#it's been a while since i've been able to write so easily (i hope i don't jinx myself on this)

[hebuiltfive]

Reblogging this because i'm actually making headway on the follow-up chapters for a change (yay) which means it might be updated sooner rather than later...

Once Bitten Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

AO3 link here!

Scott, one of the most excelled vampire hunters for the last century, has one last battle with the vampire who’s claimed him as her arch-enemy.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

I hadn't been sure if I'd be able to get anything out in time (October has been a wild month) but here we are! The morning of the 31st with a story I'm quite proud of for once!

There is a potential for this to be expanded upon, and I do really want to write more for this AU... I just have many fics on the go at the moment and no real time to get them written, so we'll see!

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Scott hated a cliché. “Time heals all wounds”just wasn’t true, “thinking outside the box”was just dumb, and Gordon’s favourite phrase of “there’s plenty of fish in the sea” was so infuriating it often had Scott biting back sarcastic remarks in reply. Clichés were old and tiring. They were unoriginal and uninspiring. If he ever became president, an outcome that was unlikely despite his brothers constantly not-so-jokingly insisting that he “should run sometime”, he’d sincerely consider banning the usage of them. 

Therefore, walking into that disused mine and being greeted by sleeping bats had him understandably almost turning tail.

It was beyond ironic that he, a famed and skilled vampiric hunter, happened across such a scene. He didn’t dare count, cautious of losing time or becoming too distracted, but Scott estimated hundreds of pipistrelles, all handing upside down from the rafters. If he hadn't known better, he’d have called it a coincidence, but the tip-off they’d received earlier that morning suggested this was anything but.

Suppressing a shiver, he carefully passed the sleeping bats, ducking low to avoid disturbing them and being weary of where he was stepping. The floor was littered with old bolts and broken shards of glass. Every step he took delivered a crunch or a snap, and Scott winced each time, praying to an unknown deity that he wouldn’t awake the winged creatures. Night had already fallen and Scott was aware they’d be waking up themselves fairly shortly.

He had long since passed through the adit and had entered the mine proper. Tunnels had led him further and further, deeper and deeper, and the darkness was beginning to press in on him. When he had arrived, the sun had already long since set below the horizon. Cloud cover had meant there was no moonlight to help guide him, so Scott had made his way over to the entrance of the mine with the help of his torch. 

There was something about the mine that had him on edge, and it wasn’t purely because he was alone in the middle of nowhere.  His crossbow that hung over his shoulder was tugged closer, fingers biting into the leather strap that connected the weapon to the holster it was attached to. It was his most trusted trade tool and he never left for a mission without it. Scott trusted it so much, in fact, that he rarely brought another weapon out into the field with him, besides his basic hunting knife. Perhaps it was a foolish move during solo missions, but most of the time, on those specific occasions, Scott saw enough sense to carry extra weaponry.

It wasn’t needed tonight as this wasn’t a solo mission.  Virgil was on his way to provide necessary back-up, only Scott, as usual, had simply raced ahead. It was the arrogance of being certain he could handle whatever was about to be thrown into his face that had fuelled that decision, no matter how much Virgil had pleaded with him to just wait for once. If the tip-off was correct, Scott wouldn’t need back-up from his baby brother. It would be a simple retrieval mission. In and out, home in time for dinner…

Oh, he despised clichés! That was almost as good as nothing could possibly go wrong, and Scott knew how dangerous it was to say that line.

The further he went into the mine, however, the more Scott’s confidence waned. There was a niggling doubt in the back of his mind that had him questioning how wise it had been to bolt ahead. He tried to ignore the sceptic thoughts. There was currently no reason to have any worries about the mission, besides the bats perhaps, but even then, it wasn’t so uncommon to find the winged creatures in old mine buildings.

Before he’d left, John had run a full and detailed analysis of the message — once bitten, twice shy and all that. (Then again, in John’s case, thrice shy might have been more appropriate, though the less said about that, the better.) Nevertheless his brother was always thorough with his investigations, so when he returned to him with the licit figure of ninety per cent, assuring him that this tip-off was trustworthy and not a trap, Scott had no reason to doubt him.

He hadn’t doubted him at all… not until he’d entered the godforsaken place.

Scott ducked into a dug out side room. Inches of dust layered almost every surface, and chains and broken bits of wood strewn across the floor. A desk stood on one side of the room. Scott crossed over, examining the mountains of paperwork that had been abandoned when the mine had closed down decades ago. The sheets were tainted, soiled from time and grime. He began to leaf through them slowly, careful not to disturb too much of the dust. His torch shone beams of light onto the various pieces of parchment, highlighting scrawny handwriting and typed up messages. He didn’t read them, merely scanning the words and numbers for anything that might provide a clue as to why they’d been given the tip-off for here exactly.

As far as the data International Rescue had, the area was not known to be a vampire hot-spot. Being in the middle of nowhere, and thus without a steady flow of hot blood, it was not an ideal place for a nest. Experience, however, had Scott batting away the assumptions. It was never wise to lay any claim when it came to the Night Walkers. 

It wouldn’t have been too much to assume that this could be an elaborate trap of some kind. The thought had first crossed Scott’s mind the moment he’d set eyes on the hundreds of pipistrelles hanging from the ceiling. Nevertheless, he kept up his search. The clue had to be around somewhere, he just needed to find it.

The unbound sheets offered him no help and he dropped them to the floor one by one, dust particles rising as he did so. The specks irritated his throat and Scott found himself wishing he’d brought along a small bottle of water with him. He cleared his throat a few times as quietly as possible, still not convinced he wasn’t alone in the mine, but after inhaling a rather petulant granule, he succumbed to a violent coughing fit. His eyes watered and his breathing became erratic, but he soon managed to regain his composure. Scott wiped the tear trails from his cheeks with the back of his hand and continued on his search.

The dirtiest item on the desk was a large ledger. Scott opened it in a more methodic manner than he had dropped the parchment, fearful of breathing in another round of irritant dust. Yellowed paper greeted him, blank ink scrawling out lists of names. There must have been hundreds. Scott scanned them, the tip of his finger brushing against the sheets, collecting black dust. Some names had been crossed out with a simple line, while others had been violently scribbled. On occasion, the pen had clearly gone through the paper. 

“You won’t find the answers you’re looking for in there.”

Scott slammed the registry book shut and whirled around to face the newcomer. The shadowed figure stood in the doorway to the alcoved room, just out of sight, but he recognised the voice; cold, calculating and bitter. The words had been spoken in his head. She never did miss an opportunity to show off her telepathy skills.

“I can’t say I’m surprised that 47 sent you.” He replied, calm and casual. He’d be damned if he let the trepidation get the better of him, and he certainly wasn’t going to let her notice it.

