#it was bound to happen and i knew it then

[lightlycareless]

the jealous y/n i promised. one of them, anyways :)

warnings: naoya used to like someone before you. the thought of it makes you... uncomfortable, by some reason. highschool au. minimal proofreading but sometimes you just gotta let things go...

It all started because someone decided they just had to mess with you on your first trip to Kyoto, during your first school exchange event.

As yearly intended, the game would be hosted on the winning school; not that someone managed to defeat Gojo and Geto, but to shake things a bit the higher ups decided to break the rules and give the opposing school a chance—maybe fighting in their hometowns would help against them.

Coincidentally, this would mark your first time participating, and what better way to do so than by going to a city you’ve never been to?

We’re you excited?

Undoubtedly. How could you not consider these past details?

However, that wasn’t the only (not the most important) notion that had you feeling such way; what actually got you all giddy was the fact that you’d be going with your boyfriend! Which secretly turned this school trip into a small holiday of sorts, a promise of a good time once he offered to take you to the city and show you all kinds of enthralling experiences you wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else.

It was bound to become a memorable visit, one that you wouldn’t be able to forget, worthy enough to share with your eventual children!

And it was… but not for the reasons you expected.

“Ooooh, you know what this trip actually means, right Y/N?” Gojo would begin to stir, as usual. You do your best to ignore him. “You can ignore me all you want, but I’m just warning you, it’s going to be awkward.”

“Awkward?” You blink, taking his bait. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t say it, Satoru…” Geto warns, going against his very nature, which is to rile him further, and instead, showing genuine caution that you’d come to lament later on. “You’re just being cruel.”

“What is? Tell me!” You cry, fallen victim to your curiosity.

“Probably not as cruel as Naoya taking his girlfriend to see his crush. Or past crush, I guess.”

“Crush…?” You blink, your heart dropping to your stomach at the thought of his affections once belonging to someone else. It shouldn’t be that way, of course. Whatever happened before you met him should be beyond your concern.

And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from torturing yourself with the thought, needlessly wondering who was the lucky girl to previously obtain his attention.

Was she nice? Was she pretty? Did anything manage to happen between the two…?

…

…

Does she look like you?

You ought to know better than to ask questions you do not want answered.

“Naoya hasn’t told you?” Satoru worried. “He used to have this huge crush on Utahime, like you don’t imagine how big it was; he’d stalk her everywhere she went, turn all red whenever she was near—“

“Satoru!” Suguru condemned, but it was too late.

It’s safe to say you no longer looked forward to your trip to Kyoto.

“She was going to learn so anyways, might as well get it over with!”

“And?? That doesn’t give you permission to be an idiot about it!”

“I’m just preparing Y/N! It’s not my fault that Naoya hasn’t told her about it… which is quite suspicious if you ask me, more so since he’s been in contact with her quite recently! Did you know he asked me for her number? I think he might not be over—“

“Do you ever shut up, Satoru?” You coldly interject, retreating soon after before the tears forming in your eyes could further humiliate you.

Suguru was right, there was no need for him to be as imprudent when it came to the relationship you were clearly very happy with; but you should’ve not let his behavior affect you either, that’s just how he is—everyone knew that—since he was a little kid.

Satoru just had this need to make everyone miserable simply because he could; but now that your insecurities were stirred, all you could do was revisit Naoya’s enthusiasm for your visit… and tie it with Utahime.

Overanalyze every interaction you had with him and wonder if he ever imagined it was her instead of you.

Like when he complimented you for appearance, called you cute when decorating your hair with a bow, which after Satoru’s bold accusations, you come to find it might’ve been because of nostalgia, longing. Not because Naoya actually meant it.

Utahime’s beautiful, there's no denying that.

She's also taller than you, brighter, determined; with no patience for nonsense yet kind enough to help others when asked. You should know, on the few occasions you’ve had the opportunity to interact with her, she was nothing but gentle when explaining one of the assignments you were struggling with—even offering to tutor you if you continued to have questions.

Undoubtedly, a perfect match for Naoya; both politically and personally. A conclusion that makes your poor heart ache the longer you keep comparing yourself to her.

No one looks at her and thinks “she's too childish” or “she's unsuited for the life of sorcery”. In fact, she’s the type of person one would go to when in trouble, the one to look for when in need of comfort.

While you… well, you’re funny. And apparently, a bit childish too. But definitely not the hope for the next generation of sorcerers.

When weighing all these alleged facts, and after placing Utahime on a pedestal while desecrating your own worth, you question…

Did Naoya settle on you because he couldn't end up with her?

Or were you simply a steppingstone, a diversion while they reunite in the future?

…

…

…

Are you fated to never be good enough by yourself? Everyone’s second choice when their initial plan doesn’t work?

It's not something you'd discern at a simple glance, but when Naoya begins to act more and more secretive the closer the date of your trip got, the more you're inclined to believe so; his distance had been so glaringly obvious that the only time you’ve managed to spend with him was when accidentally bumping into each other in the hallways when going to your next class.

Still, your stubborn heart gave him one last chance. One more opportunity to deny all the ridiculous claims plaguing your mind and realize that the sole reason he’s glued to his phone is because of his family, tending his responsibilities as heir…

And not because he’s seeking another woman.

“Ah, Y/N… I'm a little behind with some of my projects right now so I don't think I'll be able to join you for lunch… but don’t let that stop you, go ahead, eat something. I wouldn't want my princess to starve because of me”

That’s when everything made sense.

Because Naoya, though he may hate paperwork, essays, and all that deviated from exorcizing curses, he was still an excellent student and always delivered on time. Might’ve coerced someone to do his work from time to time when not in the mood, but it still brought you back to the same conclusion.

A realization that sparked your anger, bitterness—jealousy.

But most importantly, sadness.

Which you could no longer hide the fateful day of your trip.

“Wait, Y/N—! Why are you in such a rush? We’re still on time for the train!” Naoya would say after catching up to you. The two had previously agreed to meet up just outside your dorm and go to the train station together from there; but alas, you were nowhere to be seen when he eventually arrived, and this caused him to be very surprised.

After all, you were virtually inseparable from him; you would’ve spent the night with him if only it wasn’t prohibited. So… why the sudden indifference?

One could only try to be compassionate when remembering this was his first, serious relationship, so there were many things he had yet to learn about having a girlfriend and how to treat her.

It’s just a misfortune he’d come to learn that lesson harshly so.

“I'm fine, thank you.” you frown, ignoring Naoya as you continue to pull your suitcase towards the exit. The faculty gave students two options, either take the provided transportation and ride with the rest of your classmates to the train station or go by yourself.

Solitude was only appetizing with the silent turmoil you carried.

Your boyfriend doesn't say much after that, though he does note the striking difference of your usually bubbly personality with this… muted version of his girlfriend.

When you once harbored excitement to travel to a completely new city, you now… well, it looked as if you'd rather get sick than do this. And it didn’t seem to be caused by anxiety either, he’d seen you nervous and this was not the way you behaved when such.

Not exactly the disposition he hoped for today's happening, and yet, he’s still light years away from figuring why!

Was it better to simply… leave you alone?

“Y/N, let me help you.” he decides otherwise, at least your stubbornness is something he’s familiar with and thus, not easily swayed to back off when you ignore him again. “Princess—”

“Don’t touch me!” You exclaim, pulling your hand away from his. “I said I'm fine, now leave me alone!”

Naoya blinks, at first startled by your sudden outburst, before growing irritated, never one to enjoy being lashed out on—less if it came from someone as important as you.

“What the hell has gotten into you?!’ Naoya scorns, trying to get a hold of your hand only for you to dismiss him again. “I'm just trying to help you!”

“Yeah, right. Just to get there quicker, huh?” you frown.

“I mean, is that not ideal?”

“You're unbelievable.”

“Huh??? Will you at least care to explain why you’re so moody out of the sudden??”

His choice of dismissing words stabs your heart in a sharp, painful way that only serves to ignite your anger even more. Naoya really had no idea, did he?

Or did he believe you were as naïve as he desperately intended to portray you?

“Oh, it’s nothing. Nothing at all! In fact, how about I just step aside so you can do everything you want in Kyoto? Go see who you want to see while I stay behind, quiet, so you won't have to worry about me?!”

“But—what?? Did you forget were supposed to spend time together over there?? Show you the city?!” Naoya exclaims. “What happens to that??”

“I don't know, you tell me!” You cry back. “No, you know what, don't tell me. I don't feel like hearing—”

“Oh, no you're not.” Naoya says, take ahold of your arm and forcing you to see him face to face—getting a good look of your red, swollen eyes from undoubtedly spending the whole night crying, that only made his determination to find out what ailed you even stronger.

And deal with whomever was responsible for this dreadful act.

Even if it was yourself, or unwittingly himself too.

“We're going to spend two hours on a bullet train which I don't intend to have by you ignoring me through the entirety of it.” He goes on.

“Naoya—”

“Who did this to you? Tell me who hurt you and I'll make sure they—”

“Just stop it already! You don't have to set up all these… theatrics just so you can feel less guilty about seeing her!”

“Her?” He breathes, of all things you could’ve sputtered, this is the least, most shocking one he could’ve received. Where did you even get this idea?? “Pray tell, who am I seeing?”

“I don't—I don't want to talk anymore.”

“Y/N!” Naoya exclaims, you flinch—a reaction that has him immediately regretting his act, softening his voice. “I can't help but feel there's a sort of misunderstanding here, just tell me what's going on… Please.”

“...I just want to know if you— if you still harbor feelings for that person before me?”

“Huh?” Naoya frowns. “Talk clearly, mochi. I don't understand a word you're saying—”

“I'm asking if you still like the girl you liked before me!” You cry. “Or perhaps never stopped liking…”

“Who did I like?” He asks back, genuinely confused.

“Are you going to make me say it?!”

“I mean, if we're to get anywhere.”

“Fine! I’m referring to Utahime! You like her, don't you?!”

“Uta—what?? Where did you get that idea?!”

“Don't—don’t act like you don't know what I'm talking about!” You insist. “Satoru told me…”

“Ah, and he's nothing but a reliable source, isn't he?”

“Suguru confirmed it too! Or at least his reaction did…”

Naoya pinches the bridge of his noise, exasperated.

“When are you going to stop believing the stupidities they spew at you?”

“Well, Satoru had no reason to lie about that!”

Naoya can think of many, thousands in fact, and they always boil down to malice…

It's hard to believe how he once used to admire him, even thought of himself as very similar to him. But now that he keeps needlessly tormenting his love, that sentiment is far gone—he’ll deal with that matter soon enough, right after reassuring you he doesn’t have feelings for his past classmate.

Not anymore, that is.

“... Just tell me if you still like her, so I can stay out of your way—”

“I don't like her, Y/N.” Naoya declares. “Honestly, I don't think I ever did.”

“Then why did he say that?”

All must’ve started back when he was still a first-year student, having just transferred from Kyoto after demanding to be close to one of his admirations.

Satoru, always the obnoxious one since the beginning of time, had the tradition of pestering all newcomers in hopes of finding a victim to let out all his frustrations on for the following years; however, his sights were specifically the Zen'in heir whom he was previously acquainted with and was quite surprised to see “interacting with the mortals”, since their families often preferred to homeschool their talents.

Of course, now that he was within reach, he just couldn't miss the opportunity of mocking him in any conceivable shape and form, beginning with questions intended to get a rise out of him.

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t like any of the girls here?” Satoru would begin, for the nth time that day. “Or perhaps left a darling back at home?”

“No, I do not” No matter the insistences, Naoya remained strong in his beliefs, much to Satoru’s disappointment. But if anything, this made it into a far more gratifying challenge.

“Oh, really? Do you expect me to believe the great Zen’in heir has trouble getting with girls?” He continues to tease. “Hm, should’ve known—the only way anyone could tolerate you people is by coercing—"

“Fine! Alright! I like Utahime!” Naoya promptly declared, making Satoru’s expectations… well, shatter. Whatever he had in mind was nothing compared with the seeming reality!

“No way, you like her???!!”

Obviously, for someone as aggravating, set to get the worst of people, he could never truly find enjoyment in Utahime that wasn’t from tormenting her.

But to Naoya… well, he’d soon find out there was more to his answer than just selecting the one he found attractive at the moment.

Just as it was stated, he found Utahime to be quite… alluring. She was fairly good looking, and conservative enough in certain aspects, at least the ones he considered his clan would care of.

Perhaps the only thing he didn’t enjoy was that explosive temperament of hers, how she always fell victim to Satoru’s provocations instead of ignoring him, as a proper lady would’ve.

But he still gave her a chance, tried approaching her, get to know what she thought of him, how much he knew of the Zen’in clan, and most importantly, if she enjoyed being a miko—because such lifestyle could prove detrimental if they got together, and the last thing he needed was more personal struggles to deal with.

Yet, as much as he insisted…as much as Utahime tried to ignore his preceding reputation and give him the benefit of the doubt, nothing would come out from someone that didn’t have the patience to see past of his rough exterior and understand why Naoya was the way he was.

Who he could truly be.

Such things were meant for soulmates, after all.

And all that could’ve been was effectively terminated the moment he decided to transfer to Tokyo.

But for the only other person who saw everything unfold, Satoru, there was still much, much more to exploit.

“...Satoru said you’d always get all flustered whenever she was around” you quietly continue. “So, if you really didn’t like her, why would he say that?”

“Because he'd follow me everywhere to tease me, it was becoming quite… irritating.” He answered honestly, but still not enough to ease your poor heart of its selfish, hurtful assumptions.

“It still doesn't explain why you were talking with her these past few days” you go on, as much as a part of you desired not to.  You just wish that whatever you found out, it wouldn't shatter you. “You’d even hide your phone from me…”

Naoya, understanding how bad this looked, sighs. Nonetheless, if he wishes to preserve your affection he cannot hold back on the truth.

“I… I didn't want to tell you, it was meant to be a surprise, really…  but, well, I managed to figure out where the exchange event is to happen, which is coincidentally, an area to which Utahime is native to. And since I promised to show you around, take you to the best places…. I thought it might've been productive to ask for her input.

I know I pride myself on being from Kyoto, quite arrogantly so, but the truth is… I barely know anything outside what my family has shown me. I wasn't much of a friendly person so I didn't have anywhere to hang out.

And I didn't want to disappoint you, I couldn't let you down, especially after instantly listening to your excitement. The thought alone of ruining your first trip to the city is enough to drive me mad, so… I believed that doing all this was the right path to take.

… But had I known this would be the outcome, I would rather face your disappointment that to never have you by my side again.”

At his explanation, conformed of genuine words and concerns, all you could do is cry.

Weep at the incredulity of your assumptions, ashamed of your distrustful behavior towards him for once again, believing the past that once plagued Naoya.

How long would it take for your insecurities to finally free you? To stop listening what others whisper at your ear, of how he was the wrong person for you?

Until he decides he’s had enough of your childish antics and leaves for good?

Naoya’s far from perfect, undoubtedly so, but he's trying his hardest and he's changing because of it: when he once cared for nothing but his needs, all he could think of now is your happiness.

Were you willing to disappoint him? Rupture this relationship and lose him forever?

You'd never forgive yourself, which is why you wept, and wept, and wept.

Because you had, right before you, the only thing you ever wanted in life— a man that loved you just as you are—and almost ruined it.

But Naoya, whom perhaps regretted this situation the most, didn’t see the reason behind your tears and instead, believed them to be caused by his own failure, the lack of oversight to realize the gravity of his acts and subsequently poorly attempting to bridge his misjudgment.

A part of him doesn’t worry about your solitude, because he knows you’ll always have your friends and family to support you.

But him… without you, he’s truly alone. And he can’t—couldn’t let you go.

 “Tell me, Y/N. What do I need to do for you to believe me? For you to trust me again?” he quickly begins to beg, spew just about anything that might earn him your compassion and forgiveness—one last chance.

Though a simple remedy was all that he needed.

“A—A—hug…!” You sob, and Naoya doesn’t need to be told twice to quickly wrap his arms around you and pull you close into his chest, hoping that by his warmth you’d be reassured into ceasing the one thing that always shattered his heart. “I’m—I’m sorry, I should’ve never distrusted you, it’s just that I—”

“You don’t have to say anything, princess. It was just a mistake.” He says, pressing his face against the top of your head.

“But I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did!” you retort. “I shouldn’t have accused you of something that I wasn’t certain of! Of something you would’ve never done, now I know…”

“Why did you believe that I’d have eyes for another woman in the first place…? Have I not shown you what you mean to me?”

“Ye—yes, but…”

“But?”

You sniffle, before swallowing.

“I guess a part of me always felt undeserving of you.” You confess. “Skeptical to believe I found someone that truly loved me, that’d be willing to do all you’ve done for me.”

