the green light, he returns to his original position and takes his belongings, she beckons him to her with a quick wave of her hand and a look of anticipation on her face.

“i’ve never really done a shot of another person like this, but the lighting was just perfect and i—well, just take a look for yourself, clark. what you think?”

lyric questioned, leaning the device close enough to clark for him to see the small screen that beheld the photo of him. he was thoroughly impressed by the shot! lyric wasn’t kidding when she said the lighting was right. the vibrant colors of the dark blue jacket mixed with his red plaid flannel against the tawny brown walls of the barn exuded that all american charm he possessed within himself. one could tell he worked on a farm as he noticed his skin looked slightly sun kissed. his onyx hair looked shinier and the shadow that casted on his face helped to sharpen his facial features such as the bridge of his nose and jawline. it was almost like something out of an issue of teen vogue.

“oh my god, lyric! you’ve really outdone yourself. i’m not normally a guy for photos, but this looks professional! thanks!” he beamed as his eyes couldn’t tear away from the photo.

“it’s no biggie. i just wanted to do something different. get out of my comfort zone type of thing.”

“lyric, you don’t understand. you could do local shots for people if you wanted. i’d think you’d go far with this if you think on it and do some more!”

“you think so?” lyric asks, tilting her head up for her eyes to meet his.

“i know so—i guess you could say i sparked the inspiration.” clark quips with that contagious charming smile of his that sort of makes lyric’s stomach tumble. she nervously laughs ands taps his arm with the back of her hand.

“yeah, yeah! when’d you get so humble? we better bounce before you make me late.” lyric walks towards the staircase with clark following behind. they rush to bid goodbye to his parents one last time before clark leads her to the bus stop. they wait in a comfortable silence for about five minutes before the long, yellow vehicle arrives in front of them. lyric’s stomach does a turn at hearing the whoosh of the long doors opening, awaiting their boarding. clark gives her a reassuring once over, indicating for her to follow his lead before his feet steps on to board and lyric follows as they make their way down the aisle. lyric felt a bit uneasy as she could tell a few eyes were on her as they walked to the empty seat that clark found across from an african american boy that smiled and greeted him. clark sat himself near the window, allowing lyric to sit on the outside to face the same boy across from them.

“hey! what’s up, clark—oh, and who is this?” his brown eyes glinted with delight as they laid on the new girl that was seated besides his best friend. smacking his teeth, clark playfully rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics.

“come on, pete! don’t scare her off. this is—“

lyric caught clark by surprise as she eased the awkwardness by giggling and introducing herself.

“it’s all good! he’s just trying to be friendly. my name’s lyric. lyric james, i’m clark’s new neighbor. my family and i moved from new york to smallville like, three days ago. i live next door, actually. it’s nice to meet you.” she amicably said and held out her hand for the boy which he eagerly took to shake.

“that’s cool! a new girl next door, huh? welcome to smallville. the name’s pete. pete ross. i’m clark’s best friend. i hope this means you’ll be sticking with us on your first day? hopefully a lot more than that.” pete responds, flashing a pearly white smile to work that ross charisma.

“easy, now but yeah! if it’s not too much trouble. so ya’ll have been tight for minute, right?” lyric chuckles and leans back against the seat before shifting her gaze between the boys.

“mm-hm. when i was little, i was getting pushed around by some jerk, but here comes clark kent, coming to my rescue. let me tell you, he pushed that kid so hard into the door, it literally broke into pieces! ever since then, he’s been my boy.” pete raves before reaching over to send a bashful clark a fist bump of gratitude.

“hey, i was just doing what i had to do to help someone who needed it. i think everyone deserves to be saved.” clark modestly chimed in.

lyric was amazed. that’s the second testimony she’s heard of clark’s courage to step in and save others. it kind of intrigued her how a small kid could push another so hard a whole door could break, but she brushed the thought away as three of them continued to chat throughout the ride to school. she’s learned that pete’s family was very well to do and a respected group of lawyers. his mother was even the judge! lyric found it to be a relief to have another acquaintance besides clark be someone of her culture because when it comes to small towns, there could be a lack of diversity sometimes. their conversation is cut short when the bus pulls in front of the tall, beige school building with the words SMALLVILLE HIGH SCHOOL imprinted on the top. a large, red banner is displayed above the front door, showcasing the crow as the mascot and encouraging the student body to “FLY TO VICTORY!” in golden letters. one by one, the students stood up to walk in a single file line to depart from the bus and make their way through the entrance.

after stopping by the front office to retrieve her class schedule, clark and pete take lyric on a brief tour through the school. they give an overview of the larger common areas such as the cafeteria, library, gym, and the auditorium in addition to the hallways where her different classes would be. lyric made sure for her brain to download every detail of each location the best she knew how. for her peace of mind, she shared one class with clark and another with pete. the trio make a quick stop at another room. it was spacious with technology such as computers and copy machines. a sign in bold red lettering read, “SMALLVILLE HIGH TORCH” along with a myriad of photos on the wall. lyric spotted a caucasian girl with a medium blonde bob that looked preoccupied typing away at the desktop computer. she assumed the girl was in charge of this room they were in. given she was the only one in there before they showed up.

“hey, chloe!” clark called out causing the girl to stop immediately what she was doing. she picked up what seemed to be a newspaper, her nose was deep in it as she followed the sound of clark’s voice, but didn’t notice that she was standing in front of lyric.

“hey, clark! look, i really need all hands on deck on this next story. do you think you could—“ chloe halted as her green eyes met lyric’s brown. her cheeks flushed with scarlet, embarrassed that she was in fact, not talking (directly) to clark. the girl shook her head at own mistake, chuckling before making a formal introduction.

“i am sooo sorry! you’ve probably already heard, but my name is chloe. chloe sullivan and you are?”

the girls reach out for each others hands to shake.

“i’m lyric james. i’m clark’s new neighbor. it’s nice to meet you, chloe! i dig the set up around here. what is this place?” lyric questions, her brown eyes perusing the room before landing on chloe’s enthusiastic face.

“well, first, i’d like to welcome you to smallville high and second, this is the torch! it’s basically like the school newspaper outlet. we put out things like current events and upcoming events, but this is all to get me ready to be a real journalist. one day you’ll see me out in metropolis working on the biggest headlines for the daily planet.” chloe spoke with an air of wit and confidence.

“you wanna see something, lyric? come and follow me.”

lyric looked to clark and pete after she saw chloe go farther back to another room. their faces shown to her that they already knew what the deal was before they all led her to the destination. it was a wall that was plastered with what seemed to be several newspaper clippings all pasted one on top and beside each other like a scrapbook. chloe stood beside the three and triumphantly gazed at it like a proud parent.

“i present to you my wall of weird. if you don’t know, there’s still remnants of the green meteor rocks from the fall of ‘89 and those rocks have certain—side effects on different people that give them these abilities that are literally out of this world. this wall contains every headline of incidents that those people were involved in ever since the shower. it’s amazing, really.” chloe walked up in front, her arms wide open presenting the evidence as it were a museum exhibit.

“you mean like superpowers?” lyric inquired, her arched brows raising in surprise. she couldn’t see behind her that clark was tensing at the mention of these bizarre incidents that occurred in their town. incidents that he and his friends were involved in to resolve on so many occasions. incidents that had him and some of the people he loved hurt and almost killed. he cut his eyes to chloe, warning her to shut it down, so lyric wouldn’t be freaked out considering she just moved here seventy two hours ago. chloe got the signal and cleared her throat before stammering,

“y-yeah—i know it’s a lot of heavy information about a place you just moved to. i’m gonna stop talking about it. you don’t probably don’t want to be late for—“

and just like that chloe was literally saved by the bell.

“class…say, how about we catch up later at lunch, you guys? again, it was great meeting you, lyric! i hope to see you more often.” chloe hastily says before rushing to gather her tote bag with her books and venture into the hallway, disappearing into the crowd of students. lyric was getting curious about the wall of weird.

how in the hell does one meteor shower change the course of these small town people that…drastically? it all may sound cool in a comic or a movie, but this was real life with real people who had real powers!

lyric’s eyes stared at the wall of photos, itching to find out who these people were, what abilities they had, and how they lived. her trance was broken when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. she turned around to still see pete and clark waiting for her.

“oh—my bad. did ya’ll say something?” she hated when she was caught zoning out. she awkwardly blinked as she twiddled her fingers.