“47 doesn’t know either of us are here. If I’m being honest, I’m hurt you won’t give me credit where it’s due.”

As the realisation clicked, Scott’s lips curved into a lazy smile. He shone the flashlight straight into her face, and Marion Van Arkel hissed and recoiled, momentarily blinded.

But Scott did not move to attack.

“He won’t be happy to know you’ve been planning your own missions.”

“He doesn’t need to know.”

“Still,” Scott continued, gesturing to the rotten rafters and girders, “you picked a nice place for an ambush. A mine? Nice touch, Van Arkel.”

Marion, her sight having returned to near perfect vision, advanced towards him. Her heeled boots clicked across the debris-littered floor and her lips twisted into a smug smirk. Whether they were red from paint or from blood, Scott couldn’t tell.

“I thought it would a fitting location to finally end this game of cat and mouse, no? Full circle, or whatever it is they say.”

God, how he hated clichés.

“Still hurt about your family going out of business?” To his credit, Scott attempted to sound as sincere as possible as he delivered the derision.

Marion, however, sensed his mockery and glowered. She stopped in her tracks, her arms folding across her chest in an overly exaggerated manner. “No thanks to you, I might add.”

He let out a low whistle, clearly amused by her discontent. “An heiress to a dead company. I'd offer you my condolences but I’m afraid I have no pity left to give.”

“You had plenty to give the humans—”

“They were innocent people!”

“They had no idea what was happening to them!” Marion retorted sharply. “Being enthralled means they know nothing.”

“That doesn’t make it right.” He frowned, scowling in disgust at her attempts to defend her family’s actions. “It’s a fate worse than death in some cases. They don’t call it Eternal Nightmares for nothing, you know!”

She caught sight of his altered demeanour, heard how his tone changed from taunting to revulsion, and Marion Van Arkel did what she did best; she pounced on it.  “Does that make you angry? To think about all those humans you’d failed to save from these Eternal Nightmares, as you put it?” She approached him slowly, her eyes glazed over with humour, laughing at his loathing. Some things never changed.

“You lured me here.” Scott changed topic, unwilling to allow her to jump onto his discomfort and use it to her advantage. “You lured me without the go ahead from your boss. Why?”

“I told you.” Marion lowered her voice to a whisper. “To end our game!”

“All you’ve done since you’ve got here is talk.”

“Do you not like talking?”

“Well, I fail to see how it will ‘end our game’.”

“All in good time, hunter. Patience is a virtue.”

Scott bit his tongue. If he heard one more damned cliché—!

His smile returned, easy and warm, without a trace of irritation. Marion’s words had left him feeling uneasy but all he had to do was wait, as she so instructed. Perhaps talking was good. It gave Virgil time to reach them… Not that he needed the back-up! Marion Van Arkel was a slippery vampire, one who Scott had been at odds with on a number of occasions over the last few years, but she was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Still, he’d have been lying if he said he wouldn’t have felt more at ease knowing there was someone else fighting in his corner.

“I’ve never been good at patience, Van Arkel.”

“So I’ve surmised. It’ll be your downfall, you know? You’ll rush ahead, just as you did tonight, so desperate to get the job over and done with, only one day you won’t get out of it. One day, you’ll lose.”

His cocky grin returned, full and flourishing. “And you believe today is that day?”

“I can hope.” Her finger, cold and slender, ran down the length of his jaw line,

Something twinkled in her eyes, something that made Scott feel uncomfortable, like he was left out of a joke and the punchline was soon to come and hit him unawares. 

“I can handle one vampire, Marion, especially if its you.”

He couldn’t let her think his guard was down for a second. Scott tilted his head, observing her curiously. If she hadn’t been a Night Walker, he might have thought her rather pretty. Indeed, he had tried to charm her the first night they’d met, before she’d attempted to eat him. The memory only made his smirk grow wider.

“Remind me again, Van Arkel, how many of our fights have you won?”

Scott paused for her to answer. Of course, she didn’t. He hadn’t expected her too. He watched as her twinkling eyes narrowed into a glare and refrained from chuckling, answering his own question for her. “Zero, wasn’t it?”

“That changes tonight!”

Marion threw the first punch. It was feral and angry, and it carried her forwards as Scott ducked out of the line of impact. She was quick to recover however, and before Scott had the chance to gain an upper-hand, Marion was lunged towards him again. Scott deflected every blow, attempting to land a few himself, but Marion was just as talented a fighter as he was. 47 trained his minions well, and Marion was no exception. She wasn’t as fast as some vampires, but she was still learning.

Legs kicked and bodies leapt, punches struck their marks and blood was left in their wake. Breathless but neither willing to back down, Scott and Marion continued their fight for minutes before she slipped up again, only this time Scott had been prepared.

As Marion stumbled, losing some of her balance after a particularly nasty hit, Scott circled around her. He caught her one of her arms and pulled it backwards, up her spine and into an arm lock. Then, with all his weight, he pushed them both forwards. Within seconds, Scott had her pressed against the rock-face, her second arm pinned at an awkward angle between her body and the wall.

“I don’t think it does.” Scott couldn’t help but smile arrogantly.

Though she was a vampire, and thus possessing vampiric strength, Marion was still classed as, what the hunters called, a Baby Vamp. Less than fifty years old and still learning and developing the traits that often gave vampires the advantages in a fight, Marion couldn’t struggle out of his hold, no matter how much she tried to.

“The night is not over yet, Tracy!”

“You don’t have to be like this. I know you know this is wrong. Marion, please.”

Despite his winning position, and at the risk of sounding like he wasn’t confident in his abilities, Scott had never been above begging. No matter who he was fighting, no matter what harm they had already done, he always gave them the option of redemption. He had seen vampires redeem themselves, albeit very few, and knew it was possible. Being so young, Marion was a prime contender for International rescue’s rehabilitation scheme. All she had to do was say yes.

She never did, however. Tonight was no different.

“You know nothing, Scott Tracy. Let me go!”

Marion struggled against his hold again, desperate to be free of him, but Scott held firm.

“No chance. All I have to do is keep you here until my brother arrives, and then—”

He was unable to finish his sentence. The sound of distant rocks falling echoed through to the alcove. The rumbling became closer and closer.

Marion, still struggling to free herself, began to laugh.

Capitalising on his momentary distractedness, she easily kicked his feet out from under him. To save himself from falling, Scott had no choice but to loosen his hold, but by doing so, Marion was able to finally slip out from his grasp. She delivered a swift kick to his exposed stomach, causing him to stumble to his knees and winding him in the process. As he tried to catch his breath, she sauntered over.

“You make my final win too easy.” Marion lowered herself to his level and pressed her rouged lips to his own. “I’d say let’s try again, go another round, but I’m afraid we’re out of time.”