Naoya at first remains quiet, starting at you in complete disbelief before letting out a warm chuckle, making you frown.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing, I just… learned we’re not so different, after all.”

You look up to him. “What do you mean?”

“I too, at times, feel underserving of you.” He confesses. “You don’t know how many times I’ve feared the possibility of you simply… deciding you were no longer happy with me; that you might realize there is someone infinitely better than me and leave.”

A certain friend of yours made sure to revive such sentiment within him whenever nearby.

But just as him, you never had eyes for anyone else that wasn’t the love of your life.

“…I guess that’s another way to know we’re meant for each other.” You quietly discern, resting your face back into his chest while Naoya laughs once more. “Does that mean you’re not… upset with me anymore?”

“Upset? If anything, I was quite delighted to see you jealous; you’re quite cute when you are, you know?” He teases, gently pinching your cheek.

“I wasn’t jealous!” You cry, he raises an eyebrow. “I mean… not without reason.”

“Have I not told you already that you are the most beautiful, adorable, gentlest woman in the whole world?” Naoya continues, you turn bright red.

“Now you’re just embarrassing me!” you gasp, pushing your face deeper into his chest.

“The list is honestly endless, but we do have a train to catch.” He reminds you, making your eyes widen and gasp.

“Oh, my god you’re right! We have to hurry!” you say, ready to fetch your suitcase, before bashfully looking back to him. “…Are you still sitting with me?”

“Unless you’re saving it for a random person.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Nope, and I do not want to run the risk of being paired with a weirdo!”  you exclaim. “You have a lot to catch up with me, anyways.”

“I know.” Naoya responds. “Though I doubt talking about preparations and schoolwork will be any exciting.”

“I was thinking something a bit more… personal. Like kisses.” You murmur, and he smirks before leaning down to peck your lips, heart fluttering in return.

“Is that a good way to start?”

You smile, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him back.

“Perfect.”

Your trip to Kyoto proves to be just as exciting as you expected, if not more thanks to all his precedent planning, that you simply couldn’t wait for the day you’d come again.

Thankfully, you’d have plenty of time to do so once convincing Naoya to take you to visit the Zen’in… much to his chagrin. But anything to make you happy, he supposes.

yes i love setting up more stories should I be blamed? NO. ahahaha

anyways, I hoped you enjoyed it 🙈 I couldn't (nor wouldn't) write anything that might be interpreted as slander against utahime cause i don't feel that way about her (though I feel incredibly disappointed that we didn't get to see more of her 😒😒😒😒) but also I couldn't write her in such way that would make one ask "well, if she was so good for naoya then why is he with y/n? lol"

yet I hope I was able to show how immature/selfish he was with her 🤣 asking questions like "I wonder if she's heard of my clan" instead of trying to genuinely get to know her and such. it's the power of love y'all.......................................

aaaah what i mean to say is, I hope you enjoyed this :') i think it's the first time I ever write Naoya taking interest in someone else, even though it was in the past 🤔 still...

take care and hope to see y'all soon!!

p.s. what do y'all think utahime's reaction was to naoya dating y/n? I have a few ideas but have yet to choose one lol.

[worstgenerationloser]

just a random thought but like sanji x reader on their wedding night🤭 I'll leave the creative writing to u

,, My Person. ''

Pairing... Sanji x GN! Reader

Summary... after a day full of festivities with your now husband Sanji, you two share your bed for the first time as a married couple.

Contains... wedding vows, fluff and slight nsfw, soft romantic moments, sanji shenanigans, undressing eachother to shower, kissing, and sanji freaking out over you.

A/N: he's such a cutie, i loved writing this! Happy birthday to this handsome man 💞

Casting a cool blue hue over the two of you, the moon congratulates you with the widest smile… Is what Sanji says, anyways. He hasn't been talking much since you two got back, and he seems a bit stiff, you think it's just him trying to keep all his blood in his nose. Sanji always had rushed to your side in the most dire moments, and he knew for a fact he would marry you eventually. He just can't believe it's actually happened— you looked so gorgeous in your wedding attire, he loved the adoring looks the crew gave you when he first announced your engagement together, how they all congratulated him and the fact that his eyes were stuck on none other than you every step of the way.

A breath of fresh air, what with everything he has had to endure. Sanji knows his love for you takes over his entire body and soul, he says his love for you is his entire reason for being— maybe you are a blessing bestowed upon him from the grand creator of this world? He says silly things like that so often, but he makes sure you know it. In the softly colored bedroom of the lodging you have chosen, there's a wondrous balcony onlooking the sea— which seems to have presented the purest blue coloring for your perfect day; everything seemed so grand, not in the sense that it's making up for a lack of sincerity in your union, but for representation of the grandest union of two lively souls.

The beauty of the balcony, venue, and sea weren't nearly as beautiful as Sanji. A face painted of pure joy and adoration with each glance he shot your way, but you noticed his fraying nerves when he grabbed your hand to place the ring onto your finger. His hands were so shaky, and silent tears cascaded down his flushed cheeks while his pure smile beamed straight to cast away any lingering shadows. His vows were so clear, though he was struggling not to cry anymore, how dare he taint the memory of your wedding in such a way? Tears borne from love didn't count if it was from you, but he hated crying in front of you.

“My most cherished lover, I will accept you in your entirety. Things will never be left unsaid, for my heart will speak aloud to you forevermore, not once will I forget myself for as long as I am bound to you; which will be as long as my heart, mind, and body will be left on this lovely earth. Even then, I must promise that our souls will never travel apart, because on this day, we are informing the sea, the sky, the stars, and the entirety of the universe that together we are. Smitten as I am with you, I will never overlook your character. Not only are you my love; you are a part of my life in every possible way. My companion in all things romance, my crew, my heart… I solemnly swear, most of all, that I will be proudly at your side, no matter what turbulence occurs in our long lives shared together.”

Franky was trying his best not to cry, meanwhile Brook was shaking in his seat, holding back jokes for the tender moment. Such sincere smiles gathered from your friends and those who have aided you along the way, but Sanji and you kept your gazes locked onto each other. It was like you could see the beat of his heart, and he could see the vows ready to be spoken in yours.

Being pirates, you can't have your marriage recognized by the government, but who needs those bastards to know you're in love anyways? Franky is ready to loudly announce it to anyone who looks at you or Sanji’s way, why do pirates care about what the government thinks? If two can love, then they can keep their passion private, or they may be free to soar it across the skies as they please. Sanji would proudly announce it to his fiercest enemies faces, you’re sure.

Sanji is still nervous. His heart is racing like he's supposed to rehearse a play all by himself whilst playing every single role there is— but he's just sitting next to you in bed. His blue eyes flicker over your features to commit them to his memory once again as if he hasn't memorized every mark and every dip and curve on your body, he needs to do something to stop such intense longing for what is already in his grasp. His hands, shaky yet warmer than ever, reach out to touch you; but Sanji balls his hand into a fist, bringing his knuckles to his mouth to sink his teeth into. Though he's next to you in bed, he feels like he's thousands of years away.

You're both still dressed in your clothes from the reception, matching the beautiful colors which soared across the ceilings at your venue. You should have been changed a bit ago, but you can't brush off the fact that Sanji is acting odd, when you see him nervously bite around his knuckle, you smile softly and begin to speak.

“Sanji, calm down…” Your own hand reaches out, tracing the back of his palm and easing his teeth away from his knuckles. Though his hand is loose from the clench of his jaw, his soft pink lips remain parted, and he looks like a lost puppy for a second. Well, it isn't all that different from the way he is when you're separated for longer than an hour or two. But besides when you were getting ready, he was there every step of the way. “It's improper of me to abandon my love on this important day.” Was his newest excuse for standing outside the door when you went to the bathroom.

“Oh… I apologize for… My distant mind. I swear I only think thoughts of us.” You watch him catch his bottom lip between his teeth, his posture loosening only ever so slightly.

“That's okay. Think whatever you want to, Sanji. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon…” Murmuring, you begin to pick up a soft smile as you move a little closer to where he is sitting atop the bed, your weights recognized as one on the firm mattress. Hands finding their way to his collar, they start to unbutton his dress shirt, your actions aren't entirely sexual in nature, surely many couples do that, but you would prefer to put his nerves back into the right places before Sanji starts to malfunction.

“Would a warm shower help? Or would you prefer a bath?” You watch as your proposal; In real time, allows a spark to return to Sanji’s eyes, but then you think maybe you moved too quickly when his eyes widen and his lips quiver as he looks you up and down.

“B-Bath… With… With- With you?”

Ah, your first mistake on your wedding night. Well, it's entirely your fault but it's comforting seeing him go back to his usual self. And again, he catches himself and prevents another nosebleed.

“Gah! No! My apologies, my dear, I… I meant to ask if you would like to bathe together… As a married couple. It's a common thing with modern couples, you see—” After his loud gasp, he begins to stammer and then pause when his brain processes his own words. Does he think he sounds creepy? His perverted nature has seemed sweet in nature to you as of lately, so maybe he's realized himself for once.

“M…Ma—... Married...”

Stiffer than a stone statue, Sanji’s body freezes entirely. It took longer than you feel comfortable admitting to just to get Sanji back to earth, while his shirt still remained halfway undone. How can you get him naked with his… eccentric personality, then? Do you bribe him like a dog chasing after a bone? Distract him? Ah, you should just drag him along with you before he gets on all fours or something. It's endearing sometimes you swear, but you're not sure how much everyone else believes that.

“Apologies. I can't fathom that I am with you… Ah, no— I can't believe we are married. Oh, I feel like a fool.”

Cupping his face in his hands and wallowing in utter despair at his slippery speech, he fails to realize that you are dragging him along with you in the direction of the bathroom door. When he removes his hands, he's greeted by the feeling of his belt being undone, making him pause. Not again, Sanji… And with gritted teeth, he masks himself, but his eyes twitch and his nostrils flare repeatedly, it's not like he's never been nude around you, he feels like it's even more significant considering you are officially forever.

When his pants drop, he politely steps out of them, kicking them to the side as his hands reach out for you to return the favor. It's been done before, he can do it again, but his hands hesitated as he awaited a confirmation.

“Yes, you may undress me.” Your voice is clearer inside the bathroom.

Breathing a sigh of relief, his hands start to reach for the fabric of your clothing, sliding it down your shoulders, the pads of his fingers slipping down each inch of skin newly exposed. It didn't feel as lewd as it was, standing half naked together. There weren't any shy giggles, no heavy panting, no hands dancing across each other's skin for any reason other than to shed clothing. It could take a turn once you two reach the shower, maybe you two would end up in a tangle of passionate limbs, but Sanji would prefer to love you somewhere more comfortable.

He respects you. Though he's dense at times, though he can be perverse and pathetic, it's all out of the love he has for you. He's vulnerable with you more than he ever knew, he sheds his skin and presents his back to you, he's not afraid to be less of a man if he cries near you. He doesn't worry you with tears of any sort, but at times he feels so lucky that his life has taken such a positive turn and allowed him to find people who love and care for him the same way his mother did. Would she be proud her boy found his true love?

Opening his heart, he lets you feel him. He lets you hold his hands, he lets you in the kitchen though he hates being disturbed— before you were his love, you were always the one for him. Not once did he view you as pure romance, you were a person, and you were his person.

Pss... you... you should comment and reblog👀

[apomaro-mellow]

Govt gets kas!eddie fin

Part 8

"They're coming?! What the hell does that mean, Sinclair?!", Robin shrieked.

"The babies! Okay?!" Lucas went to Steve's side, dropping his weapons and pulling up the thick hoodie, revealing his stomach.

Robin felt rocks drop in hers when she saw how big it was. The it rolled when she saw it move. "What the-", she gagged a little and put her hand against a tree. "I can't do this. I can't do this."

"Robin, you gotta help me! You're a girl!"

"This!", she jabbed her finger towards Steve's stomach. "Has nothing to do with womanhood!"

Steve regained lucidity for just a moment, coming back into himself and gasping. "Please. Robin please. They're Eddie's. Mine and Eddie's. Please, Robin, I don't know what to do."

His eyes were glistening and any nausea Robin felted was replaced by loyalty. "Let's get out of here first", she said.

She and Lucas both helped Steve to his feet and hobbled more than walked back to the portal El had opened. Steve was heavy on a normal day but now that he was pregnant?

'How is he pregnant?!!!!', Robin's brain wailed while she tried to get Steve to safety.

Steve's car was right there and Robin helped Steve into the backseat while Lucas got behind the wheel. They had both completely forgotten about the others until the walkie crackled to life and Mike could be heard on the other end.

"Lucas?! Robin?! What happened!?"

"Something's wrong with Eddie, he went berserk and took off!", Dustin screamed.

Robin met Lucas' eyes through the rearview mirror. Then Steve let out a scream and they both got their heads in the game. Lucas grabbed the walkie-talkie and sped down the road, one hand on the wheel.

"No time to explain! He's probably following us. We're going to Steve's!"

"Did something happen to Steve?!", Dustin screeched. "Why is El smiling?!?"

Lucas slammed his foot on the pedal the moment the Harrington house was in sight, parking haphazardly in the driveway. Moments later, they heard a strange wail and a portal opened up in the front yard. Eddie bounded through it, blood still dripping from his mouth.

Without a word, he scooped Steve from the backseat and brought him inside, placing him into his nest. Lucas and Robin were still panicking, scrambling around and grabbing birthing supplies. But all Eddie did was rumble softly and Steve's fears were put to rest. He was still in pain, but he knew Eddie wouldn't let anything happen to their pups.

"Oh god this is gonna be a mess", Robin said, snapping Steve back to reality.

"Eddie, take me upstairs. To the guest room." He didn't know how the babies would be coming out, but soon the house would be full of people and he'd prefer it if every single one of them didn't see his junk. Eddie obeyed without question, carrying him up the stairs.

Robin followed, holding Steve's hand the moment he was put onto the bed.

"You sure you wanna be here? It's gonna be gross", Steve warned her.

"Well, don't women usually have their moms around for support? And your mom's not here so..."

Steve laughed through the pain and Robin helped him strip down while Eddie washed Vecna's blood off. He would greet his offspring with a clean mouth and hands. Once cleaned, he put a hand to Steve's stomach.

"They're ready. Are you?"

"As I'll ever be", Steve breathed out.

Downstairs screaming could be heard as the others arrived. Dustin was the first to try and bound up the stairs but Lucas grabbed him in time.

"You don't wanna go up there, man."

While Lucas was bombarded with questions and he gave the best explanation he could, Steve pushed three new lives out of him. When it was all said and done, Steve was drenched in sweat and the room was covered in black goo. And there were three blobs of blackness cradled in Eddie's arms. They looked spiny, almost like seas urchins, but Steve could tell they were soft. He'd know if there'd been something that sharp in him.

"Oh Eddie...", he sighed. "They're..."

Their little spines touched at Eddie and each other, exploring the world already. Eddie cooed and laid down next to Steve, letting him touch. They were wet and a little slimy but utterly perfect to Steve.

"Hello", he whispered, completely in awe.

Robin crept out to give them some privacy and to clean herself off a bit. While she was gone, the new parents continued to speak to their babes when something strange happened. One began to move oddly, shifting and turning, its color changing as it did. And right before their eyes, their pup changed from appearing like a sea urchin to a normal human baby. Well, almost normal.

The other two followed suit, flexing their toes and fingers, getting used to the new form before giving their lungs a test run and crying. One had the beginnings of a tail, like Eddie. The second baby had tiny wings on their back, useless for now but would probably take them to the skies when they grew. And the third had the most human appearance if it weren't for the start of teeth already that promised to be fangs and claws.

Steve chuckled. "Not looking forward to breastfeeding you."

Eddie kissed his forehead. "They know not to bite their mother."

They adjusted so that they could try just that. Steve didn't think it would work but he was able to get one latched on while Eddie held the other two. They'd need names. And beds. And diapers. And shit did they still live in a good school district? Eddie pushed those thoughts away with another kiss, this time to his lips.

"Did I make good on that promise?", he asked, looking more like himself before he died than ever.

Steve grinned. "I don't know...Three is hardly a litter. You might need to knock me up again~", he winked.

Eddie beamed and kissed him again, careful of the infants in his arms. "That can be arranged."

There was a knock so hesitant at the door, Steve could have cried.

"You ready to face the wolves?"

Eddie looked at him, eyes full of love. "Better the wolves than the government."

END

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[minoulapin]

Chapter Three: Weight of Watching - Between Giving & Taking - Y. JW

Pairing: Demon!Jungwon x Angel!Reader

Genre: Forbidden Love, Fantasy, Romance, Mystery

Wc: 6.8k

Synopsis: A love unspoken, a fate unwritten, An angel and demon, forever forbidden. Bound by the laws of heaven and hell, A story of longing they dare not tell. At the Academy of the Occult, angels and demons coexist under a fragile truce. But when a celestial heir is assassinated, war looms, secrets unravel, and forbidden desires ignite. In a world where their love is a crime, will they defy fate or be consumed by it?

