#i did like her before but never like sought out her music

[smallboyonherbike]

yes i excluded all i want for xmas bc it's in its own category as greatest xmas song ever. she's got 19 total so i ruthlessly picked my personal faves :)

[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: After meeting Joel one late night at a bar you launch into a whirlwind romance with him. But, between a nasty breakup and the end of the world, you're left with nothing but your thoughts of the past and the way they haunt you all too well.

Warnings: 18+ Mature themes including: language, loss of virginity sexual references, SA (Not by Joel), Animal death, starvation.

Based on the song by Taylor Swift.

Word Count: 6.5k

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Winter 2023

Jackson was a town that was almost too good to be true. You had stumbled upon it nearly 7 years ago after fleeing in the middle of the night from a band of men that had captured you. Your sanctuary was just getting started then, but the group that was working there, welcomed you with open arms and as many supplies as they could spare.

It was your own little slice of paradise in this post-apocalyptic world you were stuck in. Away from FEDRA's iron fist and the horrors that evil people inflicted on others, most days you felt like you were living the life you used to back in 2003.

Of course, some things were different now. The TV in the corner of your living room was useless and most of your meals were communal in the mess hall. But, you loved it all anyway, glad to be away from the harsh world that lay outside the walls.

Even when you were assigned to clean out the horse stables, you loved your community. Jackson was your perfect little universe, undisturbed by the past and-

"Oh, shit...Joel?"

May 2003

College finals were the two scariest words one could say to you right now. Luckily for you, you had managed to somehow pass all of them this semester. Yes, you had somehow even managed an 80 on your biology exam, you still weren't quite sure how that happened. Maybe those 3am nights poured over your books did something.

"We should celebrate tonight." Your friend, Amelia suggested from her spot on the couch

"I was thinking about ordering a pizza." You sigh as you try to work out in your mind how much you have in your bank account. Perhaps you even had enough for some wings too.

"Not like that." She scoffs, " I meant we dress up real slutty and hit some bars. Get some guys to buy us drinks."

"I wanted to watch a movie tonight though." You sigh, thinking of the Blockbuster down the road. The second X-Men movie had come out a few weeks ago and you were dying to see Hugh Jackman on your screen again.

"You can spend the rest of your life as a grandma watching movies. You're only hot once." Amelia laughs

"But-"

"No buts. Your tits are gonna be at your waist one day and you'll thank me for this." Amelia declares before skipping off to her room, mumbling about which top she'd wear.

You sigh as you watch her door close. Amelia Caddel hadn't been your first choice for sharing an off campus apartment. Afterall, she was the opposite of you in so many ways. But, Miss Life of the Party had a steady deposit of allowance in her account from mommy and daddy, meaning she never missed rent, an important factor in a roomate.

"Guess you're spending the night alone." You sigh, looking down at your cat, Loki who purred, clearly wanting a treat or perhaps another heaping bowl of kibble.

Amelia fussed with your hair as the two of you entered your first bar.

"How're you going to pick up a guy if he can't even see your eyes?" She laughs

The stuffy air and the loud music, followed by a group of frat boys cheering for someone, reminded you why you never went out.

You watched with a sigh as she sought out the closest mid twenties guy she could wrestle a few drinks out of. You trailed behind, fidgeting with the skimpy black mini dress she had coaxed you into.

You'd have to hand it to Amelia, you certainly looked hot in it.

The feel of a stranger bumping into you and the sharp scent of aftershave filled your nose, and then big hands were wrapping around your waist, keeping you from stumbling.

"Shit sorry, hon." His Texan accent sent a small shiver down your spine.

"It's fine." You mumble, jumping away from the stranger's arms.

"Tommy, let's go! Quit flirtin' with the college girls!"

The man, Tommy, mumbles another apology to you before disappearing further into the bar, in search of whoever called for him.

Joel watched as his younger brother "accidentally" bumped into some silly college girl who seemed out of her element. Joel couldn't lie, it was something his brain might've come up with if he wasn't so damn tired from today's work. When was laying concrete going to get easier?

The younger Miller brother, who hadn't succumbed to back pain just yet, whispered some false apology in the girl's ears as she jumped away from him.

Joel called for him, he couldn't let Tommy terrorize some poor twenty-something girl who looked like a deer in the headlights under his brother's gaze.

"You're getting too old to be after college kids." Joel chastizes as he sits beside Tommy at the bar.

"Oh c'mon." Tommy scoffs as he orders a beer for himself and Joel.

"You're thirty, you're not some mid-twenties loser anymore." Joel points out.

"You're no fun, Joel," Tommy says with a roll of his eyes

Joel wanted to go home. He'd wanted to go home hours ago but Tommy had dragged him out after they finally finished working on their latest project, the new local Subway was nicely constructed by the Miller brothers.

Yet, here he sat, a few hours later, Two and a half beers deep, listening to Tommy try his hand at karaoke. Joel was pretty sure his ears were bleeding as his eyes scanned the bar. Most of the patrons were so drunk, they cheered Tommy on.

Joel found his eyes settling on the girl Tommy had "bumped" into earlier. She was still alone, sat across the room at a high-top table, sipping at some fruity drink. Pretty red heels were linked on the footrest of the barstool and Joel watched as she fumbled with her purse, looking for something with a deep frown across her pretty features.

If Joel didn't have a 13-year-old waiting on him back home, he might have slipped across the bar and sweet talked his way into this girl's arms. But the thought of Sarah back home, watching TV with Mrs. Addler had his ass glued to his barstool.

Instead, he observes as you finally find your phone and make a call. He watches as your features droop in disappointment as you yell over Tommy's singing to whoever was on the other end. Joel watched with a bit of amusement as you nearly fell off the stool when you went to stand up, you must've forgotten you linked those heels onto the footrest.

Joel let out a grumble of disappointment as Tommy launched into the beginning of Don't Stop Believin' by Journey. Why had he been given the world's most annoying little brother?

Joel's eyes turn back to the mystery girl and her delicate red heels just as some frat guy from Alpha Delta- who fuckin' cares, slings an arm around her waist, hand dipping too close to the hem of her skirt for Joel to be comfortable with.

As if he's on autopilot, Joel finds himself crossing the bar in long strides, ready to put a stop to whatever might come next.

"I don't see your friend now." The guy laughs as you shift your weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable.

Joel hears you mumble something about wanting to go home.

"I'll give you a ride."

The guy's sleazy tone has Joel cringing as he approaches. DId anyone teach these kids manners?

"Why don't you give the lady some space?" Joel suggests boldy

Alpha-Delta-Chad turns around to meet Joel's gaze, not releasing you just yet as he scoffs,

"Who the fuck are you? Her dad?"

"Just a concerned stranger." Joel nods to you in greeting, "She doesn't seem too comfortable with you, kid. Give her some room."

"How would you even know old man?" The boy asks, "You're like forty!"

Ouch. Joel was 35. Did he really look 40? Already?

"Let her go," Joel says, his voice deepening a bit

The frat boy's eyes scan Joel's figure. Either he decides you're not worth it, or that he'd lose the fight because before Joel knows it he's letting you go and murmuring another curse at Joel.

"Thank you." You breathe a sigh of relief, and a small smile graces your pretty face as Joel nods.

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

The name slips out of Joel's mouth before he can stop it and he watches in amusement as you blink away in embarrassment.

Your eyes roam across his frame and Joel can't quite place the look on your face as you...size him up?

"Could you um...walk me to the bus stop? I'd go myself but I'm worried that guy might be waiting for me outside." You ask

Joel wants to say no. He wants to stay tucked away in the bar, sipping his beer, and hope Tommy accidentally swallows the microphone he's singing into. Yet, one look into your sad, and definitely drunk eyes has him folding.

"Sure, I'll walk ya."

A warm breeze blows through the air as your savior is beside you at the bus stop. He'd insisted on waiting beside you until the bus showed up, saying something about having a daughter back home and it not being right to leave you alone out here.

"So...what's your name?" You ask, your drunk mind disliked silences.

"Joel. Joel Miller." He says, "You?"

You softly say your name, shy under his gaze.

Maybe its the three margaritas but the man next to you is hot. Short brown curly hair with dark eyes to match. Not to mention the splatter of facial hair and mustache he seemed to pull off so effortlessly. He was definitely much older than you, at least over ten years your senior. But, he was attractive in the ways all the college boys in your classes weren't.

Your eyes raked over tanned arms, toned perfectly from whatever he did to get them. You could tell he was sporting a handsome dad bod under the plain blue t-shirt on his frame. You'd never been one for a rippling six-pack, a man who'd eat pizza and ice cream with you was always going to be attractive than one who spent his days drinking protein shakes and eating eggs for "gains". Joel seemed like a guy who'd be into a binge-watch of every Star Wars movie and indulge with you in an impulsive 2am Domino's order.

"Where the hell is this bus at?"

His deep voice had you snapping from your drunken daydream of pizza and dad bods.

"Oh um..."

You're not quite sure where the bus is. Hopefully, it'd show soon. Your legs felt like a newborn deer's, no way would you be able to walk the seven and a half miles back to your apartment like this.

"Joel!"

Another voice has you and your new companion turning your heads. Another man, somehow a bit familiar in your drunk brain is approaching.

"What're you doin' man? You missed my singing."

"I heard enough." Joel huffs in annoyance

Oh, so this was the guy who was badly singing to Brittney Spears and Journey. He looked a bit more familiar though...this was the dude that had bumped into your earlier!

"Now if I'm too old to be goin' after college girls, then you're definitely too old, brother."

"I'm not...Not goin' after anyone. I'm waiting for the bus with her. Some creep was hitting on her at the bar, I'm keeping her safe." Joel groans at this man's comment.

So he wasn't interested? You felt your heart sink a bit. Of course, he wasn't interested. He had a kid for crying out loud.

Oh god, what if he had a wife? Were you daydreaming about a married man?

Your eyes jump to his left hand.

Ringless.

Well, at least you weren't fantasizing about being a homewrecker.

"The bus? It's past midnight. The bus stops running at 11:30." The new guy says, looking at his watch.

"Oh...um. I'll just go then." You say, standing up on unsteady legs. Looks like you're walking. You didn't have the money for a cab, so your legs were just going to have to tough this one out.

"Go? Go where?" Joel's friend scoffs

You ignore him, he's so weird.

"Tommy, stop it." Joel scolds

He sounds like such a dad as you laugh to yourself while smoothing your dress out.

"Do you want us to give you a ride?" Joel asks, standing up next to you

"No, I can manage the walk." You brush him off, trying to ignore the way he's so tall all of a sudden.

You were even wearing heels and he was bigger than you!

"I can call a cab," Joel suggests, watching the way your ankle nearly twists when you take a step.

"I don't have any money for one." You whimper, as the pain in your ankle shoots up your leg.

Fuck these heels. Fuck Amelia for ditching you for another bar. Fuck Joel had his stupid dad bod and tanned skin. Fuck the stupidly attractive mustache on his stupidly attractive face.

This always happened when you were drunk. First, your legs turned into literal Jello and then you'd get all weepy about nothing. At least you'd have seven miles to cry your eyes out. Hopefully, Loki would let you hold him when you got home.

"Let me give you a ride. Do you live on campus?" Joel asks his eyes widening at the tears that dribble down your face.

"I'm just gonna walk." You mumble and bush past him, forcing your legs into an unsteady match.

"That's like...an 8-mile walk," Tommy says from behind you, estimating the distance between here and the college.

"Actually seven and a half." You sass, not interested in his comments or his stupid aftershave that invaded your nose as you walked past him.

You're not entirely sure how you ended up here, in the back seat of a pick up truck while Joel drove you home. You mumbled your address to him and he'd somehow known immediately where you were living.

Hopefully, you weren't going to end up dead in a ditch tonight.

Joel watched as you rested your head against the window. He'd walked you to his truck after you got a few feet away from him before sitting down on the curb, tears running down your pretty face, mumbling something about a cat.

"Fuckin' college girls." Tommy had mumbled as he helped Joel buckle you into your seat

"Let's just get her home," Joel said

"Yeah before she turns the waterworks back on." Tommy sighed

Joel drives towards the shitty apartments they rent to college kids. Two blocks away he had once been working in a fancy new condo building, putting up drywall and laying flooring. There'd been talk about developing your area as well, but six months later the apartments of Oliver Avenue were still as shitty as ever.

Joel guaranteed you were getting ripped off by your landlord. Probably paying too much for someplace that had thin walls and bad heating. Sure enough, he was right, as he parked his trunk in front of a building that badly needed a makeover.

"Stay here." He tells Tommy who seems to be a few moments away from falling asleep in the passenger seat.

Joel pulls you from the backseat, shoving Sarah's soccer ball back under the seat when it rolls out and tries to escape.

"Alright, what floor?" Joel asks as you stand beside him, tears finally dried up.

You wordlessly begin to plod your way up the steps and murmur what sounds like a five to him.

Joel makes sure you get your door open and watches as a black cat greets you as you push the door open.

"Hi, baby." You coo at the cat, scooping him up. "Did you miss me?"

Joel feels his heart speed up as you sweet-talk your pet. He tries to banish the idea of you talking to him like that, carding your hands through his hair, rather than this little black cat with a green collar and golden bell around his neck.

"Thank you, Joel." You say as you spin around to face him

"No problem." He hums, "Glad I was able to help."

You smile at him as your damn cat meows loudly, breaking the trance you had on him.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Joel."

July 2003

The fourth of July was serious business in Austin. From mega barbeques to fireworks that put Magic Kingdom to shame, your sleepy little college town was transformed for America's birthday.

A much-needed breeze flows through the park as you sit on the blanket you'd found shoved at the back of your closet. Summer was brutal this year, and you were sure that the Texas heat wasn't making the wait for fireworks any easier.

Your parents had invited you back home to Pittsburgh this summer. But, you found yourself more interested in staying put in Austin. Your sleepy suburb town back home would always be there, no sense in spending your summer cooped up in your childhood room. At least here you could go out whenever you wanted.

"Dad, let's go! All the good spots are going to be taken!!"

A young girl's voice drifts across the park as you turn to watch her pull what must be her father along.

"Hold on, Sarah! You're gonna make me drop all this."

"Move faster then!"

Well, shit.

Joel Miller, the savior of drunk college girls, was here in the park, walking towards you.

Your eyes widen as you take him in. At least you know it wasn't just the alcohol talking, Joel Miller was just as devastatingly good-looking now as he was a month and a half ago when he drove you home from the bar.

"H-Hi." You awkwardly stammer as he passes by you, arms full with a small cooler and a big blanket.

"Hello." He says, quickly

The double take he does is almost comical as he looks at you.

"Sarah!" He calls after the girl, "Come back here!"

"Didn't think I'd ever see you again." You smile, standing up from your own spot

"Well, I do live around here." He says with a lopsided smile that makes him look a bit more boyish.

The girl, Sarah, returns to her father's side.

"Hi." She says a bit flatly, clearly annoyed her father has stopped his march across the park to what she had deemed the perfect spot.

"Hello." You greeted her, with a soft smile.

She was so cute, with dark curly hair and black shorts paired with a pretty green and blue t-shirt. Sparkly sandals caught your eye as she stepped a bit closer to Joel, looking up at him for an explanation.

Joel introduces you to her, "I helped her out a month ago, got her home safe."

You're beyond elated he's standing in front of you again. For a little bit you swore he was a hallucination you'd dreamt up in a drunken haze. A handsome Texan man who'd driven you home safely after rescuing you from some sleaze. Amelia had scolded you for hours when she found out you hadn't gotten his number.

"Super safe." You smile at him.

Joel feels a nervous sweat break out on his forehead. Here he was with his daughter ready to watch their fireworks like they always did each year and he was flirting with a girl like he was 17 again. He'd be lying if you weren't on his mind regularly. The way you'd been dressed that night haunted him at night as he lay in bed, your sweet voice filled his ears as he went about his days. He'd wondered if you only used that tone for your cat.

"You two want to sit with me? I'm not sure if these are the best seats in the house but I do have some popcorn I can share..." You trail off, giving a smile to Sarah who enthusiastically agrees at the idea of free food.

Joel settles next to you as Sarah talks your ears off about soccer practices and the pool party Joel took her to a few weeks ago. He watches as you listen intently to his daughter's words. So rarely does a woman he's interested in take time to talk to Sarah. Yet, here you were, in college and interacting with his daughter better than most grown women did.

"So how old are you?"

Joel nudges Sarah with his shoe, doesn't she know that's a rude question? He could've sworn he taught her better.

"I'm 23. 24 this August." You say

"Wow," Sarah says

You turn away for a moment, reaching for the bag of popcorn that sits behind you. Joel's eyes widen as he watches Sarah silently mouth to him,

"She's so old!"

If you were old, did that mean he was ancient? God, how old did his daughter view him as? He could've sworn 35 wasn't that bad. Maybe it was though...

"So, 23. You're graduating soon then, yeah?" Joel asked

"I wish." You sigh, "I took a gap year after high school, and then just couldn't find the right major for a bit. I'm technically on track to become a Physician Assistant but I dunno if it's right for me."

Joel nods, he knows the feeling, not knowing if what you're doing is right. He'd felt that way when Sarah was born, and then when her mother left them, and then every time Sarah was hurt or crying, or just not perfectly happy, Joel felt that way, unsure of himself.

"You'd make a great PA, Sweetheart." Joel genuinely says, placing a hand over yours

"Thanks." You say a bit flustered at the physical contact.

"Gross," Sarah comments at what's unfolding before her eyes.

"You're gross." Joel counters, not missing a beat to tease her.

Sarah sticks her tongue out at him in retaliation, and Joel does the same.

You spend the rest of your summer with the Millers. In between public pool trips, and catching fireflies in the backyard, you somehow end up entangled with Joel. Staying up on the couch beside him, watching movie after movie when Sarah drifted off into dreamland up in her bed.

Before you know it, Joel is picking you up for dates and meeting you at coffee shops to let you talk his ears off about whatever book you've picked up for the week.

You let Joel take your virginity on a humid August night. After sending Sarah off to her friend's house you let him pull you into his room and under the sheets.

Breathless and sweaty you rest your head on his chest.

"You okay?" Joel asks quietly, running a hand up and down your back

"Mmhm." You sigh dreamily

"Didn't hurt you or nothin'?" He asks

"I'm okay, Joel." You laugh

"Just checking." He mumbles

Joel looks a bit out of place as he sits on your couch. Sarah had a week of soccer camp and the two of you decided to spend it together. Loki jumps up on the cushion beside Joel and lets out a loud meow.

"Pet him." You suggest with a shrug

"He doesn't even like me." Joel huffs staring into your cats eyes

"You nearly sat on him the first time you were here." You remind Joel of his previous crime from a week ago.

"I thought he was a throw pillow." Joel defends himself, motioning to the many pillows you and Amelia had scattered around the apartment.

"You thought I had a green-eyed pillow that meowed?"

"I dunno what you women are into, you're all so confusing."

You let out a scoff before plopping down on the couch next to him, Loki climbing into your lap and purring as you scratch behind his ears.

"The only confusing one here is you, Joel Miller."

Tommy isn't as bad as you thought he was.

Scratch that, he's fantastic, pulling out old photos of Joel from over the years. You nearly piss yourself though when he whips out an old family album. A nine-year-old Joel stares back at you as you look at an old photo of him playing tee-ball.

"Look how cute you were!" You gasp as you run your fingers across the photograph

"Joel Miller, star tee-ball player!" Tommy teases his big brother.

You smile as you watch Joel's face turn red as you take in even more photographs of him as a kid, you even see his 10th-grade photo, yes the one where he has braces and the worst case of acne known to mankind.

By the time the Texas heat begins to ease off and the leaves begin to change colors, you're head over heels in love with Joel Miller. From the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, to the way he'd dance with you in the dead of the night while the refrigerator door hung open, the light reflecting off your bodies as you laughed in his arms.

Three months, such a short time, and yet so much had happened. You tried to focus on the Anatomy lesson your professor was talking about in front of you yet you found your mind occupied with something else. It was as if you had been possessed, nothing but Joel filled your mind as you scribbled your notes onto your notebook. Anatomy class be damned, you were going to go mad thinking of him like this.

Your birthday, August 29th rolled around faster than you thought it would. You hadn't seen Joel all week. Between your classes, Sarah's soccer and school, and Joel's contracting, you had only time to talk to him briefly on the phone.

You had reached out to Joel earlier today to invite him to a small birthday party Amelia had insisted on. Nothing special, just some pizza and cupcakes, a cheap beer or two.

But now, it was going on 10:30 and Joel was nothing but a whisper in the wind. Sadness weighed on your chest as you watched the front door, hoping for a knock that would signal his arrival.

"Hey...I think we should just go to bed..."Amelia suggests softly from her spot next to you.

"No, he's coming." You mumble sadly tears tickling your waterline,

You stare at the last cupcake that sits on the coffee table. It was meant to be for Joel. You had scooped it out of the box thinking about how nice the icing looked on it. You had wanted him to have the best one in the box, even if that meant your own was a little lopsided and missing sprinkles.

Amelia pulls you into her side, letting you rest your head on her shoulder. She gently wraps her arm around you and quietly says,

"It's supposed to be fun, turning 24..."

September 2003

Three days pass before you hear from Joel again. His voice on the other end of the phone call is paralyzing as your world comes crashing down. The phone beeps as the call ends and you stand at your kitchen counter in shock, shocked that he's ending it all like this, with a phone call.

"If we had been closer in age, maybe it would've been fine."

His words bounce around in your mind as you slam your phone down on the counter. Loki jumps from his spot on the windowsill meowing as you cross the room quickly.

You pulled your covers over your head, blocking out the world as you heard Amelia return from her ethics class.

"If we had been closer in age, maybe it would've been fine."

God, that made you want to die. What did he even think of you? That you were some wide-eyed college kid who just existed in limbo for him?

You spend the next week in bed, plagued with tears and anger as you curse Joel out at least 1000 times a day. The knock at your door and Amelia entering your room with a box has you startled.

"What's this?" You sniff

"UPS guy just left it at our front door." She says before setting it on the bed and leaving you again.

You cut the box open and find your things inside it. Little things you'd left at Joel's over the summer. Hair ties, a brush, deodorant, t-shirts, and sweaters, even a photograph of you, Sarah, and him at the aquarium is nestled between the pages of a book you kept on his nightstand to read to him before the two of you dozed off. The box holds your entire relationship as you dump it out on your bed.

The scent of Joel, masculine and inviting clings to your belongings just like the way it clings to your heart.

Your hands shift through the items again, the scarf you wore to Tommy's house is missing. You had left it there and Joel had promised to return it to you.

"Who wears a scarf in Texas?" Joel snorts

"I do! And you better give it back, Miller." You groan

"I'll get it to you, sweetheart. Don't worry about it."

You wonder what has become of your scarf now. Perhaps it's sitting in a drawer in his room, nestled among his belongings, looking horribly out of place. Or maybe it's stuck in his truck, shoved under the seats under the pretense that it would make its way back to you one day.

You wonder what has become of Joel now. Perhaps he's lying in his own bed right now, thinking of you, your scarf wrapped around his hands, smelling of you and all his failures.

You wonder if this love affair bruised him the way it did you.

God, you had so many regrets.

December 2003

Cold air fills your lungs as your feet ache beneath you. Snow gently fell down as you sighed quietly. The walk into your hometown was no joke. The shitty beater car you'd stolen had died about 50 miles ago, leaving you vulnerable and scared.

Loki meowed from his crate as you quietly walked along. You shushed him and dropped a few treats behind the bars of the crate. He was going to need food soon if you intended to stay alive, your traveling companion wasn't known for holding his tongue when it came to hunger. The last thing you needed was to have an infected try to kill you because of your pet.

It had been nearly 5 days on the road now. and You'd managed to drive from Austin to Pittsburgh all on your own armed with a shotgun and a map you'd found in the glove compartment.

The past few months had been spent in Joel's basement. After things started going south outside your apartment building, you stuffed Loki into his carrier and filled a two big duffle bags with food and clothes for you and supplies for your cat before managing to somehow sneak into the parking deck and jump into your car. Amelia had never returned from her boyfriends house that night. You knew you couldn't go looking for her though, his home was nearly 25 miles away while Joel's was only 10.

It was mid-morning on September 27th when you reached Joel's place. The other neighborhood homes were empty and you nearly threw up at the sight of Mrs. Adler's mother lying face down on the driveway.

Your heart sinks when you discover Joel and Sarah are already gone. You hadn't expected them to be here yet, a part of you had hoped they'd be. It was Joel's birthday yesterday, you wondered how he'd spent his last normal day. Knowing him, he'd probably been at work all day.

You barricade the doors before slipping into the basement. Joel had spent time finishing it so it was nice for Sarah's sleepovers. You let Loki out before returning upstairs to bring down every nonperishable food item the home had to offer.

And so, there you sat with your cat, in your ex's basement, willing for him to magically appear and tell you everything was going to be okay.

March 2017

The Pittsburgh QZ was fucked. Royally fucked. The loud explosion from some truck filled your ears as you zipped your backpack shut. Loki let out a meow of protest as he disappeared in your bag. He was nearly 15 and his attitude about backpack travel wasn't improving.

You stick to the back alleys as you work towards finding an out. A decent-sized hole in a fence catches your eye and you take your chances, better than getting blown up by the Fireflies or FEDRA.

You're about 4 miles away from the carnage when a sizeable group catches your eye. They must've gotten out just like you.

A man, David, shares a can of flavorless chili with you and you sit on the ground beside him. But, the more you listen to him talk, you can't help but think he's a total nutcase. You thank him for the chili and the 8 cans of chicken noodle soup he's shared with you and decline his offer to join the group.

"We have so much to offer." He says in a soft voice, gesturing to the people scattered around eating and talking amongst themselves.

"I'll stick to just him, thanks though." You say petting Loki's head as you pull him from your backpack to place the cans of food inside.

"Suit yourself."

April 2017

You had dozed off. A rookie mistake to make in the apocalypse.

They had been on you before you knew what was happening. With nothing but a knife to your name to protect yourself, you were hopelessly outgunned.

"Look at what we have here." A deep voice booms, "A girl wondering in my woods, must be my lucky day."

A smelly man stands in front of you, and about 8 other men are circled around you. You squeeze your eyes shut as he lets a dirty finger trail over your face.

"How pretty."

A loud hiss cuts his next sentence. Loki, you brave boy, has climbed out of your backpack where he had been taking a nap. His back has hunched up and you don't miss the way his dark black fur is bristling in the low light of the sun disappearing behind the trees.

You aren't even able to try to arrange a deal for your baby as the man pulls a large knife from his belt and carelessly throws it at your cat.

A horrible screech from Loki fills your ears as the man coos at you and tells you it'll all be okay.

"We've got dinner boys!" The man who has killed your only friend in the whole world exclaims.

Your eyes slam shut as red blood begins to seep into the fabric of your backpack. The man says something about being a provider but you're too focused on choking back the tears that are forming in your eyes.

Hours later, you're tied to a tree stump, your arms behind your back. Your captors present you with a warm soup of sorts. Canned carrots and potatoes float in a clear broth but it's what sits in the center of the bowl that turns your stomach. What's left of your Loki is now being devoured by the men.

You can't do it. You had been starving, unable to catch anything for days. but you can't do it.

"Fine, don't eat." The leader and cat killer huffs as he runs his hands across your chest in an unpleasant matter, "You're going to wish you had though when we're done with you."

June 2017

The moon is your only light as you steal away into the night. Your heart is pounding but you can't or rather won't look back.

Your escape is credited to a man named Adam. He had always been softer to you than the rest. Less brutal than the others when he bent you over a tree stump and forced himself into your unwilling body, cooing in your ears about how good you felt even though you were dry.

Softer and easy to fool when you batted your eyelashes at him so he'd give you a second serving of the deer they'd killed. Gentle when he cleaned whatever wounds the others inflicted on you for their sick pleasure.

Tonight, you had used his softness against him. Crying and whimpering when he tied you to a tree, saying the restraints were too tight. He'd of course taken pity on you and loosened them before kissing your forehead and walking off to sleep.

It had been easy to slip out of the ropes thanks to Adam. You stole his backpack and stuffed it with as much deer jerky as you could get your hands on before snatching a gun off Adam's unknowing form.

Now, you were stumbling through the night, hoping to put as much distance between you and the men as possible.

Nearly three weeks had passed and you were still somehow free. The men hadn't found you and you were deep into the wilderness. Your freedom was something you had yearned for since the moment Loki had died. Yet, here you were, starving and wasting away because you couldn't kill anything to eat.

You drag your body into an old concrete building that was being used to control some form of dam. You rested your head on your backpack, thinking of how far you'd come.

Strangely though, you thought of your past. Fuzzy images of a college classroom came into your brain. Amelia's long blonde hair and the way she'd style it perfectly each day. Texas summers, filled with heat and perfectly seasoned barbeque.

What you wouldn't do for a big plate of ribs right now.

And then the curly hair of a little girl is dancing around your mind. Her warm laughter fills your mind as you think of Sarah Miller. With her sparkle filled sandals and her strange interest in gore filled horror films. You wondered if she was still out there somewhere. Perhaps stuck in some QZ with Joel.

Joel.

You think about Joel. You're sure you've thought of him more in the past three months than you did your whole relationship. Every night when one of your captors, or sometimes multiples had you every which way, you'd try to think about other things. Those other things often divulged into Joel and how gentle he'd been with you. Oh, how you missed his warm arms and soft southern twang. Hou you yearned for him even now. Your only real relationship experience was something you just couldn't let go.

When you were finally found by Maria, you were nearly ready for death. Brain filled with delusional thoughts of the past and starving, she had hoisted you up on her horse and rode off to Jackson, praying this mystery woman wouldn't die on the way there.

Winter 2023

You nearly fall over when his tired eyes meet yours. The loud voice of a young girl fills your ears.

"Do you two know each other?"

You push the stable door open to get a better look at the man who stands before you. For so many years you had pictured the man you dated for a few months, not trying to imagine the way the end of the world might've changed him. Your mind can't reconcile the Joel you once knew and the one before you.

For starters, he looks so tired. Graying curly hair sits atop his head, a salt and pepper beard adorns his face. Even his frame has changed, the winter coat he wears hides it but you can tell he's become riddled with muscle to take on the harsh outside world. The only thing that seems the same is his mustache, somehow untouched by time.

"Joel, wait up! There's something I gotta tell ya!"

Tommy's loud voice carries from wherever he is and you want to laugh at the younger Miller brother. Of course, he was going to try to intercept your meeting. Too bad he was too slow.

"Joel? Hello? Do you know her?" The girl asks again.

You glance at her, she can't be more than 14 or 15. Her pale skin is rosy against the cold Wyoming winter. She looks at you, probably for an answer since all Joel is doing is staring at you, most likely in shock.

Eventually, though, the man of the hour opens his mouth to speak,

"No, I don't know her."

This is my first time writing for Joel, hope you enjoyed :)

Next Part

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly @orcasoul

[lordprettyflackotara]

kehlani || mattheo riddle

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. i have no tw’e for this besides the fact this is meant to be like a ✨mystery✨ so happy kinktober detectives!