Scott instinctively licked his lips. He stood to his full height once again, Marion backtracking a few steps. Her grin was wide and wild, not unlike it had been when she’d first entered. It was the smile of a smug winner, although Scott hadn’t bowed out of the fight just yet.

“Who said I let you win?” He slid his crossbow into position. Loaded with a single wooden dart he aimed it directly at Marion’s chest, above her defunct heart. 

To his surprise, she did not attempt to evade his shot.

But she didn’t need to.

In an instant, Scott’s vision blurred, his legs weakening. The crossbow was lowered before he even had the chance to fire it. He blinked, long and hard in hope that it would cure his bleary sight, but when his eyes opened again, Marion had become two fuzzy outlines. 

His fingers reached up to his lips.

His heart sank with dread.

“What did you do?”

“Alright, maybe you didn’t let me win, but don’t think I didn’t notice how easy you let me get the best of you this time. It’s a shame, you know? I had been hoping you’d best me just one more time, that our game of cat and mouse didn’t have to end tonight.”

The crossbow fell from Scott’s grip and dangled at his side. He crashed to his knees as they finally gave out and Marion, assessing it was safe for her to approach him again, did so. She unhooked the crossbow from his baldric and examined it curiously.

“This is such a funny contraption, so outdated. I would have thought you’re genius scientist would have created something more modern for you.” She threw it to the side, wood splintering as it hit the ground. “Still, it’s not like you’ll need it again.”

“What… did you… do?” Scott tried to ask her again but his words seemed to fade before he had the chance to fully realise them.

He started to sag to the side but Marion caught him before he fell. Helping to lower him to the floor, she brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “It’s just a mild tranquilliser, don’t be so dramatic! You’ll be back to your normal self again in around half an hour… not that you’ll live that long.”

Scott could feel his heart quicken. Her cold, slender fingers stretched out across his chest; of course she could sense his fear.

“What… does that… mean? What… have you…?”

“Shush, now. You know, I am sorry it had to end like this…”

“Marion!” Another voice yelled from the tunnels beyond. Scott barely heard them call out, his senses slowly fading. It was another female by the sounds of it, though one he hadn’t heard before… Or maybe he had? Thinking was becoming a problem.

“Hurry up before you get trapped in there!”

“I’m coming!” Marion yelled in reply.

Scott winced.

“Like I said, it is a shame it has to end this way, Scott Tracy.” Marion brushed her fingers gently across his forehead, causing him to shiver. “We could have had so much fun, you and me, but alas, it was not meant to be.”

She stood, blowing him one last kiss, before she sprinted for the exit.

Scott laid in the silence. His eyes slipped shut and he could feel himself slowly fading away to the darkness. Half an hour Marion had said… but why had she dragged him all this way just to send him to sleep? What did she mean he wouldn’t live that long?

By the time the realisation would have hit, as the mine collapsed in on itself, Scott was mercifully unconscious. He didn’t feel the rubble crash down on him, he didn’t notice the pain from the various injuries the accident had dealt him, and he didn’t hear Virgil calling out for him as he painfully dug through the rubble in search of his brother.

There was nothing, and that, he would suppose, was a blessing.

… Damned clichés!

[munsonsmixtapes]

Could you write more Eddie x shy!reader it was so good! Maybe with her staying the night for the first time?

Eddie Munson x shy!fem!reader

You stood on the porch of Eddie's trailer feeling anxiety coursing through you. You looked down at the duffel bag in your hand then back at the door that you were waiting for Eddie to answer, your anxiety getting worse as you heard his footsteps getting closer.

The door flew open and he was on the other side, a wide grin spreading across his face as he caught sight of you. It had only been a few weeks since the two of you made it official but he still got so giddy when he was around you, never able to keep that goofy grin on his face.

"C'mon in," he took you by the hand and led you inside, shutting the door behind you. "So this is the place," he gestured to the interior of the trailer and you took it in, immediately feeling comfort once you stepped inside.

"It's nice," you told him. "It feels really cozy." Eddie took that as a huge compliment. His whole life, he had been teased for living in the trailer park, but he never saw a problem with it. Just because it wasn't a house didn't mean that it wasn't a home.

"Well, I've got mac and cheese on the stove and I picked up a movie from Family Video for us to watch."

"That sounds great," you smiled and he couldn't help but mimic it, pulling you closer to him by your attached hands. He then grabbed hold of your chin with his free hand, tilting your head back so he could press a kiss to your lips.

He then grabbed hold of your duffel bag once he pulled away, leading you to his room. He pulled you inside and set your bag on his bed before turning to you, resting his hands on your waist. He then went in for another kiss, this one deeper than the one you had just shared.

Eddie was trying to take it slow with you. He knew that you had never been in a relationship and wanted to go at your pace. He wanted to make sure that you were comfortable, that you were in control of the whole thing. He wanted everything to be perfect for you.

He felt your tongue swipe along his bottom lip and he panicked. In the few weeks the two of you been together, your kisses had never gotten that far. Because if they did, they could easily escalate to sex and he didn't want to pressure you into that.

But he let you in anyway, not able to resist and your tongue swirled around his, an involuntary moan falling from your lips. Eddie could feel himself getting hard at the sound of it and he quickly pulled away from you, hoping that you hadn't been able to feel it against you.

"We should stop," he said, licking his lips and you nodded, understanding that he was wanting to take things slow. You were grateful that he was willing to do so for your sake.

"You're right," you nodded again. "Did you say something about mac and cheese?"

"I did," he smiled and took you by the hand once again before leading you to the kitchen. Just like Eddie promised there was in fact a pot of the pasta sitting on the stove.

He grabbed a couple of bowls from one of the cabinets and you didn't miss how the bottom of his shirt rose, revealing his stomach. You almost wanting to reach out and touch it, but you stopped yourself, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

You watched him fill your bowl and he handed it to you before serving himself some and he then led you to the living room. He motioned for you to sit on the couch while he put in the movie. While it started up, Eddie sat next to you, watching you enjoy the meal he made for you as you stared at the screen. You were so adorable and he still couldn't believe that you were his. That out of everyone, you wanted to be with him.

You half expected the movie to be horror, but to your surprise, it was romcom you had told him about multiple times. You knew it wasn't his thing so it warmed your heart that he had rented it just for you.

Once you finished your dinner, the two of you snuggled up, you tucked into his side, your arms holding onto each other. You decided that you could have been happy staying there forever, wrapped up in his arms. It was the most comfortable you had been in so long and it felt like home.

The movie hadn't even reached the halfway mark when you drifted off to sleep. Eddie almost wanted to wake you up, but you just looked so cute, so at peace. So he waited until the credits rolled to carry you to bed. He scooped you up with ease and saw your eyes open slowly, a drowsy smile forming on your lips.

"I'm not ready for bed," you pouted and he just laughed.