A/N: Coucou!! Now bear with me guys, there is a love story involving Jungwon, I promise. But I’m way too much of an angst and slow-burn fan to make them all kissy-kissy this early. It’s going to take time and maybe a little suffering, but it will happen eventually. Just hoping the wait will be worth it 😮‍💨 - Joe

Tag list: open!! (Comment to be added) @stormy1408 @whateveridontcaresheesh @indigoez @riribelle @iifrui @m3l4nchol @bamguetismee @w1dyvnn

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

Angels were not born. They were made.

Forged from celestial fire, shaped by divine hands, their existence was dictated by purpose. There was no uncertainty, no deviation, only order. Unlike demons, who were shaped from chaos, angels were given clarity, obedience woven into the very core of their being. They existed to serve, to uphold, to maintain balance as the Dominion commanded.

At least, that is what they were told.

The Dominion saw their creation as proof of their divine right to rule. Angels were the children of light, the enforcers of harmony. They had no need for questions. No need for doubt. There was no space for uncertainty in the celestial hierarchy.

But what happens to angels who begin to doubt?

The ones who question, who rebel, who seek their own truth, they are exiled.

Some fall to the Infernal Court. Some vanish without a trace. And some, the ones who refuse to choose a side, are erased from history altogether.

The Dominion does not speak of them. The records do not remember them. They are not mourned. It is said that to question is to fall. That those who wander too far from the path will never return. And yet, throughout history, there have always been whispers.

Angels who disappeared. Names that faded into nothing. Unfinished stories left to rot in forbidden archives.

Some say they were unmade.

Others say they fell.

But one thing remained certain:

Angels who strayed too far never came back.

Dust coats the worn leather of the book's cover, its ancient spine barely holding together as Y/n turns another fragile page. The dim candlelight flickers against the towering bookshelves surrounding her, casting long shadows in the farthest corner of the library. Here, beneath the weight of history, the air is thick with silence, watchful, suffocating, like a presence lingering just beyond her reach.

She closes the book, fingers tightening around the edges of the page. Her pulse is steady, but there's a quiet unease creeping beneath her skin.

She knew, deep down, that she shouldn't be reading this. But she couldn't stop. Because this wasn't just history. This was a warning. And she was doing exactly what angels were never meant to do.

She moves carefully, slipping between lessons and training sessions, her eyes skimming over the world around her, but never truly seeing it. If anyone asked, she was just another student walking the halls, fulfilling her duties. But her thoughts were elsewhere.

She was collecting details, threading together half-truths and inconsistencies, piecing together fragments of a story no one wanted told. The deeper she dug, the more the cracks in history widened. Records contradicted each other, timelines blurred. Events that should have been monumental were barely documented at all. Some things, things that should have been impossible, were missing entirely.

No one seemed to notice. Or at least, she thought no one noticed.

But then there was that feeling.

A pressure against the back of her neck, the subtle weight of something unseen, someone just out of sight. It followed her between classes, through empty corridors, into the dim corners of the library where dust clung to forgotten books. A ghost in the periphery, vanishing the second she turned to look.

She ignored it. Because if she started questioning everything, she'd never get anywhere. She kept her head down and continued digging, knowing she was running out of time before someone did notice.

But what she didn't realize, Someone already had.

Jungwon never meant to follow her.

Not at first.

The first time had been an accident. A late-night walk through the academy grounds, his mind heavy with thoughts. He had seen her then, shoulders hunched slightly forward, footsteps deliberate, lips pressed together in quiet determination. Alone, moving like she belonged in the shadows rather than among the celestial.

He should have left. But he didn't.

Instead, he had lingered, just long enough to see the way she hovered outside the restricted archives, fingers grazing over the locked door as if she could will it open. She had stayed there for a long moment, unmoving, and then disappeared down the hallway, silent as a ghost.

Jungwon told himself it was nothing.

But then it happened again.

And again.

The same pattern. The same movements. Late at night, early in the morning, whenever she thought no one was looking.

But he was looking. He didn't know when curiosity became habit. When watching became something he needed to do.

At first, it was logical. Practical. Someone had to keep an eye on her before she got herself killed. That was all.

But then there was that moment in the training hall. He had felt her presence before he had even seen her, the way the air shifted when she entered. It wasn't her magic, it wasn't anything celestial. It was her. Like a disturbance in an otherwise perfect system. A sharp edge where there should have been smoothness.

She was chaos. She didn't belong. And yet, she was still here. And that made him angry.

Jungwon never acted on impulse. Never lost control. He was methodical, disciplined, unwavering. He followed the rules. He enforced them. But she made him hesitate. She made him linger. She made him care. And he hated that. She was a problem, loud, stubborn, reckless. She didn't know when to stop. She didn't know how close she was to getting herself erased. And now, somehow, that was his problem. He should stop. He knows he should stop. But he doesn't.

He won't.

Because now, he's not just watching her. He's waiting. Waiting for the moment she pushes too far. And when she does. He'll be there. Not to save her. Not to stop her. But to see what happens next.

The celestial training grounds were vast, an open expanse of polished marble, ringed by towering columns and enchanted runes that pulsed faintly with energy. Overhead, golden light filtered through the arched ceilings, casting an almost holy glow over the sparring matches taking place.

But Y/n wasn't thinking about the beauty of it. She was focused on the fight.

She grinned. "You sure you can handle me, blondie?"

Jake circled her, his steps slow, calculated. His stance was relaxed, but she knew better than to let her guard down. He had that glint in his eye, the one that meant he was about to pull something unfair.

Jake smirked, tossing a dagger between his hands. "I don't know, Y/n. You look a little tense. Something on your mind?"

Yes.

But she wasn't about to tell him that. Instead, she rolled her eyes. "You talk too much."

"And yet you keep listening." She didn't respond, she was already moving.

Their classmates sparred around them, blades clashing, bursts of celestial energy cracking through the air. Some students fought with elegant, controlled precision, their magic weaving effortlessly into their movements. Others relied solely on their spells, letting power do the work.

Y/n?

Y/n fought with instinct.

She struck first, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. No hesitation. Her footwork was sharp, her movements instinctive, honed by years of knowing that magic would never be her strong suit. She relied on speed. Precision. Strategy.

Jake dodged, barely. Then he grinned. "Too slow."

She didn't let the taunt get to her. Instead, she pivoted, feinting left before lunging right. It was a trick that worked on most people, except Jake wasn't most people.

He saw it coming. He always did.

Jake ducked under her strike, his arm shooting out. Y/n barely managed to twist out of reach before his dagger could land against her ribs. She gritted her teeth. Too close.

"Come on," Jake teased, twirling his blade lazily. "You're gonna have to do better than that."

They had sparred together for years. He knew how she moved, how she thought. And more importantly, He knew her weaknesses. She didn't answer. She just moved. She was fast. Faster than most. She darted behind him, slamming the heel of her boot against the back of his knee, forcing him off balance. He recovered quickly, twisting around to block her next attack, but she was already two steps ahead.

This time, she was winning. She could feel it.

Jake had no opening. She kept him moving, forcing him to dodge instead of counter. She struck again, faster, sharper, forcing him back.

One more move. One more second. And she had him.

Then—it happened. A pulse of energy surged through her veins, sharp and electric, like static crackling beneath her skin. It burned, cold and searing all at once, and for a split second, her vision blurred. Her magic flickered.

A brief lapse. A force she couldn't control, couldn't even predict. The air around her wavered, shifting unnaturally, just enough to break her momentum.

Jake saw it instantly. And he took full advantage.

Before Y/n could recover, he knocked her off her feet. The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back, staring up at the sky as Jake stood over her, victorious. Again.

She clenched her jaw, frustration boiling under her skin. "Damn it."

Jake grinned down at her. "You're getting predictable."

Y/n scowled. "You're getting annoying."

She took the hand he offered and let him pull her up with a huff. Except, this time, Jake didn't let go immediately. He was still holding her wrist, studying her.

"You hesitated," he said, quieter now.

She stiffened. "No, I didn't."

Jake tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "Your magic—"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

He held her gaze for a beat longer before sighing. "Fine."

But she could tell by his expression, he wasn't convinced.

She ignored his smug look and let him pull her up. "I had you."

Jake laughed. "Almost had me."

Almost.

She scowled, brushing dust off her uniform.

"Again?" Jake asked.

Y/n rolled her shoulders, ignoring the sting of her pride. "Again."

She couldn't let this go.

Her magic had always been her greatest flaw. Uncontrolled. Volatile. Flickering at the worst moments.

Most angels were proud of their celestial gifts, wielding them with precision and ease. Magic was second nature to them, effortless. Even the weakest students had more control than she did.

Y/n?

She relied on something else.

Speed. Strategy. Reflexes.

She was fast, faster than most. Agile. Sharp. Dangerous in close combat. If magic wasn't involved, she could take down anyone in her class. But celestial society didn't value physical combat.

Magic was everything.

And she had never been enough.

Her grip tightened around the hilt of her blade.

She should be getting better. She should be learning control.

But recently?

Recently, it had been getting worse.

Her magic had always been difficult.

Now, it felt like it was fighting her.

And she had no idea why.

But she wanted to find out.

Sparring was just another reminder of that.

The training grounds were still buzzing with energy, students filtering out in groups, laughing, stretching, going over their matches.

She barely heard any of it.

Her frustration still clung to her skin, thick and suffocating, a mix of annoyance, exhaustion, and something deeper she didn't want to name. She should have won that match. She would have won if her magic hadn't betrayed her at the last second.

Beside her, Jake walked in easy silence, rolling his shoulders like he wasn't bothered by the fight at all. He didn't seem mad, just watchful, as if he were waiting for her to say something first.

She was just about to, when a voice cut through the air instead.

"Tough loss, angel."

She stopped walking.

Jake, already on edge, immediately stiffened beside her. His jaw ticked before he even turned around.

Because, of course, it was Heeseung.

He leaned against one of the stone pillars, looking far too amused for someone who had done absolutely nothing all day. His uniform was as careless as ever, tie undone, sleeves rolled up, like he hadn't even bothered with the formality of dressing properly. He looked effortlessly untouchable, and he knew it.

She exhaled sharply. Not now.

"What do you want, Heeseung?" she said, already tired.

He grinned. "Now, now. Is that any way to talk to a friend?"

Jake scoffed. "You're not her friend."

Heeseung chuckled, slow and deliberate, like he found Jake's irritation entertaining. "Maybe not. But that doesn't mean I'm not friendly."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Heeseung—"

He moved closer, the shift subtle but noticeable. "I was just admiring your technique."

Jake let out a low breath, rubbing the back of his neck like he was actively holding himself back from punching him.

Y/n, meanwhile, wasn't buying it. She arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Didn't realize you were watching."

Heeseung smirked. "You make it hard not to."

Jake's patience snapped. "Cut the bullshit, Heeseung."

Heeseung sighed dramatically. "You celestials are always so high-strung. No wonder you're all so miserable."

Then, his eyes flicked back to her.

And his amusement shifted into something else.

Something calculating.

"Or maybe..." Heeseung's voice dipped, soft, smooth, dangerous. "You're just more interesting when you're not playing by the rules."

She froze.

The words felt too sharp, too precise to be casual.

Jake noticed her hesitation instantly.

His head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing. "What the hell does that mean?"

Then, loud enough for Jake to hear— "You're doing something you shouldn't be doing, aren't you?"

Y/n quickly glared at Heeseung. "Shut up."

But it was too late.

Jake was already looking at her like he knew.

Like he knew something was off.

His voice was lower this time. Calm. Controlled.

Too controlled.

"Y/n."

She swallowed. "Jake—"

"You told me you wouldn't."

Her stomach twisted. She had told him that.

And she had lied.

"Heeseung is just messing with you," she tried, grasping for something, anything to get Jake off her case.

"Oh, am I?" Heeseung's smirk widened. "Funny. Because I don't remember lying."

Jake clenched his jaw. "Y/n."

She hated how his voice sounded just then.

Like he was disappointed.

Like he actually expected better from her.

She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to—"

"Because you didn't want me to what?" Jake snapped. "Stop you? Keep you from getting yourself killed?"

She winced. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

She had no answer for that.

And Jake knew it.

For the first time in the conversation, Heeseung actually looked pleased.

He took a slow step forward, lowering his voice, leaning in toward her.

She stiffened as he dipped his head closer.

Then, right at her ear, he murmured, "I might know something that could help."

His breath was warm against her skin, a deliberate act of intrusion, making the space between them feel suffocating.

Jake immediately moved.

Before she could react, Jake was in front of her, stepping between them, his shoulders squared, his presence sharp and tense.

"Back. Off."

His voice wasn't loud.

But it was dangerous.

Heeseung laughed. "Relax, celestial. I was just saying—"

"Yeah, yeah," Jake snapped. "You were just saying something you shouldn't."

She didn't stop him.

Because she knew Jake was right.

Heeseung was bad news.

But she was still intrigued.

Because when Heeseung smirked and leaned back, he wasn't done.

"But if you ever want to know what I know..." He tapped his temple. "You know where to find me."

She clenched her jaw.

She didn't trust him.

But she couldn't ignore him either.

The moment Heeseung disappeared, Jake turned on her.

"Later," he said, voice tight. "Our dorm."

"You're telling me everything, " he said, quiet but firm.

She crossed her arms. "And if I'm busy?"

"You're not."

She narrowed her eyes.

She bristled. "Jake, I—"

"No." His voice was sharp. "Not this time."

Jake continued, tone leaving no room for argument. "This time, you don't get a choice."

She blinked, thrown off by how serious he looked.

Y/n hated that she couldn't argue. Because he was right.

She sighed. "Fine."

Jake didn't move. He just watched her for a moment, like he was debating whether to say something else.

Jake ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Think you can stay out of trouble for a few hours, or do I need to babysit you?"

She frowned. "What?"

"I'm leaving."

She stared at him. "You're, what?"

He let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, because if I stay, I'm just going to say something I regret."

Her stomach twisted. "Jake, don't be like that—"

"Like what?" He let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. "Like someone who actually gives a shit? Because I do, Y/n. That's the problem."

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Jake's jaw clenched. He took a step back, shaking his head again.

"I'll see you at the dorm."

And then, he walked away.

Y/n stood there, still, silent, hating everything about this conversation.

Because for the first time in a long time, Jake was truly mad at her.

Jake was pissed.

And honestly? He had every right to be.

But that wasn't what annoyed her the most.

What annoyed her the most... was that she had no one to blame but herself.

The hallway was quiet.

Too quiet.

The usual hum of students moving between dorms had faded, leaving only the distant flicker of torchlight and the soft echo of Y/n's footsteps.

She moved quickly, her mind tangled in frustration.

Jake was pissed at her.

Heeseung had thrown her under the bus just for his own entertainment.

And now, she was alone with nothing but the weight of her own decisions pressing down on her.

She needed a moment. A breath. A second to clear her thoughts before heading back to the dorm where she'd have to deal with Jake's inevitable lecture.

But the universe, apparently, had other plans.

Y/n rounded the corner.

And collided into someone.

She stumbled back, already irritated. "For fuck's sake—"

Then she saw who it was.

Jungwon.

Her stomach twisted.

Not in fear.

Not in shock.

But in something else, something sharp and hot, something that made her fingers twitch with the sudden urge to push past him and not look back.

Because the way he was looking at her.

Like he had been waiting.

Like he knew something.

Y/n exhaled sharply, straightening. "Move."

Jungwon didn't.

His lips twitched, but it wasn't quite a smirk. It was something colder. "You're in a bad mood."

She scoffed. "You're observant. Congratulations."

Jungwon tilted his head slightly, gaze steady, arms still lazily tucked in his pockets, like blocking her path was nothing more than an afterthought.

Y/n took a step forward, fully intending to brush past him without another word.

But then,

"You should be more careful."

His voice was quiet. Controlled.

But it stopped her.

She frowned, slowly turning back.

"What?"

Jungwon blinked at her, slow and unreadable. "I said, you should be more careful."

Her irritation flared hotter.

"I can take care of myself," she snapped.

"If you actually cared about yourself, you wouldn't be involved with Heeseung."

Y/n froze.

Her irritation flared hotter.

"I'm not involved with Heeseung," she snapped.

Jungwon clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Could've fooled me."

She scowled. "Oh, I'm sorry, was there a rule about who I can and can't talk to?"

Jungwon let out a slow breath, controlled but sharp. "There's a difference between talking to Heeseung and whatever it is you're doing."

Y/n narrowed her eyes. "And what exactly am I doing?"