Mattheo Riddle did not care for relationships.

His father had taught him long ago romantic entanglements were a waste of time. Even with his mother being his father’s right hand in war, he saw her nothing more than just another soldier. Mattheo adored his mother, resulting him deciding it wouldn’t be suitable for him to treat a witch like that. So as he attended Hogwarts University, he focused on his studies instead. The expectation of reviving his father was on his shoulders, the death eaters lurking in the shadows eagerly awaiting Mattheo’s next move. Truthfully Mattheo was a bit behind on his responsibility of being the dark lords son.

Besides stirring up generic chaos in classroom settings with his posse, Mattheo wasn’t living up to the expectations everyone had placed upon him. If anything him and his mates were enjoying having a break from assisting in world domination. Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy were his right hand men, both pure bloods and death eaters themselves. To pass time besides creating entertaining mischief, they found themselves doing what most wizards were doing at their age: partying until the motherfucking sun came up.

Slytherin’s had always been known to throw the most exciting parties, but the outrageous substances at these parties only escalated once they were all in University. With the war over and many Slytherin’s sent to azkaban, the remaining sought to get high or drunk to find a way to cope with their sorrow. Whether or not they believed in Voldermort’s plan was irrelevant, many just coping with the evil stereotype placed upon them. Or in Draco and Theodore’s case, their parents being sent to azkaban for life. In Mattheo’s case, both his parents were dead. The expectation was exhausting if he were being honest, something he only was with Draco and Theo after a good blunt.

It was another one of those kind of nights, the Slytherin common room crowded with party attendees. Not many other houses had the courage to attend Slytherin parties and when they did, they dressed in neutral clothing to blend in. Mattheo could always spot another house member from a mile away though. Gryffindors were often too rowdy, Ravenclaws too reserved, Hufflepuffs too eager to try anything and everything put in front of them. They might as well have written their house on their forehead if you asked Mattheo. He watched the party over the rim of his red solo cup, a custom that Theo had shamelessly stolen from muggle culture. After the war Theodore Nott had been sentenced to community services to assist the muggles. The council assumed it would help them abolish his stigmatization. Unfortunately all it really did was introduce him to the world of muggle drugs.

Draco stood beside Mattheo, inhaling the freshly rolled blunt. If there was anything the three of them thought muggles were good for, it was their drugs. Strobe lights and blaring music helped Mattheo drown out any sort of coherent thoughts, his body living in the now. Theo elbowed him from the other side, cocking his head to the left. “Hey, who the hell is that? I can’t figure out what house she’s in,” Theo asked. He gestured to you, Mattheo’s eyes lighting up at the sight of you. You looked like a breath of fresh air. He had never seen you before, but merlin were you stunning. You wore a black sparkly dress as you talked to what looked to be a Ravenclaw. “Couldn’t tell ya. But she’s not Slytherin so therefore she’s most certainly not pure,” Draco chimed in. Theo and Draco were on opposite ends of the spectrum. Theo would fuck anything with two breasts, while Draco only sought out purebloods. Mattheo feared the pureblood ideology had seeped a little too deep into the blondes head, but he’d never mention it.

“Huh. She doesn’t look like any of them honestly,” Mattheo muttered. Finishing his drink he carelessly tossed the red solo cup away, wiping his upper lip with his sleeve. Curiosity was beginning to nag at Mattheo as he watched you laugh. “I think i’ll go find out,” He announced, confidently strolling over to you. The moment he arrived to your conversation the Ravenclaw boy took a hint, disappearing into the never ending sea of swaying bodies. Your eyes met Mattheo’s, the brunette digging in his pocket and taking out a box of cigarettes. “Cig?” He offered, handing it out to you. You politely declined, watching him place a cigarette between his lips. “Who doesn’t smoke these days?” He asked, lighting the cigarette with the end of his wand. You awkwardly shrugged. “I guess me,” You answered. Mattheo couldn’t quite understand why he was even talking to you, putting aside the morbid curiosity. “So what house are you in?” Mattheo asked. He figured once you answered he’d lose interest, as he did most things.

“Hufflepuff.”

Your answer surprised him, considering how confident you were standing. “Thats shocking,” Mattheo answered honestly. You seemed confused, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? Why is that shocking?” You asked. Mattheo chuckled as he inhaled his cigarette, relishing in the feeling of the tobacco swirling around his lungs before he exhaled. “Well, usually Hufflepuff’s piss themselves when I try to talk to them,” Mattheo explained. He found the situation odd. He had been around the block many of times and was always able to stop the micro movements that belonged to each house. Yet you shockingly displayed none of them. “Huh. You don’t seem so scary to me,” You quipped. Mattheo found himself entertained, chuckling again. “Do you know who I am?” He asked. It was impossible that you didn’t know who he was if you were a student here. “Of course I do. You just aren’t that scary to me,” You replied. The brunette was at a loss for words, the tension between the two of you growing awkward. Mattheo glanced at his friends, who were observing the two of you chat from a far. He figured he should return to them, having the answer to the question they wanted to know.

Just as he was about to walk away, your voice interrupted him, “Wanna dance?”

Your question had taken him aback. No one had ever asked him to dance before. Doing so took a lot of courage, a strangely Gryffindor trait for such a confident Hufflepuff. “Sorry sweetheart I don’t dance,” Mattheo declined, a sly smirk crawling up his lips. You laughed at his remark, grabbing his arm. “Sure you do,” You replied, dragging him onto the self designated dance floor. Mattheo didn’t recognize whatever song was playing, the bass loud and borderline overbearing if he was sober. The only dancing he had ever done was traditional ballroom style, the kind you’d do at the Yule ball for example. He wasn’t quite sure what to do as you swayed your hips in front of him, your eyes gleaming up at him as you patiently waited for him to join. He nervously finished his cigarette, tossing it aside and exhaling through his nose. It wasn’t often Mattheo felt nervous, but your confidence compared to his reluctance definitely made him feel so. You grabbed his hands, your touch warm and soft as you placed them on your hips. You pressed your body against his, Mattheo’s cheeks growing hot. “I’m not quite sure you wanna do that sweetheart, i’m not gentle,” He purred.

Mattheo wasn’t a virgin or anything, having experimented plenty in his teen years. He knew he was rough when it came to sex. He had been on the straight and narrow for a couple of years now, focusing on world domination or whatever his father wanted. But your hips were tempting. Your confidence made it all of the better, your long eyelashes batting up at him. “I didn’t ask if you were. Who knows? Maybe I like it a bit rougher,” You hummed. You turned around, your ass placed against his crotch. Mattheo readjusted his grip on your hips, squeezing the flesh harshly even with your dress providing some form of protection. Mattheo’s hips involuntarily grinded against yours, your body shamelessly dancing to the music. “You’re playing in the snake den princess, wouldn’t want you to get bit,” Mattheo grumbled into your ear, his breath deliciously hot against your skin. You grinned at the sensation, soaking in the attention. “You don’t scare me Riddle,” You replied, pushing your ass against him. He felt himself growing hard under your touch, having not felt someone this close to him in a long time.

Hearing his name fall off of your tongue was music to his ears, the green strobe lights dancing off of your body. Mattheo glanced over at Draco and Theodore, who were cheering him on from a far. Draco was intoxicated enough to put aside his pureblood bigotry and was giving Mattheo two thumbs up. Theo on the other hand was plastered, fresh flakes of cocaine still decorating his upper lip. He was mouthing the words ‘fuck her!’ as he childishly humped the air. Mattheo rolled his eyes, before returning his gaze back to you. Mattheo began having an internal debate, wondering if he should give in to his urges. Could he really allow you to be treated like his mother long term if he followed in his father’s footsteps? He bit his bottom lip as he admired your ass. Maybe he wouldn’t be too terrible of a person if he let you seduce him. Just for a night anyways. “Hey you wanna get out of here?” Mattheo asked, his lips a millimeter away from your earlobe. You grinned as you turned around, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Lead the way.”

Mattheo had a lot of questions about you. You were so mysterious, eagerly following him down to the lower level dungeons where the forms were. He shared a dorm with Theodore and Draco, who would know the room was being more than occupied. His questions arose even further when your lips clashed with his before he could barely shut the door. You were eager and desperate to have him, which puzzled him endlessly. Mattheo was a walking threat to any other witch and wizard, yet a supposed Hufflepuff was nibbling at his bottom lip. Mattheo found himself just as desperate to match your energy, not having any relief from pent up stress in Merlin knows how long. He pressed you against the door, kissing down the side of your neck. His large hands cupped your waist, itching to pull up your dress. “Never would’ve thought the devil would be as eager as me,” You teased, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access.

The time for thinking was over, his hormones and desires in full control as he unzipped your undress. “Never seen a Hufflepuff so slutty,” Mattheo countered, his voice husk as watched your dress fall. Goosebumps rose across your skin as he admired your frame, licking his lips. “You’re looking at me like a virgin Riddle,” You teased, causing Mattheo to chuckle. As he lowered himself to his knees he looped his fingers with your lacey black panties, pulling them down before tucking them into his pocket for safe keeping. His mind wondered to your witty comment, making a mental note how Ravenclaw like it sounded. Your glistening cunt was the perfect distraction from his thoughts, your legs slowly spreading open. Like a starved man Mattheo dived into your folds, lapping at your cunt as if he was dying of thirst. “Fucking shit, Riddle-” You moaned, tilting your head back against the door. Your fingers raked through his chocolate curls, pulling at them as he sucked on your clit. Mattheo wrapped his arms around your plush thighs, pulling them closer to him.

You were so cute like this, so desperate and horny. “Feel good princess?” He mumbled into your slick, watching you fall apart against his door. You were bucking your hips against his face, the knot in your stomach tightening. Your thighs squeezed around his head, before a wave of euphoria crashed down over you. Your heart pounded as you danced with stars, your breath shallow as you tried to catch it. You looked down at a cocky Mattheo Riddle, your juices coating his chin and lips as he grinned up at you. “I’m that good huh?” He asked sarcastically. You reached down and grabbed his emerald tie, yanking him to his feet. Mattheo followed your lead, guiding you to his bed. Your tongues danced for dominance as your juices coated your own taste buds. Mattheo fell back onto the bed, watching you eagerly paw at his belt. He put his hands behind his head, attempting to enjoy the experience as obnoxious questions circled his mind. “So uh, how come i’ve never seen you around before?” He asked suddenly. His questioning didn’t faze you though, his belt clinking as you pulled down his trousers.

“I’m a transfer student,” You answered automatically. You palmed Mattheo through his boxers, attempting to get him to focus on the matter at hand. Mattheo found your attempt to be dominant quite brave, causing him to prop himself up on his elbows. “We take transfer students?” He asked. You glared up at him, taking his hard cock out of his boxers. “Quite obviously since i’m here, now do you want me to suck your dick or not?” You quipped, tired of the interrogation. Mattheo verbalized agreement, laying back and closing his eyes as you took him into your mouth. You were hot and everything, but all of your traits were contradicting. It was like you were all of the houses at once. He tried to enjoy the way you bobbed your head up and down on his cock. The way you picked the underside of his shaft and kitten licked the tip to tease him. Yet his mind poked and prodded at him, causing him to prop himself up on his elbows once more. “Yeah sorry just one more question, how did you get sorted if you transferred-” He began, the dorm door opening causing him to stop mid sentence.

Draco and Theo stood in the doorway, covering each others eyes. “I told you he was going to be in here!” Theo hissed, cringing in disgust. Your face was flushed with embarrassment as you scrambled to cover yourself, while Mattheo instantly went to pull his pants back up. “Fuck this,” You grumbled, pulling down your dress. Mattheo scrambled to follow you, managing to button up his pants before trailing behind you.

“Hey wait! I didn’t even catch your name!”

“It’s Kehlani,” You hissed coldly, before shoving past Draco and Theodore and storming out of the room.

[the-offside-rule]

Charles Leclerc (Scuderia Ferrari) - It's Always Been You

Requested: yes

Prompt: 4) "You deserve better."

Warnings: nope, but long iwl

As the paddock seemed normal in it's all too familiar business and loudness, Y/n found solace in between hospitality lounges, with the stacks of Red Bull Racing tyres as her only form of company. The scent of rubber and gasoline enveloped her as she sought refuge from the shattered pieces of her heart. Tears streaked down her cheeks, leaving a trail of black from her eyeliner. As the sister of Max Verstappen, Y/n was no stranger to the high-speed world of Formula 1. Her heart, however, had taken an unexpected detour when she fell for Carlos Sainz, the charming driver who had once occupied a special place in her life. She remembers when she first met him, back when her twin and him were teammates. There was always casual flirting but then when Y/n finished up school in 2016, the pair began going on dates since her visits to the paddock became more and more common, then becoming basically constant once they made it official. They were the it couple and it felt like no other couple could compare. How they looked at eachother, how they spoke of one another, it seemed too good good be true...until the faithful night after the Singapore Grand Prix win when Carlos decided to call it quits.

The music pulsed through the air as Carlos downed one shot after another, his laughter filling the space. Y/n, his girlfriend, tried to catch his attention, but he seemed oblivious, lost in the sea of people. "Carlos? I  wanna go dance." Y/n said. "Yeah, sure. Go ahead." Carlos replied, turning back to his group of instagram models who fanned over him, all desperate for the same thing; dick and clout. She rolled her eyes and walked away. "Fine, do whatever." As she walked away, the girls began giggling at her little outburst and Carlos didn't once stick up for Y/n. He was never like this before. He wasn't even like this at their romantic dinner the night before. But Y/n got on with it and did what she wanted to do; dance.

As she lost herself in the music, a man managed to gather the courage and make his way towards her. "Hey gorgeous." The stranger smiled, dancing along with Y/n. Since Carlos was surrounded by these stupid instagram models, the least Y/n could do was talk to a guy surely. "Hey." Their conversation continued until the topic of relationships came up, to which Y/n said that she had a boyfriend.

"I don't see him." The stranger grinned, leaning closer. "Well, you see that guy up there with the huge bottle of champagne?" The guy nodded. "That's my boyfriend. Carlos. He just won the Grand Prix a few hours ago." The stranger looked between the spaniard and Y/n. "He looks occupied." He said, referring to the hoard of girls surrounding him. "Honestly, who gives a fuck. The only reason he won it was because Red Bull had a fuck up." The man laughed at Y/n's drunken joke, but she couldn't help but feel bad for undermining her boyfriend's hard work.

As she swayed with her newfound dance partner, Carlos watched from afar, a twinge of jealousy gnawing at him. His strides became purposeful, marching towards the dancing couple. His vision blurry, he poked the stranger. He turned. "Hey, you're Y/n's boyfriend. How you doing man?" He asked, putting his hand out. Carlos slapped it away. "Yeah, whatever. Who are you?" Y/n arched a brow at the sudden rudeness of Carlos. "I've been talking to Y/n since you've been occupied." He joked. "Are you accusing me of cheating on my girlfriend?"

"Carlos, what the fuck?" Y/n asked. "I didn't mean to-"

"No, no, I know what you want and you're not going to get it." Carlos began shoving the guy. "Because when I go back to my hotel room, I'm going to have her on her knees and screaming my name, while you sit by yourself with your left hand doing all the work-"

Carlos was silenced by a hard thump to the face, that ended with both his lip and nose bleeding. Carlos stumbled back, holding his nose. "Carlos!" Y/n rushed to his side, concern etched across her face. "Carlos, we need to leave. This is getting out of hand." He pushed her away, his drunken gaze defiant. "I don't need you. I can handle myself." Ignoring her, he swung at the guy, completely missing him and falling to the floor. "Carlos, we're going." Y/n repeated, this time more stern. Carlos scoffed and despite the chaos, Y/n managed to guide Carlos outside and hailed a cab. The ride home was tense, filled with silence interrupted only by the distant sounds of the city nightlife.

As Y/n scanned their key card, Carlos lay against the wall beside the door, looking at Y/n with pure hatred in his eyes. "You're such a bitch sometimes." He muttered. Y/n turned to him. "Excuse me?" The door beeped and Carlos practically burst it down. "You heard me. You're You're a bitch sometimes." Y/n closed the door behind her and followed Carlos to the bed where he kicked off his shoes. "How am I a bitch? People were filming you and I don't think you want to answer to your PR people tomorrow morning." Y/n rolled her eyes and sat down on the sofa, taking her heels off promptly. "Okay? You're still a bitch. I could have taken him."  Y/n's frustration bubbled over as she demanded an explanation. "Carlos, what's going on? Why are you acting like this?"

Carlos glared at her, venom in his words. "I'm tired of this, Y/n. I don't want you in my life anymore." Stunned, Y/n pleaded. "Carlos, what are you tired of? We don't argue ever. Please, let's talk about it in the morning. You're drunk, and we can figure things out then." But Carlos was resolute. "No, I want you gone now. Pack your things and leave." Her eyes flickered as a few tears had fallen.

"You're so shit at this mate!" Max cackled, taking another sip of his beer whilst Pierre missed yet another goal on FIFA. The hotel room was filled with laughter as a few drivers had finished their clubbinv prematurely to instead play a few games of FIFA. The camaraderie and banter echoed through the room, creating a light atmosphere that temporarily eased the pressures of the racing world. Amid the gaming frenzy, a sudden knock on the door disrupted the jovial mood. "I'll get it." Charles said, walking towards the door. He expected some food from room service since they paid for it, but instead he was surprised to find Y/n Verstappen standing there, tears streaming down her face. "Hi, Charles." She sniffled.

"Y/n. Are you okay? What happened?" Charles asked, genuine concern etched on his face. Y/n, struggling to compose herself, managed to choke out. "Is Max here?"

Charles nodded, realizing something serious must have transpired. He stepped aside, allowing Y/n to enter the room. "Max? It's Y/n." The laughter hushed as the other drivers sensed the shift in the atmosphere. Max stood up. "Y/n? What's wrong?" A few words had been spoken in Dutch and it seemed that each word Y/n said, made Max angrier. The other drivers simply watched on, wanting to see what happened. "Where is he?" Max demanded in a demanding tone. "Max, please don't. That's the last thing I need tonight." Y/n pleaded. "No, I'm getting dad and we are sorting this." Max replied. "Max, no! He'll kill him!"

"And I will bury him. Don't worry about it." The drivers shared glances amongst one another as the siblings had run out of the room, closing the door behind them. "Are we going to see what happens or what?" Charles asks. "Seems like family stuff. I am leaving them to it." Pierre replied. "Seems logical." Lando added. Charles groaned as he left the room, following the sounds of loud shouting in both Dutch and English.

He looked down to see two figures banging on Carlos' door. "You don't treat my sister like this!" Max shouted as Y/n pulled from his arm, trying to deter him. "Max! Stop!" Charles shouted, trying to mediate, urging everyone to calm down. "If someone did this to your sister, you'd you'd the same!" Max shouted back at Charles. "Max! Not here! There are people trying to sleep." Charles said, reasoning with the dutchman. The commotion drew the attention of hotel staff and even a few curious guests. "Get out here, you fucking pussy!" Max had begun kicking the door now, not caring if it broke and deciding he'd worry about it if the door did break. The chaos continued until Max's father, joined the fray. The yelling and banging intensified, creating a scene that could be heard throughout the hotel.

Eventually, the rage subsided, as everyone agreed that Carlos must have passed out drunk and that it was a conversation best having in the morning. Max and Jos walked away as Charles stood by Y/n, tear-stained and emotionally drained. "Do you have a place to stay?" Charles asked. "I'm sure your brother wouldn't mind letting you stay." Y/n shook her head. "No. They're playing FIFA I don't want to have to kick them all out." Y/n replied. "Then I'll let you have my bed and Ill sleep on the floor." Charles offered. She smiled. "As nice as you're being right now, I don't need your pity. Im just going to fall asleep in my room and deal with this in the morning." She said. "Y/n, you can't possibly do that. I wouldn't wouldn't sleep in the same bed as him. You deserve better." Before Charles could even trg to convince her, she opened the door, re-entered her and Carlos' hotel room and closed it again without another word.

She had moved on from Carlos. In all honesty, she hadn't heard a lot from him. That was until she had come to her first Grand Prix single in 8 years. It felt weird not having someone to hold hands with, but she got on with it, showing her poker face and pretending not to care about her recent breakup. As she walked, she noticed an all too familiar spaniard, holding a gorgeous woman in his arms. It was a model, a model Y/n had seen on the catwalk of the Ferrari fashion event. That's where they must have met...back when Carlos was still in a relationship with Y/n. And that's how she found herself hiding like a kid scared of the dark, in between the Red Bull and Ferrari hospitality where no one could find her.

"Are you okay?" Y/n jumped as she wiped her eyes. "I- yeah. I'm fine. Who are-" She paused as she looked up to see Charles walking towards her. "What are you doing here?" Charles asked. "Inspecting the tyres, you?" Y/n replied quickly, drying her eyes. "Talking with the tyre inspector." Charles replied, sitting down next to her. Y/n looked up, her eyes swollen but grateful for the company. "Why are you crying?" Charles asked. "It's just-" Yhe tears had started again. "Carlos' new girlfriend is so much prettier, and she's so much skinnier and her hair is different, her eyes are different, we are just nothing alike and Carlos is just so happy with her." Y/n sobbed. Charles wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer to him as her tears stained his red shirt. "He's moved on and I'm sat, befriending stacks of tyres."

"Well that's not true. I'm not a stack of tyres, am I?" Y/n chuckled at the light hearted joke Charles had made. "No, no you're not." She replied. "You seem to be much nicer to talk to than a set of tyres, to be fair." Unbeknownst to her, Charles had been silently witnessing the intricate dance of emotions unfolding in the paddock. His infatuation with Y/n had started years ago, at one of Max's early kart races.

"Charles, you cut me off there! You could've caused a crash," Max argued, frustration evident in his voice. Charles, eager to impress Y/n, tried to maintain composure. "Max, I had the racing line! You should've anticipated my move." He chuckled, looking over to Y/n subtly to see her reaction. "Anticipated? You came out of nowhere!" Max shot back. As Charles vehemently defended his position, Y/n couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. She expected a spirited rivalry, but Charles's insistence on being right grated on her nerves.

"Charles, back down. You know I'm right." Max urged, trying to defuse the tension. Yet, Charles, fueled by both competitiveness and a desire to impress, doubled down. "Max, I won't back down when I'm right." The harder Charles pushed, the more Y/n saw a side of him she didn't like. She began to see why Max always yelled about how much of a diclhead Charles was and she fully agreed now. "Charles, seriously, I will be to the stewards about it." Max insisted, the frustration evident in his tone. But Charles, in his pursuit of proving himself, didn't heed the advice. As the argument escalated, Y/n couldn't help but feel a growing distaste for Charles.

"You know what, Charles? Forget it. We're done talking," Max declared, grabbing his helmet and walking away with Y/n behind him. "Hij is een klootzak." Y/n muttered. "Ah, dus nu zie je die kant van hem?"

"Why are you even here? Don't you hate me?" Y/n asked, too tired to move her head from his shoulder. Charles sighed. "I never hated you, Y/n. You started hating me so I pretended to hate you back." Her brow furrowed in confusion. "But you always seemed so distant, so cold." Charles cast his gaze downward, confessing, "I didn't want Max to think I was interfering. I liked you from when I was in karting, but you started dating Carlos and I just gave up."

"I wish I had known, Charles," Y/n admitted, wiping away tears. "I could've used a friend." Charles offered a reassuring smile. "Well, you have one now. And if you'll let me, maybe more than just a friend." She sighed. "As much as I would love to, I just don't think I'm ready to have a boyfriend, let alone date my ex's teammate." Y/n replied. "That's fine. He's out of a Ferrari seat for next year anyway." Y/n smiled. "Listen, I don't care how long it takes. I've waited like what, 15 years already? I may as well hold on for another while."

[bestiesenpai]

sukuna bridgerton au pt2

Writing this immediately after posting the first one because this brings me so much joy. The dress I had in mind for the wedding was the one worn by Princess Charlotte in 1816 so if you’d like a visual please refer to that

part one — part three -- part four

Link to the ring i mention here

You managed to push the appointment with the modiste to a further date, reminding your mother that Sukuna hadn’t even proposed yet.

“Oh but he will!” She countered, giddy as could be. “At the coming ball he will.”

“Did he tell you himself?” Crossing your arms in resignation, it felt like you were the mother and she the child with you trying to quell her excitement over something that hasn’t yet happened.

“He did! Asked your father for permission to propose the day after your first meeting!” That made your jaw drop and any further words you had to say were quelled, the fire inside you dampened for a moment.

On the night of this fateful ball, it was forced upon you to wear Sukuna’s family color, Prussian blue. To have gloves or a purse of the color would have been fine with you but a whole dress was too obvious and put you at risk of embarrassment should he decide not to propose after all. But with your parents too blindsided by this burgeoning royal connection there was no hope of talking them out of it.

“(Y/N)!” Walking into the party, you immediately sought out your friends. A few of them had actually been proposed to already and you marveled at their rings decorated with beauties such as emeralds and rubies.

“You’ll get yours soon enough!” They teased, making butterflies erupt inside you despite your best efforts. A fit of giggles took over you as you thought about what the ring might look like.

“We shall see, girls!” Wiggling your bodies, you made your way to the refreshments table, eager to fill your stomachs before descending upon the dance floor. A few men filled your dance card as you ate and you danced with them gleefully. This felt like your last night of freedom before Sukuna caught you within his grasp.

The party was just about in full swing when the Queen and Sukuna made their entrance, causing everyone to pause for a moment to greet them properly. You were just in the throws of a spirited dance with an older male acquaintance when it all stopped. Out of breath and with a ditzy smile on your face, you curtseyed just as every other woman did, barely paying any attention to Sukuna’s long look in your direction. Once the music started up again, instead of coming to him like he assumed you would, you returned to dancing.

“Jealous?” The Queen quipped with a teasing smirk on her face.

“No. Never.” Quickly fixing his gaze to what was ahead of him, Sukuna shook his head. “Come, let's find our seats.” He ignored the chuckle behind him as he led the way and he staunchly ignored the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach - that was something he would rather die over than confront.

After finally finishing every dance with the men on your card, you were able to slink away and find respite. You were admittedly a little tipsy from the Italian ratafia, the cherries in it slightly addicting and adding to the flavor of the pastries you were becoming so fond of.

“Miss (Y/N), His Highness wishes to see you.” A footman interrupted your period of indulgence and motioned to the perch at the head of the room where Sukuna was standing and waiting.

“Please inform His Highness that I am preoccupied at the moment and shall see him when I’m ready.” Giving the footman a curt smile, you snagged another pastry and drink and walked off into another area of the party where some games were being played.

“What is my wife thinking, denying me an audience?” Not even five minutes later Sukuna had appeared behind you and you could feel his annoyance.

“Wife? Who is that?” Looking down at your empty ring finger, you chuckled to yourself. “It seems I am unfamiliar with her, Your Highness.” You laughed again, this time made louder at someone's display in charades. Sukuna laughed as well so as not to arouse suspicion of any ill will.

“Miss (Y/N), I wish for you to accompany me to the main hall.” He said, coming to properly stand next to you.

“I decline that offer, Your Highness.” You didn’t even turn to look at him, instead keeping your eyes on the game and shouting when another person guessed the right answer.

“I- you cannot be serious.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sukuna sighed shortly. “Please, you know what has to happen right now.”

“It can wait until this game is over.” You pushed back, finally sparing him a glance. “After all, a gentleman listens to a lady when she says no, does he not?” Your question stopped all further argument from Sukuna and he relented, allowing you to finish your refreshments and watch the game.

“There, it is over now.” Huffing, Sukuna let his hand hover near the crook of your elbow. “Now will you please follow me?”

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Giving him a big cheeky grin you walked off ahead and once in the main hall, you stood where he wanted you to, just a few feet in front of the Queen. Clearing his throat, Sukuna motioned for the orchestra to stop playing as he drew everyone's attention to the two of you.

“Thank you for your attention everyone.” He started off, giving the room a once over. “I will not keep you long as I know we are all eager to enjoy the night, but I ask that you bear witness to what I am about to do.”

Taking a deep breath, as if on cue a footman stepped forward and handed him a small velvet box. Sukunas eyes were staring straight at you as he bent down to one knee, making everyone in the room hold their breath.

“Miss (Y/N),” he started, making sure he was loud enough for the room to hear, “even though we have only known each other a short time, I feel the chemistry between us. I do not want to waste time and have you possibly stolen from me by another…” You could tell he was faking being nervous by the way he paused and looked around the room. Always one for a show, he is.

“Will you please marry me?” As the words left his lips you heard your mother gasp and out of the corner of your eye you could see her clutch your fathers sleeve. It felt like time stood still as you looked at Sukuna, then the Queen, then the crowd before you. The scale had tipped in your favor, the power was in your hands; you could say no.

“Yes.” The crowd erupted into applause, launching Sukuna to stand and grab your hand.

“I knew you’d say yes.” He teased, slipping the very large ring onto your finger. It was a gorgeous sapphire, the same Prussian blue as his house colors, with a twisted pavé of sparkling diamonds around it and going down the band. “That's a 7 carat sapphire.” Sukuna boasted, turning your hand so it shined in the light.

“Beautiful indeed.” Seeing the ring and feeling the weight on your finger made what was happening all real and coupled with Sukuna holding your hand so gingerly, it made your heart flutter.

Turning to the Queen, you both bowed to her, earning a nod of the head in return. Turning to the crowd, it was only moments before your friends and family crowded around to congratulate you and see the ring. So many were in awe of the size and their jealousy was hardly contained, some looking down to their own rings in disappointment.

It took a while for the party to return to normal but you eventually found yourself being surrounded by your friends again at a table in the other room, sipping on far too many cocktails in the name of celebration.

“To (Y/N)!” They all cried, equally if not more intoxicated than you were. “May Her Highness not forget about us when she resides in the palace!”

“Please!” You laughed at the new title. “As if I could ever forget my dearest friends!” At that, you raised your glasses and polished them off, trying and failing to gently place them on the table.

You all stayed until the end of the party, stumbling out of your seats and finding your respective chaperones once it was time to leave. Unable to find your mother or father, you wandered around the garden and admired the topiary.

“Aren’t you cold out here?” A familiar voice sounded and you didn’t need to turn to see who it was.

“Not at all, Your Highness. I rather enjoy the evening breeze.” In truth you were but the alcohol was dulling your senses.

“Do not call me that anymore, we’re engaged. Call me by my given name.”

“I will do no such thing.” Turning to him, you shook your head a little too hard. “That should be reserved for people in love and we are not in love.” He groaned in annoyance and followed behind you as you walked in the garden. Sukuna felt the urge to demand you call him by his name, force you to bend to his will but he couldn’t find it in him. So instead he walked quietly and said nothing.

“I do like the ring.” You broke the silence, turning to face him once you decided you’d seen enough.

“You do? It's a family heirloom. Belonged to a grandpa's cousin's aunt or something like that.”

“Hm.” You didn’t laugh at his attempt at a joke even if it did amuse you slightly. Swaying on your feet, you held your hand up at eye level, the gold of the ring contrasting with the black velvet gloves you were wearing.