"Clearly you are since you fell asleep."

"I don't want to," you whined.

"Think about it this way, going to bed means we get to cuddle and you love cuddles, right?" He asked and you just nodded.

"Then let's go." He carried you to his room and set you on his bed. "Is it okay if I pull out some pajamas for you?" He asked, not wanting to go through your things without your permission.

"Mhm," you nodded, scrubbing at your eyes with the backs of your hands.

Eddie opened your duffel and thankfully, your pajamas were on top. He reached for them then moved to where you were sitting, handing them to you before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Once you were dressed, you joined him, your toothbrush in hand.

You both brushed your teeth and it almost seemed like you were a married couple getting ready for bed. That was something you found yourself imagining to help you fall asleep every night. And maybe if you played your cards right, in a few years, Eddie would be your fiancé.

After your teeth were brushed, you followed Eddie to the bed. You each stood on either side and got in, scooting closer to the middle where you met, getting snuggled up, pressing your chest to his and tangling your legs together.

"Good night, sweetheart," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your lips before clicking off the lamp behind him.

"Goodnight, Eddie," you whispered back and snuggled further into his chest beforw the two of you drifted off to sleep, both knowing that you were definitely going t make having sleepovers a regular thing.

[bunabi]

I finished Veilguard btw so here's my long thoughts (be warned I've been writing notes during my entire playthrough so this is very long) for folks who want it:

My favorite parts of DAV:

Best level design in any DA so far. The platforming grew on me, and I think the levels were well-thought out and mostly fun to navigate. Arlathan Forest was exhausting but other areas felt nicely balanced with branching paths, hidden rooms, etc. Exploration in smaller contained maps done right imo.

Mage combat is really satisfying at higher levels. Pure ranged combat is totally impossible unless you have Davrin and Taash popping taunts back to back, but dropping a massive AOE while fighting close-range feels good too.

Being able to auto-equip and compare new gear is great.

Same with the codex entries. Not having to hunt down whatever note I just picked up is a huge improvement.

Upgrading equipment via duplicates incentivized treasure chest hunting, which I would have otherwise skipped lol. It really helped me slow down and take time exploring areas, and I appreciated that.

The final act didn't make the previous 70+ hours feel better, my fault for spoiling most of it for myself, but it was neat. Cool set pieces, cool fights. I was worried Elgar'nan was gonna have the same moveset as the Regrets, but his final battle was great.

Oh, I forgot Felassan! His notes were a tragic delight. Such a good man. Funny too. They didn't need to kill Varric to make Solas less sympathetic...I think Felassan's betrayal(s) serve that purpose well already.

Rook & Their Faction:

Without rehashing what I've said over the past few weeks: this is my least favorite protagonist.

Being a funny and sarcastic and irreverent hero in a DA game is not new. Not having a choice in the matter is. The Inquisitor was pretty fixed in their tone too (cant even choose a personality for them in CC) but even they had better aggressive options available.

Folks say not to judge Rook's depth by a Lord of Fortune playthrough but since factions are asymmetrical on purpose here are my impressions:

The Lords of Fortune didn't contribute to my run in any meaningful way other than getting Emmrich hot which is not unique, as it turns out, to any particular background. In fact, learning Natalene was a galley slave as an aside detracted from my experience. Being a former galley slave, former Circle mage (again: Rivain doesn't have Circles), semi-Dalish city elf with DIY vallaslin is unreal. Especially as characters continuously imply Rook is a young 20-something. The fact this wasn't immediately caught and course-corrected shows -- to me -- how hectic and spread-thin DAV's development really was. :(

Story & Antagonists:

Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain have cackling witch disease. No motivations outside of power. That was a little disappointing. Was also hoping they'd at least comment on Rook/Davrin/Bellara's vallaslin but they're too busy plotting world domination to really notice. Love their designs though. I'd love to hear a deep dive on how they animated Ghil's tentacles.

Veilguard feels like an immediate follow-up to Trespasser, not the ten year timeskip it says it is. I wonder if that's a symptom of adapting the live service story (content that was likely meant to stretch, similar to Anthem and Destiny, over a decade) for single-player.

I miss the politically-motivated meddling. Every villain is allied with the Evanuris. We needed some that aren't. The Right and Left Hand of the Black Divine, corrupt brothers of the Imperial Chantry, the agents of the Archon, a Minrathous street gang, some Rivaini pirates, anything, anyone.

It's crazy how all elven resistance seemed to evaporate with the dissolution of the Dread Wolf Army. As much as I'd hate seeing them duped and betrayed by Solas…I prefer that to just pretending everything's fine now. I could easily see alienage elves and slaves take Cyrian's path, desperate for change no matter the source, especially since oppression is all they've known and there's no end to it in sight. Especially with their gods confirmed as the source of the blight. All downhill from here I fear.

The Butcher. Would. That voice and that frame....it purred I fear. But even he was not immune to cackling witch disease. Wish he stuck around longer for personal reasons. My South is under siege and I aint talking about Ferelden.

Combat:

I found myself switching builds a lot, which was nice and kept things fresh. That being said: DAV needed loadouts for skills and equipment and a menu showing active passive skills + enchantments. A QOL update for this stuff would have been amazing. I want to try an archer run, but I dread (🐺) fussing with skill tree nodes again.

After fighting Mythal (my first full dragon fight) I was disappointed how all dragons share her same attack patterns. They didn't have to reinvent the wheel or anything -- this was the case with dragon battles in DAI and I thought it was fine -- but Mythal of all enemies should have been unique.

High-level demons are limited to Rage and Pride. High-level darkspawn are limited to Ogres. I miss those little scrungly lookin' despair demons and nasty ass hurlock emissaries. After 60 hours I did get a little tired of the same handful of mobs over and over.

Companions & NPCs:

The Veilguardians feel like my kids. Except Emmrich who's absolutely convinced he's in an age-gap relationship with my older lady Rook. It's not that they're uniquely dependent or rudderless, it's that their struggles are solved with nurturing pep talks. Reaffirm their worth, give them a hug, and all that inner turmoil is cancelled. Rich coming from the 'I should have been able to influence my companions more in DAI' girl, but Rook's impact on the Veilguard, the way their doubts vanish completely via some life coaching, feels off.

Speculation: I think the companions were originally planned to be NPCs. Their written banter in some of the notes, their verbal banter throughout the Lighthouse, they feel like they're meant to stay in the hub and act as quest-givers in the live service game. Especially with how Rook is excluded. That's fine btw it just helps explains some things. (Just remembered something else: when you talk to quest NPCs out in the world and the camera focuses in on the conversation, you can't see your companions. They chime in with disembodied voices, always hidden out of frame. That also gives me the feeling they were added later. Not confirmed btw just my hunch!)