"You tell me."

She exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. "Oh my god. If you're going to be a cryptic asshole, can you at least get to the point?"

Jungwon's expression didn't shift, but something in his gaze sharpened.

"What did Heeseung say to you?"

She stiffened.

It was so quick, so subtle, she almost convinced herself she hadn't reacted at all.

But Jungwon noticed.

He always noticed.

She forced a scoff. "Since when do you care?"

Jungwon's jaw tightened. "I don't."

Y/n arched an eyebrow. "Right. That's why you're stopping me in the middle of a hallway."

Jungwon exhaled sharply, tilting his head slightly like he was sizing her up. Then, finally—

"Heeseung plays games," he murmured, voice dropping lower. "You're not as good at them as you think."

Y/n's breath hitched before she could stop it.

She bristled, narrowing her eyes. "And you are?"

Jungwon didn't answer.

He just watched her, gaze steady, unreadable, long enough for the air between them to feel thick, suffocating.

Then, in one smooth movement, he stepped closer.

Too close.

She hated the way her breath caught.

"You should go." His voice was quiet, unreadable. "Dark places aren't meant for an angel like you."

She had to tilt her chin to meet his gaze. The space between them shrank, and for the first time, she felt the weight of his presence in a way she hadn't before. There was something unsettling about it, about him. He was sharp edges and quiet intensity, and right now, all of it was directed at her.

Her breath hitched before she could stop it.

Jungwon saw it.

His lips curled, amusement flickering across his face. "So you can get scared."

Y/n stiffened, irritation quickly replacing the fleeting hesitation she had let slip. "Go to hell," she muttered, voice tight.

Jungwon tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening. "I'd love to go back home."

Y/n's jaw clenched. His arrogant, untouchable demeanor was grating, and she was beyond done with his cryptic bullshit.

She moved first, stepping past him deliberately, her shoulder brushing against his.

Jungwon didn't stop her.

Then she scoffed, shaking her head as she walked away. "You're an ass," she threw over her shoulder. "Leave me alone."

Jungwon didn't move.

He stayed rooted in place, jaw clenched, hands flexing at his sides.

He had been watching her for days, lurking in the edges of her world, waiting for an opportunity to pull her away from the mess she was running toward.

But somewhere along the way, she became the problem.

She was supposed to be another reckless idiot, another celestial too blind to see the bigger picture. Someone he could dismiss.

But Y/n wasn't that.

And it infuriated him.

She had a habit of getting under his skin, making him notice things he shouldn't. Like the way she never backed down, even when she should. The way she looked at him, not with the blind admiration or quiet fear he was used to, but with something challenging.

And worse, he liked it.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

He needed to stop.

He wouldn't.

Y/n sat cross-legged on her bed, a mess of papers, books, and hastily scribbled notes spread around her like fragments of a puzzle she couldn't quite piece together. Ink-stained fingertips tapped anxiously against the margins as she skimmed through her findings, if she could even call them that.

Because, in reality, she had nothing.

Jake sat at the edge of his own bed, watching her in silence. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight, not with anger anymore, but something quieter.

She sighed, rubbing at her temples. "This is useless."

Jake didn't answer right away. Then, after a beat, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Walk me through it."

She hesitated. "Jake—"

"Just do it." His tone left no room for argument.

She exhaled sharply, sorting through the mess of parchment. "Okay. So, I started with the official records, but the further back I go, the more inconsistencies I find. Nothing outright missing, but... altered."

Jake frowned. "Altered how?"

"Dates that don't match up. Events that contradict other records. And then there's this" She flipped a particular page toward him. "Mentions of missing angels, but only in fragmented footnotes. Never by name. Just vague references to those who 'strayed from the path.'"

Jake's expression darkened as he studied the text. "And you think this connects to the heir's murder?"

She leaned back against her headboard, shaking her head. "That's just it, I don't know. But something isn't right. The way history's been rewritten... it's like someone doesn't want the full truth to be known."

Jake's grip on the paper tightened. "And you think digging through this mess is gonna get you anywhere?"

She glanced at him. "You don't believe me."

Jake sighed. "I believe something is off. But that's exactly why I don't like this, Y/n. You don't just stop when things get dangerous, you dig deeper."

His words hit harder than she expected.

Because he was right.

She flipped through the pages, her fingers moving with sharp, restless energy. Notes, records, scattered fragments of information that led nowhere. It felt like trying to hold water in cupped hands, every answer slipping through before she could grasp it.

When she finally exhaled, pushing one of the books aside, he leaned forward. "Okay," he said. "Tell me why this is worth driving yourself insane over."

She glanced at him. "I told you already. The heir's murder doesn't make sense."

Jake shook his head. "No, I mean, why do you care so much?"

Y/n hesitated.

For a second, she considered brushing him off. Giving him a half-truth, something easy.

But Jake wasn't asking to annoy her.

He was asking because he knew there was more.

She leaned back against the headboard, fingers drumming idly against the parchment in her lap. "Because it shouldn't have been possible."

Jake didn't respond, waiting for her to continue.

She frowned, looking down at the notes scattered around her. "I mean, think about it. You know how strict the celestial laws are. We're literally created with obedience woven into us. No angel has ever truly rebelled and gotten away with it, not without facing immediate consequence. So how the hell did someone break the laws, successfully? And not just any law, but the most sacred one?"

Jake's expression shifted slightly, his gaze sharpening.

Y/n exhaled, pushing a hand through her hair. "It's not just about the murder, Jake. If someone was able to break the laws so completely, then what does that mean? About the laws themselves? About us?" She hesitated before adding, quieter, "About me?"

Jake's grip on the paper tightened.

She let out a breath. "Maybe it's stupid. Maybe I just want an explanation for why I've never felt like I belong here." She shrugged, but it was forced. "Or maybe I just want proof that we're not as controlled as we think we are."

Jake studied her for a long moment.

He had known Y/n for years. Known that she never let things go once they got under her skin. But this wasn't just stubborn curiosity.

This was something deeper.

And for the first time, he understood why.

She wasn't searching for an answer about the heir.

She was searching for an answer about herself.

Silence.

Jake's jaw clenched.

Had seen the way she stood out, not because she tried to, but because she simply didn't fit. In a world that prided itself on order, on tradition, on sameness, Y/n was an anomaly.

She had always been different. Not in a way that made her weak. In a way that made her untamable.

Jake had never once thought of her as a mistake.

But he knew that she did.

She let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand down her face. "Shit. I'm being dramatic."

Jake rolled his eyes and stood, moving beside her to sit at the edge of her bed. "Yeah, well. You've earned it."

She let out a weak laugh.

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair before finally pulling back. He didn't look happy about this. Not even a little.

But when he spoke, his voice was steady. Resigned.

"Alright," he muttered. "I'll let you keep digging."

She blinked. "You... will?"

"Yeah." He exhaled sharply. "But under conditions."

She groaned. "Of course there are conditions."

Jake shot her a look. "You're the one getting tangled up in some conspiracy shit, Y/n. You're lucky I don't chain you to this bed and call it a day."

She smirked. "Kinky."

Jake scowled. "I'm serious."

Y/n snorted but bit back a real response, settling for a nod instead. "Fine. Let's hear it."

Jake leveled her with a look before holding up a finger. "One. You tell me everything. No more sneaking around."

She rolled her eyes but nodded. "Fine."

"Two." Another finger. "The second you get a solid answer, you stop. No 'one more clue,' no excuses."

Y/n hesitated. "Define solid answer."

Jake gave her a deadpan stare. "Don't test me."

She sighed. "Alright, alright. Keep going."

Jake held up a third finger. "No recklessness. No going off alone. No doing stupid shit just because you're feeling bold."

She exhaled, dragging a hand down her face. "You're sucking all the fun out of this."

"Good," Jake said dryly. Then, more seriously, "Four. Be careful who you trust. Not everyone is your friend."

She didn't argue that one.

She didn't need to.

Jake hesitated for a moment before speaking again, his voice quieter this time. "And five."

His gaze locked onto hers, unwavering. "Under no circumstances do you get yourself killed and leave me in this boring-ass place without you."

Y/n's breath caught in her throat, just for a second.

Jake wasn't joking.

There was no teasing, no sarcasm, no hint of lightness in his tone. Just something sharp and heavy, something that made her stomach twist.

She scoffed, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

Jake exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. "Says the one digging through centuries-old lies like she's going to find a neat little answer tucked between the pages."

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't argue with him.

He was right.

She snorted, but the amusement faded quickly. This was serious.

He was serious.

She exhaled, rolling her shoulders like she could shake off the weight pressing on her. "I'll be careful."

Jake didn't look convinced. "You better."

Jake studied her for a moment, he held her gaze for another long second before sighing. Then, without another word, he leaned over and flicked her forehead.

She flinched. "Ow—what the fuck?"

Jake smirked. "For being an idiot."

She scowled. "You're such an ass."

Jake just shrugged, standing up and stretching like this entire conversation hadn't just aged him ten years. "Yeah, well. Someone has to keep you from getting yourself killed."

She rolled her eyes, but there was something lighter in her chest now, something less suffocating. She watched as Jake grabbed a book from his own desk, tossing it onto his bed before turning back toward her.

He nodded toward her mess of notes. "If you're gonna keep obsessing, at least do it quietly." She smirked, leaning back against her pillows. "No promises."

Jake muttered something under his breath, something suspiciously close to pain in my ass, before finally collapsing onto his own bed with a groan.

And just like that, the tension eased. She still didn't have answers. But at least, for now, she had this.

Y/n's dreams are not dreams.

They are something else.

Something worse.

A sensation, sharp and intrusive, coils around her mind like a whisper she can't quite hear. Cold fingers of static trace down her spine, slipping beneath her skin, clawing at her ribs, dragging her toward something she doesn't understand. The darkness behind her eyelids shifts, too heavy, too real, curling at the edges like ink spreading through water. Shapes flicker in the void, just out of reach, fragmented whispers scraping against the inside of her skull.

A voice, no, not a voice. A pull. It isn't gentle. It isn't kind. It demands.

She jolts awake with a sharp inhale, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Her skin prickles, every nerve on edge, charged with something she can't name.

Her room is dark, but something is wrong. The sensation doesn't fade. It lingers, pressing down against her like a weight, like a summons, like something clawing at the edge of her consciousness, refusing to let go. Her pulse pounds against her ribs. She glances at Jake. He's still asleep, curled on his side, breathing steady. Peaceful. Y/n swallows hard. She should wake him. She should. But she doesn't. Because the pull is still there, electric beneath her skin, humming through her veins, dragging her toward something beyond this room, beyond reason.

Y/n swings her legs over the edge of the bed. And she follows it.

The Academy is different at night. She had never noticed it before, not like this. The air is thick, charged with something she can't name. The grand hallways, so rigid and pristine under daylight, stretch endlessly into the dark, their towering stone pillars twisting into shadows.

Everything is too quiet.

Not just because the students are asleep, but because the Academy itself feels different. Like it's holding its breath. Like it knows.

Y/n moves soundlessly, her pulse steady, her breath shallow. She doesn't know why she's here, only that she has to be. The pull is stronger now. A silent, unrelenting pressure behind her ribs, something winding around her lungs, her spine, tugging at her veins like invisible strings.

She turns a corner, And stops. At the end of the hall, framed by two towering columns, is a door. A door she has never seen before. That shouldn't be possible. She knows this school. She's spent years memorizing its corridors, walking these halls, mapping every shortcut and hidden corner.

But this, This is wrong. Or maybe... Maybe it was always here. Waiting. The pull pulses, sharper now, pressing against her temples like a heartbeat inside her skull.

She steps closer. Her fingers twitch at her sides. She shouldn't be here. But she has to know. Y/n reaches for the handle—

"You shouldn't be here."

The voice slices through the silence like a blade. She freezes. A sharp chill crawls down her spine as she whirls around, Professor Aldric stands a few feet away.

He isn't angry. But his eyes are steady, sharp, cutting through the darkness like he sees something she doesn't.

She forces herself to breathe. Her pulse is steady. She smooths her expression.

"Professor."

Aldric doesn't move. His gaze flickers to the door behind her before settling back on her. The silence stretches. "You felt it, didn't you?"

She stiffens.

Aldric's voice is quieter this time, almost contemplative. He studies her, his head tilting slightly, like she is a puzzle he is trying to solve.

She exhales slowly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Aldric hums, but the sound is unreadable.

Y/n's fingers curl at her sides. She tilts her chin up, feigning confidence. "I was just walking."

Aldric doesn't blink. "And yet you ended up here."

She doesn't answer. The moment stretches between them, heavy, suffocating.

"Curiosity is dangerous in this Academy," Aldric murmurs.

She exhales sharply. "So I've been told."

Aldric's expression doesn't change, but something flickers behind his gaze, something old, something knowing.

A pause. Then— "I had a student like you once."

She stills.

Aldric glances at the door again. His posture is still, unnervingly calm, but the weight of his words settles deep into her bones.

"Restless," he continues. "Always looking for something they weren't meant to find."

A slow, creeping unease curls inside her. She swallows. "What happened to them?"

Aldric's silence is an answer. Then, finally "They stopped looking." Y/n's stomach twists.

Aldric exhales, like he has already said too much. "Go back to your dorm, Y/n."

She clenches her jaw. "Why?"

The air shifts. For the first time, Aldric's voice is quiet. Steady.

"Because the Academy isn't as safe as it used to be."

Something in she stills. Not because of what he said. But because of how he said it. Not a warning. A fact. The weight of it lingers between them. Aldric studies her for another moment, then steps back, inclining his head slightly.

"Good night."

Y/n hesitates for half a second, but there's nothing left to say. Nothing he will say. She exhales sharply, turns on her heel, and walks away. Her footsteps echo against the stone, steady but clipped. She doesn't stop. Doesn't glance back. She forces herself forward, past the columns, past the shadows, ignoring the way the air still feels too heavy around her. She won't get answers here. Not tonight. She disappears down the hallway, her silhouette swallowed by the dim torchlight.

Aldric didn't move. His gaze remained fixed on the empty space beside him, on the shadows pooled along the farthest corner of the hall. And when she is finally out of reach, Aldric exhales.

without turning, without raising his voice, he speaks into the darkness.

"You too, Jungwon."

The shadows shift. A figure steps forward. Jungwon stepped forward, expression unreadable, hands tucked casually into his pockets like he hadn't just been standing there, lurking. Watching.

Y/n was already gone. But the weight of her presence still clung to the air, thick and lingering. Jungwon met Aldric's gaze without hesitation. "I was bored."

Aldric merely observed him, his face impassive. "Strange," he mused. "I didn't take you for someone who enjoyed standing in the dark, listening to things that aren't meant for you."

Jungwon's expression remained unreadable. "Isn't that what you do?"

Aldric hummed, unimpressed. "I listen when necessary. The difference is, I don't hover."

The silence between them stretched, heavy and deliberate. Jungwon should leave. He should turn and walk away like none of this had ever happened. Like he hadn't been standing there, watching Y/n, following her every move.

But he didn't. Instead, he spoke.

"She's going to get herself killed."

Aldric didn't react. No flicker of surprise. No concern. Instead, he sighed, a quiet, almost thoughtful sound. "Perhaps," he admitted. "This is often the fate of those who ask the wrong questions. But that depends entirely on how much she's willing to know."

Jungwon's fingers curled into fists. That answer irritated him more than it should have. For a moment, his thoughts tangled into something sharp, something reckless.

But then he exhaled slowly, forcing himself to step back, to distance himself from whatever this was. He wasn't here to discuss her. He didn't care what Aldric chose to do about her. And yet, his voice came out lower, rougher than before.

"She's reckless."

Aldric merely glanced at him. "And yet, you're the one standing here."

Jungwon's expression didn't change, but something inside him twisted.

Aldric wasn't wrong. Y/n was the reckless one. Y/n was the one stepping into dangerous territory. But the problem wasn't just her. It was him, too. Because while he wasn't bound by celestial law, she was. He was the one trailing after her like a fool. And if anyone found out how often he had been watching her, how often he had been following her, Y/n would be the one to suffer for it. Not him.

She was the one bound by celestial law, the one whose loyalty would be questioned if the wrong people started noticing their paths crossing too often. Celestial protocol may have been new, but its purpose was clear. The law had been put in place to prevent another war from breaking out between angels and demons. There were rules. Boundaries. Lines that weren't meant to be crossed. And yet, he kept crossing them.

Jungwon exhaled sharply, fingers curling at his sides.

It wasn't that he cared if she got caught.

It wasn't that he cared if she was reckless.

So why the hell was he still here?

Jungwon scoffed, low and humorless. "Celestial laws are bullshit."

Aldric raised a brow, but he didn't argue. "They are absolute."