“It’s quite late and everyone is leaving. We should do the same.” The two of you were close enough to the house that no one would be scandalized by your being unchaperoned but Sukuna knew that if you were in your right mind you would be worried.

“Find my mother then.” Your eyes were still fixed on the ring. Sukuna scoffed at you and brought his hand to yours, attempting to grab onto it. “Do not!” You drew back, clutching your hand to your chest.

“Miss, please.” Sukuna was trying to be a gentleman and ensure your safety though truth be told he wasn’t sure why it mattered so much to him. He could have easily just walked off and gotten a footman to keep watch on you as he gathered your parents.

“I thought you wanted to use given names.” Tilting your head to the side, you looked at him curiously.

“I- be quiet.” A light flush rested over his cheeks and that irritated Sukuna. “Just come inside with me at the very least.” He was feeling the cold and he knew it was worse for you in your dress especially since your shawl had been discarded somewhere.

You stared back at him wordlessly as if seeing him for the first time. Squinting your eyes, you took in his attire, his Prussian blue tailcoat with metallic gold thread embroidered throughout and his crisp white waistcoat peeking out from underneath. The cravat he had on was tied intricately like when you had first met him and the ribbon to his pocket watch was also blue, dangling with an ornate cross and the seal of the kingdom. Gone were the boots he had worn previously, opting instead to adopt the shoes other men wore. His hair had been styled, trimmed and slicked back to showcase more of his face.

“Handsome.” You mumbled, taking a step toward Sukuna.

“What?” Your response surprised him but he didn’t move as you came forward and lifted a hand to graze his cheek.

“This is the first time I’m truly looking at you, Your Highness.”

“H-had you not seen me before?” He cursed himself for the stutter in his words but when the back of your hand brushed his cheek it made his tongue heavy. This softness from you was unexpected and he didn’t know how to handle it.

“I suppose not, hm?” It was like you were entranced by him, mesmerized by his beauty. Sukuna couldn’t tell if you were even really looking at him since your eyes had a faraway look to them. Raising his hand, he cupped yours as it dropped to run along his jaw and he could smell the faint perfume you had sprayed on your gloves. Something delicate and subtle, floral perhaps, just like a lady to use.

“Shall we…” Sukuna was going to ask to take you inside once more but you surprised him again by taking another step forward and resting your hand at the base of his throat. Your thumb ran along his Adam's apple, causing him to swallow quite loudly.

“Yes, let's.” You answered his unspoken question, dropping your hand from him entirely and sidestepping him to go inside. Sukuna remained glued to his spot however, his heart beating so hard he worried he was going to die.

“What is going on with me?” He wondered aloud, flexing his hands in front of him and begging his body to settle. Sure he had women flirt with him before but nothing as tender as this and he was positive you had no idea you were even flirting in the first place. You just…saw him, just observed how he looked and made no effort to do anything about it, hardly even complimented him excessively like he was used to.

By the time Sukuna made it back inside you had left with your parents and he was alone, the Queen having left already as well. Riding back to the palace by himself, Sukuna retraced where your hand had been on his face and sighed, recounting the velvet of your glove and the faintness of your perfume. It unsettled him that as he lay down to sleep he still thought of you and even in his dreams you appeared.

The next few weeks were a blur of wedding preparations. The Queen decided you’d be married at the end of the month, putting a time crunch on everything. You now went to a royal tailor instead of your usual modiste, there were what felt like a dozen ladies maids helping making decisions for you and you hardly had time to sleep.

So much happened in that month that you hardly even saw Sukuna at all. The only times you were together were to tour one of the Queens villas where the wedding was to be hosted and when there was a portrait painted of the two of you together to commemorate the wedding and to serve as a gift from the Queen. And both times you were chaperoned and you were too tired to truly make conversation.

The morning of your wedding came much too fast and you were up at dawn being bathed, fed a light meal and taken to the villa to be dressed in the most expensive outfit you would most likely ever wear. There were more layers being put on than you were used to and your corset was tied just a bit tighter.

“(Y/N).” Your parents stood at the doorway as your wedding dress was settled onto you. Looking at them through a mirror, you could only smile at the way they were getting teary; you’d been instructed not to move by the head maid and she was very serious in her request. You were spritzed with perfume and white gloves were slid onto your hands at the same time you were donned with jewelry. The weight of such pieces, on loan from the royal family for such an occasion, made you nervous beyond compare.

“Final touch, Miss.” Looking back at yourself, you watched as a tiara was taken from a velvet box and put atop your head, secured by pins before a beautiful lacy veil was put on top to complete the look.

“Oh, my daughter.” Your mother couldn’t contain herself and turned away, dabbing at her lashline with her handkerchief. Collecting herself quickly, she stepped into the room and let her hand ghost over the veil. “You are…magnificent.” She whispered, finally grasping your hand tightly.

“Thank you.” You couldn’t look away from yourself, everything was done so precisely. Your dress had more jewels and pearls than you’d seen in your life and you were afraid to touch it or even breathe too much in it; it felt as if you were a living work of art, one that must not be disturbed in any manner for any thing.

“Here Miss, to calm your nerves.” The head maid handed you a dainty glass cup filled with a dark liquid and the scent made your nose burn slightly.

“W-what is this?”

“Spiced brandy.”

“But I’m not nervous!”

“Oh trust me Miss, you will be.” She motioned for you to drink and you looked back down at the cup. It was small enough that you could drink it quickly and be done with it, so you steeled yourself and shot it back, almost retching before the maid slapped a hand over your mouth and got you to swallow it.

“O-oh my god.” You coughed, almost dropping the cup. “That was awful.”

“You’ll thank me later, promise.” She said, patting you on the back and then fixing your makeup. The alcohol worked quickly, making your body warm and a bit looser.

“They’re ready, ma’am.” Another maid announced from the doorway, signaling it was time to get going.

“Right this way.” Led out of the dressing room and down the hallway, the further you went the louder the chatter from all the guests became and the piano playing as background music was nearly drowned out by the buzz of excitement. Coming upon the grand hall, a maid rushed out of one of the doors and for a brief moment you saw just how many people - how many royal people - had attended.

“Thank you for that drink.” You swiftly turned to the head maid who nodded knowingly at you.

“Miss (Y/N) is ready.” She spoke to a footman instead who knocked on the large wooden doors in front of you three times, and through them you heard another gather the attention of the crowd.

As the doors opened, your mother and eldest brother went first and your hand gripped the arm your father had hooked into yours. Your whole life has led up to this moment, this exact time. This was what everyone wanted from you and you were providing as you should, but you couldn’t stop shaking.

“Father.” You turned to him before you stepped into the light from the doorway. “I-I’m nervous, what if I mess up?”

“My love.” He spoke kindly to you, softer than he ever had before. “You could fail a thousand times in a thousand ways and you would still be perfect.” Brushing over your veil, he took a deep breath himself. “Besides, you are not the only one that’s nervous.”

You chuckled breathlessly as he said that and then it was time to walk forward into the light of the venue, into what was fast becoming your new life. Swallowing thickly, you followed him as your father led you to stand in the doorway.

Walking down the aisle was something you’d spoken about, hell even practiced with your siblings and friends as a joke throughout the years, but doing the actual deed was much different. Your eyes roamed over all the guests standing at attention and drinking you in. There was no way to miss all their eyes on you and the way they followed as you walked down. No one said a word, no one dared even breathe too loud as you moved closer and closer to Sukuna.

Sukuna, who was dressed in the most formal attire you’d ever seen him in: a full dress royal military uniform complete with silky white gloves, an Order of the Garter sash, gold aiguillettes and a few medals you didn’t know the meaning of. His military hat was being held by a groomsman behind him and you dared to briefly look down and see his shoes were shined to perfection and he had a full dress sword with a golden tassel hanging from it.

The walk was over before you knew it and soon your father was unwinding his arm from yours to shake Sukunas hand. Giving you a brief kiss on the cheek, you heard him sniffle before he turned away and took his seat with your family.

Standing for a moment, Sukuna looked awestruck as he stared at you. His eyes were a tad wider than they usually were and for a second you thought you saw his eyes get glassy. Holding out his hand, Sukuna helped you up the three small steps onto the altar before letting go and standing at attention before the archbishop.

He wanted desperately to say something to you before the vows started, wanted to say how stunning you were and how happy he was to see you walk down the aisle. But none of that came to him; you had quite truly taken his breath away. So instead, he hyper-focused on the archbishop's words and made sure he said the right things at the right times.

After the last ‘I do’, Sukuna turned to you and lifted your veil almost too slowly, too carefully, as if he was afraid that with any wrong move you would shatter into thousands of pieces. Once he had lifted the veil and folded it away, he stared at you for what felt like ages before he forced air into his chest and leaned forward.

To your relief the kiss didn’t last too long, you weren’t sure how much longer you could take being stared at like this. Both of yours’ lips trembled upon touching and while he did put a little force behind it, Sukuna still made sure to be gentle.

“Shall we?” He whispered once he pulled away, offering his hand and motioning back down the aisle. You couldn’t find the words, so you just nodded your head and allowed him to lead you down. The sound of the guests cheering surprised you and you looked around at all who attended. There were royals from different countries that were here in their traditional dress, all of whom you’d only read about and never thought you’d ever see. All of your friends were there and half the ton, something that brought you great comfort. There was still a sense of familiarity in all of this.

Once the two of you had left the room, it was a mad dash with the servants to fix your makeup and get the two of you into the next room to start receiving guests. Going to the reception hall, you smiled at the inclusion of your favorite flowers and colors along with Sukunas Prussian blue.

Sitting down on an ornate chaise lounge, you thanked the servants that fluffed out your dress and settled your veil over the rest of the seat, letting the full length of it be on display. You weren’t sitting side by side with Sukuna, moreover he sat straight on whereas you were at a slight angle facing him with your dress brushing his knee every so often.

“You look…” He finally spoke, fixing his hat and gloves nervously.

“Yes?” You urged, trying to meet his eyes. It was unlike him to be coy like this.

“Absolutely breathtaking.” The words were a whisper on his lips and he glanced at you as he said them, eager to look back down at his gloved fingers.

“You’re serious?”

“Of course I am. You’re my wife.” Clearing his throat, Sukuna grabbed your hand and held it on his thigh. “Let them in!” He called to the footman and the doors were opened, with the first people ushered in being the Queen, followed by your family. Following Sukuna’s lead, you did not stand when she entered which had you twitching anxiously.

“To the happy new couple.” She said, giving a small clap. “I hope you enjoy the honeymoon I’ll provide to you.”

“Th-thank you, Your Majesty!” Your mouth dropped in shock, you forgot about the honeymoon. And with a honeymoon came consummating the marriage and you could feel your face begin to burn at the idea.

“(Y/N)!” All your siblings cried, rushing in once the Queen had made her exit. The younger ones leapt onto you while a sister right behind you in age ran her fingers over your veil. There was so much they were saying, how beautiful you looked and how ready they were for cake and it had you tearing up.

“Why are you crying?” Your mother asked, immediately grabbing a handkerchief to stem your tears.

“I-I’m going to miss you all, so so much!” Releasing Sukuna’s hand, you allowed your mother to clutch both of them.

“Listen to me, (Y/N)! You’ll see us again! It’s not as if you’re going on some great journey for five years, it’s just to the neighboring kingdom! Why, we can even come visit you if you’d like!” With your mother comforting you like a child, it was up to Sukuna to entertain your siblings and he was not prepared for the ordeal.

“Be careful with that sword!” Somehow two younger brothers managed to begin to unsheathe his sword with the intention of playing with it.

“Your Highness, since you’re our new brother can I ask you something?”

“Yes?”

“Why is your hair pink?”

“Everyone, please!” The look of exasperation quickly growing on Sukuna’s face pulled you out of your misery and a light laugh came out. “Let him rest, we have other guests to greet.”

“Yes, say goodbye to your sister and let us go out to the garden.”

“Bye!” Nearly smothered in a thousand hugs, they all eventually left. Before the next guests were brought in, a maid touched up your makeup at your mothers request.

“You’ll see them again, I promise.” Sukuna said, fixing his coat and a medal that had gone askew. “After our honeymoon we can bring them to the country estate.” Looking at Sukuna’s face you could tell he meant it and that made you smile.

“Thank you.”

As guest after guest came through, your knowledge of politics was put to the test. There was the Emperor Satoru Gojo who you knew Sukuna had a sometimes-not-so-friendly rivalry with. Archduke Nanami Kento whose people were renowned for their knowledge of cooking. King Getou Suguru hailed from a mountainous region with a high monkey population. All of them were kind to you, wishing you well and offering to host you in their country should you ever want to visit.

“Stay still.” Sukuna said abruptly as the next guests came in. The mood immediately shifted upon their entrance and you felt the air leave the room as a group of three filed in. They were clearly aristocrats or royalty Sukuna knew with the way he jumped up out of his seat.

“Your Highness!” There was one in the front who was clearly the leader, his yellow blonde hair contrasted with its dark tips. He had a few black metal piercings on each ear and the way he spoke made you bristle. “What a beautiful wedding!” Walking further into the room, the man locked eyes with you. “And an even more gorgeous wife.”

“Do not speak to her.” Sukuna stepped into his line of sight, effectively cutting you off. Looking at the rest of the group, there was a horrendously scarred woman staring at the floor and a man with inky black hair and a scar at the edge of his mouth. “What business do you have here?”

“Relax, we’re just here to pay our respects!” The blonde man began to waltz around the room with his arms open. “Why, a wedding truly has a way of bringing people together, does it not?” Returning to his previous position in the room, the man motioned to you. “Now, will you introduce us or do we have to do it ourselves?”

“You will not speak to her, you will not look at her.” Sukuna was irate, you could see it in the way his body had puffed up and his hand hovered near the hilt of his sword.

“Nonsense!” The man dared to take a step further and Sukuna gripped his sword, causing the woman to go into motion and move the cape she’d been wearing to the side, revealing a jagged looking blade tucked against her. You heard a few maids stifle terrified noises and you moved without thinking.

“M-my name is (Y/N)!” You shot up out of your seat, making everyone turn to you. The look in Sukuna’s eyes as he turned was white hot and scalding, forcing you to look away. “Her Highness, Crown Princess Ryomen (Y/N).” It was hard to say the entirety of your new title without stuttering but somehow you managed.

“What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman!” Sidestepping Sukuna, the blonde man held out his hand for you and you followed suit, playing whatever game he wanted and resting your hand in his, letting him kiss the back of it. “I am Tsar Zenin, Naoya Zenin.”

Your brow furrowed as you thought back to your schooling. There had been no mention of a Naoya Zenin anywhere in your books or in the newspapers and bulletins your father read. The Zenin family name was vague to you at best; but there was no time to dwell on it further as Naoya flicked his head and the man with the scarred lip came forward and pulled out a wooden box.

“Your Highness, allow me to give you a gift!” The top of the wooden box was removed with flair and inside was a thick suede headband, adorned with large circular diamonds forming a floral pattern with a few other colored gems dotting the empty spaces. There was also a pair of matching earrings that looked much too big for your ears.

“What do you think?” Naoya asked quietly.

“It’s- they’re very beautiful, thank you.” His expression was making you uncomfortable and you glanced at Sukuna. He had gone completely still as he watched the scene unfold before him.

“I hope to see you wearing them when you visit my country. Many women wear this style and I think it would suit you.”

“She will do no such thing.” Sukunas voice broke the buzzing tension in the air, ripping Naoya away from you and scoffing at the gift he gave. “I would never have my wife go anywhere near a country where a prince kills his whole family just to be in power.”

You gasped, nearly stumbling back at the news. Naoya’s eyes flicked to you and his smile faltered; he didn’t want you to know that part about him and moreover if you did come to know, he wanted to be the one to tell you and control the narrative you heard.

“Princess, don-”

“Do not speak to her!” Sukuna grabbed Naoya roughly by the collar and they locked eyes. Naoyas lackeys stood poised and ready should a fight break out but Naoya seemed perfectly content with the situation.

“I see the groom has had enough of us. We shall take our leave.” Raising his hands in surrender, Naoya slowly backed away with a cocky grin on his face. Turning to you, he put a hand on his chest and bowed. “Princess, I hope we meet again soon. I wish to bask in your beauty even longer next time.” With no other words, Naoya and his group left the way they came, making sure to leave the wooden box on a credenza by the door.

As soon as they left, Sukuna was in front of you, inspecting you with his eyes. His body was still painfully tense and you could see the way his teeth ground together every so often.

“Are you mad at me?” You were afraid he would start yelling at you at any moment, reprimand you for speaking to Naoya and not letting him handle the situation. Sukuna didn’t react to your question, instead picking up the hand that Naoya touched and wiping it off on his jacket.

“How are you?” He asked instead.

“I’m fine. I apologize for-”

“No. Stop.” Shaking his head, Sukuna bit back a sigh. “I am not mad at you. I am mad at myself for not expecting that a potential enemy to the kingdom would use this day as an opportunity to try and do something. I…I’m mad that I failed to protect you.” Sukuna shook his head again and looked down at the medals on his jacket. “I’m a godforsaken general afterall.”

After taking a moment to collect yourselves, you received the rest of your guests in quick succession. Seeing your friends helped push your shaken nerves away and so was seeing the rest of the ton. With the reception over, you moved into the main hall to continue the festivities.

“Excuse me.” Once inside, Sukuna made a beeline for a table occupied by a few of the royalty you had met with. They were sharing a few bottles of champagne and Sukuna popped one open and wasted no time drinking almost half of it.

As the wedding went on you were able to forget about Naoya and the seriousness of the situation. You danced with friends and family and even some members of the ton that had been jealous or disapproving of you getting to marry the prince. Everyone was in high spirits and it made you happy to be able to bring everyone together.

With the evening coming to a close, you realized you and Sukuna had hardly seen each other. You saw him dance with a few people, even the Queen, but for the most part he was drinking with his friends and playing yard games. Whenever you caught his eye he would wave, each time getting drunker and drunker.

“Your Highness, I know you’re to start your honeymoon right away as Prince Sukuna requested but he’s in no shape to travel tonight.” A footman gave you the information with a sorry look on his face and you understood why; Sukuna had drank so much he had to retreat from the party early to throw up. Emperor Gojo and King Getou were in no better shape passed out on the lawn and Archduke Nanami was nursing his last drink with a bright flush on his cheeks.

“I understand. Please, see to it that he cleans up and rests for tonight and I will see our guests off.” You pitied the valet’s that would have to wrestle Sukuna into a bathtub. Turning back to the party, it wouldn’t be so bad to finish it alone as a few guests had already taken their leave.

“A shame about your new husband, my dear.” The Queen came to stand at your side, making your back immediately straighten.

“Yes, it is.”

“He told me what happened. With the Tsar.” She spoke quietly, bringing her fan to the front of her face. “Tell me, what do you think of the whole matter?”

“I…” Truth be told, you tried not to think about it. “I do not think we should rush into responding to this…intrusion. I feel as though Naoya is just playing, he wanted to test the Prince's patience; see how far he could go.”

“I agree. The Zenin family has had a bloody climb to power but I know they wouldn’t be stupid enough to rush into any conflict just yet. Their country is on shaky ground as it is, Naoya must secure his right to the throne before he looks elsewhere.” The Queen's words were reassuring and enough to give you peace of mind. She always knew what to say, so confident in her words and actions; you hoped to emulate her one day when Sukuna took the throne.

“My diamond, let’s give your guests a proper farewell. Your honeymoon awaits you.” Putting her fan away, the Queen gently grabbed your hand and squeezed.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

[helloalycia]

𝐈 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐑 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] // 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐃

summary: Lucy Gray has always been there for you, the only person you care for as much as you do. So much, in fact, that when you discover Mayfair's plan to have her reaped in the Hunger Games, you know you have to stop it. Even if it means giving up your own life.

warning/s: the usual warnings that come with the Hunger Games.

author's note: okay so someone requested another lucy gray imagine where reader volunteers for her, so that’s what i did but kinda did it a little bit different as the usual volunteering storyline feels very been there done that lol. Hope you all like it anyway! there’s a second part too :)

two / masterlist / wattpad

It had been a long a day, my feet hurting from being stood up for so long and my exhaustion from working a long shift worsening by the second. But as soon as the clock hit 5pm, all my energy returned and I was quick to leave my apron behind as I left. Working at a crockery stall in the markets wasn't a terrible job, and it paid decently, but some days dragged longer than others and I only wished for it to end.

Thankfully, tonight was also a night that the Covey performed at the Hob, so I made my way over there, specifically behind it where the musical group got ready before performances in an abandoned garage they claimed as theirs. I always met before their shows, wanting to wish them luck and also because Lucy Gray, my best friend, would never let me hear the end of it if I didn't stop by beforehand.

"There you are!" Maude Ivory, the youngest of the group, called me over once I stepped in the open door. "You took forever!"

"I'm like two minutes late, Maude Ivory," I defended myself, and a smile fell on my lips when I saw her pouting. "Sorry."

"Can you braid my hair like last time?" she asked politely, already turning around and readying herself for me.

"I sure can," I agreed, smiling at the others as they got ready before moving to braid Maude Ivory's hair.

It didn't take long, just a simple braid around the crown of her head, complementing the rest of her hair that was left out in a way that made her look like a princess. Adorable.

"Oh, I love it!" she gushed, immediately looking in the mirror to appreciate it, and I watched her with a smile. "Thank you, Y/N!"

"No problem," I said dismissively.

"Wow, you look beautiful, Maude Ivory," Lucy Gray appeared beside me, smiling down at the younger girl, and then she gave me a playful look. "Favouritism much?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "All you had to do was ask."

She immediately took a seat on the chair Maude Ivory was moments ago. When I didn't move, she glanced over her shoulder at me with a knowing nod. "Well, go on then."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly before moving to braid her hair next, squeezing her shoulder slightly in retaliation, and I knew she was smiling all the same. As I'd done many times before, I combed out Lucy Gray's curly hair with my fingers, unknotting it the best I could, before separating it into two parts and giving her two over-the-shoulder braids.

"You done?" she asked impatiently, definitely trying to annoy me.

I finished tying off the second braid before rounding the chair to take a look. Her brown eyes looked up at me adorably, and even though she did nothing special, my heart fluttered in my chest at the attention.

Okay, so maybe I liked her a little more than friends, but I couldn't help it. She was the only person I had in my life that meant something to me, the only one who truly cared. After becoming friends many years ago because we happened to play in the park together as kids, she was stuck with me, and I suppose my gratitude for having her in my life turned into adoration somewhere along the way.

The only real family I had was my father, but he had been bitter towards me since my mum died only a few years after I was born. He hated me without saying it, and I sought love in friendship with Lucy Gray. Though, it was so much more than that on my end. But she could never know, for I'd rather have her in my life like this than not at all. And I would never risk jeopardising that, ever.

"Don't move," I warned her, before leaving the garage for a moment to pick a flower I'd seen just outside.

When I returned, I was surprised to see her sat how I'd left her, though pouting. I carefully slid the flower at the top of her braid, near her ear, and stepped back to admire my work.

"You're done, Little Miss Impatient," I finally said with a stifled smile.

She gave me a disapproving look before moving to the mirror to check it out. Her facade faltered as a warm smile tugged at her lips and she admired the view.

"Okay, I'll let you off since this is pretty nice," she said jokingly.

"Wow, only nice? I thought it was much more than that," I played along.

Her smile widened as she approached me, before kissing me on the cheek and hugging me briefly. I was expecting neither, my brain short circuiting as quickly as she pulled away.

"It's beautiful, Y/N, thank you," she said truthfully, losing her humour. When I didn't know what to say, too busy trying not to think about her lips against my cheek, she said, "You're stayin', right?"

I blinked, dazed. "Huh?"

She began to chuckle, and then her question truly sank in and I cleared my throat, nodding.

"I– yes, I am," I said, giving her a small smile. "Where else would I be?"

She rolled her eyes playfully before turning to the others. "Right, guys, are we ready to blow everyone's socks off?!"

As always, I enjoyed my evening at the Hob, cheering the Covey on and staying for all their performances as promised. It was always so lovely in there, except for the occasional fight that would break out between the miners and Peacekeepers, but none of that happened tonight. I was tired by the end of it all, as were the others, but as we all walked out together, Lucy Gray tugged my hand back.

"Hm?" I said, yawning as I looked to her.

"Are you in a rush to get home?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"No, why?" I asked curiously.

Excited, she said, "Come to the lake with me."

I quirked a brow. "Now?"

Expression softening, she nodded. "Yeah, it'll be nice. It's a clear night too."

Another yawn escaped my lips and I covered my mouth before shaking my head. "I dunno, I'm a little tired and it's getting late."

"C'mon," she insisted, before grabbing my hand and forcing me to follow her, but not before looking to the others and adding, "I'll see you guys later!"

"Don't make too much noise when you're back!" Barb Azure, the eldest of their group, warned her.

"I won't," Lucy Gray mumbled, and then we were off and I just about managed to wish everyone a goodnight behind me before we were too far from them.

"How aren't you tired?" I asked as I fell into step with her, accepting my defeat and knowing I couldn't really decline her offer anyway. "You've been onstage all night."

She shrugged. "I'm a little tired, but I wanted to spend more time with you. You've been workin' loads lately."

I sighed, feeling a little bad. "Sorry, it's the house. Payments are falling behind and my dad is getting on my back and–"

"Hey, I'm not complainin'," she stopped me. "I just miss you."

A small smile crept on my lips at her unwavering honesty – that was one thing I'd always envied about her. She could say how she was feeling without overthinking how it could be perceived, whereas I was the complete opposite.

"I'm right here," I assured her, and then she glanced at me with a smile that warmed my heart.

"How is he?" she asked. "He still standoffish with you?"

"Isn't he always?" I said, a little bitterly, before shaking my head. "Never mind him anyway. Doesn't matter."

Probably sensing my mood, she said, "You're right, it doesn't. You have me."

I was glad it was dark out, otherwise she would've seen the pink dusting my cheeks.

We continued our walk to the lake, talking and trying to stay awake long enough to make it there. It was a long walk on a regular day, but tonight it felt even longer because of the constant stepping around and trying to find our way in the dim light of the moon peeking through the trees. Still, it was comforting to be around Lucy Gray instead of back home where my dad would no doubt be on my case, so I savoured the time together.

By the time we reached the lake – in particular, a spot where a cabin sat, with a dock and boat beside it – Lucy Gray and I were wide awake, any hint of exhaustion for the evening dispersing with our trek. We both took a seat at the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the side, and she nudged my arm gently.

"Look how pretty the water looks," she said with amazement, and I hummed in agreement.

It was beautiful out tonight, the lull of the water lapping over itself and shimmering in the moonlight providing the perfect view for a perfect evening. Being out here always put me at ease, but being out here with Lucy Gray was indescribable.

After a moment of quiet, she nudged me again and I took the hint, following her lead as we both lay on our backs to look up at the night sky. If the view before was great, then this was amazing. Stars filled the sky, dazzling and bright and filling me with a sense of awe. It was different than seeing the stars from my house – this was all open, isolated, peaceful. I loved it.

"How many have times have you been here at night?" I asked Lucy Gray curiously.

"Not a lot," she assured, "but enough to know that it'a perfect for stargazin', and you love that, so I wanted to show you."

I chuckled a little. "I do. Thanks."

Another quiet enveloped us, only the sound of the water, the trees rustling gently and some birds in the distance to be heard. I could have stayed like this forever. It certainly would have been an upgrade from my usual life.

"Did you see Billy Taupe earlier?" Lucy Gray asked suddenly.

Billy Taupe was her ex-boyfriend and an ex-member of the Covey, but we'd all be ignoring him for a few weeks now after we'd discovered he'd cheated on Lucy Gray with the mayor's daughter. As a result, him and said daughter, Mayfair Lipp, weren't fond of us, especially Mayfair, who seemed to hold a personal vendetta against Lucy Gray.

I nodded, glancing at her, but she was still looking at the sky. "Yeah. I avoided him, but him and Mayfair were glaring at me for sure."

She exhaled quietly, troubled.

"Did he say something?" I asked, attention fully on her now.

"He confronted me between one of my performances," she admitted, piquing both my interest and concern. "Started talkin' about how I needed to stop badmouthin' him to the rest of the Covey."

I furrowed my brows. "You haven't though. If anything, you barely mention him."

"Well, he doesn't seem to think that," she said with an eye roll.

I frowned, hating to see her upset at the likes of him yet again. "If he keeps bothering you, tell me. I'll have a word with him."

As if I'd said something hilarious, she began to smile and then laughter spilled from her lips. "You're cute, and I appreciate it, but you shouldn't get involved. Him and Mayfair are capable of a lot."

"Lucy Gray–" I started, ready to retort, but she cut me off with a serious stare, her smile fading.

"Promise me, Y/N," she said sternly, dark eyes boring into mine.

I gave in instantly, embarrassingly enough. "I promise."

Visibly relieved, she relaxed and nodded slightly before sitting up and stretching her arms. I watched for a moment, though thoughts of Billy Taupe and his foulness stuck in my mind. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? Same with Mayfair? Didn't they have anything better to do?

"Say, you ever been for an evenin' swim under the stars?"

I blinked, barely paying attention. "What?"

She glanced down at me with a smirk, before standing up and beginning to step out of her dress. Realising what she was doing, I sat up and started to protest.

"Lucy Gray, it's gonna be cold and dark and–"

But she beat me to it, her dress pooling by my feet as she dove in from the edge of the dock. I wiped my face with mild annoyance as she splashed me, watching as she resurfaced with a laugh.

"C'mon, you gon' leave me hangin'?!" she exclaimed.

I narrowed my eyes at her with distaste, but as always, I couldn't say no to her. So, grumbling to myself petulantly, I stepped out of my own clothes and dove right into the water next to her. It was cold, as suspected, but as I resurfaced, my body was already getting used to the temperature. It was still the middle of summer, so it was actually quite refreshing in the evening heat, though my complaints of it being dark were still valid.

"Not bad, right?" Lucy Gray asked me with a grin.

I pushed my hair from my eyes and gave her a reluctant glance. "I suppose not."

Her grin only widened, and then she looked up, eyes reflecting the moonlight and shimmering like the water. "Look."

I looked up too, amazed by the sight of the sky yet again, but before I could say anything, Lucy Gray splashed my face with water, making me shriek with surprise.

"Lucy Gray!" I scolded, wiping my eyes as she laughed. "You did that on purpose!"

Her laughter only increased, and then I was attempting to splash her back, but she was swimming backwards and then I was swimming after her, her laughter filling the silence of the woods and brightening up the place more than the moon ever could. I eventually grabbed her and splashed her face enough for her to spit it out and cease her laughter.

"Okay, okay, you win!" she gave in, wiping her eyes before playfully glaring at me.

It was my turn to laugh and she rolled her eyes lightheartedly before swimming around me yet again.

We stayed there for a little longer, splashing about and talking about everything and nothing. It was easy to forget everything waiting for me back home, or my job that I didn't want to go to, or the reality of our lives. No, all I had to focus on right now was Lucy Gray's voice, her company, her.