“it’s no problem, lyric, but we’d be better get to english before we get a tardy. i’ll walk you there!” clark urges, giving her a once over to the door.

lyric gives a nod and one last lingering glance at the wall before the three of them exit the torch to walk to their respective classes in a timely manner. lyric and clark survived the fifty minutes of reading and analyzing a chapter of alexander dumas’ the count of monte cristo, a literary classic of getting your lick back. the perfect revenge. fortunately, they just started on the novel, so lyric didn’t have to play catch up. as lyric and clark walked in the hall between class periods, they talked about how fascinating it was with how the main character could be so influential, giving, trusting, and fair, but still had the people closest to him praying on his downfall. clark’s mind couldn’t help to wander that the character reminded him of his wealthy, but good friend, lex luthor. lex had the money, power, influence, resources, and compassion when it came to the citizens of smallville especially when it came to undoing the sins of his father, lionel, who at the same time was meticulously plotting in his son’s downfall, a devious ploy after another.

speaking of the citizens of smallville, clark felt time freeze when lana lang approached him. smallville’s local, yet tragic sweetheart. lyric’s eyes immediately caught notice of clark’s attention on the other girl. lyric couldn’t deny that she was gorgeous with her long, brown hair and almond hazel eyes. once she flashed her luminous smile, lyric could obviously see that clark was smitten by her. perhaps that was his girlfriend.

“hey, clark. long time, no see! i’m sorry if i haven’t been over to the loft as often, but things have been so hectic down at the talon. i can’t say i don’t miss those sunrises!” lana chuckles, nibbling on her bottom lip and glancing at the floor briefly her eyes shift to the girl that’s standing next to clark. lana’s brows raise at her presence and before she gets the chance to inquire, clark chimes in.

“hey, lana! no, no. you’re fine. i get that with running a business, you take care of well, business! just know that no matter what, you’re always welcome with open arms.”

clark’s known her ever since childhood. this was his first love. he practically sees her almost everyday, but when she comes around, his stomach ties in knots as does his tongue sometimes, but he keeps it together to keep on a decent conversation. there’s a beat of awkward silence that’s cleared by lana clearing her throat to ask her burning question.

“i’m sorry! i hope i didn’t seem rude. i don’t think i’ve seen you around here before. i’m lana lang. it’s nice to meet you.” she greets and gives lyric a cordial grin. lyric returns the favor in the same tone, her own friendly smile before introducing herself for the umpteenth time for the day.

“it’s no worries. i’m lyric james. i’m clark’s new neighbor. my family just moved here from new york.”

“new york? that’s awesome! i’ve always wanted to travel there one day. well, welcome to smallville. as a token of my welcome, i’d like for you to come over to the talon. it’s this café slash old movie theater that i run in town and your first caffeinated drink of your liking is on the house! i’m there pretty much all the time after school, so just swing by whenever.”

“you run own your business? that’s what up, lana! i’ll take you up on the offer if someone is willing to take me because i haven’t really seen smallville like that yet.” lyric responds and playfully cuts her eyes to clark briefly before resuming her conversation with lana.

“i’d love to come and thank you so much!”

“don’t mention it! now, you said you’re the kents new neighbors, so that means you live right next door, correct?” lana questions, quirking a brow. lyric attempts to answer, but clark takes it for her.

“yeah! i meant to introduce you guys. i guess i got a bit…sidetracked, but yes! lyric’s family actually lives in your old house, lana. it’s amazing how that all worked out.”

clark sheepishly adds to the conversation. okay, clark didn’t exactly tell lana that her old home had new occupants right away. between lana working, clark’s chores, and hanging out with lyric, one could say clark was indeed sidetracked. his stomach had that familiar drop when he saw lana’s face shift from content to confusion, her eyes start to squint as her brows furrow.

“wait—what? i thought when dean sold the house, that it was just off the market? i didn’t think anyone could—i just. you know what? it’s whatever. it’s not like it was really my house financially. nell and dean can do whatever they want. sometimes, i wish they’d give me a heads up on things like this. clark did you know about this? if so, how long?”

“lana, i’ve only known since friday. i was out in the loft the night they moved in. at first, i thought it was nell and dean, but i was wrong and i honestly thought you knew, but i didn’t want to bother with you juggling school and the talon.”

clark explained with as much accuracy as possible. he knew how much lana valued the truth. he knew how much she valued places and objects that connected her to her family. lana closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling. she couldn’t really be frustrated towards clark per say, how could he have seen this coming? the last thing lana needed was another unnecessary rift between her and clark over something that was out of anyone’s hands.

“it’s no issue, clark. i’m sorry for getting so riled up. there was nothing any of us could do. what’s done is done! and lyric, i apologize that you had to see that. i know that didn’t make a great first impression!” lana remorsefully utters, placing a hand on her chest.

“don’t worry, lana. how about we just start over and talk it out later at the talon? i think after today, a cappuccino would do us all some good. i’m sure clark would be willing to lead the way!” the teens all chuckle and nod in agreement of their plans for the evening before lana bids them both a goodbye and disappears in the crowded hallway. lyric’s smile drops, her body turning to make full eye contact with clark and her arms crossed to size him up.

“so you weren’t gonna tell me i moved in the house of your girlfriend? don’t you think that would be a little suspicious? i just got here and the last thing i need is some drama, clark. if there’s something i gotta know, you better tell me right now.” an irked lyric fired at the boy with furrowed brows, but not too loud to not draw attention.

“i’m sorry, lyric, i did mean what i said to lana. she has been busy and that was the last thing i think she needed on her plate. also, i was helping to make sure that you felt at home considering how we first met. you seemed stressed, worried, and this morning i noticed you were a bit sad when you talked about not taking pictures in a while. i won’t pry, but it upsets me when i see people that i know and care about in distress. whether it’d be my parents or my friends. i always feel the need to help even though it sometimes it results in those getting hurt. talk about having the right motives and doing the wrong things.” as each word spilled from clark’s lips, the gears in lyric’s brain began to turn with realization setting in.

he noticed that i was sad? he wants to make me feel at home? he sees me as someone he knows and cares about? he sees me as a friend?

lyric shoulders relax and her arms drop to her side. a strand of dark hair falls in front of her face and her hand sweeps it behind her ear, buying her time to conjure up a response to his plea.

“i—clark. um, thank you for telling me that. look, i’m sorry for pressing you like that. since we’re gonna be honest, i won’t lie when i say that i can see you as someone that i care about too. i didn’t want to pressure you into saying we were instantly friends because i didn’t want to scare you off, you know? we just met, but like i said before, there’s something about you, something good, so i can’t trip because it wasn’t your intention to hurt anybody, but if we’re gonna be friends, let’s both try our best to keep it real with each other, you got it?” her brown eyes gaze up into his blue ones with expectancy.

“i got it, lyric.” they exchange a small smile of understanding and establishment of their official friendship as they move on about their day, fulfilling the next few hours of learning until the ring of the final bell signals the students of smallville high of their dismissal. as lyric walked with her new circle out of the school, it didn’t take long for her personality to instantly click within the group. she hadn’t felt this sense of community and belonging in months. at lunch, chloe was kind enough to let the other three carpool with her to the talon within the next few hours to hang out and study. lyric was down for it, but she had to let at least one of parents know before going out. while waiting for their bus to arrive, clark and lyric stood against the wired fence. he wanted to do a quick check in on her after some of the encounters that she had on her official first day.

“lyric?”

“yeah, clark?”

“what did you think about today? about everything?”

“well, i’ll say that it’s the most interesting first day of school i’ve had since kindergarten.” she responds with a chortle.

“anything in particular that made it interesting?”

“the torch was dope. i really want to learn more about the wall of weird, so there’s really people in this town—this itty bitty town, that had superpowers because of fallen green rocks?”

“welcome to smallville.” he quips with a lopsided smile and shrug of his shoulders.

“damn. well i know i would never fall into that trap of being up on that wall. it sounds like having powers would be so…much. like, it sounds cool, but you can’t play around with that. you know what i’m saying, clark?”

he pauses knowing full well that he understands such a predicament. she’s not exactly wrong, but there’s something else i need to know.

“i know what you’re saying. say, i want to know your opinion—would you think a person with those abilities has the potential to be helpful to others? you know, like a superhero?”

clark’s eyes intently searched her face as she looked to be in thought before answering with the nod of her head.