Jungwon huffed, shaking his head. "Nothing is absolute."

Aldric's eyes darkened slightly. "Then I suggest you be careful where your thoughts lead you, Jungwon."

Jungwon didn't reply. His thoughts had already led him too far.

Aldric studied him for another moment before finally stepping back, turning away. He disappeared down the corridor, robes whispering against the stone.

Jungwon didn't move. Y/n was reckless. Y/n was dangerous. But he was the one who kept looking for her. He was the one who couldn't seem to let it go. Jungwon exhaled sharply, forcing his fingers to unclench.

He should stop.

He would stop.

And yet,

Jungwon turned sharply on his heel, heading down the opposite hallway. He told himself he wasn't following her.

But deep down, he already knew,

He would never be far.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

[matchpointfaist]

me & you together song

best friend! connor murphy 𝜗𝜚

a/n: no smut! this is just soft connor falling in love <3

when you proposed the plan for connor to come with you on your weekend trip for a college tour, you hadn't entirely expected your parents to agree. some combination of safety in numbers and the general inseparability convinced them, though, and you were college bound with connor's black backpack snug next to your pink duffel, taking turns controlling the radio like you didn't have all the same taste.

he was in his own head, like always, thinking of all the million ways the two of you could grow apart when you left. he was never very strong academically, struggling with authority and retention and all the things you seemed to excel at. he knew, in some way, that it would always come to this; you moving on.

he tried his best to keep a smile, for you, unable to allow himself to ruin your mood. you'd been all smiles all day, wearing your "lucky sweater" and insisting that this was the one- you could feel it. the one in question happened to be nine hours from home, from him, and he selfishly could not seem to push the thought from his mind.

above everything, always, connor wanted you to be happy. so there he sat in the passenger seat of your car, watching the way the sun weaved through strands of your hair and your smile as you pointed out little landmarks. when you finally arrived at the campus, he could understand why you wanted to go so desperately- it was beautiful, lively, creative. everything your hometown was not.

you didn't have to tell him to take a million photos; one of you walking past the entrance sign, one of you grabbing a tour pamphlet, one of you with your tour guide. he had his phone out before you could even ask, capturing a million little memories that he could make a home in once you were gone.

you stayed in a hotel just off campus, courtesy of your parents, in a connecting room that you were both sure to take advantage of. you got pizza from a local place, and connor just listened intently as you raved about how excited you were to live like this every night, growing more and more uncertain in his ability to keep his thoughts to himself.

"it won't be like this, not really," he finally said, regretting it as soon as it left his mouth, "i mean, i won't be here, that's all. but you're gonna have so much fun," his encouraging smile felt more like a cringe.

"you could always come with me," you frowned slightly, and his chest ached, "i know you don't wanna go to college, but maybe you could get a job and then we could rent a place after my first year?" you'd discussed it before, of course, but it never went anywhere. he'd always shaken off the idea, not wanting to hold you down or hold you back from anything you wanted. you'd always insisted that it would be the opposite, but he couldn't shake the nagging thoughts.

"maybe," he said after a moment, "we'll see, yeah? we'll figure something out. maybe you can just come visit every month?" "i guess, yeah," you nodded hesitantly, "i don't wanna just see you once a month, con. i mean- you know i love you, and i believe in you. but sometimes you frustrate me so bad," you ran a hand through your hair, "i know your parents are overbearing, but they'd pay for you to go to school or for you to get an apartment if you'd just ask. you don't have to come with me, of course, but it seems like you want to and that's a perfect solution-"

he stopped you, standing to pace the room, his unease at the mention of his parents making him antsy. "please don't pretend to understand my relationship with my parents," he said quietly, his voice heavy with tension. "pretend?" you repeated with a scoff, "connor, i know you better than anyone! i'm the one who's always there after your fights, that's not fair,"

"just because you're there after doesn't mean you understand! your parents love you, they-" he paused, trying to calm down, "look, i'm sorry, okay? i shouldn't have come with you," you looked stricken at that, a pained, distant look in your eyes, "what?"

"i shouldn't have come, it was a mistake. this is a big thing for you and i'm messing it up," he said with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "you're not messing it up, connor. i just don't understand-" "that's right, you don't understand," he cut you off, "look- let's just go to bed, okay? i'll see you in the morning," he grabbed his phone from the bed and disappearing behind the connecting room door, leaving you speechless.

you ran over the argument what felt like a hundred times, trying to figure out what went wrong. he could be so frustrating, so single minded when it came to his potential, but he'd never lashed out at you. you'd always been the one calming him down, not working him up. you hated this, whatever this even was.

on the other side of the door, connor wasn't doing any better. he felt sick with guilt, hating the way you'd looked at him as he snapped at you, hating the way he'd said you didn't understand. you understood better than anyone else, and he knew that, deep down. you saw him in a way he could never allow anyone else to.

he glanced up as he heard a quiet knock at the door, recognizing the little pattern tapped against it, feeling silly as his heart rate spiked at the idea of you on the other side, coming to him despite his temper. "come in," he called, smoothing out the blanket to busy his hands. you stepped inside quietly, the hoodie of his that you always slept in catching his eye immediately.

"i hate when we fight," you said softly, still standing like you weren't sure how close to get to him, "i can't sleep knowing you're upset," you looked so vulnerable in that moment, he would've done anything to make it better. ask his parents for college tuition, move hours away with you, whatever it took to get the teary eyed expression off of your face. "i hate it too," he sighed, opening his arms and gesturing you over, "not mad at you, just- it's hard,"

you crossed the room, settling on the bed and melting into his arms in the way he'd grown so addicted to. "didn't mean to pressure you," you mumbled into his shirt, "i'm really sorry, con," god, you had it all wrong. "you aren't pressuring me," he said quietly, running his hand through your hair absentmindedly, "i don't even know how to say all of this," you pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your brows knit. "say all what?"

"i want you to do whatever you want, go wherever you want, and i hope you know that. you're gonna do so many great things, and i'm scared i'll hold you back from that, or that you'll have so many things that you won't need me anymore. and i know that's unfair, and you've always shown that i'm important, but it terrifies me, the idea of not having you in my life," he hated the way his voice cracked, "and you're my best friend, and i've sat with this and i haven't said anything because i'd never do anything to jeopardize that,"

i'm really doing this, he thought, as he continued on, "the idea of not being in your life terrifies me because i'm- well, fuck, i'm in love with you. you're so funny and so fucking smart, and you always know what to say, but you never really have to say anything. just being with you is the easiest part of my life. and i'd love to follow you to college, i'd love to get us a place just for the two of us, i would love nothing more than to make a little life with you, and i know we're so young and we're friends and if this is all wrong, we can forget it, okay? but i couldn't act like i wasn't feeling this way, it wasn't fair to either-"

"connor," he opened his eyes, not realizing he'd ever even closed them, to find you beaming and giddy and close to laughing, "i've been waiting so long for you to say that to me, do you have any idea? god, we're both so stubborn," and then you were on him, your arms around his shoulders and your face buried in his neck, hugging him the tightest anyone ever had.

he laughed, breathless and shocked, holding you closer to him, "are you serious?" "of course i'm serious," he could feel your smile against his skin, "i've been in love with you for ages," he pulled you back slightly, your cheeks pink and your smile giddy as you looked up at him, and he couldn't resist it anymore, he kissed you with all the emotion he'd been holding back for what felt like a lifetime, smiling against your lips, laughing as you pulled away to rest your forehead on his.

the two of you just laid there for a while, your legs tangled together and your hands trailing over each others arms, backs, hair, anywhere the other could reach. he hadn't even realized he'd dozed off until you were yawning softly and shifting to lay your head on the pillow. "i love you," you mumbled, a sleepy smile on your lips. "i love you,"

you fell asleep hand in hand, your own bed on the other side of the door long forgotten.

[insomniac4000]

Chained Together George Clarke Part 8

“Good night?” Harry smirked the next morning as he walked into the bedroom where George and Florence had stayed that night. The pair were both sitting up in bed, both of them scrolling on their phones.

“I would come up with a quip but you have the keys,” Florence uttered. She didn’t have a particularly restful sleep, she kept waking up and from what she could sense from George he was the same.

“Well you have twenty minutes of rest bite. Use it wisely.” Harry smirked suggestively. Florence rolled her eyes but had a small smile on her face. She rubbed her wrist when the cuffs were taken off and took herself off to the bathroom, feet padding on the floor.

“I tell you what you definitely won out the lottery,” Harry nodded to the direction Florence had gone in. The sound of the shower raining down let them both know Florence was well out of ear shot.

“What do you mean?” George asked running a hand through his hair.

“Well most of us said if we wanted to be stuck with anyone it would have been Florence,” Harry replied.

“Really?”

“You can’t deny she’s an attractive girl,”

“That may be so, doesn’t mean I like her,” George huffed as he finally got off from the bed and walked over to his duffle bag to get his outfit for the day.

“Alright mate. Harry smiled again before exiting the room.

Breakfast was unusually quiet, it seemed no one had slept well and there was another night to go. The ate their fruit and pastries and sipped their coffee in near silence when the door swung open and Simon came swanning in, the rest of the boys behind him.

“Good morning everyone!” Simon was far too chipper for that time of the morning, he got a couple of groans back, everyone anticipating what was about to come next.

“Ready for your second challenge?” The tall Youtuber asked and once again he was only met with some grunts.

“We’re barely half way through guys,” Simon laughed as he handed out three coloured envelopes to each pairing which were numbered with one, two and three. They opened them together with instructions to read them in turn. Chip read first, then Cal and finally George.

“Through mud and walls, we twist and turn,”

“Hand in hand, we leap and learn.”

“Bound together, swift we race—who will win this tricky chase? Does this mean what I think it means?” George whined, Florence glanced at him a little before looking back to Simon.

“If you all want to come out to the garden,” Simon replied with a smile, Ethan and Harry were giggling away like schoolboys at the back.

“I’m very worried…” Arthur said as he took a bite of cereal.

Within ten minutes everyone downed their coffee anticipating they would be needing it before they all made they way to to the garden of the rented property. To everyone despair an obstacle course was waiting for them. There was a net on the floor which they needed to crawl through to get to a wall climb, somehow get over that and then run the length of the garden which was about 25 minutes before getting an egg and a spoon they needed to run back with balancing the spoon and egg with their cuffed hands and over the finish line.

“This is fucking stupid area,” Chip grumbled causing everyone to smile and nod in agreement.

“The winner will get and extra ten minutes tomorrow morning and the losers have a horrible forfeit to do,” Simon advised everyone. Florence turned to George, her game face was well and truly on.

“Okay no matter what has happened if we have any chance of doing this we’re going to have to work together,” Florence looked at George with grit, determination, the type of fight she needed to have all throughout her life. George nodded slowly as he looked in her green eyes, he was beginning to understand her a little bit more. She was determined, she worked hard she thought things through, that’s why she had done so well that’s why she was in all of these videos he knew because he was exactly the same. There was still something he couldn’t shake, why was she like this? What was her story?

“Let’s do this,” George nodded and lifted his hand out for a shake. Florence took it tentatively handling it lightly as they shook, her hand feeling incredibly cold as he dropped his arm.

 “We’ll have to match each other down the net, you make your arm movements as big as possible I’ll try and keep mine slightly smaller. Same with the wall, we’ll just go one rung at a time.”

“You climb don’t you? I do too so hopefully it wont be too bad,” Florence said trying to ignore George’s hair blowing in the wind, it looked effortlessly good.

“I do. That’s good to know that could be our advantage point.”

“COME ON YOU TWO!” Ethan’s voice boomed from the other side of the garden. George and Florence went over and lined up next to the others. Theo and Cal were both jumping up and down in order to warm up, the latter warning the former about his hip and Chip had his hands on Arthur’s shoulders giving him a pep talk.

“Okay are you ready?” Simon asked all six contestants who gave a more enthusiastic response of YES and LETS GO.

“Three, two, one, GO!” Simon blew his whistle and it started. Typically Theo and Cal raced through the net as the tallest pair. Florence and George were sticking to their plan and as such were making steady progress, Chip and Arthur were both a disaster, Chip kept getting his foot caught in the net and both were bumping their elbows in each other’s faces.

The wall was next and George and Florence’s hobby really helped, George was impressed at the speed Florence was going but they still stuck to their one rung at a time rule to keep them on an even playing field, they were just very rapid. This was where Cal and Theo got stuck, Theo tried to pull himself up faster than Cal could, leading to their cuffed hands being dragged forcing Cal to lose his entire grip on the wall.

George and Florence were ahead, the run was a bit difficult as George was a little too fast and there was some pulling on his part but Florence managed to not stumble. They got the spoon and egg, Florence with the smaller hand had hers in front and George had his hand behind gripping near the end of the spoon, they tried to match each others steps as best they could. Ignoring all of the commotion and arguing which was going on behind them and purely focusing on what was in front of them.

“Slow and steady wind the race,” Florence muttered to no one in particular as they carefully made their way across the garden and made it to the finish line, Theo and Cal were arguing over their broken egg while Arthur and Chip had still yet to make it up the wall.

Simon gave his whistle three big blows signalling the winners. The race wasn’t over however, the last place pair would have a gruelling forfeit to complete but even at this stage it was impossible to imagine Arthur and Chip not coming last.

“Well congrats, you get more time away from me,” Florence spat before turning to Simon who approached the couple, her face broke out into a smile immediately.

To the surprise of no one Arthur and Chip lost,  their punishment was to cook dinner for everyone else, with their legs shackled as well as their wrists. George and Florence were able to choose when they wanted their twenty minutes of freedom and they had chosen just before dinner as they both wanted to freshen up a little. George has opted to take a shower while Florence simply changed into a grey tracksuit and was watching Arthur and Chip fail to cook some steak and chips.

“Can I ask you something?” Florence asked Arthur sipping her glass of wine on the counter, it was approaching eight o clock and she was starving, the breakfast bar was basically holding up her body weight.

“Go on,” Arthur replied despite being slightly panicked at the sight of the mushrooms.

“Yesterday when you said I had a story, I’m not mad but I was just wondering how much you knew?” She asked. She knew the cameras were on but didn’t much care, she had consumed a glass and a half of wine on an empty stomach, her inhibitions were lowering by the sip.

“No details. Just Chris had said that Esme said you had led an interesting life. You strike me as someone who lived abroad,” Arthur replied. Florence smiled, she knew she could trust Esme which was why she wasn’t mad at all.

“Well she’s right but you’re wrong. Sorry to say you couldn’t be more wrong,” Florence gave a small smile, it was hard to make a joke out of things but it was one of the few ways she knew to try and deal with it.

Arthur was going to open his mouth to ask another question but Harry came bounding in dragging George behind him, cuffs in hand. Little did anyone know George and Harry had their own conversation.

“Five minute warning mate,” Harry told George who was just getting dressed in the room.

“Cool thanks,” George sighed placing his grey T shirt over his head.

“You okay Clarkey? You don’t seem yourself,”

“I’m good, just a hard video,” George mumbled sitting back on the bed.

“You seemed to do well on the obstacle course though,”

“Yeah well an extra few minutes of freedom is welcome,” George laughed a little awkwardly before looking down at his lap.

“Are you seriously saying you don’t like her?”

“Women like her and guys like me aren’t compatible, someone who has it all and just some unfunny trying to make people laugh on tiktok. Let’s get these cuffs back on,” George sighed and walked out of the room, Harry following with small smirk on his face.

“Arthur did your mother never teach you to cook?” Chip complained.

“No, there I was the only boy for years, I never needed to, I know that sounds ridiculously sexist ”

“Don’t you have like twelve siblings?” Harry asked cuffing George and Florence together once more.

“I’m one of nine.”

“I’m pretty sure I told you this before but you do really remind me of my younger brother,” Florence smiled sadly, fiddling with her fingers.

The whole conversation turned into people talking about their families. For the most part Florence just listened and fiddled with her hands, George couldn’t help but notice the unrest for the person sitting next to him.

“You’ve been quiet.” George noted, Florence just nodded.

“Worried people would be jealous of your perfect upbringing.”

“When did you hear I had a perfect upbringing?” Florence asked placing her wine glass down, she could feel everyone’s eyes on her and she didn’t know what to do. George was so good at pressing her buttons she could feel the angry bubbling up inside.

“It’s just your type. Perfect, never been told no.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong,” Florence protested, she sighed as she tried to walk over to the living area to sit down but George pulled her back as he stared her down. Noses almost touching. Florence’s face crinkled.

“No come on. You keep saying I’m all wrong about you and all the rumours are untrue but you’ve never said or done anything to keep people thinking otherwise,” George snapped, his voice low.