Torn about Taash. I love them for breaking the 'agreeable companion' monotony but hate the ~animalistic race~ tropes they were saddled with. I've had issues with Weekes' handling of race and culture in the past. I'm disappointed to see it continue a decade later. I'll leave it there. Sten cannot smell ovulating coochie!

I tried to kill Lucanis during the final assault. Had full faction strength but I didn't complete his personal quest. It didn't work. Sorry Zevran!

Shathann's VA was acting her ass off. Great performance. Absolute bars from Taash's VA during their scenes too.

I dreaded (🐺) opening the Lighthouse map to see who wanted to talk. I usually love chopping it up and getting to know my party; that's my favorite part of any DA game. But so many conversations were just spent restating the obvious (Bellara is worried about The Gods and her brother, Harding is worried about her powers and Solas, Davrin is worried about the griffons and Gloom Howler, you know like in case you forgot). Running person-to-person-to-person and feeling no sense of accomplishment or progress for it seriously drained me.

The Inquisitor… I assumed vowing to stop Solas would block my Lavellan from pining and questioning herself after a decade apart and two very clear rejections. She kept asking whether he could still be reasoned with even in the midst of the final operation. I'm disappointed how little that choice mattered in the end. The second-hand embarrassment was crazyyy.

Romance:

Now this part is a little unique. Sorry for what I'm about to say about Emmrich. If it helps: I found him the most fun of all the companions. He's handsome, thoughtful, and has a fascinating past. But I ended up being dissatisfied by the end, and not just because of being soft-locked into a May-December fling, cringe commentary from Rook, and feeling like I was straight-up harassing Emmrich in early flirting dialogue.

The main issue: I don't care for the Mourn Watch. I like the Mourn Watch characters, but the organization makes me crazy. We hear so little about how they function in the context of an Andrastian nation like Nevarra. Summoning the dead in a world that still believes souls join the Maker's side in the Fade is huge. I wanted to really dig into discussions on the afterlife but in the end I'm supposed to go 'waow cool skeletons' and forget that religion is such an important facet of Thedas. I was so bummed!

I made him a Lich because he didn't seem to care either way. Reuniting him with Manfred is morally good, turning him into an eternal protector of the Necropolis is morally good. Emmrich is happy with whatever, so I gave him whatever, and I said 'whatever' when it was all over. My god is that man cute, but the romance overall just didn't do it for me.

Should've known when I saw his rotunda lol Bioware you sly dogs you got me again!

Personal final thoughts:

Well? I don't think I'm sad anymore, but I am left with complicated feelings. Obviously things are a little different for me being an EA Partner and getting an idea of just how much work has gone into making the game exist period. And I think because I can't blame it all on one person, shit all over it, and move on that these feelings are just kinda churning with nowhere to go.

Things could have been handled better. Didn't like the attempt to hide the world states until launch, or the dismissive comments from writers about it. Didn't like the AMA answers. And this isn't really my business but I'll say it anyway: I feel like the community council was thrown to the wolves, having to base their DA4 impressions around the sliver of content they were allowed to see, and having a much more hands-off role than implied.

I hope DAV is taken as an opportunity to refocus, double-down on what makes Dragon Age so beloved, and lean into those strengths unapologetically. Easier said than done -- as much as I loved Swen's speech about creating games free of marketing expectations and mimicking the latest trends that's often times impossible -- but I want to believe it can be done in this case.

Anyway both Sabine & my antibiotics are complete and I'm overcoming my moodiness and getting back to work on commissions! I've cured the Blight in more ways than one! 😄

[capuccinodoll]

The boyfriend act, part 1: "The one with the proposal" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader

Chapter summary: The journey from Dallas to Austin is tense but tolerable, as you and Frankie do your best to ignore the mutual disdain simmering between you. But everything derails when a chance encounter with Harry—your ex—and his fiancée pushes you to tell a spur-of-the-moment lie. Frankie’s reaction makes it clear he’s not on board. WC: 14.3k

A/N: Okay, here's my new baby! And I fucking love it! I hope you enjoy this story as much as I've been enjoying writing it. Also, just a heads-up: I’ve taken some creative liberties with the characters. While this story is inspired by the ones in Triple Frontier, it barely follows the events of the movie, and the characters themselves aren’t portrayed exactly as they are in the film. PS: I’d love to hear your thoughts—your feedback means so much to me! Knowing what you think truly motivates me to keep going. So don't hesitate and let me know <3 Also, if you want to be on the tag list, let me know. And don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifs :)

When Santiago’s message arrived, you read it three times, as if repetition might change the words or soften their impact.

[Santi]: Hey bubs, mornin. I’m really sorry but I won’t be able to come get you. I’ll meet you at home later tho. Frankie will pick you up, same time as planned, don’t worry:)

The words seemed to pulse faintly on the screen, a quiet disruption of the neat plan you’d constructed in your head.

Frankie. He wasn’t your first choice—or your second, or third. If you were honest, he didn’t even make the list.

That morning had started with a sense of calm, a kind of orderly anticipation. The steady hum of the fan in the corner of Emma’s room, the cool sting of the shower water, the first sip of coffee, sweet and bitter all at once—it all felt like the clean slate of a well-prepared day. You’d zipped your suitcase shut with a satisfying finality, placed your carry-on by the door. Nothing left to chance.

The plan was simple: you’d take the bus. Predictable, unremarkable. But Santiago had insisted earlier that week, his voice crackling through the phone with a kind of rare, unguarded enthusiasm.

“We can stop for lunch, you know? Like we used to do with dad. Maybe even take a detour if we find somethin' cool,” he’d said, his tone warm, almost playful.

You’d been leaning against Emma’s kitchen counter at the time, a glass of wine in one hand, a cube of cheese in the other, and your phone between your cheek and your shoulder. Emma raised an eyebrow from across the room, silently prompting you to explain.

“Everything okay with Yovanna?” you teased, your voice carrying just enough edge to feel like a joke, even though it wasn’t entirely one. “Or is this an excuse to run away for the day?”

“Fuck you,” he laughed, the kind of laugh that came easily between you two. “I just want to spend time with you. It’s been ages since we really caught up. I miss you like hell.”

That stopped you. He wasn’t wrong—months had passed since the two of you had talked properly, beyond the surface-level exchanges over meals or texts.

“Okay,” you’d said, your voice softer than before, though you avoided looking at Emma. “I miss you too. I’ll wait for you then.”

And now, this. No Santiago, no shared lunch or detours. Just Frankie, an unwelcome rewrite of the day you thought you had mapped out so clearly.

You sat back against the bed frame, rereading the message one last time. Frankie will pick you up. Frankie will pick you up. Frankie. Frankie. Fucking Frankie. Now the plan had unraveled, and the disappointment felt sharper than you wanted to admit.