“oh, yeah! definitely. i wouldn’t personally want that life for me, but for someone else who wants to use it with the intention of making a positive difference, i’d say they go for it! if you’re gonna have any type of power, you’d want it to do some good.”

her enthusiastic tone gave clark a bit of hope and…warmth. the only people who know of his abilities are pete and his parents. they’ve always reassured that clark was great the way he is despite the burden, but he can’t help, but to feel deep down that he was an outcast, a freak of nature. he was an alien for god’s sake and that’s all he knows, but for some odd reason, lyric’s response didn’t make him feel like a freak. more so like a hero, a person. as he saw the bus arrive, he had to clear the air on one more thing while they still had their privacy.

“by the way, lana’s not my girlfriend. she’s just—a really good friend.”

lyric arched a brow in surprise at the boy and a chortle vibrated in her chest.

“oh, for real? by the way you were looking at her in the hallway, i certainly couldn’t tell. clark, it’s so obvious you like her. i don’t blame you she’s sweet, beautiful, intelligent, and independent. i don’t see what’s stopping you.”

“i just don’t want to ruin what we already have. our friendship is very important to me. i’ve basically known her all my life.”

“well, i won’t fight you on that. at the end of the day, it’s your go. now, let’s go before they leave us behind!” she waved him over as they followed their group to the assigned vehicle. after her, clark, and pete boarded the bus, the teens talked, laughed and griped about the day they’ve had. at that moment, lyric knew that smallville would become more bearable due to the aid of her new friends by her side. the bus makes the stop in front of kent farm. clark offered to walk lyric home as she wanted to go and check on noir before they meet up later before chloe arrives. lyric accepts because even though she could walk on her own, she thought it would be awesome to see the look on clark’s face of her token of her appreciation for him helping her out on her first day. they take the brisk walk to her house and clark seems reluctant to step inside her house without knowing if it was okay with her parents.

“are you absolutely sure that i can come in lyric?” clark questioned, a look of uncertainty in his eyes meet lyric’s nonchalant expression.

“don’t trip, kent. you know my parents like you enough. plus, one of them won’t be home until two more hours and this will be quick. have a little faith!” she chuckles and takes out the key joseph entrusted her with, turning the lock, and opening the door. she invites clark into the living room and asks if he needed anything like a snack or drink which he politely declines. his ears perk up at the familiar sound of paws lightly trodding across the floor. simultaneous grins spread across the teens faces when noir enters the room, a soft mewl echoes in the room when her eyes of yellow green lay on her owner and the farm boy that spoiled her days ago. she walks past lyric as if she were a stranger and instantly nuzzles her fuzzy, black body against clark’s leg. he doesn’t hesitate to set his backpack aside and gather her within his arms, a large palm stroking down her spine.

“well, hey, noir! it’s so good to see you, girl.”

lyric’s heart swelled as the room is filled with purrs of contentment, but she can’t help but feel a bit jealous at how quickly her cat of three years switched up for clark, who’s she’s known for three days.

“mmcht, you little traitor.” lyric teasingly sniped, crossing her arms.

“aw, come on, lyric! don’t be like that.”

“don’t be like what, clark? it’s not like i gave her food, shelter, love, and care. a damn shame, my baby girl dissed me.” she replies with a feigned tone of hurt, causing the teens to burst out in laughter.

“i’m glad she’s keeping you company because i need to you sit right there on the couch, clark. i got something for you. i’ll be a minute.” lyric urges before gathering her things and running upstairs to her bedroom. she sets her backpack on her bed and reaches into the black satchel containing the camera. once she takes it out, she steps towards her desk with her computer and takes her seat to power on the device. she swiftly connected her digital camera to her computer, the soft whir indicating it was properly functioning. a cheesy, dimpled smile couldn’t leave her face as the preview screen lit up, revealing the candid shot of clark leaning against the barn wall. the same one she took after the sunrise. the very first close to professional looking photo that she captured of another person. after a messing around with the settings, she moved the cursor to hit the “upload” button. what seemed to be a sixty second transfer felt like an hour before the picture appeared on her screen. lyric double checked to make sure everything was perfect before sending it to print. she made the trip from her bedroom to the home office where the main printer was located and the photo was slowly whirring from it as she walked in. it came out face down until she gingerly took it out and went out into the hallway to stand in front of the staircase. she could hear clark’s melodic chuckles in the distance mixing with the jovial purrs and meows of her cat.

lyric turned the photo around to be face to face with clark. the picture felt almost like a new connection—something precious between new friends. still, she couldn’t help but to stare. there was something about those baby blue eyes, his dark jungle of curls, and that humble charm of his that made her stomach tumble again. she shook her head, chiding herself.

what the hell? why am i acting like i haven’t seen a cute dude before? i see them in magazines and movies all the time, so why i do feel so weird when it comes to clark? he’s great and all, but we still only known each other for three days.

they just established their friendship today, and her thoughts went back to lana lang. the girl who she assumed was already his girlfriend because he shined like the sun by just seeing her smile. the girl he’s known and obviously loved his whole life.

“ugh.” lyric groaned softly, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up her brown cheeks. she glanced one last time at clark’s picture and she shook her head in disbelief.

you can think a boy is cute and still be friends, right? right.

lyric fixed her face and went downstairs to the living room to find clark with a snoozing noir sprawled on her back across his lap, his large hand gently rubbing her belly. his head is down for a moment, but thanks to his heightened hearing, he knew of lyric’s arrival when he heard the creak of the hardwood steps with each movement of her feet.

“we’re glad to have you back.” he genuinely simpered at her presence and spoke at a volume good enough for lyric to hear, but not to wake the sleeping feline. there was that tumble in her stomach again she shook it off, using her wit to mask her nervousness.

“from what i heard upstairs, it sounds like ya’ll didn’t miss me a lick, but this is for you. it’s not much, but it’s a thank you for everything.” she quipped with a grin and walked closer to sit beside him in the couch and handed him the printed copy of his photo from this morning.

“oh, lyric, you didn’t have to—thank you!” he wasn’t sure if she noticed that his fingers slightly brushed against hers as he took the photo. he examined with the same impressed expression that he had early this morning, his pearly white canines exposed.

“it looks even better on paper! no one’s really done something like this for me before. i can say that you’ve outdone yourself, lyric james.” clark commended with his face turning to hers.

“why i appreciate the compliment, clark kent. it was my pleasure.” lyric playfully bowed and the two softly chuckled before their eyes meet again. they absentmindedly stare at each other for a moment. a thread of unspoken words between them with each second passing by. now, she was starting to feel awkward, she cleared her throat to break the silence.

“i really want you to keep that, you know. as a token of my appreciation and a reminder of our friendship.”

“you can count on me to take care of it, lyric. not to sound cocky, but i really like this picture. it’s so good, it deserves a frame. you know, i might i refer to you for my senior photos. better yet, we can be a reporter and photographer duo for the daily planet after graduation—that’s hopefully if you stay.” he paused in the gravity of the statement. “i’m sorry i got too ahead of myself for a minute!” clark who was now red in the face, bashfully chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck.

why am i already talking about our—i mean the future with her? i need to slow down before i scare her off, but who could deny that would be cool? if she continues with her photography, she can make it as a living!

lyric giggles and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“easy, clark. i’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon. that reminds me, i hate to kick you out, but i gotta freshen up and give my parents the 411 before we meet chloe at your place to study at the talon tonight. i’ll be at your place in a good hour, okay?” the girl helps him by gently picking up noir from his lap and cradling her in her arms. clark agrees with understanding and gathers his belongings, the photo still in his hand.

“yeah, of course! don’t forget to bring your copy of the book from english class. i’ll see you later, lyric!”

lyric walks him to the front door and opens it for him to walk out on the porch. she watches him walk down the steps and before he makes his way down the path, he stops to turn around to give her one last smile and wave which she reciprocates. clark watches her shut the door before he resumes his trip back to kent farm. with each step he takes on the way home, he takes a glance at the gift of his new friend and with each glance, his eyes linger longer, his smile wider, and his spirits, higher.

[pocketjoong]

❥𓂃𓏧PRECIOUS

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS) As a nature witch, you always wanted your own familiar ever since you were a kid, however, fate seemed to have different plans for you.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) cat boy!hongjoong x fem!reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) Hongjoong is a cat. mentions of food and drinking. a little bit of violence. mentions of getting injured. questionable editing. lmk if I am missing something

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 8.9k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (NOTES) My entry for the stuck in summer collab hosted by @a1sh1teruu. This was mainly inspired by cat boy!hwa fic written by @hwaightme! I always enjoy feedback, reviews, and asks so don't hesitate to comment/send an ask!