“They’re all dead.” Those three words floored George, he let go of her, his face in shock. Hers momentarily going from upset to anger. How dare he, how dare he make her tell a room full of strangers and cameras things she wanted to keep private. If it wasn’t for the metal keeping them together Florence would have ran.

[what-if-i-like-my-mechs-older]

Optimus was finally starting to come to, he kept his optics shut however, making a grumbling sound as he talked to himself, ignoring the fact that there were others there.

Because no there wasn't, because he was at home, because he didn't visit Wheeljack today on a fragging whim and then get blasted to who knows where.

He was going to deny everything until it was real, because he was too damn tired to be dealing with this scrap.

He exhaled speaking quietly and firmly to himself, as if by saying it , it would absolutely make it real.

"Wheeljack didn't blow me up. I didn't get blasted, the mech with the fine faceplate structure was just a dream, just a really, real dream- I'm going to open my optics and none of it is real."

His ear fins twitched. His jaw tensed, Optimus closed his eyes tighter, please if there was a Primus...

He opened his optics and there he was that mech with the faceplate with sharp edges that only defined his features further, one optic ridge raised and looking at him.

Optimus closed his eyes again and sighed, a long heavy sigh.

"Of course you're real and just had to be there. "

"You are certainly in a mess and answered a few questions without my even asking, so you're from an alternative universe, that certainly explains the appearance...though with these bright colours I must wonder are you from a pleasure District where you come from?"

Optimus's cheeks turned deep purple at the mere suggestion, he held nothing against such places, but the very idea of himself performing at one with everyone staring...that voice....all raspy, gravelly even saying that....no, not the time to be thinking like that.

Sitting up, he found his wrists and ankles were bound and glared with such a fire at the silver mech . He was sure he'd burned him and smirked at the thought.

Megatron however was simply staring, the fire, the fight in those eyes, there was something akin to a wild animal in them that wanted freedom, he momentarily felt the desire to tame such a thing...but perhaps in that want age set them apart.

If Optimus had heard these thoughts and not noticed the Decepticon symbol on the mechs chest.

He instant response would be

'No it didn't. '

Optimus pulled at the restraints again and heard another mech working the medical computer behind him.

There was no mistaking that structure, despite a few differences

Frowning he stated the name of the mech

"Soundwave."

Soundwave unfazed by him simply waved a hand as if to say yeah yeah I'm busy working don't bother me.

Prime turned his head and then looked at the one beside the med berth and chuckled, that damn cannon should have instantly made it obvious who he was.

Megatron folded his arms, he did not appreciate the mocking tone in that laugh.

"Pray tell, what do you find so amusing about my image."

"Compared to the Megatron in my world, you're tiny."

Optimus grinned, oh he knew he was dancing with Unicron with that comment but the way Megatron shifted and placed his hands on his hips , unsure of what to say before he was pointing at him and scolding him as if he were a sparkling.

"Boy, despite my size I have battled and won against Cybertronians Omega Supreme's size, I have no problem dealing with prisoners or upstarts."

Prime wondered a moment if he should pull a page from Bee's book and antagonise him, that berating tone might almost be worth it.

Optimus decided to go with a tactic that he knew was merely a joke... but he couldn't girlboss, mansplain, definitely not man slaughter his way out of this, he was on his own here.

Primus he couldn't believe he was about to do this.

"So which one am I, Lord Megatron?"

He purred leaning in closer.

Man whoring it was.

(Previous part)

(First part)

[httpvomitello]

ANYTHING for a Young Alicent Hightower and a MReader. Save that sweet girl from her canonical future, please and thank you 🙏

Helloooooo, hello! I was so happy to see a request for this fandom again. Hope you like it! ~ ♡

A Love Unburdened *⁠.⁠✧

Summary: Alicent Hightower had learned that young. Her days were spent in the shadow of duty, her father’s expectations pressing upon her shoulders like a weight she was never meant to carry. But in all the grand halls and whispered courtly schemes, there was one place where she felt free. With you.

alicent hightower x m!reader

The Red Keep was a place of whispers, of duty pressed upon shoulders too young to bear it. But in the golden light of day, when the sun streamed through high windows and the gardens bloomed in color, it became something else entirely—a home.

And for you, home had always been her.

Alicent Hightower.

Your father, King Viserys, called her your closest companion. Rhaenyra, your sister, teased you endlessly for the way your gaze softened when Alicent entered a room. The court whispered about the inevitable—how the crown prince of Westeros and the daughter of the Hand were destined to be wed.

But none of that mattered. Because when you looked at her, it was not duty that tethered you to her.

It was love.

The gardens of the Red Keep were bathed in warm afternoon light, the scent of lavender and roses filling the air. Alicent sat beside you on a stone bench, her auburn hair catching flecks of gold from the sun. She had discarded the formality of court, her usual intricate braids replaced with loose waves, her green gown swaying in the soft breeze.

"Your father asked about us today," she said, twirling a petal between her fingers. "He wonders why we have not spoken of marriage."

You smiled, leaning closer. "And what did you tell him?"

"That it is not for him to decide." A teasing glint shone in her brown eyes. "I thought you might like to be consulted in such matters, my prince."

You laughed, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Do you doubt my answer?"

She hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly. "No. But… it feels foolish to long for something when it is already within reach."

Your expression softened. You had both known, for years now, that this was inevitable. Not because the court expected it, not because it was advantageous, but because there had never been a time when you did not love her.

"I would wed you tomorrow, if you asked it of me," you murmured. "Or today. Here, beneath the sun, with only the gods as witness."

A small, breathless laugh escaped her. "You are impatient, my love."

"When it comes to you? Always."

She exhaled, a soft, contented sound, and leaned her head against your shoulder. "Then let us speak to your father."

You pressed a kiss to her hair, breathing in the scent of lavender. "Who's being impatient now, my love?” you joked.

The Sept of Baelor was filled with golden light when you wed her. The air was thick with incense and the murmurs of lords and ladies, but you only saw her.

Alicent, dressed in deep emerald, her auburn hair woven with pearls, a soft smile playing on her lips as she stepped toward you. She was breathtaking, but more than that—she was yours.

"I knew this would happen," Rhaenyra whispered beside you, grinning.

You smirked. "So did I."

Alicent reached you, her hands slipping into yours with quiet familiarity. You felt the slightest tremble in her fingers, not from fear, but from the weight of the moment.

You gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Are you ready?"

She gazed at you, warmth in her brown eyes. "I have always been ready for you."

The septon spoke the sacred words, but you barely heard them. You only heard the steady beat of your heart, the whispered promises you had made long before this day.

And when you bound your hands together with the silk ribbon, when you vowed to love her for all your days, there was no hesitation.

She was already yours, and you were already hers.

Married life was not a burden, nor a duty—it was a continuation of the life you had always known, only sweeter.

Mornings were spent tangled in the sheets of your shared chambers, Alicent curled against you, sunlight filtering through the curtains. She would sigh sleepily, pressing a drowsy kiss to your jaw before murmuring, "Just a little more...."

Afternoons were filled with stolen moments in the gardens, quiet laughter between council meetings, teasing words exchanged when no one was listening.

Evenings were your favorite. When courtly obligations faded and it was just the two of you, sharing wine on the balcony, watching the sun set over the city. She would rest her head against your chest, and you would press a kiss to her hair, marveling at the quiet peace of it all.

"You make me happy," she admitted one night, voice soft. "Did you know that?"

You smiled, tilting her chin up so she could meet your gaze. "I do now."

Her fingers traced the fabric of your tunic. "I used to think love was something meant for stories. That I would be wed to a man who saw me only as a duty."

Your heart ached at the thought. "You will never be just a duty to me, Alicent."

She looked at you then, eyes shining in the candlelight. "I know."

And when you kissed her, slow and deep, the rest of the world faded away.

[abslvrs13]

INTRODUCING...MAYBANK!READER

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ maybank!reader who was only a year younger than jj, but honestly you would think the two of them were twins. yes, she looks like she's 19. jj was not the only one who was physically abused by luke maybank, she and jj did have to go through that unil he- thankfully- left the island to god knows where.

maybank!reader who didn't take relationships seriously, like she had a choice- no pogue on pogue macking- and she was not going to date any other boy on the island, all of them were either fuckboys or just bitchy kooks that she hated to the core! like rafe cameron, topper all those 'fuckers'. if she had to date anyone on this island, it'd be pope.

maybank!reader who actually introduced pope to the group, in 6th grade she was sat beside him in math class when she literally didnt know how to add these numbers (she's got a jj brain), pope kindly helped her and they walked out together, john b and jj came up- asked who he was, then they immediately clicked, boom!

maybank!reader who knew pope wasn't good with girls, she'd always known he had a thing for her and maybe kie, and she wasn't mad at all- she also wasn't gonna be the one to confront him, or tease him about it. jj and john b do that. he was a teenage boy that hung out with two girls constantly. it was bound to happen ; hormones.

maybank!reader who’s best friend in the entire world is kiara carrera. she’s the whole reason kie even became a part of the friend group. they did everything together : shared clothes , worked the same shifts at the wreck , went to the same protests on the mainland , told each other everything. if you saw one , the other wasn’t far behind. kie was always the one to scold her if she pulled a jj stunt.

maybank!reader who is actually crazy, she has sides where she's calm, quiet when nothings happening or if shes not around the pogues. need someone to climb into a hole when looking for treasure? she wont hesitate, though jj literally wont shut up when shes down there "you still there?", "you didn't get eaten by a- i dont know, snake right?"

DRABBLES

how pope and maybank!reader met in 6th grade

[expansion-stories]

holy shit, *please* more posts where the subject is terrified of their own growth

Wiping down the tables…I bet she made me do this on purpose!

Taylor’s titanic tits jiggled back and forth as she moved the rag, even as tightly bound as they were. The edges of her spreading areolae were visible, and she was already bulging over the cups, her breasts rising like dough.

She closed her eyes, trying not to show any outward signs of stress. Calm her breathing. Try to stifle the rising heat between her legs.

The worst part, she decided, was knowing she deserved what was happening to her.

“Someone’s looking a little different…”

Taylor spun around, seeing the teasing grin of her fellow waitress. She could feel eyes on her chest and knew her breasts were getting harder to conceal.

“Is there something you want to get off your chest?” Throwing a smug smile her way.

Scratch that, the worst part wasn’t deserving it, it was people knowing she was transforming and couldn’t stop.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She’d meant to sound confident, resolved, but her voice came out like she was about to cry.

Taylor had a very bad habit of stealing tips. Just sometimes. But people had noticed when a hundred dollars went missing.

Whoever the thief was had been publicly declared a ‘thieving cow’, but with no witnesses, nothing stuck on Taylor. She’d spent the money on a stupid mobile game.

Should have saved it for new bras…

“How’ve you been feeling lately, Taylor?” The woman continued. Not even bothering to hide where she was looking. Taylor slowly let out a shuddering breath.

Her anxiety has blossomed with her breasts, and that combined with the stares was making her very self-conscious. Every time someone’s gaze lingered, she would wonder…Can they tell what’s happening to me?

Something shifted. Her chest was getting warmer again. Taylor felt a hot drop of fear in her belly.

“Well?” The woman was still standing there, apparently not feeling merciful. It always started the same way, with a rising heat, then a tingling sensation…

Taylor put one hand on the table, trying to support her heaving bosom. She can feel the tightness, the expanding flesh pushing her bodice apart, each breath slowly exposing more of her already enormous nipples. Cold sweat ran down her neck as she imagined them exposed.

“Please, no”, she choked out, watching her bulging cleavage deepen before her eyes. None of that confident, boastful girl was left.

She could always try to apologize, return the money and beg for the curse to stop. The only things holding her back are her pride and the lacing on her top.

And in a minute, it’ll be just her pride.

A knot comes untied, and a panicked scream echoes through the restaurant.

[phoenixortheflame]

Bound: Love Will Abide by @dodgerkedavra

Typeset and bound by: me, @phoenixortheflame. Featuring art by: @babooshkart

Harry and Draco survive the apocalypse. This is what happens after.

If you've watched the Last of Us, you know that episode.

It's one of the best hours of television I've ever seen, even if it did leave me a sobbing, incoherent mess for weeks.

And so when I came across this fic based on that very episode, I was intrigued. And Dodger assured me — she ASSURED me — it has a not-tragic ending, so I pulled up my big-girl socks and read the damn thing. And, oh boy, am I ever glad I did. Good doesn't even begin to describe it. It's PERFECT.

For the design concept, I knew I wanted to incorporate similar typography as the show, but also tie in some of the imagery repeated throughout the fic.

When I found this still life painting of wild strawberries by Adriaen Coorte in the public domain, I knew it would become the cover.

The fic is only 41k words, so designed it as a legal quarto, and it's the perfect little paperback size.

I used Affinity Publisher to create my typeset. It's the second fic I've typeset using this program, and I highly recommend it as a more affordable (and non-subscription) alternative to Adobe.

There were a lot of scene breaks in this fic, so I broke them up with horizontal lines when dates were indicated and tiny strawberry graphics when they weren't.

I was lucky to be able to include art by @babooshkart, which Dodger commissioned for the fic. It's so gorgeous and suits the fic perfectly.

I hope you love it, Dodger. Your story means so much to me — as does your friendship!

[chokememaximoff]

Beyond the Chaos IX

Trained to obey, broken by Hydra, Y/N's identity blurs between soldier and survivor. Pulled from the chaos by the one person she once saw as an enemy—Wanda—she must fight to reclaim herself before the past swallows her whole.

TW: Torture, Brainwashing, PTSD, Violence, Abuse, Trauma, PanicAttacks, NonCon, Drugging, SelfDoubt, Loss, Captivity, Manipulation

Y/N sat in the dimly lit interrogation room, tied to a cold, metal chair. The harsh light above her cast ominous shadows on her bruised and battered body. She was shaking uncontrollably, her mind a chaotic mess of pain and fear. The weight of the chains that bound her wrists and ankles only added to her sense of despair.

The door creaked open, and the Hydra commander strode in, his presence filling the room with an air of menace. His eyes glinted with a sadistic satisfaction as he looked down at Y/N. "Look at you," he sneered. "A Hydra rogue, our best commander, and now... a traitor."

Y/N kept her eyes downcast, trying to focus on breathing through the pain and fear. Her silence seemed to infuriate the commander, who swiftly backhanded her across the face. "Say something, rat!" he demanded, his voice echoing off the cold, stone walls.

The word "rat" triggered a flood of memories. Y/N's mind drifted back to her first days with Lauren, to the gentle comfort and love that had been her salvation. The commander, sensing her distraction, slapped her again, harder this time. "You betrayed your own wife," he spat, leaning in close. "How does that feel?"

At the mention of Lauren, a sob broke free from Y/N's throat. Tears streamed down her face as she was overwhelmed by guilt and sorrow. The commander stepped back, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he watched her break down. "That's right, cry for her," he mocked. "She was a fool to trust you."

The commander’s satisfaction grew as he saw the tears and heard the sobs. He circled her like a predator, relishing in her pain. "Now, as a former commander, you should know what happens to traitors who are caught," he said, his tone low and threatening. "You will be used as our toy."

Y/N's heart sank at his words. She knew all too well what that meant. Her body trembled with a mix of fear and revulsion as she struggled against her bonds, but it was futile. The chains held fast, and her strength was waning. The commander grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "You're ours now," he whispered, his breath hot against her face. "And we'll make sure you remember your place."

As he released her, Y/N's head dropped forward, her tears falling freely onto the cold floor. She felt utterly helpless, trapped in a nightmare she couldn't escape. The commander left the room, leaving her to her torment and despair. The only thing she could hold onto was the faint hope that her friends, the Avengers, would come for her. But as the minutes turned to hours, that hope grew dimmer, and the darkness closed in around her.

....

Wanda paced her room, her heart racing and her mind filled with horrific images of what might be happening to Y/N. The fear and helplessness consumed her, making it hard to breathe. She slammed her fists against the walls, each impact a desperate attempt to release the overwhelming pain and frustration. The room seemed to close in around her, the silence deafening.

Just then, the door burst open, and Natasha rushed in. She immediately grabbed Wanda's wrists, stopping her from hurting herself further. "Wanda, stop!" Natasha commanded, her voice firm but filled with concern.

Wanda collapsed into Natasha's arms, her body trembling with uncontrollable sobs. Natasha held her tightly, trying to offer some comfort. "What's going on?" Natasha asked gently, her voice softening as she rocked Wanda slightly.

"I love her," Wanda sobbed, her voice breaking.

"I know," Natasha said soothingly. "You two are childhood friends. It's natural to feel this way."

"No, you don't understand," Wanda cried, shaking her head frantically. "I've loved her since we were kids, but not just as a friend. Before Sokovia, I was going to ask her out, but then... then I thought she died. And when she came back, she wasn't herself. I was finally starting to get her back, and now she's trapped again. God knows what's happening to her or if she's even still alive."