You let the phone fall to the bed beside you, the screen dimming as it landed.

Emma lay stretched out next to you, her head tilted toward the TV, where an episode of Friends played on low volume. It was one of those episodes you both knew by heart, the kind you could recite without effort. The one where everybody finds out. The blue light from the screen washed over her face, softening her features, making her eyes look brighter than they really were. Without looking away, she reached out and hooked her arm around yours, a quiet gesture that felt like home. She’d done the same thing when you were teenagers, sharing the lumpy couch in your parents’ living room, giggling over something trivial while your mom cooked dinner in the next room.

“What happened?” she murmured, her voice soft but curious, as if she could already sense the shift in your mood. The laugh track bubbled in the background, filling the space between her words.

“Santi’s not coming,” you said, glancing at the TV without really seeing it. “He sent Frankie.”

You felt a pang, not just from the change in plans but from the weight of the goodbye looming in the background. You’d learned to carry that feeling since Emma moved out of Austin—this persistent ache, like a thread pulling tighter with every visit that ended. On most days, it faded into the background. But today, it stuck to you, clinging like a damp sock you couldn’t quite shake off.

“That Frankie?” 

“I doubt he knows any others.”

“How convenient,” she said, her voice low with mockery, though her arm squeezed yours gently. “Well, call me when you get there. And try to be nice to him, if you can manage it.”

Emma turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of her eye. “And don’t take too long to come back and visit me, okay?” 

“You could always visit Austin, you know."

“It’s more fun if you come here. You get to be a tourist,” she said, with that breezy logic she always used to disarm you. “I already know Austin. That’s not so exciting.”

You snorted, more out of habit than disagreement. She wasn’t wrong. Emma rarely was.

The rest of the evening passed in near silence, broken only by the low murmur of the television. First, another episode of Friends, then one of The Nanny. The rhythm of the shows was familiar, the kind of easy, forgettable comfort that didn’t require much from you. At some point, Emma shifted closer, resting her head on your shoulder. Her breathing slowed, deepened, a steady rise and fall that seemed to sync with your own. She didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. There was something about her presence, her weight against you, that felt like a reminder—you were understood here, even when you didn’t have the words to explain yourself. She wasn't just your best friend, she was your sister.

The sharp blare of a car horn shattered the calm, breaking through the evening like the crack of distant thunder. You flinched, your body instinctively tensing, the warm cocoon of the moment dissolving in an instant. Emma didn’t stir much, her eyes still closed, her arm still draped over yours. You nudged her gently, tapping her arm until she groaned softly and sat up, squinting against the glow of the TV.

“I think he’s here,” you said, your voice low but cutting through the quiet.

Emma stretched in one graceful motion, her arms arching overhead before she bent down to grab the bright lavender Crocs she kept by the bed. The shoes, adorned with an assortment of decorative pins—a blue flower, a miniature coffee cup, and a small plastic dinosaur—were an oddly perfect reflection of her: delicate, energetic, and just the right amount of ridiculous, in the best way. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” she said, her tone casual, but there was a softness to it, an unspoken understanding that made the impending goodbye feel heavier.

Outside, the heat clung to you immediately, the air thick and sticky, humming with the faint buzz of cicadas. Your gaze landed on the car parked in front of Emma’s house, and something in you tensed. It wasn’t Santi’s car, of course, and it wasn’t Santi standing there waiting.

Frankie was leaning against the hood, arms crossed, his whole posture radiating impatience. He looked as though he’d been sculpted there, his bored expression so exaggerated it almost felt theatrical. The heat shimmered in waves around him, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care. He wore a rumpled gray shirt that looked like it hadn’t been ironed in weeks and a pair of dark sunglasses, their reflective lenses hiding whatever was going on behind them. The cap was familiar, too—plain, worn, the same style you’d seen him wear before, though this time in a faded gray that matched his shirt.

For a fleeting, irrational moment, you thought maybe this was all a mistake. That Santi might suddenly appear, stepping out from behind the car or walking up the driveway with that easy laugh of his, telling you it had all been a joke. But the driveway remained empty, and Frankie, noticing you, straightened up with a kind of deliberate slowness.

He started walking toward you, each step measured, as if he were pacing himself for an obligation he didn’t particularly want to fulfill. His movements had the casual indifference of someone who would rather be anywhere else, but was too resigned to argue.

“Where’s Santi?” you asked as you approached, the question coming out sharper than you’d intended.

Frankie didn’t answer immediately. He simply closed the distance between you with deliberate, unhurried steps. Then, without a word, he grabbed the suitcase from your hand in one fluid motion. The gesture caught you off guard—not because he took it, but because of how mechanical it felt. He didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge you in any meaningful way. It was as though you were just an extension of the bag he was moving, an obstacle to be dealt with as quickly as possible.

“He couldn’t make it,” he said at last, his voice flat, almost dismissive.

He hauled the suitcase toward the trunk and tossed it in with a thud that seemed louder than it should’ve been. The sound echoed briefly, underscoring his lack of finesse. He slammed the trunk shut with a single decisive motion and turned back toward the driver’s seat, his body language broadcasting that he considered the interaction over.

“He didn’t tell me anything about it,” you said, your voice rising slightly, tinged with disbelief. You stayed rooted to the spot, your feet planted as if the weight of the confusion had sunk into the concrete beneath you.

Frankie paused, his hand on the car door.

“It was a last-minute thing.” 

Before you could respond—before you could even begin to untangle your frustration into something coherent—he opened the door, slid into the driver’s seat, and pulled it shut behind him with a force that made the air shudder.

You turned back toward the house. Emma was watching from the porch, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her expression hovered somewhere between curiosity and bewilderment, her head tilting slightly as you approached.

She hugged you tightly, holding on a beat longer than usual. When you pulled away, her eyes searched yours, silently asking questions you didn’t have answers for.

“I’ll call you when I get there,” you said, though you weren’t sure what the call would entail—whether you’d laugh about all this, or vent, or just let her voice fill the empty spaces.

Her lips twitched into a faint smile, one tinged with resignation.

“I love you so much,” you added, your voice quieter now. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I always do. I love you too. Take care and call me as soon as you can."

She stepped back as you turned toward the car, your feet dragging slightly with each step.

Now, an hour and a half later, the car sped steadily toward Austin, the scenery blurring into a series of indistinct shapes. Frankie hadn’t said a word since you’d left Emma’s house, and the silence had settled in the car like a heavy fog, pressing down on you with every passing mile.

You’d considered speaking—several times, in fact—but every potential conversation starter you thought of seemed pointless. What was there to say to him? You barely knew each other, and what little you did know felt more like a series of grudges than shared history. The only things you had in common were your mutual love for Santi and, apparently, your mutual irritation with each other. Neither felt like enough to bridge the yawning gap between you.