But it was seriously getting late, no doubt past midnight now, and all good things couldn't last forever. We were floating on our backs, staring at the sky in a comfortable silence, and I hated that I had to interrupt it.

"We should go back," I said reluctantly, stopping floating. "If my dad realises–"

"Right, yeah," she agreed apologetically. "Come on."

We both climbed out the lake in a peaceful silence, tugging on our clothes and shoes and squeezing the water from our hair the best we could. As I was doing just that, I felt her eyes on me and looked up with a confused smile.

"What?" I asked, feeling the last of the water drip down my wrists as I let go of my hair.

She began to smile unabashedly. "I'm glad I have you. Thanks for coming tonight. For being here."

My face was heating up, but I played it off with a playful eye roll. "Weirdo."

She chuckled quietly, shaking her head, before leading the way back to the Seam.

It had been a long day at work and the last thing I wanted was to come home to my father being grumpy, and yet that was what I'd gotten a few days later.

As soon as I walked in, I saw him home too, looking around the kitchen with a clenched jaw. He must have just got back from the mines, judging from the coal dust covering his clothes and skin.

"Hey, dad," I greeted politely, though already feeling tense because he didn't seem to be in a good mood.

"The hell is all this?" he asked me, ignoring my greeting and instead motioning to the dishes on the table.

"What do you mean?" I asked with confusion, leaving my bag by the door.

"It's a mess in here," he said with irritation. "Did you not clean up?"

"Dad, I've been at work all day," I reminded him, sensing he'd had a bad day at work, because he wasn't usually this hostile. "When would I have cleaned up?"

He raised his eyebrows, as if I'd said something absurd. "Excuse me?"

I swallowed hard, not liking the way he sneered at me. "I–," I started, but stopped because I didn't know what to say. Technically, they were his dishes. His mess.

"Y'know, I work really hard to keep us alive," he said with a glare. "And the least you could do is keep the place tidy. You do fuck all anyway!"

I clenched my jaw, frowning and trying my best to contain my annoyance. "I know you do. But these were your dishes. From breakfast. I didn't even eat, I just left."

"Oh, so it's my fault?! That what you're saying?!"

"You're not listening!" I couldn't help but shout, getting sick and tired of his behaviour. "Look, you might have had a bad day at work, but you can't just take it out on me!"

"You don't know what I get up to at work!" he shouted right back. "It's not like yours, standing there, looking pretty! It's hard labour! Something you could never understand!" Then he motioned around and added, "Clearly! This place is a tip!"

I clenched my fists behind my back, but my anger was building up. "It's a tip because of you, dad! You leave it a mess! Then you come back and you blame it on me!"

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me!" he yelled. "Have some respect!"

"Then actually try and listen to what I'm–!"

I couldn't even finish because he suddenly slapped me across the face, a sharp, blinding slap that knocked me off my feet for a second, leaving me stumbling into the kitchen table. I blinked, tears pooling in my eyes.

"Clean this place up," he snapped, before turning around to go to his room, slamming the door behind him.

I breathed out slowly, eyes burning now, and tried to ignore the pins and needles on my cheek. It wasn't the first time he'd hit me, and I should have been used to it, but it still took me by surprise sometimes. I hated it. I hated him. I would have done anything to leave, but I had nowhere to go.

Needing to get out of there as I calmed down, I left through the front door, waiting by the side of the house. I took in some fresh air and wiped furiously at my tears. He was the worst father a child could ask for, but he was the only one I had.

My face was hot and I was glad I couldn't see my reflection, knowing it would just be red on one side. As I finished wiping the last of my tears, I heard footsteps from behind me and sucked up a breath before turning around, worried it might be my father, back for round two. Thankfully it wasn't, but it was Lucy Gray.

She was smiling at first, then her eyes took in my expression and it faded instantly.

"What happened?" she asked straight away, stopping before me.

"Nothing," I assured her, though my cheek was still flaming, and she wasn't stupid.

She looked back at my house, and then back to me with a frown. "He was upset again, wasn't he?"

I looked to my shoes shamefully, not needing to answer. She knew what he was like, but it was something I hated to put on her. Nonetheless, she understood, and she touched my cheek gently, making me wince.

"You should stay with us," she muttered, trying to find my eyes, but I wouldn't look up. "We'll always have room for you, Y/N."

"I can't," I said with embarrassment. "And he's not always like this. It's– I'm handling it."

"No, you're not," she said, letting go of my cheek.

I didn't want to argue, nor did I want her pity, so I cleared my throat and looked up with the intention to change the subject. "What did you come here for anyway?"

She wasn't happy as she gave me a worried look. "Y/N–"

"Lucy Gray," I pleaded, before she could say anything more.

Giving in, she exhaled quietly. "I wanted to see if you wanted to go on a picnic with us tomorrow. You're not workin', right?"

At the sound of something much nicer, I relaxed and nodded. "I'd like that."

She seemed to relax too. "Good." Then she glanced over her shoulder at the house again, before adding, "You're stayin' with us tonight."

"I'm not–"

"You are," she insisted stubbornly. "You still have a few things left from last time."

I sighed tiredly. "I have to clean up. He's gonna be mad."

"We'll clean up together, then you're comin'," she reasoned.

"I'll do it myself," I told her, shaking my head. "You know he doesn't like me hanging around with you."

She looked ready to protest, but I shot her a pleading look. The last thing I wanted was to set him off again, especially in front of Lucy Gray. Thankfully, she seemed to get this and nodded reluctantly.

"Fine, but hurry up," she gave in, taking my hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "I don't like you in there alone."

"I'll be quick," I promised, before leaving her to clean up.

My dad was still sulking in his room, so I was able to clean up quickly and let him know where I was going. He didn't answer, nor did he stop me, so I left and met Lucy Gray back outside. She took my hand without question, not letting go until we reached her place. I was glad not to be alone tonight.

A week later, it was another fun evening at the Hob where I watched my best friend perform and I didn't have to worry about work or my dad or anything. It was just like any other evening there, nothing out of the ordinary, or so I thought.

During one of Maude Ivory's talented solos, I got up to the go to the toilet, making it a quick one so I wouldn't miss a thing. But as I left the women's toilets, I caught sight of Billy Taupe and Mayfair chatting around the corner in hushed voices. I didn't care at first, trying to ignore they existed for Lucy Gray's sake, but then they mentioned the singer herself and I couldn't help but eavesdrop a little.

"...doesn't know when to keep her trap shut and herself to herself," Mayfair was saying bitterly.

"She's a singer," Billy Taupe reminded her. "That's what she does. Just ignore it."

Mayfair scoffed. "She thinks she has everyone in this town wrapped around her finger because, what, she can sing? And put on a little show? Well, you know what, we'll see how she sings her way out of the reaping!"

I froze from behind the wall, wondering what she meant by that.

"What?" Billy Taupe asked, just as confused but suspicious as I.

"She may have the looks, honey, but I have the connections," Mayfair continued, her hushed voice growing increasingly more annoyed as she spoke. "You just wait until reaping day. Lucy Gray won't be bothering anyone for much longer."

My eyes widened at her threat. What the hell was she talking about?

"What are you–" Billy Taupe started, but the sound of the floorboards creaking beneath my weight made him stop, and I cursed inwardly.

Before they could even consider investigating, I slipped away between the doors unnoticed, back into the main room where everybody was distracted by the singing, dancing and drinking. My head was reeling though, trying to piece together what I'd just heard.

There was no way Mayfair would do what she was implying, right? She wouldn't just sabotage the reaping because of a feud, surely? Would she? If she did, then that would mean Lucy Gray would be chosen as tribute and–

Oh, God. If she was chosen, she'd be shipped off to partake in the Hunger Games and that was it. She wasn't a fighter, she was a performer. And the Games was no place for someone like her. I'd never see her again. And her family– oh, no. No, this couldn't happen!

What could I do to stop this? Mayfair would never listen to reason, especially not from me. It wasn't fair, any of it.

Suddenly, I felt nauseous at the thought of everything playing out just as Mayfair wanted. Needing some fresh air, feeling overly stuffy in the Hob, I pushed past everyone and stepped outside, ignoring those who were enjoying a cigarette or drink and trying not to throw up.

I couldn't lose Lucy Gray like this, not because of some stupid feud. How badly could Mayfair hate her to do this? The Covey would be broken without her. She was too valuable to everyone. And she was all I had.

"Y/N?"

I turned around, seeing Lucy Gray approaching me with a concerned smile on her lips.

"What happened?" she asked, stopping before me.

I blinked, my thoughts still racing around. "What?"

"You left lookin' upset," she said worriedly. "What happened?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, shaking my head. "Nothing. I just feel sick. Might've eaten something funny."

Her smile faded, replaced by a concerned frown. "Oh, gosh, do you wanna go home? Go to ours? I can walk you back. The others won't mind if I leave a little early."

She was watching me carefully, patiently, dark eyes flittering around my face as if she'd find the problem just like that. She was too kind for her own good and I couldn't help but think about how unfair this all was. She wasn't a bad person at all. How could Mayfair do this? Why couldn't I do anything about it? There had to be something!

"Y/N?" Lucy Gray said, before pressing the back of her hand to my forehead with concentration. "Hmm, you do feel a little warm."

It wasn't fair.

Without thinking, I hugged her tightly, promising myself there and then that I would fix this. She wasn't going to be subjected to Mayfair's wrath, not if I could help it.

"Woah, what's gotten into you?" she said with surprise, but returned the hug.

"Sorry," I mumbled, before pulling back and clearing my throat. "I just need some water. I'll be fine."

She quirked a brow. "You're sure?"

I nodded, trying my hardest not to worry her anymore.

"Okay... good," she said with relief, before a smile curled on her lips. "I've got a new song I want you to hear."

I returned her smile, letting her tug my hand and lead me back inside, but the truth of what I knew was already starting to suffocate me.

For days I mulled it over, trying to convince myself that maybe I misheard or misinterpreted Mayfair's words. Or that, maybe, Mayfair didn't have as much power as she was letting on.

But deep down, I knew it was true, and she was just petty enough to send Lucy Gray to her death. Which then brought me to my next problem: what could I do to stop it?

Mayfair was the mayor's daughter and the mayor was the one who chose the names for the reaping. It was pretty solid, with no interference from me able to stop it. But what was I to do? Do I tell Lucy Gray? Her family? At least, if I did, it would give them time to prepare. But how exactly? Would it not be easier to just let it play out as to not ruin their last moments together?

I didn't know, and it was so much information to carry, eating away at me little by little. What I did know was that I couldn't lose Lucy Gray. What would my life even look like if she was gone? What would the Covey do without her?

Lucy Gray was loved, needed, wanted. She couldn't die, not when she'd be so dearly missed and had so much left to give. If only I could take her place... I knew I would if I could. Nobody needed me or cared for me, nobody but her. But she'd get over my death. And my dad couldn't care less. If it meant saving Lucy Gray, I would do it. After all, I loved her.

But I couldn't, because it was her name to be picked, not mine. And with her name, she'd walk onstage and I'd never see her again. How could I change that?

[pennyellee]

CHAPTER VI - súton

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of God, mentions of alcohol, manhandling, mentions of murder, gun use, abduction, attempted non-con, gaslighting, vomiting, anxiety, choking, decapitation, strong language, smut, loss of virginity

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 11,1K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VII

súton (n.) twilight; the approach of death or the end of something

Images flashed through her mind like fragments of a dream, mixing reality with a disorienting haze. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she braced herself for what was to come. She was still in her temporary private quarters. Was it all just a dream? Confusion ran through Y/N like the hot blood inside her veins.

The engine of the roaring car pierced her ears and her vision was still blurry. “Where am I?” she whispered, her voice slowly progressing to realise the situation. She grabbed the letter seat, trying to pull herself up.

“Chan-yeol?” she asked, pressured.

“Little bird, are you ready to fly away?” he laughed. Y/N looked at him with terror in her pupils.

“Are you out of your mind? You just signed your own death certificate Chan-yeol!” This is bad. Her thoughts spoke to her in distress, each and one of them telling her to do something.

“What, a sudden change of heart? Did you not want me to ship you off to the new land?” said the man, accelerating the car.

“He’s going to slaughter everyone!” she screamed.

“You did not think of that when you ran the last time or the time before, why now Y/N?” He spitted his words out, looking at her through the mirror. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to collect herself before she would lose her mind for good.

“He has the whole family on a silver platter there Chan-yeol! Turn the car right now!”

“We’re almost there.” He declared. 

“Yoongi?!” was the first name that came to her mind. Voice full of fear. The sound of urgent footsteps echoed around her, crescendoing with the abrupt swing of the door. However, the one she sought, the man whose name she called, was not in her sight.

“Namjoon?” she called out, the surprise evident in her voice, interwoven with a thread of relief.

“How do you feel?” He asked, slowly approaching her petite form.

“What— I don’t understand,” she struggled to articulate her bewildered thoughts.

“You’ll thank me later.”

Chan-yeol’s words cut through the frosty air. He steered the car to the side of the road. Snow was everywhere she could see, each surface draped in ethereal white. Without waiting for the vehicle to come to a complete halt, Y/N flung the car door open, her steps bold as she ventured out into the wilderness.

The direction from which they arrived became a backdrop as she briskly distanced herself from Chan-yeol’s presence.

“This might be your last chance to flee this wicked world, girl.” His voice, heightened in intensity, reached her ears. Y/N stopped in tracks — the ultimatum clear.

Her family on one side, her newfound reality on the other – a choice lay before her.

“You have no idea what you just did!” she screamed defiantly, she refused to spare him a glance. “You’ve ruined everything!”

“Y/N?” a different voice echoed and her eyes widened at the unexpected interruption.

“I did not, Namjoon. I did not try to run away. You have to believe me!” Her words tumbled out in a frantic attempt to convey her innocence. Namjoon, his touch gentle, enveloped her small hands in his.

“Shhh… I know, it’s alright.” Namjoon cooed at the bride. And that’s when every single picture came back to her mind.

“How—how did you get here, for the love of God?” Y/N pivoted towards the speaking man, memories of their shared past flooding back as if the study hall of Shenyang’s University was just yesterday.

“I came for you,” he declared.

“For me?” She asked, disbelief in her voice.

“For me?!” she repeated, a frustrated laugh bubbling up. “Now you’re coming for me.” Y/N recalled the day he declared that she was in this battle alone, a stark contrast to their current proximity. They were never that close, he was too afraid to even hold her hand or maintain prolonged eye contact. But she considered him to be a friend, nonetheless.

“I love you,” he confessed, staring directly into her eyes.

“You love me?” She asked, mocking him, a bitter edge to her tone.

“Where was this love when I needed to run the hell out of the continent, huh?” She closed the distance between them, pushing him with aggressive force.

“You're a coward, Han Chen,” she spat, the venom in her voice cutting through the tension.

“I have a plan, Y/N,” he replied, brushing off her words even as they stung.

“Hmm… you have a plan. And what is this plan exactly?”

“He won’t want you if you’re ruined, Y/N.”

His words hit her like a cold gust of wind, and she gasped at the implications.

The haunting melody of that familiar song resonated in her mind once again.

“He—he attempted to rape me.” Y/N looked through her teary eyes directly at Namjoon's, whose mimics told her, she is right.

“He paid for that with his life.”

“You’re going to kill us all!” Her words became the truth once the first bullet was fired, finding its mark in Chen’s head. Y/N witnessed his eyes blackening, a vacancy replacing the spark of life. 

He was gone. Blood dripped down his neck, staining her chest, her breath hitching as her vision blurred. Chan-yeol swore and fumbled with his gun, leaving Y/N to crumple to the ground, as he was tightly holding her down for the devil’s messenger to do the unforgivable.

Her eyes narrowed at the white sky. Chen’s lifeless body collapsing onto her smaller frame. Y/N’s hands trembled as she mustered the strength to slowly push his corpse away.

“Are you alright?” she heard him before she saw him above her.

“What about the wedding?” she asked, curiosity mingling with the shock that gripped her.

“We’ll proceed—” he answered, addressing yet another of her fears.

Speech and vision eluded her. “Y/N?” he asked again, gently throwing Chen’s lifeless body off her. “Darling, please say something.” His concern was palpable.

“Let me go, you fuckers!” Chan-yeol’s enraged screams echoed nearby. He hadn’t made a clean escape after all.

Hoseok helped her sit. Y/N’s eyes mirrored the emptiness that had claimed Chen’s.

“Darling?” Hoseok urged, attempting to coax her back to the present.

“—and hold a trial tomorrow.”

“Trail?” she asked, her voice fragile.

“Chan-yeol was a part of our clan. He is a traitor, and we’ll treat him as such.”

“And what about—”

She cast one more glance at Chen’s lifeless form before shifting her attention to Chan-yeol, struggling on the ground, surrounded by Min soldiers from whom she only recognised Jungkook.

“I want to go back, Hoseok-ssi. Please take me back.” Her voice wavered. Hoseok breathed out, relieved, helping her stand. As she turned to look at Chan-yeol, his screams pierced the air.

“Don’t look that way, sweetie,” Hoseok intervened, guiding her away from the chaotic scene. Only when they reached the parked cars, a good half a mile away from the unfolding drama, did she exhale and allow herself to close her eyes.

“Yoongi is beyond pissed. We could have avoided this if you would tell him about that foolish boy.”

“I swear, Namjoon, we were not... we did not—” she stammered.

“—I did not know he would come look for me nor do that….”

“Do not tell that to me, princess,” he sighed.

“I need you to get dressed. We have already postponed it, and we cannot do it any longer.”

“Sure,” were her only words to him.

“She called for you, brother,” the right-hand man spoke as he entered the boss’s office, where Yoongi was finally getting ready for the wedding.

“Explain,” the young groom responded while fixing his tux in front of the mirror.

“She called your name when she woke up.”

“Did she?” Yoongi felt a spark of hope that he would indeed become her person, her lover, her everything, just as she was to him.

The right-hand man chuckled at his questioning response, knowing it warmed Yoongi’s heart.

“Damn this one tradition; you should go and see her.”

“I would, but that would ruin the thrill, wouldn’t it, hmm,” he hummed.

“You’re getting married, brother.”

“Yes, today I’m getting married, and tomorrow I have to deal with a man who kidnapped my woman and let the other fucker almost rape her,” Yoongi spat, hitting the wall next to the mirror. He never felt greater anxiety than when Xiaoli said she was taken away from him. How ironic that he is to be the one who feels anxious.

Her mother crying, father screaming at everyone, younger sister praying. Yoongi had a feeling that she would not be that stupid to run away when he had her family inside the hotel.

“Nothing else will go wrong.”

“Did you greet the Yamamotos?” The Yakuza clan was invited to the wedding, a bold move, and what was even bolder—they accepted and arrived.

“I surely did, brother,” said Namjoon.

“Good,” Yoongi smirked, not expecting what is yet to come.

“Everything is as it should be.”

“I don’t want Y/N’s father near her until the wedding, Jungkook-ah,” requested Yoongi from the passive listener, seated just a few meters away on the sofa, sipping on his glass of white liquor.

“As you wish, Hyung,” he put the glass down and stood up, fixing his tux and putting on his white hat.

“And for fuck’s sake, patch those knuckles, aight?” Yoongi screamed playfully after him.

The temple, a sanctuary of weary souls, stood solemnly bearing witness to the union unfolding within its hallowed walls.

The bride, adorned in a crimson hanfu dress, with beautiful shining golden details on her long sleeves, walked the creaking wooden path towards the temple’s entrance, her steps heavy with the knowledge of what is awaiting her. The rich fabric of her dress billowed like a blood-red sea, a stark contrast to the pallor of her face that concealed emotions that dared not surface.

The courtyard was adorned with bright red and white paper lanterns when she passed it. She did not dare to look around at all the noble underground hats who had gathered to witness the union of two syndicates.

The flickering candles cast eerie, dancing shadows upon the ancient murals depicting forgotten legends. The distant sounds of the city, with its bustling streets and restless souls, provided a haunting contrast to the stillness of this timeless ceremony. The soft strains of the gayageum and the rhythmic beats of the janggu filled the air.

At the temple’s altar, the groom, equally somber in attire, awaited the bride. His eyes, like deep pools, hinted at the secrets he carried, secrets buried beneath, he wished to share with her.

The chants of the officiating monk resonated through the temple; a haunting reminder of the spiritual solace sought amidst the chaos of the outside world. Their union was a flicker of defiance against the oppressive forces that sought to extinguish the spirit of a nation. She was not initially meant to be his, fate seemed to have favoured him, and Yoongi thanked the almighty for bringing her to him.

Y/N dared not look at him, her breath unsteady, visible puffs in the cold air. The gal held her head high nonetheless, she was desperately trying not to give in to her intrusive thoughts and turn around, flee for her life, try one last time.

The gun pressed to Daiyu’s back served as a grim reminder, preventing her from succumbing to intrusive thoughts. She could see the tears that were in her eyes as she held tightly her little son. Chan-yeol, held captive and beaten for sins he performed.

The eyes of the guests felt heavy, especially her father’s, still unamused by the young leader’s audacity, keeping his hand tightly on his neck. Forbidden from seeing his own daughter before the ceremony, he seethed with anger, his frustration directed at the young Kkangpae.

Y/N’s heartbeat echoed loudly as she climbed the stairs to stand face-to-face with Yoongi, trying to find the courage to look at him. His eyes were full of expectations, he was waiting for this moment.

The exchange of bows signified respect and commitment. If this would be a traditional wedding, not minding their social status in the syndicates, they would continue with drinking rice wine sikhye, symbolizing the blending of their lives.

But this was not a common wedding. This ceremony was different. Altered by the traditions of the Min Clan. The moment arrived when Y/N extended her palm to take the knife from Yoongi’s hands. A cup of rice wine awaited underneath, capturing every drop of her blood. Their union, a pledge of loyalty through soul, blood, and mind.

Y/N met Yoongi’s eyes as she applied pressure to the hand holding the knife, slicing through his skin. A sadistic flicker seemed to pass through his eyes, as if he was enjoying the pain she was inflicting on him.

The rice wine now mixed with their blood and the heavy silence was driving Y/N mad.

The young Kkangpae lifted the cup to her lips, her eyes locked with Yoongi’s. Observing his actions closely, she followed suit, and he took a far bigger sip than her, almost devouring it all.

Setting the cup down they both extended their wounded hands. The golden wedding band that Yoongi slipped onto her finger, seemed to match her engagement ring that sat before it, closer to her knuckle. Y/N couldn’t stop looking at her hand. This was an explicit symbol of her being a taken woman now. No one else to touch, to have, and in their world — to own.

“Darling,” Yoongi whispered quietly, but still managed to keep the demand in his tone visible. Y/N shook her head to get herself to think straight again, realising she had lingered too long on the rings, delaying the public ceremony’s final step.

Huffing out collected air, she slipped the wedding band onto Yoongi’s finger, uniting them.

The monk placed a thick crimson ribbon over their hands, proclaiming them man and wife. No vows echoed like in the far west, no intimate encounters within the public ceremony, despite Yoongi’s yearning to press his lips against hers.

Y/N knew very well that her father scoffed and cursed at the young leader yet again for choosing to follow his wedding traditions and not theirs. And ultimately, there was no paying respect to the elders.

Kkangpae does not bow down to anyone. Nor will his new bride.

Y/N was especially glad she does not have to do that nor the tea ceremony she always found dull. Not that she particularly enjoyed being controlled and swept by the demands of Yoongi’s clan.

The monk’s chants grew louder again, filling the temple with an eerie resonance. Y/N and Yoongi turned to face the gathered members of their syndicates, their families, and the underworld elite who had come to witness this union.

The banquet that followed was a lavish affair as is fit for the Min clan. The tables groaned under the weight of sumptuous dishes, and the air filled with the tantalizing aroma of delicacies prepared by the finest chefs. Nonetheless, Y/N could sense the atmosphere that was charged with tension. As if everyone was prepared to cast guns and kill each other.

Y/N felt the weight of her father’s glare before she could see him eye to eye. Her mimicry has shown nothing more but pure disgust when Wang Zemo shook the scarred leader’s hand congratulating them on their marriage. Y/N did not trust her father. His judgment was always clouded by power.

“You do not seem pleased, father,” Y/N remarked, exposing him. Her mother nervously laughed, hoping to prevent a disturbance between the two clans. She eyed him, expecting an answer from him.

“I’m not pleased that your husband allowed you to be kidnapped,” he retorted, making Yoongi squeeze Y/N’s hip, a possessive gesture.

“But he aided a rescue team in no time, daddy. Meanwhile, you could not even keep me at home,” Y/N fired back, laughing in her father’s face, not believing her own words defended the young Kkangpae that was now amusingly smirking next to her. She could see how her father’s brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, fuming at his daughter. Y/N can do that now, she does not owe her father loyalty anymore.

Her mother stopped him before he could raise his hand causing commotion within the two clans, instead he lifted his free arm pointing a warning finger at her. Y/N smiled sweetly and watched her mother pull his arm until he walked with her. Only when he was far away did she ask her new husband.

“Did he give you trouble when you asked for Xiaoli’s hand in marriage on behalf of Taehyung?” The young leader only hummed in response, his eyes were focused on something different from her now, and Y/N could not help but turn her head in the same direction as he was looking.

What unsettled her the most was the presence of Yamamotos. Yoongi nor anyone did not mention single tweet about these poisonous guests. Therefore, she felt her stomach rotate when they were approaching and for the first time in forever, Y/N pressed herself closer to Yoongi, intertwining their fingers together.

Of course, she feared them. She always viewed her father’s tactics and measures quite cruel. But if Wang Zemo was cruel than Yamamoto was brutal. And it was only natural to fear such a brutal syndicate as Yakuza.

“Congratulations, Min,” said the older male in Japanese. He did not bother to speak the tongue of his enemy’s territory, but he knew they would understand perfectly. The man had such a strong and intense aura around him. He ruled with fear, that thing was obvious.

He held his hand to Yoongi who accepted it for both your and his behalf, shaking it with firm grip, piercing his eyes alongside.

“You got yourself a fine woman, Min, —” he leered at Y/N, his gaze filled with hunger. A wave of disgust washed over her.

“She has caused you quite a bit of trouble, has she not?” he continued, finishing his remark. Y/N understood that their marriage was a calculated move that would redefine the power dynamics within the criminal underworld. Whether Yamamoto perceived the Mins as a threat remained an assumption on her part.

“Not as much trouble as you sending that foolish boy to his death,” Yoongi added, causing Y/N’s breath to hitch. Slowly, her eyes lifted to Yoongi, whose gaze now held an intensity that made the scar glow with anger. Y/N did not understand any bit of it. Had he not come willingly? No, that simply cannot be, there had to be an ulterior motive to commit such a sin.

“Certainly, we knew you would handle him and your bride just as you saw fit.”

“Surely, —” Yoongi replied with a dark undertone and a sinister smile. A wave of nausea rolled through Y/N. If they lingered in the presence of the Japanese Yakuza any longer, she might empty her stomach right there. Thankfully, they bid a seemingly cordial farewell, leaving to take their seats behind the tables and Y/N could at least breathe out.

“Yoongi—” she began once they were out of earshot. He cast her a brief glance before pivoting to examine her, noting her even paler face.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she stumbled the words out of her system fast. Y/N released Yoongi’s hand to cover her mouth.

“Oh God,” her sister’s whisper reached her ears, a reminder of their public setting, alerting her that she is still in public, and the eyes will pry.

Y/N swiftly walked — not ran, to avoid drawing attention — towards the nearest door leading outside to the cold. Once in the cold air again, she emptied her stomach.

“It’s okay,” Y/N heard her sister’s voice yet again, just before her hands were soothingly rubbing her back. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe the cold air in. She was grateful it was her sister offering comfort, not the groom. At least Xiaoli realized that Y/N wouldn’t want Yoongi to see her now. Nor any other prying eyes.

“It’s not okay, Xiaoli,” said Y/N through tears, feeling a profound, heart-wrenching anxiety and fear settling in her core.

“They fucking sent him to rape me, and God knows what else.”

“And he did not manage to do that. Hoseok took care of that. Jungkook took care of that, —”

Y/N recalled, her mind flashing to Jungkook storming into her room, his concern evident as he bombarded her with questions about her well-being. Guilt weighed on him for getting entangled with Chan-yeol instead of going straight to her. As her new brother, he felt an obligation to protect her, just like Hoseok, who would go to any lengths for her.

And that leaves Y/N to wonder. She pondered the sincerity behind their sympathy. Was it because of her supposed relationship with their brother, or was there a genuine connection forming? For a fleeting moment, she wondered if her aunt sensed the potential for them to become family, to be her home.

“—Leader Min will see to it that he is brought to justice,” Xiaoli continued, always sure to express her love for Yoongi.

Y/N looked down at her stained dress with a sense of pity, both for herself and the situation. A deep sense of sadness remained.

“I just wish it did not have to be this way,” she confessed, her voice filled with sorrow. “I wish I could have chosen this path for myself, rather than having it forced upon me.”

“But this is not the world or lifetime where you could do that,” her sister replied, and for a brief moment, Y/N felt a glimmer of understanding.

“I know,” she whispered quietly. “He used to be my friend; you know. Despite what he did, I never thought he would die in front of my eyes, —” her words held honesty, tinged with something else.

“And I never thought that I would be relieved they came in time and shot him dead, Xiaoli,” Y/N admitted, finally getting it off her chest.

“Taehyung-oppa said they paid him to do it.” Xiaoli disclosed. Y/N dreaded this scenario; she suspected that Chen did not act out of love for her. No one who loved someone would commit such a horrendous act.

Y/N scoffed, a desperate laugh escaping her. “Do you know what will happen to Chan-yeol?” She hadn’t had the chance to discuss this with Yoongi, leaving her in the dark and feeling consumed by it.

“He is held captive. That is all I know,” Xiaoli replied while helping Y/N stand. She needed to change her dress; there was no way she could return in this state.

“Y/N?” Xiaoli asked. Her older sister only hummed in response.

“If you attempt to run ever again, Daiyu is going to die—” Y/N paused for a moment.

“—He won’t hurt me, I’ll be betrothed to Taehyung-oppa. But Daiyu is still in the open.”

“Did you talk to her?” She asked.

“No,” Xiaoli replied, “but I talked to Kkangpae Min. He confirmed his intentions.”

“And it did not move you one bit?” Said Y/N surprised with what degree of calmness her sister is speaking of this.

Yoongi wanted to make it abundantly clear that he would take drastic measures if she attempted to escape again. He wanted her to fear the consequences, to be consumed by the dread of what might happen if she defied him; deliberately informing Xiaoli, knowing the bond between the sisters was a weak point for Y/N.

“I would not dare to go against his word.” Y/N only smiled sadly at her sister’s words. She does not understand. How could she?

The way to her chamber felt endless. Y/N was acutely aware of her disheveled state and the need for privacy. Another set of footsteps behind her and Xiaoli quickened her heart with anxiety.

“Y/N?” The soothing voice of the doctor, Seokjin, reached her ears, and she could not have been more relieved. Without turning around, she responded.