Humming to yourself, you lock the door to your quaint little cottage nestled in the heart of the woods. Your basket, which is brimming with aromatic herbs and meticulously crafted potions, dangles from your arm as you set toward the nearby town. There’s a spring in your step that reflects the life thriving in the flora around you. As a nature witch, you prefer to live in your element; hence, your chosen abode rests at the forest’s edge, a mere mile from the bustling town you call home.

This distance necessitates a journey by foot, a mile-long expedition riddled with untamed trails and serpentine streams. The unpaved path is untouched by humanity, offering no comfort of a well-trodden road, but in its midst—intertwined with the symphony of rustling leaves, bubbling brooks, and the whispered secrets of the trees—you feel at home.

As you amble past the outskirts of the town, a voice pierces through the tranquil air of the early morning. You falter at the unexpected call of your name and gaze past a waist-high fence to witness Miyeon—the daughter of a fellow witch and cherished friend—hurrying down her front yard with a bundle of fur resting in her arms.

“Y/N! Look! I found my very own familiar,” she says, words brimming with pride and joy. 

Your smile broadens as you congratulate her on her newfound magical connection. As you fuss over the young girl, your friend arrives, scolding her daughter for leaving her breakfast unfinished on the table. After exchanging cordial greetings and a gossip-laden exchange, you bid them adieu, recommencing your journey to Wooyoung’s shop.

As you leave behind the jovial mother-daughter duo, your once-beaming smile begins to wane, usurped by the pang in your chest. The yearning for a familiar casts a shadow upon your heart. Your dreams and visions of such a bond had been nurtured by tales of your parents’ harmonious connection with their own familiars and a childhood fantasy that stemmed from watching and re-watching Kiki’s Delivery Service. Usually, you can easily ward off these dark thoughts, allowing them to be no more than a passing whisper. But today, the loneliness of being a witch without a familiar resurfaces with a melancholic tenacity that defies dismissal.

“Why the long face?” 

Your response to the unexpected voice is a startled screech before you realise that it’s only Wooyoung who is standing at the window of his shop. The playful curve of his lips and the fond glint in his eyes prompt you to mutter a curse under your breath—more in playful annoyance than actual resentment.

You met Jung Wooyoung right after you found yourself in Alusia when you were a bright-eyed young witch, fresh out of the academy. He owned an antique shop inherited from his grandparents and was new in the town too, having arrived only a week prior. In his willingness to find a friend, Wooyoung offered you shelter under his roof when you needed it most—a gesture that solidified the foundations of an unbreakable friendship. Soon, the two of you converted the antique shop into an apothecary—a venture carved from your joint dreams and driven by your unique talents. Wooyoung, with his inherent charm (or, as your mutual friend San teasingly referred to it as Wooyoung being a loudmouth), engaged with clients while you prepared the elixirs and potions that graced the shop’s shelves.

“You are such a menace, Woo,” you tease, rolling your eyes playfully in mock exasperation as you step into the shop, extending the basket to him. He lifts the lid carefully to reveal its contents, his enthusiasm palpable as he thoroughly inspects your offerings. “You are an angel, you know that?! I was running low on most of these and—oh?” In a burst of affection, he engulfs you in an unexpected hug, “You've finished Mrs Kim's potion already? You truly are a wonder, Y/N.”

By the time you step out of the shop to return home, it’s past noon, and the sun is high in the sky, casting a glow that makes you squint against its brilliance. But you smile despite the temporary discomfort because the warmth of the summer sun serves as a reminder of your cherished garden. The thought of the flourishing herbs and thriving plants in your backyard makes you smile.

Skipping lightly across the worn, flat stones that act as a bridge over the clear stream, you revel in the prospect of returning home after an exhausting week. The last few days were a flurry of ceaseless activity—the sheer number of concoctions to prepare left you without a moment to catch your breath. So, the mere idea of spending the rest of the day simply resting without worrying about tasks and obligations sounds heavenly. With each step that leads you closer to your home, a sense of serenity unfurls within you, anticipation blossoming like the flowers that line both sides of your path.

On your way, you come across another stream, its gurgling rhythm a soothing undercurrent to your thoughts. Just as you approach it, however, a soft rustling pierces the air, causing you to halt in your tracks. Your brows furrow and your gaze sweeps the landscape for the source of the sound. Nothing seems amiss, yet the sight of a fawn preoccupied with a hidden something beneath the swaying grass causes you to move closer.

A gasp, involuntary and hushed, escapes your lips as your eyes land on a jet-black cat, its form huddled against the earth, a stark contrast against the vibrant backdrop of nature. However, it’s not the feline’s presence that startles you, but its pitiable state. Laboured breaths escape the creature, and the emerald blades beneath it are smeared in crimson blood. Without much thought, you scoop the injured feline into your arms. Careful of its wounds, you break into a brisk pace, your heart beating in tandem with your desperate urgency.

Foregoing the cottage, you bring the cat to the outhouse that doubles as your workspace. There, you tenderly set it upon a generously sized cushion at the far table. Despite the anxiety riddling your thoughts, your hands are steady as you collect the required ingredients to heal him. Gratitude unfurls within you for the foresight that ensured your own provisions remained well-stocked, even as you had taken most of the supplies to the apothecary.

Once you’re armed with everything you will need, you fuss over the wounded feline. As you carefully begin healing the cat, a whispered prayer escapes your lips—an offering of gratitude to the nature spirits that guided you to the cat for if you had been even a few minutes late, he would not have survived whatever ordeal had led to his pitiful condition. As you work, the sun dips beneath the horizon, casting hues of purple and orange in the sky. The cat’s exhausted form eventually surrenders to peaceful slumber, and though relieved, you still find yourself unable to depart for the comforts of your cottage.

Fetching the futon that you use when the making of a potion demands vigilant oversight, you nestle into its warmth. From the glass ceiling, you smile at the star-strewn sky that arches above you. Like this, under the watchful gaze of the constellations, you fall asleep, unknowing that your life is now intertwined with the cat’s own.

Your eyes flutter open to the soft morning sunlight piercing through the windows of the outhouse and your gaze shifts to the feline. You smile as you see the cat is doing better and leave the cat to its peaceful slumber to fix up a quick breakfast for yourself, only returning with a list of potions you must deliver to the shop the following week.

You put your phone onto your desk and begin your work, enveloped in a symphony of tranquil melodies that mirror the serenity of the forest that lies merely a few paces from where you stand. As you are immersed in your craft, the sun reaches its zenith, casting its warmth upon your workspace. As you work, a subtle shift draws your attention—a faint movement that you catch in the corner of your vision.

Turning to the source of movement, your eyes settle upon the cat, the creature finally stirring from its slumber. Wariness born from a shared unfamiliarity—yours with its nature, and its with yours—causes you to stay where you are. You wait with bated breath as the little guy brings his paws to his eyes to rub them, followed by a languid stretch. A yowl of discomfort leaves him, echoing through the space, and you can’t help but inhale sharply at his distress; he probably hears it because the very next moment, he’s on his paws and hissing at you.

You observe him with a mixture of understanding and patience, knowing that such a response comes from the fear and uncertainty of finding oneself in unfamiliar surroundings. You raise both your hands to show that you mean no harm. 

“Hey, it's okay,” your voice flows with reassurance, carrying with it an aura of compassion that you hope the cat can sense. “You're safe here, I promise. Please, just… rest some more. Moving might cause more harm than good right now, and it took me a while to treat those wounds of yours.”

The cat’s eyes narrow in distrust as his eyes rake over your form. Eventually, however, his cautious resolve gives way, and with a subdued huff, he eases back onto the cushion. You can tell that he is still wary of your presence, so you return to your task.

Stirring the potion, you softly break the silence. “You know, you’ve been out for almost a day. I was growing rather concerned, to be honest.” The cat tilts its head subtly, almost as if he’s curious, so you continue your train of thought. “Your injuries were quite severe. It’s a relief to see you awake.”

As the hours tick by, you remain absorbed in your work. Bottles and vials are filled with elixirs and put into another basket, each labelled with care and precision. While you work, you can feel the cat’s watchful gaze upon you. Once your tasks are completed, you shift your attention to your companion, who is now fast asleep. The feline, who was so cautious of you merely hours ago, now embodies a tranquillity that makes your lips quirk up at the corners. As you tidy your workspace, your heart brims with warmth, and once done, you begin preparations for lunch in your cottage.