Wanda's breathing grew rapid, the panic attack taking hold. Natasha tightened her embrace, pulling Wanda into her lap and rocking them both gently. "Shh, it's okay," Natasha whispered, stroking Wanda's hair. "We'll get her back. She's strong, and so are you. We'll find a way."

Wanda clung to Natasha, her tears soaking into the older woman's shirt. The panic slowly began to ebb as Natasha's comforting presence anchored her. "But what if it's too late?" Wanda whispered, her voice filled with fear.

"It's not too late," Natasha replied firmly. "Y/N is a fighter. She won't give up, and neither will we. We'll do whatever it takes to bring her back."

Wanda nodded weakly, trying to draw strength from Natasha's words. She knew they had to act quickly, but for now, all she could do was hold onto the hope that Y/N was still out there, fighting to survive.

...

A few months later, the Avengers finally pinpointed the location of the Hydra base. As they strategized their approach, Wanda couldn't wait any longer. Consumed by desperation and rage, she stormed into the base, her powers unleashed in a violent torrent. She tore through the facility with raw fury, shattering walls and flinging debris aside, her focus solely on finding Y/N.

Amidst the chaos, she finally reached a dimly lit cell. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw Y/N huddled on the floor, frail and skeletal, shivering in her underwear. The girl was barely recognizable, a ghostly shadow of her former self. Y/N's eyes were shut tightly, her hands covering her ears, clearly terrified by the noise.

Wanda's heart broke at the sight. She rushed to Y/N's side, her voice trembling as she called her name. "Y/N, it's me. It's Wanda."

Y/N didn't respond, lost in a trance. Wanda tried again, her voice louder, more insistent. "Y/N, please, it's me. Wanda."

But Y/N remained unresponsive, her body still shaking violently. Desperation clawed at Wanda's heart, and she knew she had to break through to Y/N somehow. It pained her deeply, but she whispered the command she knew Y/N would respond to, "Hail Hydra, soldier. Get up."

Like a robot, Y/N obeyed, her movements mechanical and devoid of emotion. She stood, still trembling, her eyes vacant. Wanda quickly took off her oversized jacket and draped it over Y/N's frail frame. She reached out to hug her, but Y/N flinched away, fear evident in her every movement.

Wanda's eyes filled with tears as she fought to maintain her composure. "Soldier, follow me," she said softly, leading Y/N out of the cell. Y/N limped after her, her body barely able to support itself. Wanda cried silently, torn between relief at finding her and anguish at the shell of the person she had once known.

As they made their way through the wreckage, the other Avengers joined them. Natasha, Tony, and the rest looked on in shock and sorrow at the sight of Y/N. Wanda didn't say a word, her focus entirely on getting Y/N to safety.

Back at the Quinjet, Wanda gently guided Y/N inside, her heart aching with every step. Y/N sat down, her eyes still vacant, her body shaking uncontrollably. Wanda sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, trying to offer what little comfort she could.

"We're going to get you out of here," Wanda whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "We'll get you help. I promise."

Y/N didn't respond, but she leaned slightly into Wanda's touch, a small sign that somewhere inside, a part of her still recognized the comfort and safety that Wanda represented. As the Quinjet took off, Wanda held Y/N close, silently vowing to do whatever it took to bring her back from the darkness.

...

When they arrived back at the compound, the Avengers immediately sought medical attention for Y/N. However, as soon as Y/N saw the doctors approaching, she panicked. Her eyes widened with terror, and she bolted, trying to flee the room. Natasha caught her, but Y/N's fear only intensified. She struggled violently, her screams echoing through the hall.

Wanda rushed over, her voice calm but firm. "Y/N, it's okay. It's me, Wanda."

Y/N's eyes darted around wildly before finally locking onto Wanda. She broke free from Natasha's grasp and ran into Wanda's arms, burying her face against Wanda's chest. Wanda gently played with her hair, murmuring soothing words. "It's okay, Y/N. I'm here. They just need to look at you. I can come with you if you want."

Y/N nodded, clutching Wanda tightly. Together, they went to the medical bay, Wanda never letting go of Y/N's hand. The doctors were appalled by the state Y/N was in. She was severely malnourished, with multiple cuts and wounds, severe dehydration, various drugs in her system, burn scars, and, shockingly, her ovaries removed.

Wanda's tears flowed freely as she listened to the doctors' reports on the physical and psychological trauma Y/N had endured. "We've never seen a worse case," one of the doctors admitted, his voice heavy with sorrow.

Wanda held Y/N tightly, her voice cracking with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'm so, so sorry." Y/N remained silent, staring off into space, seemingly lost in her own world.

The doctors prepared to insert an IV to hydrate and nourish her, but the sight of the needle sent Y/N into another panic. She pushed the doctor away, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Wanda quickly cupped Y/N's cheeks, her touch gentle but grounding. "It's okay, Y/N. They’re just going to make you feel better. I’m with you. No one can hurt you again."

Y/N's frantic breathing slowly calmed at Wanda's words, and she allowed the doctors to proceed, albeit with a visible tremble. It was clear to everyone that Wanda was the only one who could reach her, the only one who could provide a semblance of safety and comfort in the midst of her overwhelming trauma.

As the IV was finally administered, Wanda continued to hold Y/N, whispering reassurances. "You're safe now, Y/N. We're going to get through this together."

Y/N's eyes slowly closed, exhaustion overtaking her battered body. Even in sleep, she clung to Wanda, a lifeline in the darkness that had consumed her. Wanda stayed by her side, vowing silently that she would never let Y/N go through such horrors again.

...

A few days passed, and Y/N remained in Wanda's room, refusing to leave. Each time Wanda gently encouraged her to step out, even just for a moment, Y/N would freeze up, her eyes going wide with panic, her breathing rapid. Wanda stopped asking and instead made sure to bring everything Y/N needed right to her, determined to give her time to feel safe again.

Now, Wanda entered the room quietly, a tray of warm food in her hands. She saw Y/N sitting on the bed, her knees hugged tightly to her chest, wearing one of Wanda’s oversized shirts and a pair of shorts. Her hair was damp from a recent shower, drops of water still clinging to the strands. She looked small, fragile, as though even the faintest breeze could break her.

Wanda’s heart ached as she approached. “Here you go, baby,” she said softly, setting the tray down beside Y/N. Y/N nodded, giving Wanda a small look of thanks as she picked up a spoon and began to eat. Her movements were slow, deliberate, but she still didn’t say a word. In fact, since she had arrived, Y/N hadn’t spoken to anyone, not even Wanda. Wanda’s concern grew every day, each moment of silence weighing heavily between them.

As Y/N ate, Wanda sat beside her, watching her closely. “Why won’t you talk to me, love?” she asked gently, her voice filled with both tenderness and desperation. Y/N looked like she wanted to say something; her mouth opened, but then her gaze dropped, her lips pressing shut again as tears welled up in her eyes. She swallowed hard, her throat moving as she forced down a painful lump, and she went back to eating in silence.

Wanda sighed, barely able to contain the tears that threatened to spill over. “Are… are you mad at me?” Her voice cracked, the guilt surfacing raw and uncontrollable. Y/N’s head snapped up at that, her eyes widening as she took in the broken look on Wanda’s face. Wanda shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. You have every right to be mad at me. I tried to stop them, I did, but… and Tony… he promised…” She choked, struggling to finish the sentence, unable to meet Y/N’s gaze.

“I’m not mad at you,” Y/N rasped, her voice barely a whisper, cracked and hoarse from lack of use. Wanda stared, stunned. It was the first time Y/N had spoken since she’d been back. Y/N reached up to wipe a tear from Wanda’s cheek. “I… I wasn’t allowed to… to talk.” Her voice wavered, raw emotion filling every word as if the effort itself caused her pain.

Wanda gently cupped Y/N’s face, her fingers tracing the delicate lines of her cheeks. Then, unable to resist, she pulled Y/N to her chest, holding her tightly, cradling her like something precious and irreplaceable. “I missed your voice so much,” Wanda whispered, her own tears falling freely. “I thought I wouldn’t hear it again.”

Y/N buried herself in Wanda’s embrace, her voice small as she mumbled, “I missed you.”

Wanda’s heart shattered, pieces scattering at the quiet vulnerability in Y/N’s voice. She hugged her even tighter, as though sheer will could protect her from the memories, from every scar, from every cruel word spoken to her. “I’m not letting anyone take you away from me again,” Wanda vowed, her voice fierce despite her tears.

Y/N pulled back just slightly, holding up her pinkie. Her eyes, still shadowed with pain, held a glimmer of hope. “Promise?”

Wanda let out a small, tearful laugh as she hooked her pinkie around Y/N’s, binding them together. “I promise, baby,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. They sat there, wrapped around each other, the warmth of their intertwined hands serving as a lifeline—a vow that no matter how dark things had been, they would face it together, and never alone.

...

Wanda hated this. Hated every second of it.

She crouched down to Y/N’s height, her heart aching at the sight before her. Y/N was curled up in the corner of the room, her knees pulled tightly to her chest, rocking herself back and forth as she tried to control her breathing. Her eyes were wide, darting around the room like a trapped animal, her hands gripping the fabric of Wanda’s oversized shirt—the same one she had been wearing since she got back.

“Baby, listen to me,” Wanda whispered, keeping her voice soft and steady, fighting the urge to cry as she reached out but didn’t touch her, waiting for Y/N to allow it first. “It’s a really quick mission. I’ll go tonight and be back before you even wake up.”

Y/N barely seemed to hear her, her breathing ragged and uneven. “What if they get me while you’re gone?” she mumbled, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear. “They’re not gonna protect me. They didn’t last time either.”

Wanda froze at that, swallowing hard. She knew Y/N had a point. The rest of the team—except for Natasha—had hesitated, had not done enough, had let her be taken. Wanda hated them for that, hated herself more for not being enough to stop it.

“I know,” Wanda admitted, her voice raw. “But this time, you’re safe. You’ll stay in my room, okay? Just watch a show, rest—I’ll get you all the snacks and food you like. Your medicine is here, and no one can come into the compound. Even HYDRA isn’t crazy enough to try.”

Y/N hesitated before reluctantly nodding, still visibly uneasy but trying to believe Wanda’s words. Wanda moved quickly, gathering everything Y/N could possibly need, setting up the space as safely and comfortably as she could. When she finally turned back to Y/N, she was already watching her closely, her gaze soft.

“You look good,” Y/N mumbled, her voice quiet but sincere.

Wanda felt her breath hitch, a sudden warmth rushing to her face. She turned away for a moment, trying to hide the blush creeping onto her cheeks. Did Y/N even realize what she was doing to her? Probably not.

She cleared her throat and smiled. “Thank you,” she murmured, before adding, “And… the whole team wasn’t all bad. Your favorite, for example, tried just as hard as me to find you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “I told Natasha to keep it a secret,” she said, shocked.

Wanda chuckled, amused by the betrayal on Y/N’s face. “She didn’t tell me. I just knew.”

Y/N huffed, clearly making a mental note to scold Natasha later, but before she could say anything else, Wanda leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Get some rest,” Wanda whispered. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

And with that, she left.

....

Y/N tried. She really did.

She sat on Wanda’s bed, scrolling through different shows, trying to focus on anything that would keep her distracted. But the panic was creeping in, lurking in the back of her mind like a shadow waiting to consume her. Every little sound in the compound made her flinch. Every small noise made her feel like she was back in that cell.

And then, just her luck—a storm broke outside.

The first clap of thunder made her jump. The second made her gasp. The third? Her brain shattered.

She wasn’t in Wanda’s room anymore.

She was back in the cell. The cold metal floor under her skin. The chains digging into her wrists. The stale, suffocating air.

The door slammed open.

A man walked in, the same man as before, his boots clicking against the floor as he approached.

Y/N pressed herself against the wall, trying to disappear, trying to escape—but she knew there was no way out.

“Did you miss me, soldier?” his voice slithered through her ears.

“No,” she whimpered, but it didn’t matter.

He grabbed her by the throat, his fingers pressing against bruised, fragile skin.

“You can never escape,” he sneered. “Hail HYDRA.”

Y/N’s brain screamed. Her body convulsed. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move—

Suddenly, hands were on her.

She thrashed violently, shoving them away, her body reacting on pure survival instinct—

“Y/N!” A voice broke through the fog.

She gasped, eyes darting around wildly, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Her vision was blurry, her mind disoriented.

The cold floor was gone. The chains were gone. The man was gone.

She was in Wanda’s room.

And Natasha was kneeling in front of her, looking at her with wide, concerned eyes.

Y/N stumbled back, tripping and falling onto the bed, her chest still heaving.

Natasha slowly approached, her movements careful, deliberate. “I’m sorry I shook you,” she said gently. “But you weren’t acknowledging me when I talked to you.”

Y/N barely nodded, her mind still struggling to catch up with reality. She was breathing too fast, the panic attack still taking hold of her body, her vision darkening at the edges from the lack of oxygen.

Natasha sat beside her, watching her carefully. Then, slowly—so slowly—she reached out and took Y/N’s shaking hands in her own.

“You’re not alone,” Natasha whispered. “And you’re not in danger anymore. You are not theirs anymore.”

Then, after a small pause, she added, “At ease, soldier.”

Y/N let out a broken sob.

She hesitated for a moment before finally leaning into Natasha’s shoulder. Natasha carefully pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her in a protective, reassuring hug.

Y/N didn’t pull away.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever.

Finally, after at least half an hour, Y/N’s breathing evened out.

Natasha smiled softly, wiping the remaining tears from Y/N’s face. “There we go,” she murmured. “Now we can relax together for the rest of the night.”

She turned on a show, blasting the volume to drown out the sounds of the storm outside. She talked to Y/N, keeping her engaged, distracting her from everything that had just happened.

And then, curiosity got the best of her.

“So… did you ever like Wanda?” Natasha asked, her tone teasing.

Y/N’s eyes went wide, and she cleared her throat. “Well… yes,” she admitted slowly. “Before everything, I liked her so much. I was actually gonna ask her out but then… everything happened. I met my wife…”

Tears threatened to fall again at the mention of Lauren, but Y/N quickly blinked them away.

She still remembered the dream. Lauren telling her to live. To take her second chance.

Natasha chuckled. “You guys are idiots.”

Y/N frowned. “Why?”

Natasha shrugged, smirking. “I already said enough.”

Y/N stared at her, confused for a moment before realization slowly started to sink in. “For a Black Widow,” she said suspiciously, “you are terrible at keeping secrets.”

Natasha laughed. “Only when it’s interesting to me, too.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips.

Eventually, the exhaustion caught up to her. She barely even noticed when she drifted off, Natasha’s arms still wrapped around her, the comforting sound of the TV filling the room.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N slept without nightmares.

...

It was just past 4 AM when Wanda slipped into the room, moving with practiced quietness. Not even Natasha stirred—though with how loud the TV was still blaring, she doubted anyone would have heard her anyway.

But what did surprise Wanda was the sight before her.

Y/N was curled up in Natasha’s arms, held securely against the Black Widow’s chest.

For a moment, Wanda simply stood there, taking in the scene. A soft smile tugged at her lips. It was good to see Y/N opening up, even if just a little. Since returning, Y/N had been like a piece of velcro, stuck to Wanda’s side at all times—not that Wanda minded in the slightest. But seeing her bond with someone else, someone Wanda trusted, was a relief.

She tiptoed toward the closet, opening it as quietly as possible. The subtle movement was enough to finally stir Natasha awake.

Natasha groggily blinked at Wanda before smirking, stretching as she carefully untangled herself from Y/N’s sleeping form. She slipped out of bed with the grace of a trained assassin and whispered, “She was panicking, so I filled in your space.”

Wanda chuckled, nodding in thanks. “I owe you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Natasha whispered back before sneaking out of the room, leaving them alone.

Wanda quickly changed into comfortable clothes before heading to the bathroom to freshen up. When she returned, she didn’t hesitate to slip into bed beside Y/N.

Carefully, she pulled Y/N close.

A soft, sleepy groan left Y/N’s lips as she stirred, her body instinctively leaning into Wanda’s warmth. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, still heavy with exhaustion. When she saw Wanda, she let out a small, content sigh and snuggled even closer.

“Hi,” Wanda whispered.

Y/N smiled sleepily. “Hi.”

Wanda brushed a few strands of hair away from Y/N’s face, taking in the peaceful expression that had been so rare to see these days.

“Was the mission okay?” Y/N murmured. “Nobody hurt you, right?”

Wanda shook her head. “Don’t worry, it was just routine.”

Y/N nodded, relief washing over her face. Then, her gaze flickered—just briefly—to Wanda’s lips.

For a second, Wanda thought she imagined it.