“I just need to change. I’m fine, Seokjin.”

Y/N wasted no time in stepping inside her room once they finally reached it. Seokjin followed, his demeanour calm and professional, yet she sensed a hint of concern in his eyes.

As she began changing out of the crimson robe from the wedding ceremony, Y/N couldn’t deny the unease that lingered within her.

“You can tell him I will be back in a little while, Seokjin.” Y/N turned to Seokjin, offering a weak smile.

“Are you sure you are feeling well?” Seokjin nodded; his expression was gentle.

“It’s just the anxiety.” Said Y/N. Her face still bore the traces of tears and turmoil, but she resolved to face the celebration with as much grace as she could muster. She knew that in the world she inhabited, appearances were everything.

Seokjin stood by the door, waiting patiently. “I’ll change and come right away,” she promised to the older male.

“Very well,” he answered simply and closed the door behind him leaving her and Xiaoli alone.

The intricate layers of fabric and silk were carefully removed, revealing a simpler, yet equally elegant, hanfu beneath — this one was a shade of soft lavender.

“Do you want to wear the hanbok instead?” Xiaoli asked. Does she? Just this morning, she insisted that her wedding dress will be a representation of the culture she is coming from. Looking over at the beautiful crimson and royal blue hanbok that she was supposed to wear as her wedding dress, Y/N hesitated.

“I don’t feel like wearing a wedding dress anymore, Xiaoli.” Her sister nodded in understanding, but beneath her supportive gaze, there lingered a hint of disappointment. Xiaoli had hoped that Y/N would fully embrace the culture of the Min clan, a desire likely shared by the clan’s leader. However, Y/N’s desire was to stay true to her Chinese roots for a little bit longer. If this is the only way she can remain herself, she is willing to rebel against him as long as she can.

She heard her sister sigh as she handed her the crimson flowery qipao. “You could at least meet him in the middle.” Xiaoli muttered, her disappointment evident.

“Xiaoli, if you did not notice I’m having a really bad day today.” Y/N’s patience was wearing thin. She had endured enough turmoil for one day, and the idea of appeasing Yoongi’s wishes no longer held much appeal.

“I understand—” Xiaoli wanted to say before Y/N interrupted her with the welling tears in her eyes and raised voice.

“No, you do not understand, Xiaoli!” Said Y/N, sliding down to a lower cushion chair, hugging her head with her small hands.

“But you are not even trying, Y/N,” Xiaoli retorted.

“Because I’m gasping for air every single time! I’m drowning, and yet I cannot learn to swim—” she cried out, clutching the fabric of her hanfu to the point she feared it would tear.

“All of you are blindly trying to convince me that this is the best that could ever happen to me—” she continued.

“—like you’re some kind of Gods that shall decide one’s fate.”

Xiaoli sighed, her frustration and discomfort evident. “All we do is care for you, truly, madly, deeply.”

Y/N looked up, her eyes filled with a mixture of despair and defiance.

“Are you listening to yourself, sister?!” Y/N did not even give her a chance to answer.

“—We are family, by blood, Xiaoli, I thought you cared about me to be more than just a pawn—” this time Xiaoli interrupted her older sister.

“And because we are family, I am trying to protect what matters to all of us.” Xiaoli knelt beside her, trying to console Y/N.

“What about what matters to me?” Y/N retorted; her voice shaky. “What about my dreams, my choices? He took that from me.”

Xiaoli hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “We all have to make sacrifices. And I know that you will make the best out of this.”

Y/N looked at her sister, a mix of disbelief and sadness in her eyes. “Is this the price of my freedom?”

“If this was another life, you could have what you truly desire.” Said Xiaoli. Y/N wiped away her tears before she spoke.

“I won’t let—” Y/N inquired.

“The consequences will be severe.” Said Xiaoli before Y/N could utter her thought as if she knew what she wanted to say.

“Remember that before you will do anything.”

The distant strains of music and laughter reached their ears when Xiaoli opened the door, walking through it in the direction of the celebration. Y/N put on a mask of composure, her posture regal, and her expression neutral. She couldn’t let anyone see the turmoil within her. Tonight, she would play the role expected of her, all while strategizing her next moves in this complex and dangerous game.

“Min Buin?!” a voice called out, unfamiliar and tinged with a strange mixture of reverence and unease — it sent a shiver down her spine.

A man stood right in the middle of the hall behind her. He was dressed in a dark, tailored suit that exuded authority, a stark departure from the opulence of the occasion.

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder who this enigmatic figure was and why he had singled her out with that title,

“Min Buin?!” He repeated again. Y/N turned her head slightly to Xiaoli, now a few steps closer to the banquet, her expression wary.

“Who’s asking?” she demanded, a hint of protectiveness in her voice. The man did not seem to be perturbed by Y/N’s defensive stance. Instead, he offered a faint, cryptic smile.

“Do you not know?” His tone took a different direction. He stepped closer to them.

“Y/N,” Xiaoli gulped down, her voice trembling. “That is Yamamoto Itsuki.” By how her sister spoke Y/N understood that this is the very man she was supposed to marry.

“Go.” She whispered to her sister who did not hesitate to run down the corridor and alert anyone. Only once Y/N was sure that her sister was far away did she speak.

“What is your business with me?” Y/N asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. The man’s smile widened slightly, revealing teeth that seemed unnaturally sharp in the dim light.

“Business?” He laughed. Y/N’s mind raced as she absorbed his words. She had been thrust into this world, initially a pawn in a dangerous game, but now it seemed that her role was evolving.

“I have unfinished business with you, yes.” He said after a few silent moments. Only her heavy breathing could be heard.

“I’m very much sure that a business between us never started in the first place; therefore, it seems to me we have nothing to talk about,” said Y/N, swiftly turning her body back to its original position, ready to flee to the banquet and seek help.

As she predicted, this day could only get worse as she found herself pinned to the nearest wall. Y/N could feel his breath on her face, a strong large hand enveloped her throat, pressing her to the wall harder and making it hard to breathe. Y/N’s breathing skipped intervals.

“You are one greedy ungrateful little bitch, are you not?” He spat the words into her face, squeezing her neck even tighter. Her hands automatically rose to his arm, trying to push him away. Her head started to spin, and she could feel the redness that rushed to her cheeks as she gasped for air that would fill her lungs.

“You were supposed to be mine!” His scream echoed in the empty corridor. Out of all the endings of her life, she truly did not foresee this one. There was a strike of a quick moment where she thought that death would be her redemption and eternal freedom she wished for. However, Y/N still had the will to fight for her life. She dug her nails into his arm, trying to push his hand away one more time, but he was too strong.

A click of a reloading gun seemed too muffled for her ears to notice, but when the sudden absence of pressure on her throat disappeared, and she could finally welcome the air in, she thanked God for being still in his favour.

Her knees have denounced their service, and she found herself on the ground. She went to touch her sore throat when a familiar hand did it before her. Y/N’s breath was still rocky, and she heard an annoying ringing in her ears. She barely could hear what Yoongi was screaming at the man who was recently near killing her.

“Y/N?” She heard Jimin’s voice, but she could not figure out where it was coming from. Her head was spinning like a carousel, and her vision was still a bit blurry. She wanted to speak up but she found it hard to do so.

“Can you breathe for me, darling?” She tried to stabilize her breathing but couldn’t stop panting for air.

“You have to try and calm down.” Seokjin was speaking to her, and by her blurry vision she saw another four figures around her. Two holding the younger Yamamoto for Yoongi, the other two attending to her.

Y/N went to try to speak again, even though she was fully aware that only high-pitched tones would come out that would make her words unrecognisable.

“I—” she tried, “I want—” she finally gulped down the little amount of saliva she had in her mouth.

“Bring her water right now.” Seokjin understood quickly. Her hearing was coming back to life and same for her vision. She could now see Jungkook and Hoseok dragging the man away from them, and Yoongi swiftly turning to examine the damage the man had done to his beloved.

By the time he fell down to his knees, cupping her cheeks, trying to read from her eyes, Jimin had returned with the water she needed. Yoongi helped her to hold the glass in both of her hands and drink it whole in one go.

“I do not want to stay here tonight,” she said with a raspy voice, feeling every muscle in her throat. Yoongi looked at her with worry in his eyes. He promised she would be safe with him, and within less than twelve hours, she was abducted, almost raped, and nearly choked to death.

“I am so sorry, baby,” said the young leader with remorse. “I am going to make it better, I promise.” Y/N’s ‘better’ however, contained something else than his ‘better’.

“We cannot leave right away—” tears escaped her eyes, falling heavy and hot on her dress. Yoongi was the Kkangpae and the enemy’s clan member just assaulted his wife. This cannot slip out without consequences.

“How dare you disrespect me and my wife this way,” said Yoongi to the older male from Yamamoto’s clan who had barely sat down in Yoongi’s office.

The younger offender, who had laid his hand on Y/N, was still firmly held by Hoseok and Jungkook. She sat in Yoongi’s office chair, a blanket draped over her shoulders, the purple bruises on her neck stark against her skin, certainly not flattering jewelry.

“How dare you disrespect our clan, Kkangpae Min.” The older male retorted, testing the younger leader’s patience. Yoongi clenched his hand into a fist, struggling to maintain control.

“This is far too unforgivable against what you assume I did,” he spat out quickly. Y/N wished she could just hide away and never come back, but as the Kkangpae’s wife, a Buin, she had to be present.

Yamamoto scoffed. “You are playing the game dirty, so are we—”

“Take this as a payback for meddling in our affairs, Kkangpae Min—” the older male started.

“And as far as traditions goes, she is yet to be your woman by our law and God’s will,” alluding to the inevitable — they had to consummate the marriage. Y/N knew this and had been making peace with the fact throughout the day.

“You won’t have to worry about that, Mr. Yamamoto,” Yoongi was always known for his cockiness whilst dealing with enemies, but he was also the most cautious man alive, however today was a misstep he did not wish to ever make. All this only proved he could not leave her alone — not because she might flee, but because someone could take her away from him. And he would never let her go.

“Watch me fucking continue meddling—” Yoongi retorted. “I see that you know the goddamn rules; I shall have his hand.” Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. She did not expect him to go unpunished for what he did to her, which would make Yoongi look unfit to rule. Itsuki started to squirm in their hold, attempting to break free.

“You want a war?” Yamamoto asked with venom in his voice.

“You apparently desire to have it when you assaulted my wife twice in one day.” Yoongi spat and signaled to Hoseok to bring Itsuki forward. Jungkook grabbed the hand that had been on Y/N’s neck less than an hour ago.

“Father!” Itsuki screamed with madness in his voice.

“Here you have it, you impatient imbecile!” his father screamed back at him, frustrated with both himself and his son. The plan had been to warn the Mins, not infuriate them.

Y/N watched Yoongi wordlessly as he took a short katana from Namjoon who appeared out of nowhere. The blade was sharp as a viper’s fang, and it gleamed in the dim light sourcing from the fireplace. The hilt, wrapped in silk, the colour of dried blood, felt cool and ominous in Yoongi’s hand.

She knew he’d have to swing it more than once to actually cut off Itsuki’s hand. Y/N gulped down her fear, pressing both hands to her mouth to stifle the scream that escaped when he first wielded the blade, piercing through Itsuki’s skin and colliding with bone, breaking it open. Burgundy blood streamed down to the wooden floor. Y/N clenched her eyes shut at the painful scream that followed and bounced slightly on the chair at the loud thump of the hand hitting the ground.

“You have one hour to leave our land,” Yoongi declared, aiming the katana at the leading Yamamoto. The son dropped to the ground, cradling his arm, staring at the severed hand and screaming in pain, muttering threats to the Min clan.

“You chose.” The older male looked over to Y/N who was still very much speechless and in utter shock from what occurred before her eyes. Yoongi’s gaze, momentarily lingering on his wife with furrowed brows, but quickly returned to Yamamoto. Their eyes locked, and the older man extended his hand to retrieve his injured son from the floor, leading him out of the room.

Yoongi dropped the katana onto the ground, tilting his head backwards in a brief prayer to the Lord. The room remained cloaked in heavy silence — not a peaceful silence, but one pregnant with the weight of a grim decision. A choice had been made, and its consequences were bound to unfold in darkness. This was a proclamation of war.

Y/N’s eyes remained fixed on the spot where Yamamoto’s hand was laying limp in a pool of fresh blood. As Yoongi straightened and turned his gaze toward her, his eyes were a tempest of conflicting emotions.

“You chose.”

Yoongi echoed Yamamoto’s words more as a question, his voice carrying a low, sombre resignation. He did not demand an answer; he knew what Yamamoto was talking about. Glancing down at his black shoes, now soaked with the blood of his enemy, Yoongi let out a soft laugh at the irony of her choosing him.

He understood the possibility that her choice might stem from self-preservation, realizing he could annihilate her entire family the moment she disappeared. Yet, his own selfishness shielded him from that harsh reality. Yoongi desperately wanted to believe that she returned to him and him alone.

Her eyes grew too heavy to stay open during the car ride back to the sanctuary. She allowed them a brief respite, letting the weight of exhaustion pull her into a momentary rest. The events of this day had been like a tempest, tearing through the delicate fabric of her reality and leaving chaos in its wake.

Y/N’s strength was something Yoongi admired, yet even he recognized the toll this day had taken on her. The hypocrite in him thinking that kind of evil will lead her to seek solace in him, perhaps finding that this was where she truly belonged — by his side.

She could have turned and run when the chance presented itself, disappearing into the wild. But she did not, and that is what mattered to Yoongi. For the first time, Y/N found herself yearning to return to the sanctuary, back to her golden cage.

Y/N knew that this night would be a reflection of the complexities of their relationship, a dance between desire and the darkness that surrounded them. Y/N understood that despite the arduous day, this had to be done. Bracing herself, she stepped out of the car and into the dark.

She walked slightly behind her now husband, letting him lead the way to the house she did not quite recognise. Before she mustered the courage to ask questions, he spoke first.

“I grew up in this house—” he whispered into the cold air, “a hot spring is right behind it.”

Y/N observed the house built into the massive stone walls of the valley, surrounded by tall pine trees. It was too dark for her to see just how tall they actually are, but the little flickering lights visible through the windows granted her a little peak.

“I want to spend tonight with you here,” he turned to face her. Yoongi could not tear his gaze away from her, adoring every detail—her eyes, cheeks, nose, hair, mouth. But if you would ask him, how did he come to be so obsessed with her, he would not give a cohesive answer. The inexplicable obsession he felt seemed right, like two puzzle pieces fitting together. He believed that even if she did not feel it now, she would eventually.

“Just the two of us.”

He took a little step to be closer to her. If Y/N understood correctly, this is the only place where they can be truly alone without prying eyes and ears. Yoongi wanted to talk and what’s more, he intended to do more than just talk tonight.

“Aight,” she replied slowly with her still sore throat. He had never seen her this calm, and he wanted to enjoy every minute she is not fighting against him — despite the disturbing circumstances that led to her current state of mind.

“Can we have some tea first?” she asked with little hope that he would agree to slow down a little bit. He chuckled at her sudden innocence and extended his arm to caress her cheek.

“Course we can, my love,” he smiled softly.

And so, they found themselves once again by the comforting embrace of a fireplace, patiently waiting for the tea to brew in the teapot’s gentle whistle.

There was something about this scenery that Yoongi could not help but love. Y/N, seated on the fur rug next to the warmth of the crackling flames, found solace in these quiet moments. After the tumultuous events of the day, it was a sanctuary they both needed. At least, she felt at peace in moments like these.

“I am sorry.” he suddenly confessed, his eyes revealing the genuine sorrow within. Today had left Yoongi conflicted, riding the highs of marrying the woman he desired while being weighed down by guilt for the day’s events.

Y/N met his gaze, her voice devoid of emotion as she calmly asked, “About what exact part?”

“All of it,” he shook his head. Y/N chuckled, and confusion flickered in Yoongi’s eyes.

“Are you not going to punish me, Kkangpae?” Here she goes.

“I do desire to know your relation to the boy, I won’t lie, but no.”

“There is no relation.”

“Are you sure? We talked about this already — no lies.”

“I’m not lying, he did fancy me, yes—” Yoongi’s grip on his hands tightened.

“—I thought we were friends, but he was not keen to flee away with me when I needed to,” she admitted.

“Do you mourn him?” Yoongi’s voice held a serious tone.

“I mourn the boy he was, not what he apparently became after we parted—” she began, carefully, collecting her thoughts.

“—they paid him to go and attempt rape me, Yoongi. I pray for his soul to find its peace after what sins he committed,” a tear escaped her eye, a sob followed. Yoongi leaned in, holding her small hands in an attempt to provide comfort.

“It was horrible,” she cried out and finally, she opened up to him.

“Amidst all the bad today, I’m so proud of you—” Y/N raised her blurry eyesight to meet him, awaiting an explanation.

“—You could have run, and you did not. You chose to come back to me.”

“I promise, I swear to you — I will never ever let that happen again—” he assured, moving closer to her.

She took a deep breath, summoning the courage to address the yet unspoken. “Can I get the letter, please?” Y/N whispered.

“In the morning.” He answered, intending to prolong it to ensure her continued good behaviour and obedience.

“Do we?-” She interrupted, praying for a change of his mind, though fully aware of the inevitability. He needed to ensure no loopholes in their marriage for others to exploit or for her to negotiate over. She knows this is mandatory.

“Yes, we do,” he acknowledged after some thought. Knowing what she had been through that day, he recognised the potential impact, but he also saw it as a way to fully claim her. It was a selfish desire, perhaps, but one he had long awaited. 

Yoongi longed to feel her skin to skin. It was indeed selfish, he knew that much. Some would say it is careless of him to demand such an intimate act to happen after all she has been through. But he wanted to show her that this is a part of their marriage she can truly enjoy. Yoongi wanted to give a final full stop to their relationship by solidifying the union rightfully, as the tradition goes.

The flickering flames of the fireplace danced in the dimly lit room, casting a warm glow upon Y/N and Yoongi. Consummating the marriage was a private but necessary measure.

His selfishness had not gone unnoticed by the syndicate elders, who questioned his insistence on not just any hotel room but the house where generations of memories had been created. He deliberately wanted to spend the night in the house he grew up in, where his father started a family, and his grandfather, and his grandfather and so on down the history line.

Yoongi, having lost his parents at a young age, yearned to start his own family. He wanted to witness the growth of his children, their marriages, and their own families.

Y/N knew this day would come, sooner or later, and as a young woman, she had learnt to protect herself from unplanned consequences. She understood his desire for a child, though he never explicitly discussed it with her. But she was far from being ready to surrender to the life fate had planned for her, not just yet.

Heaven had given her a sign, a slight hope when she found a particular herb in the garden before the first snow fell. Y/N had kept it discreet, asking the maid to dry the flowers and serve them as tea in the morning. Tonight, she was calm, knowing it could not happen, even if he wished otherwise.

Yoongi observed her hesitance, her eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and resilience. The room, with its walls that held generations of memories, seemed to echo with the weight of tradition and expectation. But as he reached out to touch her cheek gently, his eyes softened.

The sharp sound of a loud whistle from the tea kettle startled them both, tearing them out of the cocoon of their thoughts. The iron kettle hung gracefully over the open flame, steam rising in wisps as if trying to escape the weight of the night. Yoongi carefully prepared the tea, his movements deliberate and unhurried. The aroma of freshly brewed leaves filled the air. The porcelain teapot, an heirloom passed down through generations, sat patiently on the wooden small table that was next to them. As he poured the tea into delicate cups, he eyed her small physique yet again, searching for any signs.

She accepted the cup he offered her, the warmth seeping through the delicate porcelain. Her mind briefly paused when she recognised the familiar scent. She chuckled and Yoongi raised his eyebrows in surprise, awaiting her words. Y/N took a few careful sips from the cup, accepting what it offered.

“Are you afraid, Kkangpae?” She asked, taking another sip. Yoongi put his cup on the wooden table and looked directly in her eyes.

“Me? No,” he pointed at himself, hiding a smile.

“So why did you choose to make tea from Valerian root?” Her studies that surely included herbalism had escaped Yoongi’s mind.

“I knew this night would be difficult for you, and I — I wanted to ensure it went as smoothly as possible,” he confessed.

“Considerate,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. Yoongi’s gaze faltered, and he looked away momentarily.

“I want you to enjoy it—”

“Then make me enjoy it,” she interrupted him yet again, gulping down the contents of her cup, setting it down with a gentle clink next to his almost full one.

“I intend to,” he said. The complexities of tradition, the weight of the syndicate expectations, seemed to press down on them like the heavy beams of the hanok. Yet, he was thrilled at the prospect of laying her down and making love to her, while she tried to make peace with the path ahead.

A mixture of emotions played across Y/N’s face, the tension in the air made her anxious. The tea flowed in her system, calming her. The steps were set, and she cannot back down now.

His hands cradled her face, a gesture that held both tenderness and an unspoken understanding. But Y/N knows he will never understand. And thus, the night unfolded.

The hanok, with its wooden beams and paper windows, seemed to breathe with the rhythm of their footsteps. The aroma of tea still lingered within the walls, all the way back in the house.

“Pray with me?” a soft plea that resonated with the hallowed surroundings. They settled on top of the low cushion bed; he held both her hands in his. The subtle sounds of the valley outside, muffled by the hanji-covered windows, crackling fire nearby — the low hum of their shared prayer filled the room, blending with the whispers of the winter wind outside.

As they concluded their prayers, the world outside the hanok continued its silent ballet with nature. Yoongi slowly let her hands fall into her lap. Y/N kept looking at her hands, biting her lower lip.

He extended his hands pulling out the golden pins from her hair, releasing them.

“You are magnificent,” he whispered into her lips that were anticipating his. She looked into his eyes one last time before she slowly closed them, awaiting him to take the first step. Y/N could feel both his hands on the swell of her bottom, slightly squeezing it and thus making her pant into his mouth. He pulled her into his lap, not distancing their close proximity. Not now. Not ever.

A deep groan released from his throat when she fully sat down in his lap. Y/N was straddling him, feeling his stiff manhood tightly pressed against her core making her breath hitch. He moved his hand from its place on her butt cheek to the swell of her clothed breast.

“Let me make love to you.” He kissed her lips very gently, waiting for her response. She knew he would do so even if she would not give him her consent. And once she shyly nodded her head, he dove right in and kissed her very deeply, slipping his tongue into her mouth. He was hungry and only she could sate him.

He continued to press himself against her core, creating at least some friction in between, aiming to hit the right spot and make her sing for him.

Yoongi was trying to trace down the opening of her qipao, feeling the delicately made buttons on her chest. Not for a moment he stopped kissing her, unbuttoning her dress and hiking it up from its hem on her thighs, showing her undergarments and pulling it all the way up her head —throwing the peace of clothing that provided her warmth, perhaps even a security blanket, away.

Her neck was his next target. He bent his head making hers to lean back to allow him access. Yoongi layered down butterfly kisses all over her, now, naked, bruised neckline. “You are such a good girl.” He muttered into her skin, caressing her bottom while he placed his hand back to her right breast.

Y/N could feel her nipples stiffen under the change of temperature, or perhaps the excitement her body was going through, which she did not want to admit. He took one of her hands who were inactive till now and placed it on his chest near the small buttons of his shirt. Trying to send a mental message for her to touch him too — undress him too.

Y/N took a shaky breath, trying to come to her senses. Out of this ectasis. But she could not. His work on her neck was becoming troublesome, not mentioning his roaming hands. She was never touched by man lovingly, but she could not deny that he is making her heart skip just by teasing her.

Her small shaky fingers finally reached to the buttons whilst he was abusing her chest with hot kisses. She unbuttoned the first one, then the second until she reached the last. “That’s it baby.” He encouraged her to continue slipping his shirt down from his body.

He straightened himself and looked deeply into her eyes, his voice filled with desire and longing. “I love you.” Said Yoongi when he slowly slid his hand in between them cupping her clothed heat. Millions of little butterflies erupted in her lower belly, her breath hitched, silent moan coming out of her swollen lips when he started to rub circles, moving her clitoris through the fabric. She could feel herself leaning into him, her body responding to his touch.

The room was filled with an intoxicating blend of desire and anticipation. He caressed her back until he reached the opening of her western style cone bra that she wore under the dress. Popping it open her eyes snapped open too. But the pleasure was overshadowing her sound judgment, and he knew she would at some point try to resent him a little, that’s why he did not hesitate to throw it the same direction as her qipao, not wasting time and taking her already hard nipple into his mouth. Her eyes widened; pupils dilated.

He was taking his sweet time loving her every inch before he laid her down on the bed, hovering above her. Dominating her. Yoongi’s hands moved with a gentle urgency, his kisses becoming more fervent as their passion ignited. He hooked his fingers into her undergarments, not giving her a chance to protest when he quickly pulled them down her legs, tepid air hitting her centre.

It’s when he went to spread her legs touching her knees she took his wrist into her small hand, looking deep down into his eyes, tears swelling in, realisation hitting her. Yoongi did not seem to be angry or displeased. He understood why this action triggered her and therefore he led her hands to his belt, giving her a chance to yet again give him her consent to proceed. He wanted her to fall in love with him, not to fear him. He dreaded the day when he will have to use different measures to convince, she is his woman and no one else can touch her.

The little rat was a big mistake. Yoongi did not expect him to go as far as to attempt to rape her. But he knew that the boy was coming. He knew it’s Yakuza’s move, and he knew when they would strike,and he was ready. What he wasn’t ready for was Chan-yeol’s betrayal. Nobody is betraying Kkangpae Min, nor no one will dare to touch his wife after what he will do to the traitor.

“You’re alright, baby.” He attempted to assure her, putting her small hands on his belt. Y/N’s fingers were yet again shaking when she was undoing his belt. She was now fully aware of her laying naked body. She could feel the goosebumps forming on her skin.

As Yoongi’s belt came undone, he couldn’t help but marvel at the strength and resilience that radiated from her. She had endured so much in such a short span of time, yet here she was, willingly surrendering herself to him.

He pulled down the pants, together with his undergarments. A loud thud followed once they fell down to the floor. He bent down to her belly and placed a small kiss just below her belly button and one slightly lower to her yet uninhabited womb.

“I need to help you relax your muscles a little.” Said he. She felt his hot breath on her inner thighs, shaking in his hold. He slid his hand down to her core yet again, touching her without any barrier for the first time. Y/N took a deep breath and another one when he slid his finger down her folds and up, making her pussy produce wet juices. His lips were on her collarbone when he unexpectedly slid his index finger inside her making her moan loudly, yelp even.

“Shhh…” He cooked at her, kissing her lips passionately, while thrusting his finger slowly in and out of her heat. She could feel a prick of pain in the area Yoongi’s finger occupied. Y/N’s moans became a mix of moderate pain and pleasure altogether.

She could feel his other hand move away from caressing her hip to his member which he started to slowly stroke. Y/N could see that he was more than ready — his cock big, stiff and red, pre-cum leaking from its tip. He wanted to dive into her heat badly. But he needed to stretch her out a little more, so she won’t suffer that much pain. Yoongi smiled when he spotted her eyeing his body through half-lidded eyes, panting, yet being focused specifically on his manhood.

He towered above her, pulling his finger out of her heat. Sudden emptiness surrounded her walls that were finally adjusting to the intruder. She gasped when she felt his hands pulling her closer to him. Her legs were on each side of his hips. Y/N observed his body, his toned skin, slight muscles, his well-built torso — all the way down his V line, adorned with soft hair.

She snapped out of her thought train once he climbed on top of her and pressed his manhood in between her folds, sliding it up and down, covering it in her juices. Moan escaped her mouth once he put a little bit of pressure, stimulating her clitoris. He moved his hips slowly, trying to hold himself to not to thrust it in just yet.

He raised his left hand and intertwined his fingers with hers pinning it above her head while attacking her lips again. Y/N’s hand instinctively slapped his chest trying to push him away just a little, but his little smirk into her lips assured her that he wanted that kind of reaction from her.

And when she awaited it the least, he thrust himself into her, making her bite down his lower lip. He groaned at the sensation. His lip was bleeding, but he could not care less. “No—” She let go of his lip and an incoherent sound came out of her throat, eyes welling up with tears.

“Yoongi, it hurts too much.” She stated the obvious, crying whilst trying to breath. Enormous heat wave just hit her, and she was desperately wanting to make her head stop spinning.

“I know, baby. I know.” He whispered into her lips, trying to take his own breathing under control. She feels like heaven to him. His everlasting home. His love. This is where he was supposed to be all his life.

He tried to move very slowly, making her cry even more, but he couldn't stop. “It will stop I promise.” He kissed her tears away, stretching her walls to the fullest with his manhood. Silently moaning into her lips.

It took quite a while for her to adjust to the stretch and tension, fullness inside of her. Yoongi explored every inch of her naked body, his hands caressing her with a gentleness that belied his previous actions. In this moment, she was not defined by the traumas of her past or the expectations of their marriage. Their bodies moved in perfect sync once the pain yielded a little.

The room was filled with the sounds of their mingled loud moans and the crackling of the fire. The warmth of the fireplace mirrored the growing heat between them, intensifying the pleasure that coursed through their veins.

Yoongi’s movements became a little faster, more deliberate to draw as much pleasure from her as he could. He wanted to show her that their union was not solely physical but a one of love. With each whisper of reassurance and each gentle caress, he aimed to erase any lingering fears and insecurities that she held.

His thrusts were becoming sloppy after a while, he could feel her shaking against him. But not from fear but from pleasure. He mustered what he could to take her over the edge for the very first time in her life. Y/N could feel the butterflies in her stomach tying somewhat knot that she wanted them to release badly. Her hand slipped into his hair, tucking it tightly whilst he was thrusting into her heat, making her moan loudly into his mouth. He was very close, but he wanted her to come with her. And as they were reaching the peak of passion, their bodies trembling with pleasure, Yoongi held Y/N close, their hearts beating in sync.

Their moans became louder and louder every second they were nearing the summit. “Yoongi—!” she screamed his name out when she was sure the knot was about to burst. “Baby—” he could not even finish a sentence he meant to say once she came undone under him, trembling from the pleasure, her mouth agape, eyes tightly closed — her walls still vibrating around him. Not even a second later his loud cry followed as he spilled thick ropes of cum inside of her. His eyes closed, and he was breathing heavily. When he opened his eyes, she was already looking at him, her mouth still slightly open as she was panting. Her eyes seemed glossy but so were his. He caressed the side of her thigh whilst gently kissing her swollen lips, whispering how much he loves her.

Slowly pulling out of her heat, substituting with his fingers plunging his cum mixed with hints for crimson blood, back into her heat he lowered his body yet again to her belly. Kissing where he assumed her womb was, he whispered a prayer.

“May the Lord bless us with a miracle.”

I N T E R L O G U E

The father’s rage reverberated in the confined space of the car. “You could not have just fucking waited, you little prick!” his frustration boiling over.

Still grappling with the pain of his missing arm, the one-handed son shot back defiantly, blood seeping through the bandages “You said everything would work out in our favour!”

The car they were sitting in was slowing down until it stopped altogether. The older male looked around in confusion. They were nowhere near the docks for their escape to Fukuoka.