The golden rays of the sun filter through your kitchen windows, illuminating your countertop as you cook a simple yet hearty lunch. You walk out of the kitchen, wanting to awaken the cat to give him some food, but as you enter the living room, a curious sight awaits your gaze. The cat is seated in front of the coffee table, blinking at you lazily. At his curious behaviour, your magic reaches out gently, a fleeting touch that reveals nothing out of the ordinary, causing you to hum in confusion. 

Armed with food, you step closer to your companion, emboldened by the silent affirmation that he won’t run away. “Would you mind if I turn on the TV?” Your query hangs in the air, and a melodic meow is the only answer you get before he’s diving headfirst into the meal you had prepared. Considering his response a go-ahead, you tune into Pirates of the Caribbean, the movie becoming a backdrop to your shared meal.

As the credits of the first movie start to roll, you can sense wariness in the cat’s watchful eyes, but this morning’s feral hiss has yielded to a tentative harmony. Noticing how entranced the cat is by the movie, you don’t turn it off as you clean the dishes, a gesture that you suspect he appreciates. Returning to the living room on completion of your chores, you find the once-restless creature nestled upon the sofa in cosy contentment—an image that both warms your heart and fascinates you.

You settle into the opposite end of the couch, and open your grandmother's book of remedies. The sounds from the TV fade into background noise as you read through the tome, and you can’t help but think about how oddly domestic this moment seems.

Emboldened by how relaxed your new companion looks, you decide to talk to him. “Hey, buddy, would you mind if I checked on your wound? Just to make sure it's healing the way it should?”

The feline responds with a subtle shift—a repositioning that unveils its wounded side. As you approach, your heart swells due to the delicate trust blooming between you. If you’re surprised by how quickly he is healing, you don’t let it be known. “Looks like you will be fine by the end of the week. I’d love for you to stay here with me until then, but the choice is yours.”

Your offer hangs in the air for a moment before he meows, sealing the agreement. The cat settles back into the same position in which he’d been watching the movie, so you assume that means he’s going to stay in cat-speak.

Yet, a lingering thought flits through your mind—the matter of a name. “What do we name you, though?” you ponder aloud, your voice a soft murmur. You drop random names that seem fitting for a cat. Most receive only a nonchalant disregard, save for an outright hiss at the name “minion”.

As you are at your wits’ end, an idea strikes you. “What about Captain... Jack Sparrow?” The last part is whispered, so you don’t know if he heard, but you’d shorten it to Captain anyways, so in your humble opinion, it is the perfect name.

In the wake of your suggestion, the feline’s eyes light up in affirmation, making you smile. “Okay then, Captain it is,” you declare softly, marking the beginning of a bond, one forged in the quiet moments and shared names bridging the divide between the two of you.

In a surprising twist, Captain Jack Sparrow defies your initial expectations by choosing not to leave your cottage even after his recovery. The once-wounded feline weaves his presence into the very fabric of your life in the form of a plush cat bed nestled within a spare room. Though, in hindsight, it was an unnecessary purchase as the bed remains pristine and untouched, while the cat himself stakes claim to your couches and book-laden shelves.

During the day, the uppermost shelf of your work area becomes Captain’s sanctuary, where he slumbers amidst the tomes stacked alphabetically. With time, Captain inches closer, from lower shelves to the corner of your very table—a silent testament to the trust that has bloomed between the two of you.

Then, one day, the gentle touch of a paw upon your hand breaks through your concentration. Wide-eyed, you find yourself captivated by the slumbering form of Captain. For the next hour, you don’t dare move your hand, driven by the irrational belief that any movement on your part could shatter the delicate companionship you’ve woven over months of shared moments.

The seconds stretch like an eternity, yet you remain still. When Captain awakens to find you in such a vulnerable state, his response is one that eases your fears—a gentle nudge of his nose against your hand in gratitude and acknowledgement and leaves before you can process what happened.

That night onwards, you find Captain curled up at the top of your closet during the night. The first few times, the sight of his glowing orbs startles you, but with time, you find yourself comforted by this silent guardian who watches over you as you slumber. When you tell Wooyoung about this, his response is one of gentle reassurance. “He probably watches over you to protect you as you sleep during the night.”

Speaking of Wooyoung, the first time you ask Captain to accompany the town on your visit, he seems a little sceptical. “It’s your choice, Captain. If you don’t want to, that’s perfectly alright. I just thought you would like some change of scenery,” you tell him. As you gather your belongings and secure your cottage, you expect Captain to stay back. However, as you lock the door, you find him perched upon the fence, waiting for you. And when you introduce Captain to Wooyoung, it is a new experience, to say the least. Laughter spills forth as you are unable to suppress your mirth as Captain scratches your friend’s hand in an instinctive response to Wooyoung’s attempt to lift him into his arms.

“You have adopted a devil, Y/N,” he screeches, pointing at Captain while cradling his arm protectively. Your cat, on the other hand, is sitting on his haunches while licking his paw—the picture of angelic innocence.

“Please, I would scratch you too if you tried to scare me. The only reason I don’t is because you’d whine about it for days. Captain might just be the guardian I need to keep you in check, aren’t you, bud?” The answering meow causes another round of joyous laughter to burst forth from your lips.

You’d think Captain’s initial aloofness would deter Wooyoung but, Captain's coldness only seems to fuel your friend’s determination as he tries everything he can to get Captain to like him—from treats to gentle pets to whimsical trinkets—all in an attempt to win over the feline. Yet, Captain remains steadfast, his indifference to these gestures firmly intact. And it is not as if this attitude is reserved for Wooyoung alone.

Ever since that first trip where he accompanied you, Captain follows you each time you visit Alusia. As you navigate the streets of the town, he treads his own path, a few paces away and often on higher surfaces while you go about your business. The townspeople, on learning of your feline companion, attempt to win his affection, but he doesn’t seem like people (or people touching him), so eventually, they give up trying. However, he still accepts treats from them despite you telling them not to, but the way he looks at you has you quickly going back on your words. How can you say no when he looks at you with his large eyes that seem to hold entire universes within them?

During one such trip to Alusia, a jewellery shop captures your attention for a moment, but as your mind is preoccupied with the bubbling concoction back at the outhouse, you walk past the display without lingering. In your haste, you don’t even realise that Captain has stopped in front of the big window and isn’t following you. It is only the sensation of something amiss that prompts you to retrace your steps, leading you to the forlorn figure of Captain seated before the shop—a sight that tugs at your heartstrings.

A sigh escapes your lips as you crouch beside him. “Would you like to explore what the shop has to offer?” you inquire gently, recognising the twinkle in Captain's gaze as he looks up at you.

Though your feline companion is a delight to be around, sometimes you can’t help but be sceptical of the little guy. You have often caught him reading your journals or tomes as if he understands them, prompting speculation about his understanding of human knowledge. Yet, those notions are quickly discarded when he settles onto the page with a languid yawn. “Cap’n, my books are not cushions for napping,” you always chide him in playful exasperation, only to be met with a dismissive glare and a subsequent shift into your lap. Amongst all his quirks, one stands out—his remarkable understanding of human speech. Whenever you ask him something, he answers with a meow or a hiss (it’s easy to tell which is for which), just like how he answers your question about the shop with a meow.

With a nod, you offer your arms as a welcoming perch for Captain to leap into and enter the quaint shop. The glittering array of chokers fascinates him, prompting you to lead him towards the displays. He studies each piece carefully, and at the end of this impromptu stop, Captain is adorned with a collar—which is more of a choker, really. A topaz moon and vibrant red marigold pendants grace his new accessory, shining beautifully as the sunlight hits them.

For the rest of the week, Captain's spirited headbutts and unabashed demonstrations of fondness keep you on your toes, simultaneously warming your heart and distracting you from your potion-making. His playfulness leads you to scold him gently because you are worried that he could get hurt while you work. “Cap’n, I know you love your new collar, but I need to concentrate on my work, or you could get hurt.” Despite your reprimand, his adoration remains undeterred, but he does quiet down as you work and lingers nearby, a reassuring presence amid your bustling workspace.

Weeks pass, and one night in mid-August, you are jolted from your sleep by a distressing nightmare—a rare occurrence for you as you rarely dream. Gasping for breath, your magic surges instinctively, tethering you to the calming embrace of the forest that surrounds your home.

As your panic settles and you feel calmer than before, you reach for the glass of water on your nightstand, only to be startled when a pair of glowing eyes meet your gaze from the heights of your closet. It’s a familiar sight, yet the remnants of the unsettling dream create a tremor within you.