You stared out the window, the dry, flat landscape sliding by in endless monotony, like a movie stripped of plot and color. Pale beige fields stretched into the horizon, broken only by the occasional cluster of power lines. The sameness of it all seemed to lull the world into a kind of dull, static hum.  

The only relief came from the music spilling softly from the car’s speakers—classic rock, its grainy tones unmistakable even at low volume. The sound was tethered to Frankie’s phone, resting in the cupholder beside him, the screen glowing faintly every so often with an incoming notification he didn’t bother to check. A Fleetwood Mac song began again, its familiar opening chords filling the silence for the third time since you’d left.  

You shifted in your seat, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before turning your attention back to the road ahead.

“Do you like this song?” 

“I think so.”

“It’s played three times already.”

“It’s a good song,” he said softly, his voice low enough to be mistaken for an afterthought. 

You turned back to the window, letting the conversation dissolve into the space between you. He hadn’t said it to be defensive—just matter-of-fact, like the song itself was reason enough. You folded your arms across your chest, the seatbelt digging slightly into your side.  

Then, your mind wandered back to Santi, to the message that had upended your day. What had he been thinking? Of all his friends, why send Frankie? The question rolled over in your head, each repetition more insistent than the last. Was it an oversight? A logistical decision made in haste, without considering how you’d feel about it? Or was it intentional? That idea sat uneasily with you, gnawing at the edge of your thoughts. He knew how strange things felt between you and Frankie. Hell, everyone knew. They’d all been there, witnessed it firsthand—the arguments, the uncomfortable silences, the way your personalities seemed to clash as naturally as oil and water.  

The possibility that Santi might’ve chosen Frankie on purpose—maybe even as some misguided attempt to force you into tolerating each other—bothered you more than you wanted to admit. You shifted again, suddenly restless, as the car hummed along the empty stretch of highway, the silence between you growing heavier despite the steady background of Fleetwood Mac.

Over the last few years, Frankie had been a fixture in your life, the way someone else’s shadow might be—not yours, but unavoidable. Being your brother’s best friend meant your paths crossed often enough, though you both seemed to approach these encounters with mutual disdain. You didn’t like him, and he didn’t bother pretending to like you. Disgust was the word that came to mind when you thought about how he looked at you. Not exaggerated or theatrical, just a cool, unflinching disgust, as though he found something about you fundamentally wrong. 

The last time you’d spoken more than a handful of clipped, perfunctory words to each other was in Santi’s kitchen a few years ago. That was the breaking point. The fight. It wasn’t dramatic, not really—no yelling, no slammed doors—but it was the kind of exchange that changed things irreversibly. After that, you decided you didn’t want to think about him, let alone look at him, ever again.

And that was the end of it. You stopped trying to explain. You'd come to accept that to Santi, Frankie was probably nothing like how you saw him. You weren't sure what it was about him that rubbed you the wrong way, but you knew that with your brother, Frankie surely couldn't be as unpleasant as he was with you. 

So, you ignored him. Every time you saw him, you made sure your gaze passed over him like he was just another fixture in the room. And he did the same. It was as though you were two people occupying the same space, but never truly sharing it.

Why on earth, then, had he agreed to come and pick you up?

The silence in the car stretched on, and you settled into the uncomfortable rhythm of it, letting it fill the space between you and him. Frankie’s eyes stayed fixed on the road, and his thumbs twitched restlessly over the steering wheel.

Finally, he broke the silence, but his words felt like a formality.

“We'll stop for lunch,” he said, his voice low, almost indifferent. His gaze flickered to you for a brief second, enough to make sure you had heard, before returning to the road. “I haven’t eaten anything all day. Do you mind?”

You were starting to feel the pangs of hunger yourself, but you didn’t let that soften your response. You couldn’t. 

“No,” you replied, your voice curt, colder than you intended.

Frankie nodded, the movement barely noticeable. He turned his attention back to the road, his expression unchanged, as though you hadn’t spoken at all. His calmness was maddening. 

For a moment, you considered breaking the silence again, saying something just to disrupt his steady composure. But then you thought better of it. There was still a long way to go, and the last thing you wanted was for this trip to feel even more suffocating than it already was. So you stayed silent, the weight of your irritation pressing down on you, knowing that with each mile, you were only getting closer to end of this torture.

Fifteen minutes later, the engine turned off  and you looked over at the driver's side, half-expecting Frankie to say something—anything—but he was already in motion. Before you could open your mouth, the door swung open, and he was out of the car, his body moving with an urgency that seemed to come from some invisible force, as though he were escaping the confines of the vehicle. For a moment, the empty passenger seat seemed to expand, making the car feel smaller, quieter. 

You stayed there a second longer, watching as Frankie made his way across the parking lot. His steps were steady, deliberate, almost too casual, as if walking away from you might somehow erase you from the moment entirely. He didn’t look back, didn’t pause to see if you were following. And honestly, you weren’t in any rush to do so. There was no reason to catch up with him. He clearly didn’t want you there, and you didn’t want to be near him either. This trip wasn’t about you; it was about doing your brother a favor.

The parking lot was modest, just enough space for the few cars scattered about. It wasn’t anything remarkable, just a typical lot for a small, unassuming restaurant. The faded lines barely marked the spots, and you counted five cars parked across the patch of asphalt. The windows of the restaurant were perfectly clean, and you could see people inside. A couple of families were chatting animatedly at their tables, and a few solitary diners were hunched over their food, their focus far from the simple meal in front of them.

With a sigh, you walked toward the entrance. Above the door, the sign Jimmy’s buzzed softly in red neon, its glow a little too bright for the evening light. Next to it, a yellow arrow with tiny, flickering bulbs pointed inside, inviting anyone who passed by to come in. "Eat here!" The sign seemed eager, almost enthusiastic in its attempt to catch attention.

You pushed open the door, the bell chiming brightly above your head as you stepped inside. The rush of cool air from the air conditioning met you instantly, a welcome contrast to the heat that still clung to your skin from the car. The coolness was almost too sharp, sending a slight shiver down your spine as you paused just inside the doorway. Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the softer light inside. The diner was small, but it had a cozy, familiar feel, with colorful walls and a few tables scattered around. The noise inside was a comfortable hum, punctuated by the occasional clink of silverware, low conversation and the music in the background.

It didn’t take long to spot him. Frankie was seated at the bar, absorbed in the menu in front of him. His posture was casual, but there was something about the way he held himself, his shoulders slightly hunched, that made it feel like he was a little too withdrawn, like he didn’t want to engage. 

You walked toward him slowly, the sound of your footsteps softened by the tiles beneath you. You were just about to sit next to him when he looked up, his gaze meeting yours briefly before returning to the menu. His voice was flat, almost bored as he spoke, as if the interaction was nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

“Go find a table,” he said, his tone neither rude nor warm.