“It would if you’d just shut your damn cock instincts, you stupid boy!” the Yakuza leader hissed, attempting to keep his anger in check.

Blinded by fury, he failed to notice the car taking a series of wrong turns, leading them into a desolate no man’s land. When the driver turned to face them, blood reached his ears.

“Kkangpae Min sends you good wishes on your journey to hell.”

to be continued

©pennyellee. please do not repost

author's note: f finally yall!!!!! as I already said this chapter was a lot, ain't gonna lie about that, but everything is going according to the plan so don't worry. This was my first smut in english and I'm so scared of yall's reaction... Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, it was an emotional roller-coaster to write, especially the implied non-con and smut after all the reader had to endure, poor gal. I love to see your comments that basically express that you understand the story's essence and for that I love you all so much ♥ We'll see what will happen in next chapter :))

shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter! Love you bae!!!!

Love you all!! ♥

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @chaoticpuff17 - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts

[girlwithadragonheart]

Farewell, Wanderlust

Halsin x Fem!Reader

Summary: This takes place long after the events of bg3. Halsin is visiting Baldur’s Gate, and he makes a stop at the Blushing Mermaid. He meets a serving girl that reminds him of himself, and finds himself drawn to her.

Word Count: 9.8k

Warnings: Tension, teasing, mentions of the Struggles of Women™, Cursing, Mentions of assault, molestation, rape, etc. Halsin sees through your bullshit, Mentions of Halsin’s trauma (the Shadow Curse), You are a caretaker of a younger sister, Tav x Astarion mentioned, tav x astarion make an appearance physically, banter between Tav/Halsin/Astarion/you, so much tension, did I say tension? Smut, piv sex, nipple play, body worship, talking you through it, this is more for the feelings than the smut, be aware of that before diving in, oral f receiving, unprotected sex, switch dynamic, so many feelings

This is smut. I am not responsible for the media you consume

Gaelic translation: Mo Chridhe means My Heart

A/N: I made this post about this concept because it's been floating around in my head. This song is a vibe and it's the vibes of this ✨

The music flowed through you as the men shouted and cheered along with the racy tune. You sang and clapped along, keeping things lively as they got deep in their cups. A soft touch on the shoulder here, a nudge of the hips there. It was as easy as breathing to you, and the tips made it worth it.

Hiking up your skirts, you stomped your boots against the floor and climbed up onto the table to dance. The men hooted and hollered as you tapped your heels along to the beat, clapped your hands and let your voice ring out with the bards on stage. 

Swinging your skirts, you danced away from grasping hands, tsking with a condescending tone at the lust-chasers. Their hands were covered in grease and rot, trying to soil you with their intentions.

Moss green eyes followed you from the back of the room. Halsin leaned against the far wall, watching the display, his drink all but forgotten in his hand. He watched the way you nimbly escaped the leering men, pressing two fingers to their foreheads and pushing them back enough that they fell back into their chairs.

As much as he was loath to admit it, he understood the way they were feeling. Something about the warmth of your smile was all-encompassing. It wrapped around him like twisting vines, urging him toward you.

The crowd cheered louder as you spun, skirts swirling, but beneath the noise and smiles you felt the weight of their stares. It was strange how such lighthearted music could surround you while you danced on the edge of frustration and loathing, smiling as you always had, even when all you wanted was to disappear.

He crossed his thick arms under his chest to regain some sense of control. It lasted him all of a second as your eyes swept the room, catching his with a small smile. Your gaze raked over his form, and there was a glint in your eye that wasn’t there before. He felt laid bare by your eyes alone, and while he was conscious of the way he stood out in a crowd, this was different.

You had the masses at your feet, but you sought out his attention. His cheeks flushed under the weight of your appraisal. He was used to it, however. He knew by many standards, he was considered exotic, being such a large elf. He had never quite been able to bend to the whims of the elven beauty standards, constantly trying to stoop too low to fit under that bar. He was much too large, and much too masculine for the non-conformity his race often had.

So no, he wasn’t beautiful, not by any standards other than the exotic ones. At least in his mind, this was true.

You, however, had other ideas. Something about those warm green eyes reminded you of sunlight filtering through trees, and though he looked battle-worn, there was a gentleness to his presence that you couldn’t quite decipher. It was drawing you to him, and you weren’t sure you would be able to stop once you let that feeling take root.

His presence was such a contrast to the rabble you normally dealt with. The rough clawing hands trying to tear your skirts and see your skin. The men hoarding, drunk on ale and lust. But there was something more than lust in his gaze. It went beyond just a carnal desire, and it was trying to reel you in.

As you twirled and spun, the joy of the music faltered in your steps for a moment. It was overshadowed by a pair of eyes that lingered a bit too long, a bit too low. Your smile didn’t slip, but something inside you did. A little crack. You caught the man’s gaze, tsking with a teasing smirk, but it was harder to shrug off than you wanted to admit.

The music rose like a great wave, and you spun, your voice ringing out, harmonizing with the instrumentals behind you. Your voice crested and fell, your chest rising and falling with great breaths as you posed on the table, skirts held out in one hand, the other poised in the air delicately.

You caught his eye again---the large elf in the back, his presence calming in the sea of drunken faces. There was no hunger in his gaze, just… interest. Curiosity, even. It was such a stark contrast to the clawing, desperate hands you had just brushed off. You smiled at him, but something stirred inside you---a yearning to be seen for more than just this dance.

Halsin put two fingers to his mouth and produced a loud whistle as everyone cheered and applauded. Your eyes caught his and you winked before disappearing behind a partition.

The elf took a sip of his drink, feeling it warm his chest before setting it down, lest he make a fool of himself.

Behind the partition, your smile fell. The music and cheers were muffled now, but their clawing stares still clung to your skin. How long had you done this? Pretending it didn’t bother you, letting them think you enjoyed their attention, their touch. It was exhausting, yet you did it every night. But why?

You freshened up your face with powder as your chest heaved with the effort of breathing beneath your stay. Carefully running fingers through your hair to give it that desirably unkempt effect that everyone always loved.

When you came back out, you felt the eyes following you. They made you want to be desperately and completely unattractive. Their eyes crawl and claw along your skin, marring you with their intentions. It’s impulsive, the way you want to pull your face off, to be around them it’s fucking impulsive.

You didn’t know why you did it every day, every night, the masses lusting after you in that disgustingly toxic way that had you leaving with bruises on your hips and welts on your cheek.

For every woman is a work of art and should be treated as such. They are not men, they are made of ass and glass. Their skin is clay and painted blue, their head can detach. They are statues with a pulse they are art you can fuck. 

They are paintings with legs. 

They are art you can fuck.

Wife, whore, mistress, maid, mother.

To be admired takes precedence over admiring. To be desired takes importance over desiring. 

Take the screaming one because a woman who doesn’t want it is much hotter than one that does.

You can be anything you want, you could be anything, but not theirs. You would not be theirs.

With practiced poise, you square your shoulders and straighten your spine, tying an apron around your waist to serve the people.

Halsin watched as you worked, seeing you flit around the space like second nature. As though this was where you belonged. But he saw beneath the brave face. He saw the twinge of your eye when someone got too close. He saw the twitch of your fingers when someone got handsy with you. He saw the grit in your jaw when you smiled.

You may seem like this was your home, but he knew that was likely the farthest thing from the truth.

It was a beautiful facade, and once again, Halsin found himself drawn to you. He saw parts of himself in you that he hadn’t seen in years. It made him yearn to know you. To know himself. To see himself the way others did.

As you flitted between tables, balancing trays of mugs and pitchers, you caught the Druid’s gaze again. Unlike the others, his eyes didn’t follow your every movement with hunger. Instead, there was a quiet warmth in his gaze. One that made your steps falter, just for a second. He lifted his goblet in a gentle, unspoken request. You nodded, disappearing through the crowd for a moment before reappearing to refill his drink.

Your hand was steady as you refilled his drink. 

“Your dance was… captivating.” His smooth deep voice washed over you from head to toe as he watched you pour the amber liquid. The compliment was genuine, and it didn’t hold the same lustful undertones that most did. “I am Halsin,” he said, introducing himself.

A smile graced the corners of your lips. “Thank you, Halsin, I am glad you enjoyed it. It’s not often we get such… interesting company in this part of the city.”

He chuckled, “Interesting, no doubt? None more intriguing than you, I’ll wager. Tell me, if you find this company so repulsive, why torment yourself with the work?”

“Repulsive? What gave you that idea?” You said smoothly. He simply raised a brow, bringing his newly filled drink to his lips. “It pays,” you sighed. “I need the money, really. It’s not easy trying to support more than yourself in this city.”

“I see,” he hummed. Halsin leaned forward, voice soft and kind. “It must be tiring dealing with these crowds every night.” He paused, studying you carefully. “Perhaps after your shift you’d like some fresh air? A walk under the moonlight… It’s quieter out there,” he suggested.

The offer caught you off guard, your lips parting slightly. A walk? With him? He had a presence, a calmness that intrigued you. A break from the noise, the stares, sounded too good to be true. Certainly too good to refuse.

“Maybe,” you offer a teasing grin. It was less theatrical now. “If you promise not to ask me to dance again. My feet are killing me.”

Halsin chuckled, the sound deep and comforting. “Only if you want to.”

“Alright,” you said, pushing off the beam and adjusting your apron. “But if you get any ideas about trying to twirl me under the moonlight, I might have to reconsider.”

Halsin’s grin widened, warmth in his gaze. “I’ll behave… for now.”

The noise of the tavern slowly dimmed behind you as you stepped out into the cool night air. The breeze was a welcome contrast to the heat and chaos inside. You paused at the entrance, pulling your shawl tighter around your shoulders as the weight of the night settled over you.

Halsin was waiting nearby, a quiet presence amidst the shadows. His broad frame seemed even larger beneath the glow of the moon, but his expression was soft. Patient. He offered you a small smile, and without a word, you both began to walk.

In the back of your mind, you worried, but you pushed those thoughts aside. She would be alright on her own for a while longer. She was likely asleep by now anyway.

The night was calm, and the streets of Baldur’s Gate were quieter at this hour. Only the occasional murmur of drunkards stumbling home or the distant clatter of hooves disturbed the peace. Your footsteps fell into an easy rhythm, and for a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable---it felt like a release after the constant noise of the tavern. You found yourself stealing glances at the elf beside you, watching how the moonlight caught in his hair and softened the hard lines of his face.

After a while, Halsin broke the silence, his voice a low rumble that blended with the night air. “I can see why you’d want to escape from all of that,” he said. “The noise… the attention.”

You nodded, letting out a soft sigh. “It’s exhausting,” you admitted quietly. “They think it’s all fun and games. And maybe sometimes it is, but most of the time… I feel like I’m wearing a mask for the performance’s sake.”

Halsin glanced at you, his gaze thoughtful. “A mask?” He knew of course what you meant, but it felt like an invitation to speak of your troubles to someone who just wanted to lend an ear.

You gave him a small, wry smile. “To keep them at bay. To keep myself from… I don’t know. Feeling too much. Letting it get to me.” You kicked at a loose pebble in your path, watching it skitter ahead of you. “It pays well, but I’d give almost anything to get out of that place.”

He nodded, his understanding evident in the way he listened without judgment. “And yet you stay. For someone else, no doubt.”

You hesitated, then nodded. “My sister. She’s younger, and I’m all she has. This job is what keeps food on the table and a roof over our heads.” You laughed softly, but the sound lacked humor. “Not much choice in that, I suppose.”

Halsin’s eyes softened. “You care for her deeply,” he said softly. “It takes strength to carry such a burden. I understand what it’s like to protect someone.”

The empathy in his voice surprised you, but it shouldn’t have. “Do you?” You asked, curiosity piqued.

He paused, as though contemplating how to share what was on his mind. “Once, long ago, I fought on the front lines against an evil that plagued Reithwin. I was friends with a young fey boy who relied on the lands to survive just as they did him. We failed that battle, and the land was plunged into darkness.”

“The Shadow Cursed lands,” you said thoughtfully. “I’ve heard of the horrors that used to roam there.”

He nodded solemnly. “It took a century, but I found myself aiding a group of adventurers that had to pass through there. The evil they fought had turned out to be the very same man who had cursed the lands all those years ago. With their help, we relinquished the curse and brought light back to Reithwin. The fey boy, Thaniel, nearly hadn’t survived. The world is not kind to those who cannot defend themselves.”

There was a weight to his words, one that mirrored something deep inside you. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, your earlier lightheartedness slipping away. “You say you lost the battle. It sounds like you lost much more than that.”

“We all lose, in time,” Halsin said gently. “But I’ve found that with loss, there comes clarity. And with clarity, a chance to rebuild.” He glanced at you, his gaze intense, but warm. “You, too, have that strength. I see it.”

His words struck a chord in you. The way he looked at you---not with hunger or desire like so many others, but with genuine respect---made something inside you stir. You’d spent so long being admired for your beauty, your charm, but here was someone who saw deeper. Who understood.

You walked in silence for a while longer, the path beneath your feet turning from cobblestones to a dirt trail leading toward the outskirts of the city. The sounds of nature began to replace the distant chatter of the city---the rustling of leaves, the quiet hum of insects, the occasional hoot of an owl. The moon hung low in the sky, casting everything in a soft, silvery light.

Eventually, the path led you into a small clearing surrounded by trees. The air was crisp and fresh, and the moonlight bathed the space in an ethereal glow. You stopped, turning to face him. “This… this is nice,” you said softly, your voice barely over a whisper. “Peaceful.” 

In truth, you had no idea this was out here. You’d been born and bred Baldurian and there was no reason for you to ever travel when everything you needed was right there in the midst of the city. Finding somewhere quiet in nature was often the last thing on your mind. But here, with him, it was at the forefront.

You glanced up at him, watching as his eyes took in the surroundings with a calm familiarity. His presence was grounding, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you could breathe without putting on a show.

“It is,” Halsin replied, his voice a deep rumble in the quiet night. “Sometimes, when the world is too loud, I seek places like this. It helps me remember what matters.”

“I hate the way they look at me,” you admit to him. “As if I’m something they have any right to. Something they own,” you spat.

His expression softened, and he stepped closer, his warmth enveloping you. “You’re not,” he said firmly, his voice like a steady heartbeat. “You’re more than what they see. More than they could ever understand.”

The sincerity in his words hit you hard, and before you could stop yourself, you stepped closer to him, your body craving the solace his presence offered. His hand found your cheek, rough but tender, and you leaned into the touch, your eyes fluttering closed.

“I…” your voice was barely a whisper. You could feel the pull, the magnetism between you, a need for connection that went beyond words.

Halsin’s breath was warm against your skin as he leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. “I see you,” he whispered, his lips brushing the edge of your temple.

The space between you disappeared,and your lips met his in a soft, tentative kiss. His touch was patient, gentle, as though he were holding back a great storm for your sake. His other hand moved to your hip, holding you softly, not like something to own, but something to cherish. The kiss deepened, your lips parting to welcome the sweep of his broad tongue, and your heart raced in your chest. But just as your hands found his broad shoulders, a tremor of doubt ran through you.

“I… I can’t,” you stammered, your fingers still curled in the fabric of his tunic. “I don’t… I’m not ready. Not yet. It’s---”

Halsin brushed a thumb along your cheek, and you quieted. His eyes softened. “You don’t have to explain,” he said gently. “Not to me. You should never feel rushed. I’ve been alive for three hundred and fifty years, I can wait a bit longer.” 

You nodded, a mix of relief and guilt swirling inside you. “I’m sorry…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He stepped back and cool air rushed between you. The warmth of his presence was sorely missed. “When you’re ready.”

The intimacy hung in the air between you, a tether that hadn’t snapped but was left suspended. You both turned, continuing the walk in silence, but the weight of what could have been lingered in your chest long after you returned to your apartment above the Elfsong.

You’d been thinking about that night for days. The way Halsin’s presence had calmed you, the way his touch had stirred something inside of you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. And now, with every passing day, you couldn’t shake the feeling of regret. Why had you pulled away? Why hadn’t you just allowed yourself that moment of connection?

Tonight, the tavern was rowdier than usual. Men sloshed their drinks, and the noise was deafening, but your mind was elsewhere. Your thoughts kept drifting back to him---to Halsin, and what could have been.

Things were harder since then it felt like. It was more difficult to pull on the mask, and even more difficult to pull it off when you were done performing. All of those clawing hands felt like they were gripping everywhere. Like they were trying to restrain you and pull you back in to keep you from feeling fulfilled. To keep you from having fun. To keep you from being free.

After your shift, you headed out into the night, the streets quieter now. The air was cool again, but this time it didn’t bring the same sense of peace. You felt the weight of eyes on you---eyes that you had learned to ignore but never fully escape.

The alley was dark and narrow, the dim light of the tavern barely reaching the cobbled street as you stepped outside to catch a breath. The night had grown quieter, but you still felt the ghost of eyes on your skin, crawling and biting like the memories of lecherous hands from nights past.

You didn’t hear him at first---the heavy footsteps that followed as you made your way down the alley, the stench of ale and filth drifting toward you on the wind. The faint clink of a bottle hitting the ground. Then, the voice---low, slurred, but unmistakably familiar.

“Oi,” came the rough, rasping call. “Where you off to in such a hurry?”

Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as you quickened your pace, the cold weight of dread settling in your stomach. You knew that voice. One of the drunkards from the tavern. His slurred words echoed in your mind, followed by the clumsy grad he’d attempted earlier in the night. You’d laughed it off then, but now… Now you were alone.

A hand shot out from the shadows and grabbed your arm, yanking you back with brute force. You let out a sharp cry as your back hit the rough stone of the alley wall. The smell of alcohol and sweat overwhelmed you, and his breath, hot and rancid, fanned across your face.

“Didn’t get a good enough look at you earlier,” he slurred, his voice thick with menace. “But now… I’ve got you all to myself.”

Your blood ran cold, terror sinking its claws into your chest as his filthy hands grabbed at your waist, his body pressing you hard against the wall. The alley was too narrow, too dark. There was no way to scream loud enough, no way to escape the iron grip that pinned you in place.

You struggled, pushing at his chest, but it was like pushing against a brick wall. His hands roamed, pawing at your skin, tugging at the ties of your dress and corset, nearly tearing the thin material. Panic surged through you, your vision narrowing as rage and and fear tangled in your throat.

“Let go of me!” You snarled, but your voice wavered.

He laughed, the sound dark and predatory, like a wolf toying with its prey. “Come on now,” he taunted. “You wanted this. All that dancing, all those smiles. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy the attention.”

Your mind screamed as you writhed against him, but his grip tightened. You could feel the anger rising, hotter and more dangerous than the fear when there was nothing you could do about it. It swelled in your chest like a damn about to break just as tears filled your eyes.

They would never know what it was like to dance in the fear that you did. Forever living in headlights, the hunted, the deer. You were only prey for the predators. Not the top of the food chain, but certainly higher on it than you were.

Whore, mother, sister, slut.

Nurse, sinner, virgin, bitch.

It didn’t matter what title you had, you were seen by most men the same way.

Sex doll, slave, toy, cunt.

Your elbow connected with his ribs, hard enough to make him grunt, but he didn’t release you. His hands scrambled for purchase, his grip brutal and unrelenting. He was stronger than you, even drunk. You kicked, you clawed, every inch of you thrumming with violent desperation.

Your vision blurred with tears of frustration. Your mind was a blur of survival and sheer, primal rage. You clawed at the ground, searching for something---anything to fight with. But before you could find purchase, the drunkard’s grip tightened again. His weight pressed you down like a stone, and you felt your body beginning to numb from the terror, the suffocation.

Then, just as your world began to shrink to the horror of his hands on your body---

A deep, thunderous roar split the night.

Halsin.

In an instant, the weight was gone. The drunkard was torn off of you as if he were nothing more than a rag doll. You gasped for air, rolling onto your back just in time to see the massive druid towering over the man, his broad chest heaving with fury.

“You dare lay a hand on her?” Halsin’s voice was low, dangerous---like a storm about to break. His eyes glowed with barely restrained rage as he looked down at the man crumpled at his feet.

The drunkard groaned, scrambling back, but Halsin was quicker. His hand shot out, grabbing the man by the throat and lifting him effortlessly into the air. The man’s feet kicked helplessly as Halsin held him aloft, his grip tightening with every second.

“You will never touch her---or any other---again.” Halsin’s voice was a growl, primal and unyielding.

For a brief, terrible moment, you thought he might snap the man’s neck right there. But instead, Halsin threw him to the ground with a sickening thud. The drunkard lay there gasping, clutching his throat, eyes open wide with fear.

Halsin took a step forward, looming over him. “Run,” he commanded, his voice deadly calm. “Run before I change my mind.”

The man didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet, stumbling and tripping over himself as he fled down the alley disappearing into the night.

Your body shook as the adrenaline slowly drained from you. You sat up, your breath coming in ragged gasps, trying to gather your wits. The fear, the rage---it still clung to your skin like a second layer of filth. On top of the first layer which you felt you would never wash off. All the places where he had touched you burned on your skin.

But then Halsin was at your side, his expression softening as he knelt before you. His hands were gentle now as they brushed the dirt from your arms, his gaze filled with concern.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice low, soothing.

You shook your head, your throat too tight to speak. Your heart still pounded in your chest, but you felt… safe. His presence was like a balm, the rage that had once twisted his features now replaced by an almost unbearable tenderness.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered, his large hand cupping your cheek, brushing away a stray tear. His thumb traced a soft line across your skin, grounding you in the present, reminding you that you were no longer alone.

Tears brimmed at the corners of your eyes again, this time from relief rather than fear. You had been so close to breaking, to losing yourself, but now here he was---strong, unyielding, and yet so impossibly gentle.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as you finally allowed yourself to feel the weight of what had just happened. He pulled you close, wrapping you in his arms. The alley was quiet now, the only sound the faint rustle of the night wind and your own uneven breaths,

You leaned into him, your face buried against his chest, listening to the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It was steady, like the forest after a storm. His scent---earthy, like pine and damp leaves---calmed the last of your trembling nerves. For a moment, it was all you could do---just breathe and be held.

Finally, you pulled back slightly, your hands still resting against his broad chest. His eyes, normally so warm, were now shaded with worry. Halsin’s hand brushed the side of your face, tucking a stray lock behind your ear. “I should have been here sooner,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret. “I should have protected you.”

You shook your head, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall again. “You did,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “You saved me.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, just watching you with an intensity that made your chest tighten. His hand moved to your shoulder, the touch gentle, as if he feared you might break beneath it.

“You are so much stronger than you know,” he said softly, his thumb grazing the curve of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “But you should never have had to fight alone.”

His words hung heavy in the air between you, and for the first time, the full weight of what had happened hit you. The fear, the rage, the helplessness---it all came crashing down. You tried to swallow it back, tried to keep it together, but it was too much.

Your breath hitched, and before you could stop it, a sob tore from your throat. You turned your face away, embarrassed, but Halsin was already there, his arms tightening around you, pulling you back into the safety of his embrace. “It’s alright,” he whispered against your hair. “Let it out.”

And so, you did.

The sobs came hard, each one ripping through you as the shock and terror of the attack poured out in a flood of tears. Halsin held you through it all, his large hand stroking soothing circles on your back, his presence a solid anchor in the storm.

“You remind me of a willow tree,” Halsin said, his deep voice cutting through the noise in your mind. “Strong, but flexible. A willow bends in the fiercest storms to withstand it but never breaks. It sways with the wind, rooted deeply in the earth, steady and enduring. You are like that---resilient. Even when the world presses against you, you bend, you adapt. But your roots remain strong.”

His thumb brushed over your cheeks, wiping your tears gently. His voice was quiet, but filled with warmth. You found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him as he speaks, your mind stilling to his gentle tone.

“And yet, like the willow, there is a softness to you, a grace. The way you move, the way you face life’s challenges with quiet strength… it reminds me of the branches that gently sweep the ground, giving shelter and peace to those who need it.”

He paused, his eyes meeting yours as he gathered you against his chest, cradling you like a mere babe.

“But you are also like the forest,” he continued, his tone shifting as though he were speaking of something sacred. Perhaps it was sacred to him. Perhaps you were sacred. “Vast, full of life, ever-changing.” He said, standing with you as though you weighed nothing. “There is a wildness to you. Something untamed and beautiful. The forest does not seek to control or be controlled; it simply exists in harmony with itself, with all its seasons and cycles. Like the forest, you have a depth that cannot be easily understood---mysteries, strength, and a wild spirit that draws others in. You are captivating.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, green eyes filled with sincerity. “In the forest, there is peace, but there is also power. You hold both within you. Like the trees that grow tall and proud, and the earth that nourishes all, you are a source of strength for others, even when you don’t see it.” His voice was barely over a whisper. This was meant for your ears only, to soothe your mind alone. “And like the forest, you are ever-growing. You change with the seasons of your life, becoming something new, something more, while still holding the essence of who you are.”

Halsin’s gaze lingered on you, as if he saw not just your present self, but the many versions of you that had come before and those still to come. “You are the willow---graceful, strong. And you are the forest---wild, deep, and full of life. Both are beautiful, in their own ways, just as you are,” he said softly. “You are far more complex than the drunks of this city like to think, and more beautiful than the sun filtering through autumn leaves.”

You heard everything he told you and everything he didn’t. You heard him say that you were worth more than just your beauty and your body. You were worth more than what they made you out to be. And you knew now. You knew he could see you for what you truly were. For what you always had been.

Gradually, your tears subside, and you squeeze his shoulder, moving so he can set you on your feet, though you keep a hand in the crook of his elbow.

“Would you like me to take you home?” He asked. “Or somewhere else, perhaps?”

You thought about returning to the Elfsong. You thought about the noise and the people and the constant hum that filled your mind when you were there. Always double checking if the door was locked, making sure the windows were shut and locked, making sure no one was hiding in the dark spaces of the room to hurt you.

But then you thought about someone else. “My sister---”

“I sent Jaheira to check on her. She’s staying with her and her children tonight,” Halsin said. “She’s safe, don’t worry.” You almost cried again, just at the notion that someone had cared enough about you not only to protect you, but to protect someone you cherished by extension. He must’ve seen it in your smile or your eyes because he just smiled softly at you, a quiet assurance that things would be okay.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” You told him honestly. “My only other option is my parents in the upper city and…” you scoffed. “They’re about as likely to help as the man who did the hurting.”

Halsin was silent for a moment, his mouth drawn into a thin line. He wished he had done worse to that man. “I have somewhere you can stay. Tav and Astarion own a house in the upper city, we can stay there. You’ll be safe.”

“The woman who saved the city?” Your eyes went wide. “I couldn’t possibly impose on them.”

“You can, and you will,” he said, tone gentle but leaving no room for argument. 

Halsin’s hand rested lightly on the small of your back as he guided you through the city gates. “Come,” he murmured, his warmth steady beside you. “Let’s get you somewhere quiet. You’ll feel better once we’re away from all this.”

The two of you walked through the dim, cobbled streets of the Upper City. The night was cool, the stars above shimmering faintly through wisps of clouds. The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. With each step, the tension of the night began to loosen, like vines slowly unwinding from your heart.

The thought of staying with Tav and Astarion left you unsettled at first---two legends in their own right, people you'd only ever seen in passing. They had saved the city, but still, the idea of intruding on their space made you hesitant. Yet there was something about the way Halsin had said you will---firm, but not unkind---that reassured you. He wouldn’t take you anywhere you didn’t didn’t belong.

When you arrived, Tav greeted you at the door, all warmth and open arms, as though she had expected you. “Come in, both of you,” she said with a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. “We were just about to have dinner.”

Astarion leaned lazily against the doorway to the parlor, dressed in silk that shimmered like moonlight. He was definitely pretty, and you could see the appeal. He kept his eyes on Tav, swirling his wine glass. He looked serene as he watched her, body relaxed and a small smile on his face as he regarded his love.

You stepped inside, the warmth of the house wrapping around you like a blanket. The air smelled faintly of roasted meat and herbs, and a fire crackled in the hearth, filling the space with a cozy glow. It was a far cry from the Elfsong---quiet, safe, and comforting in a way that felt foreign to you.

“Make yourselves at home,” Tav said, waving a hand toward the dining room. “There’s plenty to share.

“Come, sit with us,” Astarion added, his voice smooth as butter. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “We don’t bite. Well, I don’t---not tonight, at least.”

You managed a weak smile at the vampire’s teasing. Halsin guided you to a seat at the table, sitting beside you as Tav set an extra plate in front of you. The meal was simple but hearty---roast venison, roasted vegetables, and warm bread.

“You’re welcome here for as long as you need,” Tav said softly, sitting across from you. Her words were earnest, her expression kind. 

“Thank you,” you managed a smile at her.

“Of course,” she said. “Halsin has spoken so much about you, it’s only right.”

You glanced over at him, the tips of his ears pink as he ate, ignoring the teasing stare from Tav. “He has?” You blinked. You were surprised he had thought about you beyond that first night, but perhaps you shouldn’t be. 

“Of course,” she said. “He had said he was going to invite you here this night, I am glad it worked out.”

Halsin cleared his throat, and you just stared at him. “Not exactly, Tav…” he said carefully. “Our dear Y/N narrowly escaped an attack tonight, I was lucky I got there in time.”

There was a time Astarion wouldn’t have cared, and may have felt a bit smug that he wasn’t the only one. Perhaps his time with Tav was helping him grow. He rested a hand over yours and squeezed gently. His skin was cold to the touch. “No one deserves that. I know better than most. You are safe here,” he promised.

You could only nod. The knots in your stomach loosened a bit---enough for you to eat, and appreciate the meal being shared with you. Astarion, of course, didn’t have any food in front of him, but he sipped his wine.

“So,” Tav said. “Halsin says you’re a performer?” She asked, a knowing glint in her eye that told you she was changing the subject to alleviate some of your stress. “I can understand why, you must have the masses swooning at your feet.”

Your cheeks warmed. Something about Tav saying it changed the way it felt. Rather than the men grabbing after you, you had this woman appreciating your beauty. “Only occasionally,” you told her. “Most of the time I’m just a server.”

“Ah, I see, so Halsin got lucky then,” she shot a teasing smile in his direction. He shook his head fondly, eating his roast rather than dignifying her with a response. “Well, I for one would love to come watch. What say you, Astarion?”

“Oh, darling, you know I’m always down for a show,” he flashed a grin, his sharp canines glinting in the light.

Your blush deepened, and you took another bite of your dinner. Halsin seemingly had it right, not to bother arguing with them. But you felt him nudge your side, as if to say I see you. “She sells herself short,” Halsin said. “It’s far worth any amount of coin you can pay, and a shame you get nothing from it.”

You looked up at him. “I get tips,” you said quickly. “It’s not as though I gain nothing from it. It’s how I met you, after all,” you smiled up at him.

Tav watched you thoughtfully. “Do you have any family in the city?”

“That matters? Only my sister. My parents live around here in the upper city,” You told her. “The (l/n)’s. We aren’t particularly close.”

You saw Astarion’s face twist. “I know that name,” he was silent for a moment, as though trying to remember something. “They had ties to the Szarr family, did they not?”