“Captain Jack Sparrow, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” Your hand instinctively rests over your pounding heart as you chide him, the mixture of residual fear making your voice tremble.

Observing your distress, Captain gently descends from his vantage point to the expanse of your bed. A soft meow accompanies his movements, and his eyes seek yours before he nuzzles his head against your side. Sighing, you relent, succumbing to his affection. Your touch is tender and reassuring as you pet his head gently, “It’s alright, buddy. I didn't mean to scold you. I was just startled by the nightmare.”

Cocooned in the soft cotton sheets, you lay back down to go back to sleep and notice Captain curling up by your side with a gentle purr. His tail encircles your wrist in a protective gesture as if trying to ward off the shadows that threaten to disturb your sleep. From that night onwards, most nights, you awaken to find him nestled by your feet or right by your pillow—a silent guardian whose comforting aura intertwines with the magic that surrounds you. 

Time passes and one season transitions into the next, and before you know it, you’ve been living with Captain Jack Sparrow for almost a year. As yet another summer rolls around, you notice his presence has brought profound happiness to your existence. While he may not be the familiar you once yearned for, he has become a source of unwavering support, and his mere presence never fails to brighten up your days.

However, there’s an unexpected shift in Captain’s behaviour one day, he seems restless, and it only intensifies during the night. Despite your attempts to understand what’s wrong, you can’t seem to figure it out, which leaves you both perturbed and anxious. As dawn breaks, you decide professional insight is necessary and bring Captain to the town’s vet, only to be told that your cat is in perfect health. Though baffled, you’re relieved to know that Captain is not in any particular danger. On your way back home, you venture into the apothecary only to be met with a frantic San and aghast Wooyoung. 

“What's wrong?” You ask softly, only for Wooyoung to burst into sobs as he throws himself into your arms. 

Turning your gaze to San, his weary visage reflects the toll whatever ordeal he has gone through has taken on him. His voice is a blend of exhaustion and urgency as he relays the heartbreaking news to you, “Miyeon vanished in the forest. She had been working on her first test as a witch-in-training and didn’t return.” 

You know how important the test is, for it is the first step in any witch’s path towards the prestigious academy in the capital. San continues to explain that when the young girl didn’t return home, even as the stars twinkled in the rapidly darkening sky, her mother raised an alarm and the townspeople searched for her throughout the night to no avail.

“It’s as if she vanished into thin air, Y/N,” San’s voice is filled with the fatigue of fruitless searching and worry for Miyeon.

Your brows furrow, “Do you have any idea where she might have gone missing?”

San shakes his head with a sigh, “The only thing we found was her bracelet, and that was miles away from where she should’ve been—near the rocky caves close to the mountains.”

The information stirs a gasp from your lips, for the mountains lie nearly fifty miles away from Alusia’s borders. “But that's miles away. How could she have ended up there?”

Weariness is evident in every line of San’s face as he levels you with a sorrowful look, “No one knows.”

Days stretch on, heavy with a gnawing sense of uncertainty, as Miyeon’s absence continues to hang upon Alusia like a dark cloud that just won’t leave. The ominous shadows that loom over the forest deepen as more individuals vanish without a trace, their fates shrouded in a veil of mystery that defies explanation. Countless efforts have been in vain, leaving everyone in a state of collective apprehension. Venturing into the heart of the forest with San and Wooyoung, you’ve even journeyed to the rocky caves where the bracelet had been discovered. However, you find no tangible clues, and the sombre truth of your fruitless attempts sinks in.

Weirdly enough, amidst the sense of dread and uncertainty that surrounds the town and the forest, your cottage emerges as a safe haven. Whether the protective spells you’ve cast around its perimeter have deterred the sinister force or some other unknown factor is at play, whatever has been prowling in the forest doesn’t seem to approach your home. Your heart fills with relief at this, for it ensures the safety of not only yourself but also of your feline companion.

Captain has been venturing into the forest stealthily; however, you’re attuned to the subtle shifts that accompany his absence. Despite your worry, you permit him these solitary ventures as not only is your confidence in his instincts unwavering, but you also know that he wouldn’t stray too far to put himself in jeopardy. True to your belief, he returns to your side by the time you’re done with the day’s work.

However, one day when Captain doesn’t come back home by dusk, you reach out to Wooyoung, informing him that you will set out in search of your cat. Your friend’s apprehension is palpable even through the texts, and he reminds you of the prevailing danger that has claimed Miyeon and others, yet your determination overrides his caution.

Urgency propels you into the forest’s depths as the sun sets even further, washing the canopy above you in shadows that stretch like fingers reaching out to pull you into their darkness. An unsettling hush descends upon the surrounding area, a peculiar silence that leaves you both aware and wary. Your senses are on high alert as you advance deeper into the foliage and look for your cat.

As you spot a clearing in front of you that is bathed in the ethereal glow of twilight, you notice Captain Jack Sparrow in the middle, his attention fixed on an unseen presence shrouded within the trees on the other side. 

“Captain?” At the sound of your voice, his head whips around, his meow fraught with urgency. As he hurries to your side, his head nudging against your leg, you recognise his plea for you to retreat.

“I’m not leaving without you,” you tell him softly but with enough conviction in your voice that elicits a resigned meow from Captain.

He positions himself in front of you, his lithe form a protective barrier between you and the hidden danger that holds his attention. The silence seems to pulse with malevolent energy, and the hairs on your arms stand on end as you brace yourself for what awaits.

And then, from the gap between the trees, steps out a figure that you have only seen within the pages of the books you’ve read—a demon. His arrival disrupts the eerie stillness, his form emanating an aura that sends a shiver coursing down your spine. Horns, reminiscent of an infernal crown, emerge from tufts of his long hair. Intricate tattoos wind their way along his arms like serpents of darkness, and wings resembling a bat's silhouette stretch ominously, casting shadows that dance in tune with the forest’s secrets. The deep crimson glow of his eyes sears a path into your very soul, leaving you trembling beneath his gaze.

Your heart beats wildly within your chest, your senses keenly aware of the danger that emanates from this being. As the realisation that you stand before a high demon dawns upon you, you cannot help but inhale sharply.

Though fear courses through your veins, your mind functions with remarkable clarity. A plan takes shape, and your instinct for self-preservation and the well-being of those you hold dear compels you to act. Fingers trembling, you manage to send a discreet message to Wooyoung and tell him to bring a priest whose knowledge and skills would be able to banish this entity back where he belongs.

Beside you, Captain Jack Sparrow emits another series of hisses, his agitation a mirror to your own. The feline’s protectiveness seems to amuse the demon, for his lips curl into a sinister grin. “You think your feline companion is any threat to me? You’re foolish to think so, little witch.”

Your heart pounds as you face the looming demon. With your makeshift weapon—a sturdy stick—grasped firmly, you weave determination and resolve into your stance. Your gaze shifts to Captain, his eyes reflecting the trust he places in you. Kneeling before him, you utter your words in a hushed tone. “Can you distract him for me?”

Captain Jack Sparrow meets your gaze with unwavering intensity, an unspoken understanding passing between you two. His nod is resolute, a testament to his loyalty and his faith in you. Without hesitation, he catapults himself toward the demon, a feline embodiment of courage and defiance.

With a sharp breath, you drag the stick into the forest floor as you etch a devil’s trap. Each stroke in the soil forms a link in a mystical chain, a barrier that could keep the demon trapped until the priest arrives with Wooyoung. The forest seems to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation as you carve your intentions into the earth, invoking protection and safeguarding magic into each gesture.

Just as you make the last stroke on the earth, a piercing howl of agony pierces through the silence. Panic claws at your chest as you stand, your eyes locking onto Captain, who now lies amidst the underbrush. The demon’s glee is evident, a sickening grin that sparks a fire of anger within you.

Even as your heart races with a mixture of fury and desperation, his taunting words punctuate the air, “You can’t hurt me either, little witch. You’re too weak to go up against me.”

Your voice, though laced with tremors, carries a fire born of defiance. “You underestimate me, demon. My strength lies in more than just might.”

As the tension builds, you brace yourself, a fusion of anger and resolve fuelling your next steps. For some reason, a smirk dances at the edges of your lips, the action adding to the demon’s simmering fury. His snarl of irritation is a satisfying confirmation that your audacity has hit its mark, goading him into action. Without warning, he hurtles toward you with terrifying speed, and instinct kicks in, your body moving with a fluidity born of desperation as you sidestep his oncoming assault, your heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and a fervent prayer for Wooyoung to be quick. He’s your anchor, your beacon of hope, a lifeline that promises light at the end of the tunnel.