And then, Y/N leaned in and kissed her.

It was soft, hesitant, but real. Wanda froze in surprise for only a heartbeat before she melted into the kiss, responding just as gently.

When they pulled back, Wanda looked at Y/N, searching her face, her heart racing.

Y/N smiled shyly. “Maybe Natasha told me one of your secrets, too.”

Wanda groaned, burying her face in the pillow. “How is she a Black Widow?”

Y/N giggled, and Wanda couldn’t help but laugh, too.

This was just the beginning of their story.

A long life stretched ahead of them, and Wanda silently swore that no matter what happened, she would never let Y/N out of her sight again.

[sturniolo04]

Hey I was wondering if u could write a dad chris fic and his daughter is like 15-16 and showing signs of pregnancy so he asks her some questions what she lied about as she didn't want him to know so he stopped thinking she was pregnant but she had already took a test and hid it in the bin but he found it and asked his wife if it hers and it wasnt

Wife!girlmom!reader x husband!girldad!chris

A/n: ofc! I absolutely love these requests I have coming in, you guys are amazing!I hope you love it! And remember to leave requests in my inbox! If you don’t like the pre added name in my works you can simply put in your own or don’t read it, it up to you :)-Charli

Dividers: @issysh3ll and @mintsturniolo

You and Chris loved your little family. It was you, him and your now 16 year old daughter Layla. Chris was never fond of the thought that his daughter was finally in what seemed like a commuted relationship with the boy who asked her out to hocoming her sophomore year of high school but nevertheless, they were cute together you thought. You also knew it was a matter of time they started exploring the world of the birds and the bees and you two thought you were ready when that time comes.

“No no no”

Layla quietly whispers to herself standing in her parents bathroom behind a locked door with a positive pregnancy test in her shaking hands. She knew her dad was going to kill her if her found out. She lets out a startled jump as she hears a loud knock on the door.

“Hey lay are you okay”

Chris voice cuts through the loud voices playing in Layla’s head at the moment.

“Y-yeah”

She chokes out quickly throwing the test in the trashcan next her sink counter and unlocking the door.

You two should have known something was up and Layla should have known that should wouldn’t be able to get this one over her parents for long because the symptoms were bound to show at some point and today was that day and she just hoped they wouldn’t catch on.

“Do you want something to eat for lunch”

Chris asks her as she simply nods her head sitting next to you at the island counter as he began to cook what he thought was her favorite dish, spaghetti. As soon as she took the first bite of the dish it tasted different, the pasta sauce and the noodles together were leaving a bad taste in her mouth and system. It was the symptoms finally coming to the surface.

“Is it good’

You ask your daughter as she begins to place a quick hand over her mouth running to the bathroom.

“I guess not”

You confusedly state looking at Chris with a concern expression painted on his face.

“Was it not cooked all the way I wonder”

Chris questions out heading to the bathroom door placing his ear to it hearing the audible sounds of throwing up. It was weird she had been acting weird up until now though the throwing up every morning, the morning sickness, and the weird hours she would have a snack and what she would even snack on raised a red flag towards Chris but he shook it off up until this point because it might be a phase or something never once thinking or anything worse.

“She is throwing up but she has been acting lately hasn’t she though have you noticed”

Chris states coming back into the kitchen sitting down next to you placing a soft hand in your bare thigh.

“I mean I noticed it A little bit”

You unsurely reply out replaying every interaction or situation where she noticed something out of character for your guys daughter.

“Something’s got to be wrong’

Chris quietly whispers out to you as you nod your head in agreement as Layla finally comes out of the bathroom entering the kitchen once again.

“ you okay lay”

You ask her simply as she nods her head walking over to sit on the couch in the living room across the way.

It wasn’t until layla was at school and you were out getting groceries for the household that Chris finally found it. He just so happened to be bagging up and taking out the trash to get picked up that he noticed a pregnancy test a positive one at that.

“When did she start taking those again is she really”

Chris mumbles out to himself picking it out of the can in your guys room taking note of the intersecting lines knowing it was a positive test but how long has she known and not told him. Why would she not tell him especially after her getting pregnant with Layla 16 years ago seeing how he reacted to the news.

“ Chris?”

You questioning greet him as you entered the room just getting back from the store. He slowly turns around to face you holding up the test your face morphs into pure confusion.

‘How long have you known”

Chris states slowly scanning you face for your very readable emotions.

“Known what Chris that’s not mine”

You reject coming over to examine the test seeing also that is was a positive test.

“Well whose else’s would it be sweetheart and it was in our bathroom trashcan as well so why wouldn’t I think it would belong to you”

Chris explains as you look up at him thinking about whose or the test could have gotten there. Then it hit it you.

“ wasn’t Layla in our bathroom a week or two ago”

You ask as you squint deep in thought.

“Yeah you don’t think-“

Chris states trailing off

“I don’t know maybe that’s the only thing that makes sense I mean it would explain a lot we noticed she was acting off maybe this is why”

You huff out take a seat on the bed as Chris does the same sitting next to you.

“ so she lied to us about it remember I asked if that was even a reason for her behavior’

Chris quietly whispers out and he did ask Layla if that was a factor.

“Sweetie it has been a week of you throwing up in the morning at the same hour and the only way you would be doing this is if you were pregnant”

Chris simple states out seeing he found Layla in your guys bathroom leaning over the open toilet holding her hair back for her. layla becomes nervous he was going to know and she was going to just tell him willingly either.

“Are you pregnant”

Chris flat out asks her seemingly already disappointed if the answers was yes so she lied.

“What dad gross”

Layla nervously replies standing up from kneeling in front of the toliet.

“I’m serious lay when was your last period”

Chris asks genuinely concerned. Layla stops in her tracks trying to think of a quick excuse or even a date to get him off her back for the time being.

“ dad it started today I get sick the first day always when it is that time”

Layla confidently states out as Chris face morphs into relief.

“Oh okay I’m sorry sweetie then you are in so much pain”

Chris states hugging her gently.

Layla finally came home for school to be met with you and Chris sitting on the couch the positive sitting on the coffee table in front of you two.

“Mom dad I can explain”

Layla starts noticing the test sitting on the table first.

“Well”

Chris states.

“I was sacred I didn’t know what to do I didn’t think I would get pregnant after everything-“

She trails off sobbing as your face softens towards your daughter.

“I didn’t want you guys to be mad at me”

She sobs out honestly as you and Chris come up to her console her bring her into a hug.

“It’s okay we will get through this”

You state as you continue to combing your fingers through her hair lovingly.

“Together”

Chris adds on as she continues to sob out into her parents chests.

Taglist

@mintsturniolo @spicymuffins03 @ivysturnss @emely9274 @ksturnz @stayingstromboli @wh0resstuff @chaoswithus @courta13

[whispersleo]

Boys will be boys

Illario Appreciation Week: (5) Consequences of Actions / (Alt 3) Fighting / (6) Veilguard Companion / (4) Childhood Memories

TW: CHILD ABUSE

Read here or in AO3

Illario couldn’t remember why they were fighting. He was certain Lucanis had started it, provoking him with cruel jokes, but now, as fists and kicks flew across the room, he couldn’t say for sure.  

At some point, as Lucanis rushed toward him, Illario shoved him back, arm pressing against his chest with all his strength. Lucanis, smaller in stature, stumbled and hit his head against the edge of the wooden frame supporting the bed. His body crumpled to the floor, knocked out, a wound forming at the back of his head.  

“Shit,” Illario cursed, breathless as he crouched down. His legs burned, adrenaline numbing the pain of the blows he had taken. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders. “Lucanis? Lucanis, damn it, wake up.” He shook him, but the boy didn’t move. Horror settled in as Illario watched the blood trickling from the wound, too much, too fast. His mind raced.  

He was so, so screwed.  

With shaking limbs, he lifted Lucanis, cradling his weight despite the fear tightening his chest. Finding his balance, he hoisted his brother up and sprinted out of his room.  

“Help! I need help!” he yelled, his voice raw, echoing down the hallway. Servants rushed toward him, eyes widening at the sight of Illario’s blood-soaked hand cradling the back of Lucanis’s head.  

An older elf stepped forward.  

“Lay him on the couch downstairs. I’ll fetch the healer,” he ordered firmly. Illario nodded and followed him to the sitting room.  

Kicking aside decorative pillows, he carefully laid Lucanis on the couch and dropped to his knees beside him, pressing a hand to the wound.  

“What happened?” a maid asked, hurrying over with a bucket of water and a sponge.  

Illario grabbed the sponge, his throat dry. “We were playing, and he tripped,” he said. It didn’t feel like a lie. They never fought seriously. “H-he hit the bed frame,” he stammered.  

The elf grimaced but helped push Lucanis’s hair aside so he could clean the wound.  

“He’ll be fine. The healer is on the way,” she reassured him, trying to soothe the terrified young Dellamorte.  

Then, hurried footsteps and the rhythmic tap of a cane against the floor made Illario’s stomach drop. Every hair on his body stood on end as he stepped aside to let the healer tend to his brother.  

Caterina’s icy gaze locked onto him.  

“Illario,” she called.  

The maid stepped away quickly, casting him a look of pity as the preteen shrank in place, waiting for his grandmother to reach him.  

“You’re going to tell me what happened. Right now.”  

Her cane struck the floor once, the sharp sound making Illario flinch and squeeze his eyes shut.  

“We were playing—”  

“Who?”  

“L-Lucanis and me,” he stammered. “We were playing in my room.”  

“And then?”  

Caterina slowly circled him, her gaze flicking toward the healer, who was now wrapping Lucanis’s head.  

“He tripped, and—”  

“No.”  

Her cane swung, striking his arm hard enough to send him stumbling to the side. The servants looked away.  

“T-that’s what happened, Caterina—”  

“How dare you keep lying?”  

She moved with practiced ease, driving the crow-shaped head of her cane into Illario’s ribs. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, fingers digging into the wall for support.  

“The truth, Illario. Now.”  

“Lucanis… tripped and hit the bed frame…” he whispered, meeting her stare.  

She exhaled in disappointment, turned her cane, and the next thing Illario felt was a sharp blow to the back of his head.  

Darkness swallowed him whole.  

—  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  

When Illario woke up, his hands were bound to a wooden post he knew all too well. His shirt was gone, and he shifted onto his knees, resigned.  

They were in one of the training grounds—or more accurately, the punishment yard.  

“What have I told you about fighting outside of training, Illario?”  

His grandmother’s voice cut through the thick silence. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing her standing behind him, a riding crop in hand. Beside her stood Lucanis, eyes wet, his head still wrapped in bandages.  

Relief flooded Illario. His brother was awake.  

“We’re not supposed to,” he answered, lowering his gaze to the post.  

“You could have killed him.”  

The first lash struck. Illario tensed immediately, pressing his chest against the wood, a muffled whimper escaping between gritted teeth.  

He squeezed his eyes shut. Had Lucanis told her? Had he asked her to punish him?  

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say.  

The next strike came, fire searing his back as the wound split open.  

“If you ever lay a hand on him like that again, whatever happens to him, I will do to you twice over,” Caterina warned coldly.  

The final lash was the worst.  

Illario’s silent tears fell, his body trembling as he hung his head. He heard his grandmother walking away. Then, softer steps approaching.  

Lucanis.  

Still dizzy with pain, Illario barely registered his brother untying his wrists.  

“I’m sorry,” Lucanis whispered, breath uneven. “She said you had already told her what happened. I tried to explain it was an accident…”  

Illario sniffled, his hands slipping to the ground. Lucanis caught him and helped him sit upright. Without hesitation, Illario leaned into him, his whole body shaking.  

“It’s okay,” he murmured just as quietly. His sobs quieted as he took a deep breath, giving Lucanis’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Are you okay? What did the healer say?”  

“Just a small hit… he said head wounds always bleed way too much… I’m sorry,” Lucanis whispered again, glancing at the open wounds on his brother’s back.  

Illario shook his head. “You scared the hell out of me. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that… Caterina was right.” He sighed. “I could’ve really hurt you.”  

“It was a stupid accident.”  

“Yeah, but let’s not do it again, Lucanis,” Illario joked, squeezing him affectionately.  

The pain, the wounds, none of it mattered. His brother was okay. That was all that mattered.

—  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  

"So what I’m hearing is that you knocked out the Vyrantium demon with a single shove?" Sienna said, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

Lucanis and Illario exchanged a look before bursting into laughter, just as drunk. Illario had passed his limit a while ago and was practically sprawled out in his comfortable chair.

"Yeah, the bastard really did," Lucanis said, wrinkling his nose in amusement.

"Have you two fought like that again?" the redhead asked curiously. "Have you knocked each other out since?"

"Please," Illario scoffed. "We’re not kids. We fight without passing out now."

"I seem to remember winning our last fight," Lucanis said with a smug grin.

Illario rolled his eyes and flicked a few drops of water from his other glass at him, making his cousin grunt in annoyance.

"Having a demon stuck up your ass is hardly an achievement," the older one teased, shrugging a shoulder with a smirk. "I’ll tell your boyfriend to join next time—then we’ll be on equal footing."

"Oh, please, yes!" the warden grinned from his seat, raising his glass and clinking it against Illario’s with a laugh.

"Davrin!" Lucanis groaned. He tried to shove him, but instead, he flopped over into his chair, his head landing against the warden’s shoulder. Davrin just laughed.

"What? It sounds like fun."

"I can't wait to see that," Sienna grinned. He eyed Emmrich’s glass and straightened up, bottle in hand. "More wine?"

"Please," the mage nodded, watching the others as Sienna poured. "Would that really be fair, Illario?" he mused. "Spite grants him impressive magical abilities, but teaming up with our dear grey warden? That seems a bit excessive."

"Well," Illario drawled, "you can join him if you want, Emm. But in that case, I’m calling Taash for my team."

"Fighting mages is too easy," Taash chimed in. They sat solidly in their chair, but the color in their cheeks told a different story about how the alcohol was hitting them. They turned to Sienna, miming a dagger pointed at him. "Quick, what’s the secret to fighting mages?"

Everyone at the table looked at them—then erupted into laughter.

"Don’t. Let. Them. Cast!"

[thedevilsbckbone]

A small frown rested on Vanessa's lips as George spoke. She felt a small sense of dread as she wondered if that was the same fate she was destined for. Would she be stuck here on earth for that long too? At least in his case, he could at least travel around, but she was confined to this damn house and who knew how long that would be. She'd already felt like she was living in some kind of purgatory or maybe even hell, she couldn't quite figure out which yet.

The thought left a sour taste in her mouth and she let out a small huff. "Well that's depressing as hell," she sighed. She supposed she was a bit naive in thinking it could be anything but that, but since meeting George, things began to make a bit more sense and for once she didn't feel like she was nothing. Today had been the first time she almost felt like a person again -- until the rug was pulled out from under her with his answer.

After she spoke about her death, Vanessa had gone quiet. It'd been so long since she spoke of it, trying her best to forget about that faithful night, though it was next to impossible considering it happened just in the other room, in a house she was bound to like some kind of sick joke. A silence had fallen over the pair until George spoke, apologizing for asking. "It's fine," she said dismissively. "I mean, not like that's something you can just easily forget."

Then he followed up asking if she could leave, and Vanessa shook her head. "No -- I can't," she said with another small frustrated sigh. "Doesn't matter though. I mean what would I even do if I could? Not like I could touch anything or talk to anyone anyway." She shrugged. "So I guess you're stuck with me. Although, you probably still have time to back out if you tell your realtor the place is haunted." She tried to joke, feeling like things had gotten a bit too serious for her liking. | @thxnymph

What was it like? It was a loaded question. George's immortal existence had begun with sorrow. He only knew dread, sadness and pure rage. Some vampires had told him they felt euphoric after the fact, like they were invincible. All George wanted to do was walk into the sun, spare himself from the long, agonizing life that awaited him. But the idea of death, the endless darkness beyond. It scared him more. "It feels...empty." The vampire said honestly. "It's like someone took everything you had inside you, and just left you an empty shell. It's not really fun." He laughed. It was all a joke, a big fucking joke.

"Don't get me wrong. I have my fun. Knowing that you're not running out of time is a perk, but it doesn't feel the same as being alive..." George missed the warmth of human skin, the thumping of the heart after a long run, the feel of the exhaustion after a long night of partying.

The vampire watched with regret as the ghost told her tale. He shouldn't have asked. "I'm sorry..." He said. "And I'm sorry for asking. You probably didn't need that memory coming back up again." He said. "You can't leave the house, can you?"

[hersurvival]

Five years since the cathedral fire,

Renovations yet to be finished,

We fell to our own ruin.

Where I once made a wish for you

And cried as it came crumbling down,

I am now rebuilding on my own.

@nosebleedclub September 20th - French