You saw Tav’s eyes go wide, and you looked between them. “They did when I was young. I’ve not kept in touch with them after fleeing with my baby sister.” You watched Tav squeeze Astarion’s hand. His eyes went unfocused, the epitome of a thousand-yard stare. “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to cause upset--”

Astarion loosed a breath, chuckling without humor. “You haven’t dear.” Your gaze flicked around the room. “I haven’t thought about that in a long time. You said you escaped? Good on you. So did I.” He raised his glass to you, draining the rest.

The dinner passed in a blur of conversation, though you mostly listened as Tav and Astarion spoke with Halsin. Their camaraderie was easy and familiar, filled with inside jokes as playful banter. It made you feel like a welcome guest rather than an intruder, and slowly, the tension in your shoulders began to ease.

When the meal was over, Astarion poured wine for everyone, his gaze flickering between you and Halsin with sly amusement. “I do love hosting surprise guests,” he said with a grin. “Especially ones who bring such interesting company.”

Halsin gave a low chuckle but didn’t rise to Astarion’s bait. Instead, he turned to you, his hand resting lightly on your back. “You’re tired,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Let’s get you to bed.”

You nodded, exhaustion settling over you like a heavy cloak. Halsin stood, gently guiding you to your feet, and Tav gave you a reassuring smile. “Sleep well,” she said softly. “You’ll be safe here.”

Halsin led you up the stairs to one of the guest rooms. The bed was large and covered in soft blankets, a small window cracked open to let in the cool night breeze. It was the kind of room that invited rest, but when Halsin turned to leave, you caught his large hand in your own.

“Stay,” you whispered. The word came out softer than you intended, but it carried the weight of everything you couldn’t quite say.

Halsin’s gaze searched yours for a moment, and then he nodded. He didn’t ask any questions---he simply stayed.

He helped you out of your outer clothes, his hands gentle and deliberate, as if he understood how much care you needed right now. When you were down to your shift, he cupped your face gently, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

Something about his touch was the only thing keeping you grounded, keeping you sane. Slowly, as though waiting for you to change your mind, he sat on the edge of the bed, removing his boots as he looked at you.

You bit your lip in quiet contemplation as you watched him get comfortable in this space with you. You both were laid almost bare before the other, a show of silent trust. You stepped between his parted thighs, carefully cupping his cheeks and tilting his face up to you. His moss green eyes searched yours, and slowly he rested his hands on your hips.

You let the breath you were holding from your chest, eyes fluttering closed from the warmth of his palms against the thin fabric separating him from your skin. Somehow, you were closer to vulnerability than ever, and yet you knew you were completely safe here, with him.

You leaned down, lips a hair’s breadth from his, and you closed your eyes, pressing your forehead to his with a sigh. Halsin’s thumbs rubbed soothing circles against your hips. “You don’t have to do anything,” he reassured you softly.

But gods you wanted to. You wanted this. You wanted to make this choice. It was your choice, and it was one you regretted not making sooner. “I want to,” you whispered. “I want to replace their touch with yours.”

You felt his voice rumble in his chest as he spoke. “Come here, to me.” His hands trail reverently down the backs of your thighs, pulling you forward to straddle his lap, needing no further encouragement.

His hands returned to your hips as you pressed your lips to his softly. The kiss was slow and deliberate with a tenderness that made you ache. He kissed you as if every touch was a promise to erase the memories of all the hands that had hurt you before—replacing those memories with thoughts of him; his scent, his touch, his warmth, it consumed you and you thanked him for it.

His hands began to map your body like the roots of a tree seaking the earth—gentle, insistent, and sure. Where others had taken, Halsin only gave, only cherished. His kisses were soft, coaxing you open, and his touch was reverent, as though you were something precious to him.

“You are safe,” he whispered against your skin, his breath warm on your neck. “And I will keep you safe. No one will ever touch you again.”

His words settled deep in your bones, wrapping around the places where fear had taken root,soothing them with a steady warmth. His hands, still at your hips, were grounding—tangible proof that this moment was real. That he was real. That you had chosen this, and he would honor that choice without hesitation or expectation. The tenderness in his gaze was almost too much, and yet you craved more, needed more.

You shifted in his lap, sliding your arms around his neck as his hands roamed up your back. His touch was slow, reverent, as if each movement was deliberate—like a druid tending to the forest, patient and loving. His fingertips traced the curve of your spine, a soothing pattern that made your breath hitch. There was nothing hurried in his exploration. No rush, no demand. Only the steady reassurance of his presence.

When you kissed him again, it was deeper, more intentional. The softness of his lips against your carried a weight that sent a shiver down your spine. This was not just a kiss—it was a reclamation, an act ofhealing, a promise that what came next would be only what you desired. Halsin’s hand cradled the back of your neck, guiding you closer without ever forcing you. His other hand remained at your waist, anchoring you to him, letting you set the pace.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, drawing a low rumble of pleasure from deep in his chest. The sound vibrated through you, spreading warmth across your skin. His kisses trailed from your mouth to the curve of your jaw, then down your neck, each press of his lips a silent affirmation: I am here. You are safe. This is yours to take. Yours to have.

You tilted your head to give him better access, and his lips traced a path to the hollow of your throat. His breath ghosted over your skin, sending sparks down your spine, and you gasped softly, your body arching into him.

His hands slid beneath the hem of your shift, brushing along the sensitive skin of your thighs. His touch was gentle, as if he feared he might startle you—but you leaned into him, silently urging him on. Halsin responded with a deep exhale, as though your trust was a gift he didn’t take lightly. Slowly, his hands traveled upward, caressing the soft curve of your hips, his fingers splaying wide as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered, his voice low and reverent against your collarbone, as though the words themselves were sacred.

You shivered under his touch, every word, every kiss, unraveling the tension you had carried for so long. His hands reached the small of your back, pulling you closer, pressing you fully against him. The sensation of his solid frame beneath yours made you feel both protected and powerful, as though reclaiming something you hadn’t realized you’d lost.

“I want to see all of you,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection, but not impatience. “If you’ll let me.”

A flutter of anticipation stirred in your chest, but there was no fear, only want—want for him, for this moment, for the peace his touch brought. You nodded, your heart pounding as you reached for the hem of your shift, drawing it slowly over your head.

Halsin’s breath hitched at the sight of you, but there was no savagery in his gaze—only awe, as if you were a rare and precious thing. His hands followed the path his eyes traced. His touch was light and gentle despite the calluses on his warm hands. He was sure of his path as he caressed your bare skin. With every stroke of his fingers, you felt the ghosts of unwanted touches fade, replaced completely by this moment.

“I will care for you,” he whispered, his voice full of quiet devotion. “And I will never hurt you.”

Your chest tightened at his words—not from anything other than the overwhelming sense of safety they carried. You leaned down to kiss him again, your hands bracing on his broad shoulders, and he met you halfway, his lips soft and coaxing as your lips parted to his tongue. There was no rush, no urgency, only the slow unfolding of something deeper—something neither of you needed to name.

His hands roamed over your body, mapping every curve and dip with reverence. He treated you like something sacred, his touch steady and deliberate, as if he were tending to the delicate petals of a flower or coaxing life from the soil. And you bloomed above him, your skin tingling under his palms, your breath hitching with every kiss he pressed to your skin.

You shifted in his lap, the soft friction drawing a low, satisfied hum from Halsin’s chest. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements without controlling them, letting you find the rhythm that felt right for you. There was no expectation, only the slow, deliberate merging of your bodies and hearts.

The shift in his lap stirred a quiet groan from his lips, low and rumbling, the sound vibrating through your skin where your bodies touched. You leaned into him, relishing the way his hands tightened every so slightly on your hips, as if he needed this connection as much as you did. His hands against your skin were taut, not to control, but to anchor himself to you, as though you were the only thing tethering him to the ground. His lips parted against yours, and his breath came in warm, shallow waves, brushing your skin like a summer breeze stirring through the canopy.

You felt the warmth growing between your thighs, and your fingers slipped beneath the hem of his tunic. His body radiated heat, and he only pulled back to allow you to slip his shirt off. Your hands trailed his muscled chest and shoulders, nails scratching lightly at the hair on his chest.

His stomach was soft but you could feel the muscle beneath as he tensed with ragged breaths as you explored his body, mapping it in just the same way he had mapped yours. Your fingers trailed over his strong shoulders to the large biceps that were wrapped around you. It wasn’t a cage, it was a blanket. It was a soft landing after all the nights you spent with knees against bricked roads.

"I want you," you breathed, shifting down against his lap. "I want all of you." It's both a plea and your consent. His hand trails up, cupping your breast and rolling your nipple experimentally. You moan, arching into his touch as his mouth savages your neck, licking, kissing, biting wherever he can.

“And you shall have me,” He murmured against your skin. He lowered his mouth to your other breast, swirling his tongue over your nipple and nipping lightly against the bud. You whined, pressing up against his mouth.

He teased you until your buds were red and raw, overly sensitive from his attention. Leaning back, he pulled you with him until his back was flush to the mattress. He watched you like you were his goddess and he was ready to worship you completely.

His hands trailed over your body reverently. When he held your waist, his thumbs nearly touched with how large his hands were compared to you. Your wide hips, though, were soft and the perfect grip for him as you ground down against him with a smile gracing your lips for the first time in days.

He groaned, hips bucking up into you as his head dropped back. “Silvanus preserve me,” he mumbled. If this is to be my end then so be it, he thought. “Mo chridhe…” He squeezed your hips, fighting the urge to grind up into you. You watched his mossy green eyes flash golden before returning to their normal color.

You leaned over him, lifting up to untie the laces to his breeches. With his help, you pushed them down his thighs, feeling his thick length slap up against your ass. You smirked as he loosed a breath heavily feeling you grind back against him eagerly.

“Is this for me?” You tease, sliding your lips over his chest, pressing kisses and love bites where you can.

“All of me is yours, mo chridhe. Every part,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion and need. He had waited centuries to find the person who would so thoroughly complete him.

You smiled, leaning forward to press your lips to his, a kiss that was so soft compared to the heat of this moment. Reaching behind you, you guided his length to your core, gasping soundlessly as you lowered slightly. The stretch of him was much more than you were used to, and his eyes widened as you slid just past the tip.

Your thighs held you suspended as your mouth dropped open in a silent whine. “Shh, little dove,” Halsin rubbed his large palms soothingly over your thighs. “I know. Easy,” he murmured, moving his hands back to your hips and back to your ass, squeezing to distract you from the sting of the stretch.

When your breathing had evened again, you made yourself drop all the way down, ass and thighs slapping against his hips. “Halsin,” you moaned, your eyes rolling back as your body adjusted to the intrusion.

Halsin let out a guttural moan, hands tightening on your hips. “Gods. You feel… exquisite.” You managed to look at him to watch the green and gold in his eyes battling for dominance. His abdomen was tense and chest tight, as though holding back.

“Take me,” you tell him. “Have me. I am yours.”

“Are you sure, my dove?” He asked breathlessly. “I fear if I take control I will not… give what you deserve.”

“Please,” you whimpered, shifting slightly with a moan as he reached the deepest parts of you. Halsin’s eyes went straight to the bulge in your lower abdomen where he rested, and he groaned.

With a smooth motion, not disconnecting the two of you, Halsin flips you onto your back, holding himself over you with one hand beside your head. “You are beautiful,” he muttered, free hand trailing over your body.

Slowly, he began to thrust, the drag of his cock numbing your mind to any thoughts but those of him and this moment. “Fuck, Halsin,” you moaned. His thrusts weren’t fast, but they were hard and deep, hitting every sensitive spot in you.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and the feeling of being so completely taken was both terrifying and exhilarating. But with Halsin, you knew you were safe. His hands roamed over your body, his touch gentle but firm, guiding you through the sensations.

As he thrust deeper, you arched your back, meeting him stroke for stroke. The friction between your bodies was almost unbearable, but you welcomed it, needing the release it promised. Halsin's breathing grew ragged, his muscles tense beneath your nails. You could feel him tensing, and with a gasp, he ground his hips into you one last time. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him into you.

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he thrust deeply, hips snapping as he emptied himself into you. His body shudders as he lets out a long, satisfied groan, his eyes locked onto yours. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as he collapses on top of you, their hearts beating in sync.

"Halsin," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. His weight was a comfort, his warmth seeping into you. You closed your eyes, letting the feelings wash over you. This was more than just sex—this was a connection, a bond forged in passion and trust. And in this moment, you knew that you were finally whole.

His eyes met yours, and a smirk fell over his lips as he started trailing kisses down your chest, down your stomach, biting your thighs, as he settled his lips around your clit and sucked.

Your voice broke as you moaned, back arching up off the mattress. “Oh–” Your mouth fell open as your hands tangled in his hair. You couldn’t decide whether you were trying to pull him closer or push him away.

You felt his tongue swipe through your folds, and he moaned, tasting both your essence and his, and by the gods if it wasn’t the best meal he’d ever had. "Fuck," you hissed, feeling the pleasure build up inside you. Halsin's tongue and lips worked in tandem, driving you wild with each flick and suck. Your hips bucked up against him, seeking more contact, more of that incredible sensation.

You could feel your body tense, every muscle coiled tight. "Halsin," you gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. And then, with a cry that echoed off the trees, you shattered. Waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you panting and weak as you came down from the high.

Halsin kissed his way back up your body, his green eyes full of love and satisfaction. He pressed his lips to yours, tasting your warmth mixed with his own. "My heart," he murmured, trailing his fingers down your side.

You sighed, curling into him. The world seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect moment. You knew this was just the beginning, but for now, you were content to bask in the afterglow of your union.

He pulled you against his warm body, cradling you like a babe as he rubbed your back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Worry no more, mo chridhe, I have you.”

“What does that mean?” You asked sleepily. “You said it more than once.”

“My heart,” he answered. “For that is what you are and what you hold,” he told you.

You only hummed in response, nuzzling your face into his chest. “Will I see you again?” You were not a fan of asking the hard questions, for you always feared it would end with your heart broken.

“As long as you wish it, I will be here. I have responsibilities in Reithwin, but I promise to visit often,” he squeezed your hip lightly. “Push those worries from your mind and rest. It has been a long day and a longer night. Sleep, little doe. I will be here when you wake.”

You didn’t need any more encouragement to fall into a peaceful slumber.

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

A/N: This was so freeing to write and just enjoy while I'm trying to cope with life. I can’t believe it took me a literal month.

I hope you enjoy!

Let me know if you want to be added to the Halsin Tag List

Tag List: @leiotyp @thoughts-of-bear @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @madschiavelique

[seonghwaddict]

★ NEVER SAY NEVER. [ 001 ] over my dead body.

synopsis. something about the eight most well-known boys of your campus just didn't sit right with you, so you never gave any effort to interact with them. but after a series of... interesting incidents, they can't seem to leave you alone. pairing. college students! vampires! ot8! ateez x fem! reader. genre. fluff, angst, eventual smut, college au, vampire au. chapter warnings. suggestive comments, swearing, wooyoung being an annoying piece of shit. word count. 1.1k

　　　　　　　　chapter i // chapter ii

"The groups have already been decided and the list can be found on the bulletin outside. See you all next week." And with that, your professor walked out of the studio and left your classmates scrambling to get out of class and find the list.

All things considered, your day could have been worse. Yes, you'd gone to bed at 5 am and woken up at 7 to your housemate blasting music in the bathroom as she showered. Though, that was a daily occurrence, being mad over it just didn't make sense anymore. Yes, when you got into the shower and turned on the water without paying attention to the heat dial, you pretty much burned off your skin. Yes, on the way to the art department you had dropped one of the paintings you've been working on for over a month, getting mud all over the bottom half of the artwork.

But, nevertheless, it could've been a lot worse.

As you gathered the used paintbrushes next to your easel, you thought about who could be your partner for this collaborative project with the dance majors. Professor Yun just spent about ten minutes informing you and your peers that the art majors were to pair up with a dance major to create an artwork. The specifics—such as whether it'll be a painting or collage or other media—were completely up to the students.

You holstered your bag on your shoulder, finally leaving the art studio to see who you were paired with. Maybe it'll be Suncha, possibly the most beautiful girl you'd ever seen. You could definitely see yourself working with her. She moved with grace and would probably be the best subject you could ever wish for. Maybe Daehyun—you'd always found his face and body aesthetically pleasing.

The crowd in front of the bullet slowly dissipated and people found their partners in the crowd, already making conversation and talking about the project. With a slight sense of dread but a pinch of anticipation, you stepped up to the list and scanned it, quickly finding your name next to-

Oh you've got to be kidding me.

Nevermind, this was definitely one of the worst days you'd ever experienced. Because right next to your name, stood a name associated with one of the eight most sought-after men on your campus.

Jung Wooyoung.

They'd never done anything to you personally, but you just weren't a fan of the way they'd go from girl to girl without being ashamed or being called out. Granted, you weren't sure if all eight of them behaved like that (though this particular Jung Wooyoung did), you still disliked them (except for one of them, but you'd never admit that). Maybe it was how they were practically handed everything they needed at any given moment on a silver tray. Or how ridiculously good looking they were. Either way, something about them just felt... off.

An arm being slung over your shoulder broke you out of your thoughts of just ending your life right then and there. Without even looking at the person, you already had a suspicion of who it could be.

"Hey there, partner," He stepped in front of you, hand lingering on your shoulder for a second longer than you'd like. A mischievous smile graced his features, "I don't think I've ever talked to you. What's your name, pretty?"

"It's on the paper right behind you." You deadpanned, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

For a second, Wooyoung's eyes hardened before that playful glint returned. "I know, but I'd like to hear you say it. After all, I don't want to be pronouncing it wrong."

With a sigh, you gave him your name and he repeated it, testing the sound of it on his tongue. Seemingly satisfied, he returned to your side with a hum and once again slung his arm over your shoulders, steering you toward the exit of the arts department and practically dragging you with him.

Along the way, you passed multiple clusters of girls and boys, some of them watching Wooyoung with admiration and lust in their eyes while others simply glared at you out of jealousy. Feeling their stares, your head turned to the ground and you screwed your eyes shut, wishing it was Daehyun dragging you. Not this painfully pretty, charming man that you couldn't stand.

"So," Wooyoung started—though he never really stopped talking, "I was thinking, if you don't have any courses or stuff for the rest of the day, you can come over to my place and we can start working on whatever it is we have to do."

"I told my roommate I'd be back early to clean our apartment."

"Oh, then I can come with you, help you and then you can come to my place."

"Why not just do it at my place?"

"That's fine, too. Maybe you can show me to your bedroom?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and you had to hold back the urge to smack him right then and there.

"Over my dead body."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not really into necrophilia."

It was then that you noticed you were walking towards the campus' parking lot. You stopped in your tracks and waited for Wooyoung to turn.

"Ok, first of all, what the fuck. But I guess I'm glad that's not your thing. Second, what are you doing? Where are you taking me?"

He blinked. Once, twice. "I'm taking you to my car...?"

"Why?"

"To take you to my place so we can work?" He looked behind him and then back to you, his dark hair bouncing around and revealing the bleached layers underneath.

"But I have stuff to do." You crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to your right leg as you looked up at him. He wasn't that much taller, but because of his proximity, it was hard to look him in the eyes without craning your neck just a bit.

A chuckle (though it sounded more like a giggle) escaped him. "The dishes and vacuum can wait. I'm only available for the next two hours, after that you're free to do whatever you want."

You took a second to mull things over before dropping your head and groaning. "Fine but–"

"Great!" Wooyoung grabbed your hand and resumed pulling you across the parking lot. "Let's get going, maybe the food Seonghwa-hyung made will still be warm when we get there and–"

"Wait!" You tugged on the hand that held yours harshly, making him stop to look back at you with a raised brow. "But... no funny business. Please."

He let out another high pitched laugh. "Oh, YN, my dearest darling YN, I don't plan on doing anything like that with you. Today, at least. Though if you'd like-"

"No!" You extended a hand to stop him from finishing that sentence, cheeks blushing dark crimson. "Please just- just lead the way."

That specific mischievous grin returned to his face as he whipped around and practically skipped to his black Mercedes with tinted windows. You didn't stop to appreciate the car, getting into the passengers seat and strapping the seatbelt on.

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter!! any guess as to who the ateez member is that YN likes more than the others? hint: it's not wooyoung. also, i'm basing each of the mebers' looks off of different eras. in case you couldn't tell, we will be dealing with oreo wooyoung here.

　　ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ taglist ... @atinytinaa @marievllr-abg @legohwas @moonsangie @kiss-hwa @cqndiedcherries @ateezourstars @r1kitti @sarahleighflora @kyukyustar

　　NEVER SAY NEVER　©　seonghwaddict, 2023

[thescarletnargacuga]

It's Showtime!

After the events of yet another, scary adventure, the group wakes up the next day to see- wait... Caine? Hellooo? You there?

Caine is gone, and the day remains without an adventure. This isn't like him. Pomni sets out to find him while the others kick back and enjoy life without the annoying pair of dentures.

Pomni's now... Worried. Extremely worried. Her head begins to spiral... But she soon finds Caine... Sleeping? He can sleep now? And why on the floor-

A message pops over his head.

"Low Power. Charge in Progress."

After a whole day of running... Maybe she could use a nap too...

The two settle down for a nice cuddle.