Your attempt to land a punch only garners a momentary victory, a fleeting contact that sends a jolt of satisfaction through your veins before the demon's ferocity reignites. Your “fight” with the demon is more of a dance between predator and prey. The demon is tireless, his attacks relentless, and your resilience the only thing keeping you from succumbing to his power.

As you’re trying to catch your breath while also simultaneously dodging the demon’s attacks, a movement in the corner of your vision catches your attention—a graceful, stealthy approach. It’s Captain Jack Sparrow, emerging from the undergrowth despite being hurt himself. You can see the fire in his own eyes as he moves closer to the two of you.

Your focus narrows as the duel intensifies. Yet, in a split second, your world tilts on its axis. The demon’s strike finally lands its mark, and an agonising pain flares in your abdomen as his blade pierces through you. Your gasp of pain mingles with the harshness of your exhale, the world momentarily spinning as you lose your grip on reality.

Amidst the searing agony, a small hope presents itself—a diversion in the form of your cat. Captain’s launch distracts the demon, his collision with the devil turning the tide of battle. A triumphant surge courses through you as the malevolent entity stumbles ensnared within the conjured lines and symbols of the devil’s trap.

Hope blossoms anew as the demon’s growls turn to roars of rage. It’s a momentous turn of events, however, the sweet taste of victory is swiftly tempered by the urgency of your injury. Blood flows from your wound, a crimson river that threatens to drown you in its tide. 

But as darkness threatens to claim you, the forest is pierced by the sound of familiar voices. Wooyoung’s call is a lifeline, as he and the priest, followed by San, move toward the heart of the clearing. Their arrival sparks a surge of relief within you, the fervent prayers you’d cast finding their answer.

For your two friends, the demon, now in the custody of the priest, takes a backseat to the immediate urgency of your wound. Bloodied and battered, you succumb to the overwhelming sense of fatigue that washes over you, your vision flickering as you teeter on the precipice of consciousness. As the world blurs and wavers, you hear Captain’s mournful meows and Wooyoung’s desperate pleas as San works to stem the bleeding. Darkness envelops you, but not before you grasp the hands of those who are by your side, hoping to give them some comfort.

As you gradually resurface from the depths of the unconsciousness, you’re met with a hazy awareness of your surroundings. The soft rustle of leaves, a gentle breeze, and the warmth of the sun’s rays brush against your senses, weaving together a mosaic of sensations that bring you back to the world of the living.

As your eyelids flutter open, the world swims into focus, and you realise you’re laid down in the comfort of your bed. With careful and deliberate motions, you navigate meticulously to take note of any aches along your body. The pain is there, an ever-present reminder of the brutal encounter with the demon, but it’s not as overwhelming as you initially feared.

Summoning the strength to sit up, you’re acutely aware of the effort it takes. Your muscles protest the movement, a chorus of twinges and discomfort that underscore the extent of your injuries. You exhale a measured breath, grateful for the incremental progress that you’ve made in whatever number of days you’ve been unconscious. 

You wonder if Wooyoung or San are downstairs, for you hear movement and sounds drifting through the air—evidence that you're not alone. With a mixture of trepidation and anticipation, you muster the energy to call out. “Hello?”

In response, the sounds shift—a plate clatters in the sink, and footsteps echo through the corridors as they draw nearer. You await the reply with a mixture of anticipation and unease, as the door to your room creaks open, revealing an unexpected visitor who seems as surprised to find you conscious as you are to meet him. The stranger stands framed in the doorway, his presence both enigmatic and captivating. Your gaze sweeps over him, capturing the details that distinguish him from any other human.

His silver hair shimmers like moonlight swept in an artful disarray around his face. His brown eyes are warm and expressive, and his petite nose adds a touch of whimsy to his features, a charming little thing that lends him an air of approachability.

Yet, what captivates your attention most are the silver cat ears that adorn his head. They peek from behind his tousled locks, a hint of something magical, a connection to the feline that has become such a significant part of your life. And there, nestled against his throat, rests the same choker you had bought for Captain—the final object that weaves a thread of familiarity between you and this stranger.

You blink at the unexpected revelation, your mind whirling as it tries to reconcile this silver-haired stranger with the raven-furred feline companion who had been a constant presence in your life for over a year. The pieces of the puzzle rearrange themselves in your perception, forming a new and baffling image that challenges your understanding of magic and reality.

“Please don’t tell me that you’re the cat who’s been living with me for the past year,” your incredulity and confusion are woven into the words that hang in the air between you.

He blinks back at you, the innocence in his gaze casting a surreal contrast against the situation you’ve found yourself in. “Um, okay?” His response is soft, almost timid, and a pang of empathy stirs within you.

“But, you… I didn’t sense a single ounce of magic in you,” you murmur, your words imbued with a touch of bewilderment. The dichotomy between his appearance as a cat and now as a being with apparent human attributes leaves you struggling to grasp the threads of truth.

He shifts uneasily in the doorway, his cat ears betraying his discomfort as they flatten against his hair. As your brain races to piece together the implications of his transformation, Captain—your erstwhile feline friend—interjects with a soft sigh, “That’s because our magic is way different. Nature witches can rarely sense dark magic unless it’s threatening.”

“Oh… WAIT— WHAT DO YOU MEAN DARK MAGIC?” 

The elusive and sinister nature of dark magic indeed renders it undetectable to your innate senses. But to think you had been living with a creature who practised dark magic made you shudder.

“I am a mage, well—I was one until I declined a fae’s advances. They cursed me to live as a cat for the rest of my life,” he confesses, his voice carrying the weight of a burden he’s carried for far too long.

Your emotions teeter on the precipice of uncertainty. Part of you instinctively yearns to distance yourself, wary of the unpredictable nature of dark magic and its ramifications. Yet, another part—perhaps the more empathetic and compassionate side—compels you to understand.

“And how did you turn back?” you inquire gently, the words wrapped in a blanket of cautious curiosity. You observe his response closely, measuring his demeanour, and his expressions, seeking any sign of deceit or danger.

He meets your gaze squarely, his eyes carrying a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. “I called in a favour another fae owed me. They helped me out and managed to undo some of the curse… but I was to stay a cat until I felt the heartbreak of almost losing someone precious to me,” he confides, his voice trembling with an authenticity that resonates with your intuition.

“Precious?” You echo the word.

The notion seems almost surreal, a subtle revelation that has you momentarily flustered. Your heart flutters in an unfamiliar rhythm, a dance choreographed by the unexpected emotions swirling within you. 

He observes your reaction, a gentle smile playing upon his lips as he regards you with tender familiarity. “You're precious to me, Y/N,” he admits, the words carrying an honesty that sends a shiver down your spine. His gaze is a caress, drawing you into the depths of his sentiment. For a heartbeat, the world narrows to just the two of you, and you find yourself holding your breath.

He probably senses the shift in your breathing and looks at you in concern, so you force yourself to inhale, coughing a bit as you choke. Once he sees you’re fine, he continues, his words laced with a trace of melancholy. “So… you almost losing your life changed me back. Not fully, though, never fully. I’ll still be able to turn back into a cat and then back into this form. That’s what I’ve been doing while Wooyoung and San come to check up on you.”

The notion of him resuming his dual existence as both a cat and this silver-haired individual evokes a sense of both wonder and sympathy. Your gaze lingers on him, searching for traces of the feline friend you’ve known for so long within the person before you.

“Oh…” The word slips from your lips, laden with a complexity of emotions that you struggle to articulate.

He shifts slightly, his demeanour carrying an air of uncertainty as he speaks. “Um… I can leave if you don’t want me around any—”

You interject, the words tumbling from your lips before he can finish his sentence, a resolute assertion that quashes any hint of rejection. “No! I just… I'll just need a while to… uh… yeah.” You gesture vaguely, the swirl of emotions within you manifesting in a flurry of gestures that you can’t seem to articulate into words. He nods at you, and the silence that falls over the room is punctuated only by the soft rustling of fabric as he shifts his weight.

“Would you like something to eat?” he offers, seeking to ground the situation in something familiar. “I'm not the best at cooking, but I make a nice porridge and considering you haven’t eaten in a couple of days, it's best if you have something light to eat.”

Your quick nod is accompanied by a brief departure and a swift return, a bowl of porridge cradled in his hands. When you notice that he’s about to leave you alone again, you can’t help but call out. “Wait.” As his steps pause in response, you invite him to stay with a gentle smile, the words unspoken but the sentiment clear.

Curiosity laces your words as you venture into uncharted territory. “So… can you still do magic?” The inquiry stems from a genuine desire to understand the extent of his transformation and the implications it holds.

He takes a seat beside your bed, his posture relaxed as he contemplates your question. “I haven't been able to use any magic since you got injured. The demon, he hurt me with the same knife he used to hurt you… and uh, I think whatever magic I have sort of reacted with yours…” His gaze finds yours from beneath the fall of his bangs, an unspoken query hidden within his eyes, “Do you feel any different?”

“I can't tell right now…” As silence settles between you, you sense the opportunity to delve further, to uncover a piece of the puzzle that he’s held close. “What's your name?” you ask, your voice soft yet insistent.

“Huh?” He seems momentarily taken aback as if the question isn’t something he expected.

“Your name,” you repeat.

“Kim Hongjoong.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” The response seems to hang in the air, a bridge between the past and the present, a marker of his identity before the curse that had transformed him.

An uncomfortable quiet follows, the weight of revelations and the unspoken understanding rendering words momentarily inadequate. Seeking a refuge in the familiarity of action, you take another spoonful of porridge, the act providing temporary solace.

Breaking through the silence, he cautiously inquires, his voice softer than before, “Is it okay?” The gaze you direct at Hongjoong carries an unspoken question, “The porridge?” he clarifies.

Your response is a nod as you offer him a tentative smile that reflects your gratitude. “It's really tasty. Thank you.”

Hongjoong’s nod is a humble acknowledgement, his gaze holding a fleeting yet meaningful connection with yours. As the seconds tick by, another awkward silence settles, but this one holds the gentle promise of the unknown.

That evening as the sunset paints the evening sky in hues of purple and orange, you find yourself in the presence of Wooyoung and San. Their eyes, suffused with the relief of your recovering strength, mirror the unspoken concern that brought them here. Nestled at your side, Hongjoong has resumed his feline form, a steadfast source of familiar comfort as Wooyoung tells you about the people who had gone missing. As the priest banished the demon, they were liberated from the captivity of the demon who was using them as a source to draw power. You are glad to know that Miyeon and the others have safely returned to their homes, and the four of you enjoy an evening filled with the warmth of companionship.

As your body completes its healing process, a newfound awareness awakens within you—an inkling that your magic has indeed undergone a transformation. Engaging Hongjoong in conversation about this, you both reach a consensus that teaching each other about your respective magic could be the key to unravelling the intricacies of your unique connection.

You start small, inviting Hongjoong to partake in nurturing the growth of herbs and other flora and having him observe the delicate craft of potion-making. With patience and thoroughness that speaks to the depth of your understanding, you slowly and meticulously introduce him to the art that has been your life’s calling.

Conversely, Hongjoong takes a more theoretical approach. Armed with the wealth of knowledge he has amassed over the years, he embarks on the journey of studying dark magic alongside you. Evenings become an intimate soiree of shared books, a merging of his wisdom and your practical expertise. The pursuit is not without its challenges, especially for him as the concepts of dark magic are both familiar and alien, a delicate dance between his past experiences and his present identity.

Slowly but surely, the awkwardness of your interactions dissipates, and you settle into a rhythm, an understanding blooming from the mutual pursuit of knowledge. Hongjoong’s presence becomes an inseparable part of your magical undertakings, his assistance serving as both catalyst and amplification. The mundane tasks of your craft transform into collaborative ventures that find their completion with newfound ease and velocity.

In this partnership, you both traverse uncharted realms, unearthing hidden gems of wisdom and forging new techniques. You discover the intricacies of advanced protective charms, the nuances of spellcasting, and the delicate balance between the ethereal and the tangible. Every conversation brings new insights as his eyes aglow with passion while he delves into explanations that light up your understanding.

Hongjoong isn’t oblivious to the subtle shifts in your demeanour either, the way your attention seems to gravitate toward his words with an almost magnetic pull. He playfully teases you when you zone out while listening to him, but beneath his banter lies a quiet satisfaction at having captured your focus.

One summer evening, almost two years after you found and healed Hongjoong, you find yourself basking in the warmth of his presence. As Hongjoong delves into the mysteries of Tarot cards, your attention wavers. Mesmerised by his words, your gaze inadvertently drifts to his lips, where the graceful dance of his explanations seems to take on a sensual rhythm of its own. Lost in the tempo of his speech, you’re barely aware of your growing fascination until the sound of his clearing throat breaks through your reverie. Flushing in embarrassment, you avert your gaze, your heart racing at having been caught by him.

Hongjoong chuckles softly, a melodious sound that carries warmth. His fingers, feather-light and tinged with confidence, slide beneath your chin, lifting it until your eyes meet his. His touch is tender, a silent reassurance that dissipates your unease, even as his eyes search yours with an intensity that ignites a flutter in your chest.

The air between you seems charged with unspoken desires, and as Hongjoong’s gaze darkens, your heart skips a beat. His presence is magnetic, his proximity an intoxicating pull that leaves you breathless. The realisation that this is a defining juncture in your connection dawns upon you, your anticipation matched only by the uncertainty of what's to come.

“May I kiss you?” Leaned in so close that his breath dances upon your lips, Hongjoong’s voice is barely a whisper as he seeks permission, his question hanging between you like a promise. His eyes, fixed on your mouth, reflect the yearning that pulses through his veins.

Your nod is almost imperceptible, a fervent agreement that is all the confirmation Hongjoong needs. His lips descend upon yours with a delicate reverence, his touch a gentle brush that sends sparks through your very being. A deep, resonant purr thrums from within his chest, the vibrations of which reverberate against you as he draws you closer to himself.

Hongjoong’s kiss unfolds with a tenderness that contrasts the unspoken longing that has been growing between the two of you. His lips move against yours in a rhythm that speaks of his own vulnerability, each touch conveying a deeper sentiment. But as you respond in earnest, his tongue glides across your lips, prompting longing to flare through your veins.

Your lips part, the connection broken only for a moment as you both draw a ragged breath. Yet, the space between you feels electric, the air pregnant with the promise of what’s to come. Giving in to desire, Hongjoong’s kisses trail along your jaw, igniting sensations that tumble forth as a soft, involuntary whimper. The velvety brush of his lips against your skin seems to write a narrative of its own as if he’s trying to make a home in your very soul.

With a husky murmur, Hongjoong guides you forward, his voice a seductive entreaty that resonates through your core. As his teeth graze beneath the collar of your shirt, a shiver courses down your spine, “That's it, love,” he exhales, his words a sultry invitation to unravel the depths of your desires. “Let me hear you.”

The fervour of your shared moment is interrupted by a sudden, urgent knock on your door. The sound jolts you both out of the cocoon of passion, and you exchange a hasty yet intense kiss as if to imprint the sensation on your soul before pulling away. Breathing heavily, you share a lingering glance before reluctantly untangling yourself from his embrace and heading to the front door, your heartbeats echoing the electricity that still courses through your veins.

As you open the door, you’re met with the sight of Wooyoung and San, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. They look at you and Hongjoong with knowing smiles as if they can sense the transformation in the air, but they refrain from commenting. It’s a silent acknowledgement of the intimacy that has bloomed between you, and you’re grateful for their unspoken understanding.

In the days that follow, you and Hongjoong continue navigating your newfound connection. The kiss remains unspoken, yet its imprint is undeniable. The two of you seem to share a mutual agreement to explore this uncharted territory without the constraints of labels or expectations, allowing your relationship to unfurl naturally.

With Hongjoong by your side, every interaction becomes a wordless conversation, every shared glance a testament to the bond that has formed between you. The ease with which you navigate each other’s thoughts and emotions astounds you as if you’ve known each other across lifetimes.

With Hongjoong, you find solace and a rare understanding that extends beyond the realms of mere companionship. With him by your side, life seems to flow effortlessly, and even the challenges that come your way are met with a united front, the strength of your connection acting as a shield against adversity.

As time passes, you realise that what you have with Hongjoong is more profound than any bond you could have hoped for had you connected with a familiar. Yours is a love that has grown from mutual respect, shared experiences, and the unspoken promises that linger between your glances.

You might have longed for a familiar as a young witch, but now you realise that fate had something even better in store for you—a soul who understands you in ways words can never express and a heart that beats in harmony with your own. With Hongjoong by your side, you found the person who complemented your magic, someone who loved you and would go to the ends of the earth for you, and you knew that you’d do the same for him.