- 🪿

SLEEP MODE

A SHOWTIME ONESHOT

WARNING: none

~~~

"WATCH OUT!" Ragatha called out to Pomni as she dodged the flying bouncy ball. The ball bounced and nearly hit the jester in the face, but she managed to suck just in time.

The ball ricocheted off of a wall and smacked Gangle in the face, breaking her comedy mask. "Ow..." She held her non-existent nose with a whimper. "I don't wanna play this game anymore."

"Too bad, Gangle! Caine is taking forever and I'm bored!" Jax tossed another extremely bouncy ball. It bounced wildly all over the open space, knocking Kinger over, and flew at Zooble.

Zooble held out their clawed hand, stopping the ball dead on the sharp tips. It's slowly deflated and flopped to the floor. "At least this is more entertaining than whatever Caine comes up with. I could watch you idiots knock each other around all day."

Pomni got up from the floor. "None of you find it weird that he hasn't shown up yet? I mean, it's kind of hard to tell how much time has passed but... it's felt like a lot."

Ragatha picked up a bouncy ball. "I'm sure It's nothing to worry about. He's never done this before, but Caine is always trying to surprise us with something new." She gives a forced laugh. "It's fine. Everything is fine. Right guys?"

No one answered her. This was a weird situation, but denial was the first course of action for many of them. Kinger sat up, his eyes rolling from getting hit. "Did someone say something about an insect collection?"

"No Kinger, but I did say HEADS UP!" Jax launched a ball at full speed at Ragatha. She brought her arms up, still holding her own ball, out of reflex. The two balls collided, sending Jax's back at him and slamming him in the face. Ragatha was pushed back, but not hard.

The ball bounced off of every wall at blinding speed. Pomni had enough and ran from the chaos as the others sought cover. She ran all the way out of the circus tent. Taking a deep breath of the "fresher" air, she looked around. Nothing seems different or out of place. The sky was still half day and half night, the digital lake was undisturbed, and the carnival played inviting music.

The sun and moon stared back down at her, but said nothing. She felt awkward so she walked around avoiding eye contact with the celestial bodies. "Caine..? Hey, Caine? You out here? Uh... Everyone's getting pretty antsy, and I- uh, we were just wondering if you're okay?"

With no answer, she walked a bit faster. "Caine!? Caaaaaine?? Ca-"

A snore caught her attention. She stopped in her tracks and listened. Another snore sounded from the digital tree next to her. "Caine?" She looked up, unable to see the top of the branches. Determined to see if it was him, she climbed. The fluffy green top of the tree felt oddly solid, she could grip it like an overfilled bean bag.

At the top, she found Caine lounging on his back. His teeth were closed and he cradled the back of his head with his hands. Cartoonish Z's lazily floated off of him. His chest rose and fell as though he were breathing.

Pomni scooted closer to him on her knees. "Caine?" She said softly, gently nudging him. A red loading bar of some kind popped up, it indicated something was low.

"Huh...guess even AIs need sleep." She looked at the circus tent where the others were still likely trying to end each other with bouncy balls. She didn't feel like going back to that. "Mind if I join you?"

She laid down next to him and closed her eyes. This was a rather nice napping spot. The tree was comfortable and the grounds were surprisingly peaceful when Caine wasn't blaring thematic music. She scooted herself just a little closer, feeling his relaxed weight press down the leaves on his side. There was a comfort to it.

~

The bar reached green, making a light ding sound, and the Z's over Caine's head popped out of existence like balloons. Caine yawned and stretched. He hasn't had a recharge that nice in a while. He felt rested and ready to make another adventure!

Just as he was about to summon his cane, his hand touched an unexpected texture next to him. He startled and flew away a few feet, making all kinds of surprised garble. Seeing a still sleeping Pomni silenced him real quick.

He slowly flew back down to her, his eyes taking in her peaceful disposition. He's never seen her so relaxed. Resting down on the tree top again, he carefully reached out to tuck away the hair that fell in front of her face. "Wow..."

Maybe the next adventure could wait just a little longer. Pomni wasn't done recharging. He took off his tux coat and draped it over her. She couldn't be cold, but it felt like the thing to do.

Pomni stirred lightly, and he was afraid he accidentally woke her up, but she rolled into him and buried her face into his chest.

It took very ounce of willpower for him to not have an over-the-top reaction. He managed to keep it to a blush on the outside, but on the inside he was doing backflips amongst fireworks while singing Ode to Joy.

Caine snapped quietly and shooed the sun away. Humans preferred night, he'd been told. Nighttime ambiance played a soft symphony of crickets and frogs. He smiled and cuddled Pomni. This felt so nice. He hoped it would last. "Sleep well, my dear. I will wait for you."

[jomiddlemarch]

Everything but prudent

“This whole place belongs in a skip,” Marianne said darkly, pausing the scrub-brush she held clutched in her hand, the flagstones around her very slightly cleaner than when she had started, though it was hard to tell as there was a vast quantity of grey scummy water turning the stones dark, soaking Marianne’s jeans and trainers. The scarlet scarf she’d used to tie her bright chestnut hair back was still pristine as was her lip-gloss and Elinor made a great effort not to roll her eyes at the melodramatic scene Marianne had arranged for herself. All it needed was goldfinch to come through the open window and perch on Marianne’s shoulder, trilling a merry little melody. Marianne had refused the mop Elinor had suggested and Elinor was resigned to having to give the floor another going-over when Marianne decided it was clean enough.

“We’re lucky to have a place to stay,” Elinor reminded her. 

Lucky was an understatement. Elinor had started researching how much she could make selling her eggs, well before they’d come to Barton Cottage Inn where she could keep Lincolnshire Buffs to do the laying, and then, in what still felt like a miracle, their mum’s third cousin twice removed or whatever he was Jock Middleton, a successful hotelier who seemed equally fond of unprepossessing commercial properties and widowed distant relatives with dramatic daughters, had asked their mother whether she and her girls would be willing to make a go of the inn he’d bought at an auction nearly a decade ago and had forgotten about. Once they’d confirmed the inn had an intact roof to keep out the weather and at least one indoor lav, Elinor and her mother had leapt at the chance Jock offered, while Marianne took to melancholic swanning about their flat and making interminable cups of tea she never finished.

“You mean a place to work our fingers to the bone. To moulder away,” Marianne muttered. Elinor reminded herself Marianne was young and it was a wrench to have to give up on her plans to travel, the music course intensive she’d won a scholarship for which unfortunately only covered tuition, not living expenses in Vienna.

Elinor ignored the fact that she herself was only two years Marianne’s senior, had been forced to leave her highly-sought-after but poorly paid internship, and had been effectively abandoned by Teddy, who had stopped answering her calls without any explanation. She ignored it a little, anyway.

“I told you to wear rubber gloves,” Elinor said. “And the mouldering will get better once we have someone in to look at the electric—”

“Who’d come here, Ellie?” Marianne interrupted.

“Cousin Jock is footing the bill for the big repairs, I expect we’ll be able to get a service in shortly, and honestly, Marianne, you ought to hope lots of people want to come here and stay at the inn, otherwise even Jock’s generosity may run out and we’ll be out on our arses,” Elinor said.

“Elinor said arses, Elinor said arses,” Megan, their youngest sister, the one her mother had announced, after too much pinot grigio, had been an accident, but such a happy one, though your father did hope for a boy. Megan was a whirlwind, a cannonball, far too bright for her grammar school, impossible to homeschool, and exceptionally fine at distracting Elinor and Marianne from any real dispute.

“You’re tracking in God knows what, Megan—” Marianne exclaimed. Now she cared about the floor.

“Language, dear,” their mother said, having come in through the second set of stairs, the servants’ stairs, Elinor supposed, ones she and her sisters ought to get used to using. It was hard to consider wearing uniforms, but maybe Marianne would enjoy finding some signature print fabric they could make into scarves and throw pillows, something cottage-y, English country garden. Something that would not show the stains Megan was sure to immediately get on any article of clothing.

“But she said arses,” Megan replied.

“Elinor is an adult and if she felt she needed to use a vulgar word, I imagine she had her reasons. Elinor, I did call that company but it went straight to the machine, so I called Jock—”

“Mum, you should have waited, he won’t want to be bothered,” Elinor said. Some days, most days, it seemed she was the only Dashwood who didn’t think Barton Cottage Inn was a kind of free pass. Megan was the only one who had a right to feel that way.

“He wasn’t bothered a bit, you worry too much, darling,” her mother replied.

“Someone has to,” Elinor said under her breath.

“He said he had a friend to send round, a sort of jack-of-all-trades, a bit at loose ends, he said, it would be good for him to have a project to work on, and heaven knows the inn qualifies,” her mother went on blithely. 

“Jock-of-all-trades has a friend Jack-of-all-trades,” Megan said, grinning.

“Actually, his name is Brandon,” her mother said.

“Jock has a friend named Brandon?” Marianne said. “That’s rather trendy, isn’t it?”

“His last name is Brandon. His first name is Richard.”

���That’s not trendy at all,” Megan said. “I’m going to call him Brandon.”

“You’re going to call him Mr. Brandon or sir,” her mother said firmly.

If he could deal with the old wiring and the wonky cistern, the crumbling masonry and the flaking plaster, if he could reach a détente with the boiler, which appeared to be possessed and not by a happy spirit, Elinor would call the man whatever he pleased, prince or saint or colonel.

As it turned out, he was a dab hand with a fuse and a gasket and he said he preferred Brandon.

If it were not for Elinor’s stupidly loyal heart, the memory of Teddy’s voice reciting Keats in the twilight, she’d have fallen in love at first sight.

She’d discover soon enough that Brandon did that as well. 

It took Marianne substantially longer.

Posted for Janeuary 2025 @janeuary-month Day 5, prompt: inn

[hazbinwhoree]

Hey! I love your writing and I was gonna ask about a request? If you're up to it, could you do an Adam x f!reader where reader sings in a band, and Adam goes to one of her shows? You can do whatever you want with the story (maybe even a little smutty if you want...😏😏) ty!!💗💗💗

I Was In A Band

A/N: Requests are reopened!

Despite how many of Adam’s shows (Name) had been to, he’d never been to one of hers before. (Name) was both excited and nervous. There was a reason she never invited him. But when she and her band took the stage, and Adam stared up at her from the front of the crowd in complete admiration, (Name) was fully excited.

They began their set, and Adam’s first thought was that their bands’ music was very different from each other. Immediately, the angsty tone had him knowing this was going to be very different from his metal shows.

The lyrics were much deeper than any he’d ever sung. They were beautifully written though. And (Name) sang them so beautifully.

He was pretty sure he fell in love with her even more than he already was.

When the show was over, they immediately sought one another out, but (Name) was stopped by a swarm of fans. As Adam watched the amount of young men who approached her, he realized how she must feel about his groupies. He didn’t like it at all.

He identified the feeling as jealousy as he watched man after man throw themselves at (Name). But his jealousy was soothed when her eyes found his and she brushed everyone else aside to come to him. She placed her hands on his chest and beamed up at him. “What did you think?”

Adam thought she was amazing, but his first thought was showing her groupies that she was spoken for. So he picked her up and did just that, crushing his lips against hers.

(Name) was surprised but certainly not complaining, winding her arms around Adam’s neck and kissing him back. When Adam pulled back and put her down, he revelled in the jealous looks men and women alike were shooting him.

“You were incredible,” he told her. “My girl is so talented.”

(Name) blushed.

“Can we get out of here?” Adam asked as more fans tried to approach them. “Of course.”

Adam was unusually quiet on the way home. When they got there, (Name) questioned him about it. “Is something wrong? Did you not enjoy the show?”

Adam pinned her up against the wall abruptly. “The show was amazing. I just didn’t like to see all those angels who wanted to get in your pants.” (Name) opened her mouth to argue but Adam cut her off, pressing his lips against hers.

“Shush,” he said when he pulled back. “I’m not accusing you of anything and I know it’s hypocritical considering my own groupies. It just made me want to remind you who you belong to.” His voice was low and husky.

(Name) grinned. “Yeah?”

Adam groped her chest. “Yeah. You should suck my dick and make me feel better.”

“Wow, make me do the work after my own show,” (Name) tsked. “I’m sure any of my groupies would have jumped at the chance to give me head.”

Adam growled. “No one eats pussy like me.”

“Prove it.”

Adam threw (Name) over his shoulder in a blink, rushing up to their bedroom. He tossed (Name) on the bed, grabbing her legs and dragging her down until her ass was on the edge. He pulled her pants down and off, kneeling between her thighs after discarding the clothing on the floor.

He pressed a kiss to her clothed core, tongue poking at the wet patch that had already formed on her panties. Then he hooked his thumbs under the waistband and tugged them down, discarding them like her pants.

Once her bottom half was bare, Adam didn’t give her a single minute to prepare, burying his head between her thighs and beginning to eat her out.

(Name) cried out as he licked up and down between her folds before beginning to fuck her with his tongue. He may be cocky, but he wasn’t lying when he said no one ate pussy like he did. He always gave the best head of (Name)’s life.

He gripped her thighs, holding her legs apart while he ate her out like his last meal, saliva running down his chin. His tongue was long and (Name) moaned and squirmed while he fucked her with it.

“Adam!” (Name) cried. Adam pulled back for just a moment to speak. “Yeah, that feel good, bitch? Remember, no one else can make you feel this good.” (Name) whined and Adam dove back in, sucking on her clit. Her hips bucked.

It didn’t take very long for her to get close, thighs trembling. Adam continued a steady pace of licking up and down, sucking on her clit, and fucking her with his tongue. His hands reached up to play with her tits.

“Fuck, Adam,” (Name) panted. Adam grinned, face wet with her juices and his own spit. “Cum for me,” he demanded, before thrusting his tongue into her again. (Name) cried out, cumming on command. Adam fucked her through it with his tongue.

When (Name)’s body finally relaxed, Adam pulled back, rising to his feet. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “How was that for head?”

(Name) giggled, fucked out. She made a grabby motion and Adam leaned over her, pressing his lips to hers. She could taste herself on him.

“Better than any groupie could have possibly given.”

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

It’s incredibly brave of Blake to take a stand and make all this public. Or rather, that she bided her time, let the process do its thing, and seemingly compiled such a strong case against Justin Baldoni and basically let him and his team hang themselves with their own hubris. And like many others have said, the fact that she was arguably the most powerful person in that production and he and his team thought they could treat her the way they did and subsequently handily “bury her” speaks volumes on the rampant misogyny in the industry, and about how if it was this bad *for her*, imagine how bad is must be for people who don’t have the protection of her level of fame and wealth and privilege.

It’s so weird because obviously I like I think many of us knew things were bad during the movie’s press tour; with the whole cast unfollowing him, everyone distancing themselves from him, the comments, etc., I figured something happened along “creative differences” and that he was evidently not well-liked, but I never imagined it was this insidious or conspiratorial. How could one B-list one-time CW actor cause that much damage on a set? Well, it turns out, extremely easily. Because systems are in place to protect these men, no matter how privileged on paper the women around them are. The depths to which this team sought to ruin her, as an assault on all fronts, is truly Machiavellian.

Blake was “lucky” because she had people who believed her and had the resources and access to protect herself and advocate for change on her set, but she should never have had to protect herself like this in the first place. She went through traumatic incidents at the hands of these men, ones that had tangible consequences on both her mental and physical health and that of her child. And again: if this is how awful the experience was for her at the top of the call sheet, how many other people on this set and others suffer in silence too? How much do these ill-intended people in positions of power get away with that never get brought to light?

I find myself so rattled by this, even though on paper, I shouldn’t be. But it’s just like… We hear about the Harvey Weinsteins and Johnny Depps of the world, the industry titans who prey on people with less power all over the place. Yet for every Harvey Weinstein there’s a Justin Baldoni, just Some Dude who thinks by virtue of their privilege can act with impunity. (And yes, I know the man was a “successful” actor, but he wasn’t Ryan Reynolds-level successful. And I’m not saying success = permission to act this way, I’m saying the abusers are painted as these nearly godlike levels of fame and power, and the reality is that literally anyone can be an abuser and turn a situation into an unsafe power dynamic.)

And not to bring Taylor into it and make everything about her, but I also can’t help but think about the 2016 of it all, let alone situations she’d been in long before that. And how so many things happened to her: the revenge porn music video, the phone call, the smear campaign deliberately orchestrated by the Kardashians, Kanye’s link to Scooter, the internet harassment, etc. The difference was that everything was an onslaught, and Taylor didn’t have the public support or sadly, the evidence, to back up her experience. How different could things have gone if she’d been able to speak up? If she’d been able to counteract the obvious lies? Been able to call out the music video for what it was? She couldn’t for a million reasons, and we now have a glimpse into how traumatic that forced silence was for her. One of the differences between Taylor’s experience then and Blake’s now is that in some ways, folks are smarter about how social media is manipulated (but in others, they’re also much, much more gullible). Taylor had the entire media it seemed out to get her; Blake seemed to be following suit, until her own actions proved the lies incontrovertible so that she couldn’t be silenced.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this, except: it doesn’t matter if you’re one of the most famous people in the world, like Taylor was then and exponentially more so now. It doesn’t matter if you’re an industry veteran like Blake, with a husband who’s one of the most recognizable and powerful figures in the industry himself. Predators will prey on people they want to conquer and put in their place, and they will think they can do so without consequence. The cruelty, as always, is the point.

[bluginkgo]

Another Nuzi rant. Don't mind me

Spoilers, duh

Since I've already done a quick character study/nuzi rant from N's side. Here's one from Uzi's side!

This is probably gonna be just me repeating things people have already said... again. But I love Uzi. (Just like every other character in Murder Drones, honestly.) But Liam did a wonderful job of making an angsty, emo girl, borderline maniac that we know as Uzi. Her character, to me at least, never became the annoying overdramatized and overused stereotype that follows her style. She has real reasons for being the way she is.

A loner, whose dad loves nothing but doors. School is not different, as her classmates pretty much forget about her existence on a day to day basis. No one to talk to, no one to connect with, gives her the angsty side that I absolutely adore. Because underneath all of that toughness is just a lonely little drone who was left by herself since early age. But guess who comes in and busts down those walls (literally and figuratively)?

Our good boi N! Despite their rough start, N never really gave Uzi a reason not to trust him. Their chance encounter, and a broken sensor, allowed them to have the talk that might have never happened. Their beginning might have been a lucky accident, but for the rest of the season, we can see how both sides had to work to make well... Nuzi work!

For Uzi, asking for help is like asking for a death sentence probably. After being on her own for so long, she doesn't expect anyone to help. With that information in mind, the first time she let's that wall crumble was episode 2, Heartbeat.

"Uzi, shoot! Or give it to me!"

Granted, we all know that was not our N. But in that moment, when Uzi was in an enough distressed state, she sought help in N. We all know how that ended, though. Absolute Solver took advantage of that and almost killed her, before N once again sweeped in to save her. The one and only notorious Nuzi misunderstanding was, for better or for worse, cleared up pretty quickly. Seeing as glitchproduction only has so much money at their disposal, they can't really drag this ordeal out. Personally, I'm glad that it didn't. The long drama that is just a misunderstanding after misunderstanding gets quite tedious to follow.

So, moving forward in The Promening, Uzi once again seeks out N when she's in distress. When she sees and hears about what Doll and Lizzy were gonna do, she books it to the only person she knows can help her.

N! Now don't get me wrong. Uzi, by herself is plenty strong. She's shown off her fighting and capabilities, and would have probably been able to take V on. She's taken J down before, aaaand Uzi does technically also take V down in Cabin Fever. But she still went out of her way to go find N. So they could work together and get this mess sorted out.

And then there's this. God I love Cabin Fever, and surprisingly no, not for the Falling.... for you? scene. No, I loved the entire Uzi going on murder spree because she can! The music was such a banger too. But back to Uzi. She recognizes V and briefly snaps back to her usual self. Curious isn't it? N and Uzi both tried reaching out to V, but because V is so untrusting (and we all understand why from ep 5, Home). Here Uzi tried to ask V for help... in form of N.

I find it interesting how ever since Uzi met N and V, she's been getting better at asking for help. Sure, V shot her down because, once again, V was scared. Uzi was turning into the monster that only Cyn has been capable of creating. This soon leads to N yeeting Uzi into the f*cking stratosphere and the two have a chat.

I love how the animators included Uzi hiding behind her bat wings.

Her metaphorical walls were back up. And guess who broke them yet again.

The bestest boi N! And ever since this moment, N and Uzi are way more open.

Episode 5 was taking place in N's memories. But episode 6 is where their trust and care shines. Yeah, sure, there was the hand holding. And it was a big moment! But I enjoyed the little things more. Uzi checking in on N, nodding at his little comments and jokes.

Summary: I love Nuzi. Send help they're on my mind 24/7.

[icrypop]

mnt x reader competition 💚🐢

Ahhh!! Stumbled across the prompts and got excited- I've been dying for some angst, recently going through a situationship problem myselllfff sooo we read about turtles to cope :)

Anyway, this is a Once Leo x Y/n to Raph x Y/n

Yknow...the old "He was first but the brother was better" type situation

My prompt:

"So what, you're just moving on from us and talking to this other person?" "We were never official."

@dancingdonatello

I've entered the competition, idc if I win, I just wanted an excuse to put this out before the other requests I have :')

Anywayyyy, Enjoy!

-Writer Icy♡

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

The lair had always been a place of comfort for Y/N. From the cold, damp walls to the faint hum of the sewers, it was a place where they felt safe. Especially when they were with Leo.

It hadn’t always been like this, though. There was a time when the two of them shared moments—quiet cuddle sessions on the couch after long patrols, Leo’s arm wrapped securely around their waist, his cheek resting on top of their head. He had a way of making them feel safe, grounding them in a world that often felt overwhelming. They could still feel the warmth of his lips from when they would kiss, gentle and full of promises. They had spent nights talking until the early hours, Leo’s soft voice guiding them through his favorite episodes of Space Heroes. It was their thing, something only they shared.

They were never officially dating, but they were something. Or at least, Y/N had thought they were.

But everything started to shift when Danielle showed up.

April had introduced Danielle to the turtles, a mutual friend from school. At first, it seemed harmless. Danielle was friendly, bright, and curious about their world. Y/N didn’t think much of it. Leo was kind to everyone; it was one of the things they loved about him. But soon, those quiet moments Y/N used to have with Leo… they noticed them slipping away.

Y/N had come to the lair, expecting another night of *Space Heroes* marathons or watching Leo train in the dojo, only to find him sitting with Danielle instead. Danielle, laughing at something Leo said. Danielle, watching him while he trained, her eyes following his every move the way Y/N’s used to. Danielle, joining him on patrols—patrols that used to be reserved for Y/N and Leo.

It was like watching their memories play out with someone else in their place. *Déjà vu*, but it stung deeper with every passing day. No longer did they feel like the person Leo sought out at the end of a long day. Instead, Danielle was now in those places—sharing the moments Y/N had once cherished.

Y/N told themself not to care. After all, Leo and them were never official. But that didn’t stop the sinking feeling in their chest every time they saw them together. Every time they caught a glimpse of Danielle laughing at one of his jokes or sitting beside him as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

The breaking point came at a Halloween party hosted by April. The lair was decorated with makeshift pumpkins, glowing orange lights strung around the walls. It was meant to be a fun night—a distraction. Y/N had dressed up in a simple costume, determined to try and enjoy themself, even with the weight of everything going on with Leo.

But then they saw it.

Across the room, Leo and Danielle were talking, standing far too close for comfort. Danielle reached up to adjust the ninja headband Leo had worn with his costume, fingers brushing his cheek with a familiarity that made Y/N’s stomach twist. It was the kind of moment that should have been theirs—another stolen fragment of their past.

Y/N’s heart clenched as they turned away, the party’s music and chatter becoming nothing but background noise. They didn’t stay long after that, leaving the lair with a heavy heart.

That night, after everyone had gone home and the lair fell silent, Y/N confronted Leo. The tension had been building for weeks, and it finally snapped.

"So, what, you're just moving on from us and talking to this other person?" Y/N’s voice trembled, their hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Leo stood there, arms crossed, a defensive edge to his posture. “Y/N… we were never official.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Y/N’s breath caught in their throat, their heart hammering painfully in their chest. “That’s what you’re going to say? After everything we’ve been through, that’s what you’re going to throw at me?”

Leo’s face was stoic, unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it, Leo?” Y/N’s voice rose, the hurt spilling out in waves. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you just replaced me with Danielle like it was nothing. You used to talk to me, spend time with me—now it’s like I don’t even exist.”

Leo took a step forward, his brow furrowed. “I didn’t replace you, Y/N. It’s just… things change.”

Y/N shook their head, stepping back, away from him. “You’re right. Things *did* change. You stopped caring.”

Without waiting for a response, they turned and walked away, the sting of his words and the emptiness of their broken bond echoing in their chest. The door to the lair closed behind them with a soft thud, but the sound felt final.

Days passed, and Y/N did their best to avoid Leo. It was easier said than done, given that they both moved in the same circles, but they found comfort in an unexpected place: Raphael.

Raph had always been the opposite of Leo—fiery, rough around the edges, and unapologetically himself. But in those days following the fight, he was the one who made them feel like they still mattered. His gruff humor, the way he stood by their side when they needed someone, without any expectations. And before Y/N knew it, something deeper began to bloom between them.

It wasn’t long before Leo noticed. He caught sight of them training together one night, Raph standing close, guiding Y/N’s movements with an intensity that made Leo’s chest tighten. They weren’t just friends anymore—it was clear in the way Raph looked at them, the way Y/N smiled in his presence. It was a connection that Leo had let slip through his fingers.

He confronted Raph, jealousy boiling over in his veins. “You’re really going to do this? After everything?”

Raph didn’t hold back. “You dropped them, Leo. I didn’t.”

Leo opened his mouth to argue, but Raph cut him off. “You had your chance, and you blew it. You let them slip away because you couldn’t figure out what you wanted. That’s on you.”

Leo clenched his fists, frustration and regret warring inside him. He wanted to say something, to fight for Y/N now that they were gone, but it was too late. He could see it in the way Raph and Y/N stood together—the ease, the connection.

Danielle had faded into the background, uninterested now, but that didn’t matter. Leo had already lost the one person he truly cared about.

And watching them with Raph, happy in a way they hadn’t been with him in weeks, was a punishment far worse than he could have imagined.

The Lair was quiet, the sound of the television barely audible in the background as Raph stalked across the room, his fists clenched tight. He could feel the tension building in his muscles, the frustration from earlier still bubbling beneath the surface. Leo was standing near the dojo, his back turned as if to dismiss the argument they had started just moments ago.

Raph couldn’t let it go. Not this time.

“So, that’s it, huh?” Raph growled, his voice cutting through the stillness. “You’re just gonna act like nothing’s wrong?”

Leo turned slowly, his face calm, but Raph could see the strain in his eyes. “Raph, I’m not doing this right now,” he said, his tone carefully measured. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Nothing?” Raph took a step closer, his fists tightening. “*Nothing?* You’ve been riding me for weeks now, all ‘cause you can’t stand seein’ me with Y/N.”

Leo’s calm exterior cracked for a moment, his jaw tightening as his eyes narrowed. “This isn’t about that.”

“Like hell it isn’t!” Raph’s voice rose, his frustration spilling out. “Ever since I started seein’ Y/N, you’ve been actin’ like I stole somethin’ from you. You’re jealous, Leo. Admit it.”

“I’m not jealous,” Leo snapped, his voice rising to match Raph’s. “I just think you’re being reckless.”

“Reckless?” Raph laughed bitterly. “Reckless is lettin’ them go in the first place. You had ‘em, Leo, and you let ‘em slip away.”

Leo’s face hardened, his eyes flashing with anger. “We weren’t anything official. We never *were,* Raph. It’s not like I broke some unspoken rule.”

Raph’s nostrils flared, the bitterness of Leo’s words hitting a raw nerve. “You didn’t need some damn label to know what you had! And now that they’re with me, you can’t handle it.”

Leo took a step forward, his calm exterior completely shattered. “This has nothing to do with handling it! You don’t get it, do you? You think this is just some competition? Like it’s about winning?”

Raph’s eyes narrowed, his chest heaving as he stood his ground. “No, Leo. It’s about how you treated Y/N like they didn’t matter, and now you’re pissed ‘cause they found someone who makes ‘em feel like they do.”

Leo’s fists clenched at his sides, his face flushed with anger. “I never treated Y/N like they didn’t matter.”

“Then why’d you push ‘em away?” Raph shot back. “Why’d you let Danielle come in and take all the moments you used to have? Y/N didn’t deserve that, and you know it.”

For a moment, Leo faltered, the guilt flickering across his face. But it was quickly replaced by a cold resolve. “I did what I thought was best.”

“Best for who?” Raph demanded, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Best for you, or best for Y/N? ‘Cause from where I’m standin’, you only cared about yourself.”

Leo’s eyes flared with anger, his voice rising again. “And what, you think you’re the hero now? You think just because you’re with Y/N, everything’s fine? You don’t get it, Raph. You don’t understand what it’s like to have to make these kinds of decisions.”

Raph’s temper snapped. “What I understand is that you messed up, Leo! You had Y/N, and you let ‘em down. And now, you can’t stand that they’re happy with me.”

Leo’s face darkened, his chest heaving as he tried to control the storm of emotions swirling inside him. “You don’t know anything about what Y/N and I had,” he hissed, stepping even closer to Raph.

Raph didn’t back down, his eyes blazing with anger. “I know enough to see that you never fought for ‘em. You didn’t try. And now you’re stuck watchin’ from the sidelines, and it’s killin’ you.”

Leo’s hands clenched into fists, and for a moment, it looked like he might swing at Raph. But instead, he just stared at him, his voice low and filled with resentment. “You think you’re better than me?”

Raph’s eyes never wavered, his voice steady and cold. “I ain’t better than you, Leo. But I sure as hell know how to fight for someone who matters to me.”

For a long moment, they just stood there, the tension between them thick and suffocating. Neither of them willing to back down, neither of them willing to break the silence.

Finally, Leo took a step back, his face a mask of frustration and hurt. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you, Raph?”

Raph shrugged, his expression hard. “Maybe I do. Maybe I just know what’s real.”

Leo stared at him for a moment longer, his jaw tight, before he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Raph standing there, breathing heavily, his heart still pounding from the confrontation.

---

Raph’s hands were still shaking when he slammed the door to his room, his mind replaying the fight with Leo over and over. But as soon as he saw Y/N sitting on his bed, their eyes filled with worry, his anger faded into something else—something softer, but no less intense.

He let out a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he ran a hand over his neck, trying to ease tension. He hadn’t wanted them to see that. To hear it. But it was too late now.

His chest heaved as he tried to calm down, the heat of his latest fight with Leo still burning under his skin. He rubbed his temples, cursing under his breath. It was always the same argument—

It didn’t help that the moment he stepped inside, he saw Y/N sitting on his bed, their eyes wide with guilt. The tension in the room shifted instantly, and Raph’s heart sank. They had heard everything.

“Raph…” Y/N’s voice was soft, laced with the same guilt he could see written across their face. “I didn’t mean to cause all this…”

Raph’s muscles tensed, frustration still lingering in his tone as he threw his hands up. “Don’t,” he said, his voice harsher than he intended. “Don’t go blamin’ yourself for any of this, Y/N.”

But the way Y/N’s shoulders slumped, the way they hugged themselves as if trying to hold back tears—it made Raph’s frustration turn inward. He wasn’t mad at Y/N. He was mad at Leo for making them feel this way. He was mad at himself for letting it affect them.

“Look,” he started again, this time softer, his hands dropping to his sides. “This ain’t your fault, okay? Leo’s just… he’s jealous. That’s all.”

Y/N looked up at him, their voice trembling. “But I didn’t want to come between you two. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Raph crossed the room in a few steps, sitting beside them on the bed, the anger draining from him as he saw the pain in their eyes. His hands came up to cup their face, rough but steady, forcing them to meet his gaze. “Listen to me. Me and Leo fight. It’s what we do. We’ve been fightin’ since we were kids, and it ain’t gonna stop just because of this. But what we have—” his voice softened, the rough edges melting away, “what we have is real.”

Y/N looked at him, searching his face for the truth, still uncertain. “But what if—what if you regret it? What if I’m just a rebound or something?”

Raph’s brows furrowed, and a low growl escaped him. “You think you’re some rebound?” He almost laughed at the absurdity of it. “Leo screwed up, alright? He let you go. But that don’t mean you’re replaceable. Not to me. Never to me.”

He saw the doubt flickering in Y/N’s eyes, so he did what he knew best—he broke the tension. “You seriously think I’d risk getting chewed out by Leo just for a fling?” He smirked, his usual cocky grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “I got better taste than that.”

A soft laugh escaped Y/N, and Raph felt the tension lift just a little. “There’s that smile,” he teased, nudging them with his shoulder. “See? Told ya I’d cheer you up.”

Y/N shook their head, a small smile pulling at their lips, but their eyes were still clouded with doubt. “You really mean it, Raph? I’m not just some… phase?”

Raph’s smirk faded into something more serious, his green eyes locking with theirs. He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against Y/N’s, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “I don’t do phases. I don’t do half-measures either. If I’m in, I’m all in.”

Before Y/N could respond, Raph’s lips were on theirs, firm and passionate, pouring everything he couldn’t put into words into that one kiss. His hands slid around their waist, pulling them closer, deepening the kiss as if to prove just how real this was. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t fleeting. It was filled with a quiet intensity, the kind that burned deep, steady and sure.

When they finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Raph pressed his lips to their forehead, his arms still wrapped protectively around them. “You’re not goin’ anywhere,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with certainty. “And I’m not lettin’ you go.”

Y/N leaned into him, their head resting against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as they let his words sink in. They could feel the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms holding them close, and in that moment, all the doubts began to fade away.

Raph shifted, lying back on the bed, pulling Y/N with him until they were tucked against his side, his arm draped over their shoulders. “You’re mine, Y/N. And I don’t care what Leo says or does, he ain’t changin’ that.”

Y/N curled closer, their body fitting perfectly against his, the warmth of his skin chasing away the cold lingering from their earlier fears. Raph pressed a kiss to the top of their head, his hand gently running up and down their arm in a soothing rhythm.

“You got nothin’ to worry about,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You’re not replaceable. Not to me. You’re the real deal.”

Y/N looked up at him, their eyes shining with something close to relief, and Raph smiled down at them, his thumb brushing gently over their cheek. “Now,” he said, his voice soft but teasing, “you gonna stop worryin’ and just enjoy this, or do I need to keep kissin’ you till you do?”

Y/N laughed softly, the sound making Raph’s chest swell with pride. “I think I’ll be okay,” they whispered, though the smile on their face said they wouldn’t mind the extra kisses.

Raph chuckled, pulling them even closer as they settled into the comforting quiet of the room. He held them tight, making a silent promise to himself. He’d never let Y/N feel like they weren’t enough. Not after everything they’d been through.

And as they lay there, wrapped up in each other, Raph knew one thing for certain—he was never letting them go.

[itonashi]

NEVER the SAME

SUMMARY : Known around the world — a genius scientist named [Name][Last Name]. Everyone sought to be her as she was deemed perfect. A young prodigy that managed to climb up the ranks alongside her friends. She met her demise at the age of 35. It shook the world. Tears fall because of her. Will there be another her?

PAIRING : aquamarine hoshino x fem!reader

WARNINGS : implied deaths, stalking, drugs, slow burn romance, more will be added.

ARTICLE

THE FAMOUS CHILD ACTOR [NAME] YOSHINO SHOW HER GENIUS MIND IN A REALITY SHOW!

[Name] Yoshino got a mind that's an adult and make her way through the reality show. Making a name for herself 'The Child Who Can Ace Anything' . The child actor have become viral through her personality and talent. Her parent claimed that they are open to let their child go their own path in the future.

What will [Name] Yoshino show more about her talent in the future?

"An article about me..." You mumble while mindlessly eating the dessert that was given to you as reward by your mother. After the released of the episode reality show you were in, you got an article written for you.

'Well, it's only fair they do that for me.'

Your eyes were locked at the tv when suddenly your mother picked you up "[Nickname], do you like idol?" She said with a smile. "Idol?" You mumble the word while looking at your mother's eye. She looked at you dead straight in the eye, waiting for you to answer her question.

"Yes, I do like idols." Her eyes lit up and she snuggle you while squealing. Does she want you to be an idol? It seems so. That crushed dream of yours were never fulfilled as you were busy researching and helping the world. That's right, being an idol was one of your dream.

It's a shame you couldn't be that.

"You think too highly of me, [Name]. My era already ended. There will be no Diva Eden anymore. Who knows? Maybe it will be you this time." Eden, one of your friend in the world organization. She was the brightest star but it all ended. She muttered those word with a tint of sadness.

"I'm just a scientist."

"Do you want to be an idol?"

"Yes."

"Yay! I love you so much, my dear [Nickname]! I'll put in good word for you at a biiiiggg company!"

Was being an idol my mother's wish before? If it is for her. I could do it. After all, the reason I became a scientist at my past life was because I cared too much about promises and wishes — but, I don't care in the slightest. If I can top the world, then so be it.

Let's just fast forward to high school, shall we?

You're in your third year of Yoto Highschool and it has been three years you've become an idol. A soloist specifically. You got into a big company so it was natural you straight up turn popular when you debuted.

What people didn't understand was why did you choose the general program? You are an idol. The reason was you thought that you should balance it out. Being an idol is already tiring enough when people want you to act in a show too.

"Yoshino!" A male voice called out to you in a hurry. You faced him and tilt your head "What's wrong, Masaru?" He stopped infront of you and took a breath "Explain this." He hold up his phone up your face that you had to lean back.

ARTICLE

DOES SOLOIST [STAGE NAME] HAVE A RELATIONSHIP WITH MASARU AOI FROM THE IDOL GROUP X1?

People said they were seen a lot together at school. Students from there speculate they could be dating with how much they're together. Even in music shows they could be seen interacting.

"I don't know anything about this." You said with a neutral tone. "I'll make a live today to clear out this misunderstand and you should too." You added while looking at him straight in the eyes, he nod and stuff back his phone into his pocket.

"Then, I suggest we don't meet eachother as much."

"You're the one who kept 'bumping' into me. You're literally in the performing arts program."

"Geh! I'm sorry."

"I'll be going now."

Kana Arima was showing the twin around the school like that... To be honest, I don't what she was doing but you get the point.

She also pointed out some people from the performing arts program on who they are.

"That one is an actor."

"Those two are from a big idol group."

Something like that, of course she couldn't miss on one person that's practically more famous than her. She just had to point out that [Name] Yoshino was in the same school as them.

"And that big crowds of people looking at someone is [Name] Yoshino's fanclub. Are you surprised that someone like her is here? Well, you better be!"

"Welcome to Yoto Highschool! Oh, just a reminder that [Name] is on the general department." Kana Arima reminded the twin. To be honest, the twin wasn't surprised that [Name] was here. I mean, it was already leaked to the public on where she get education from.

But Ruby couldn't help but gush out of happiness knowing that she could meet [Name] Yoshino out in the flesh! "I can't believe I'm actually seeing [Name]! She's so beautiful! Don't you think so Aqua?" Ruby cried out of happiness towards her brother.

Then she realized something, it hit her hard into reality. She slump "She's in the general department and she's a third-year..." She said with a low voice before continuing "And you, Aqua! You're in the same department as her! I'm jealous!" Ruby exclaimed with the clear evident of her jealousy tone while pointing finger at her brother.

Aqua looked at Ruby with bored eyes, and looked at the crowd that is still gushing over [Name] amazing features. I mean who wouldn't, Aqua won't deny that she's a beautiful person. Especially after seeing her in real life.

While Ruby is raging over the fact that Aqua may or may not see her everyday from now on . "Can't we get to class now?" Aqua said, looking at Ruby with bored eyes. Ruby stop her behavior and agreed not before crossing her arms and puffing out of jealousy.

"[Name], that guy from that middle school has been staring at you for a long time, you know?" ■■■■ pointed out beside you, you glanced at your guy friend and glanced to the guy that had been staring at you. The guy noticed you know that he had been staring at you and look down blushing.

"Just let him be. It looks like he isn't the type of guy to harm me. No need to get too protective over me, ■■■■. It'll be okay." You chuckle lightly, and looked at the sky.

Years later, you never thought that the guy from your past that was from that middle school would be your lover.

How lucky Goro Amamiya is...

A/N: hi, im back! it has been a long time hasn't it? life had been hectic but i managed to made one chp lol.

TAGLIST : @glitch-karma @kult-o @miyakoa @pandaswitch @ignorxntf00l @nambii @kenma-izhu @lumiriai @luvkvni @atomi-mi @sentieence @yevene @valeriele3 @theday-dreamer17

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itonashi © // don't plagiarize, copy or edit my works.