You frowned, taking the menu from his hand without a word. His gaze didn’t follow you as he stood up, stretching slightly as he rose from the bar stool. There was something about his movements—relaxed, yet sharp—that made you feel like you weren’t really a part of whatever was going on. His shirt clung slightly to his back from the heat of the car, the evidence of sweat still visible on his skin, and you couldn't help but notice the fine hairs on his arms standing on end, a subtle sign of the sharp contrast between the stifling heat outside and the chill of the air-conditioned room.

“I’m goin' to the bathroom. Be back in a sec,” he added casually, his voice even, before disappearing down the narrow hallway to the right. No expectation of a response. No glance to see if you were still standing there, just a simple statement. He was gone before you could offer anything in reply.

You were left standing there, the laminated menu in your hands, a slight weariness creeping in.

With a sigh, you turned on your heels and began scanning the room for a table. There was still at least an hour and a half of travel left, plus however long you'd spend eating. Why hadn’t Santi given you a heads-up? You could’ve taken the bus or the train, something that didn’t involve sitting in a car with anyone but him. But no, that wasn’t even an option, apparently. 

You spotted an empty table near the back, next to the window, and as you walked toward it, the decor around you caught your eye. The place had a playful, nostalgic vibe, as if it were trying to channel the spirit of another time. Framed posters of Grease, Fame, Footloose, and Saturday Night Fever hung on the walls, adding to the feeling of a throwback to the ‘70s and ‘80s. It was all very upbeat, almost theatrical, like a movie set. The tables were red and white, and a jukebox stood in the corner.

You glanced at the posters, half wondering if the owner had lived through that era or just loved the aesthetic of it all. Either way, it gave the place a sense of warmth and a bit of character, a stark contrast to the outside. 

Suddenly, a voice cut through the quiet murmur of the restaurant, sharp and unexpected, and your name echoed in the air. You froze, the sound ricocheting in your chest, followed by a rush of emotions you didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone feel. You could feel the familiar tension ripple through your muscles, a mix of surprise, confusion, and something deeper you couldn’t quite place. Slowly, you turned to face him, every step feeling like it took an eternity.

“Harry,” you said, the name falling from your lips like it belonged to someone else, someone distant. A smile flickered across your face—perfectly timed and just the right shape, though it felt hollow, as fake as the kindness you were trying to project. Your lips tightened, a familiar mask of politeness slipping over your expression, one you wished you didn’t have to wear. “What... what are you doing here?”

His smile was instant and disarming, his surprise clear, and his happiness so genuine it made your chest tighten. For a moment, it erased the absurdity of seeing him here, of all places, in the middle of nowhere. The coincidence felt cruel, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on you.

The last time you saw him, three months ago, it felt like a lifetime ago—a goodbye steeped in heartbreak. You’d clung to him, tears soaking his crisp white shirt as he whispered reassurances: “It’s okay. You’ll be okay. I care about you.” But the words he didn’t say cut deeper: he cared for you, but he loved her.  

It had been a casual fling, no strings attached—or so you told yourself. Then came the day he confessed: he was in love with Lisa, a friend you’d never met. They were getting married. His words, calm and rehearsed, felt like a gut punch, but his excitement betrayed him. He was happy. You weren’t.  

You tried to be strong, to tell him you were fine, even as you broke down. Because you loved him, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him with her.  

And now, here he was, smiling like nothing had happened, curiosity in his eyes—oblivious to the wreckage he’d left behind.  

In front of him, Lisa was sitting with a big bright smile. You’d seen her face before, her perfectly curated Instagram photos, her flawless smile that could have been lifted straight from a movie. But in person? She was even more striking, the kind of beauty that didn’t need filters or captions. The kind of beauty that made everything around her seem insignificant, that made you feel small just standing next to her. Her presence was magnetic, the sort of thing that pulled your gaze despite every instinct telling you to look away.

Suddenly, the air conditioning hit you like a blast of cold, sharp enough to make you flinch. But then again, maybe it wasn’t the air conditioning. Maybe it was just your body freezing in place, rigid with surprise and something much harder to define. You didn’t know how to respond. Harry was talking—his voice was there, filling the space, but the words barely reached you. They felt like distant echoes, the kind that might have meant something once but now were just noise, reverberating uselessly around you.

“What are you doing around here?” he asked, pulling you back from the tangle of thoughts you were trying so hard to keep at bay.

You blinked, trying to center yourself, but it was like you had forgotten how to breathe properly.

“We’re... I’m just passing through, heading back to Austin,” you said, your voice sounding too steady, too rehearsed, even to your own ears. Your heart was lodged somewhere near your throat, threatening to choke you if you said too much. “I went to visit Emma.”

“Ah, Emma. How is she? Is she still in Dallas?”

“Yep,” you answered, the word sharp and clipped, offering nothing more. 

The silence hung between you, thick and uncomfortable. You could feel it stretching, wrapping itself around your words, making them heavier than they needed to be. Finally, you exhaled, the air coming out in a slow, resigned sigh.

“What about you guys? What are you doing around here?”

You didn’t really want to know, not at all.

“Lisa’s grandparents live in Waco,” Harry said with that wide smile of his, the one that always made you feel like you were watching the world tilt on its axis. He looked at Lisa like she was the center of his universe, as if everything that mattered began and ended with her. “We went to take the invitation to them personally and I met the rest of the family while we were at it.”

You didn’t smile. You couldn’t. Your lips pulled tight, the gesture feeling almost painful, like your face wasn’t sure how to form the expression anymore. The words were there, though, just beneath the surface.

“Right, right.” You swallowed, forcing the words out despite how hollow they felt. “How cool. You must be so excited—a summer wedding, then?”

You’d known for weeks—September 6th. The invitation, with its sparkling gold lettering, had made your stomach churn. You buried it under junk mail, unable to face seeing him so happy, so certain of what he had.

But you couldn’t say that, could you? You couldn’t tell him that the mere thought of them together, of their future, felt like a knife to your chest. So you forced a smile, a tight, lifeless thing, and let the conversation carry on.

"That's right," Harry said, laughing as his gaze flickered to Lisa, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Even though we wanted to enjoy the early days of fall, Lisa wanted to get married around summer, mostly because of her parents. They got married during summer too."

Lisa laughed softly, the sound like a note held too long, then spoke, her voice low and warm.

"It's not just that," she said, her hand resting lightly on Harry's. You found yourself looking away, unable to hold the image of them together for too long. "Everything looks more beautiful during this season, doesn't it? Even the days last longer."

Her voice was thick with something you couldn't quite place—familiarity, maybe. Or maybe it was love, that unspoken thing that you couldn’t ignore, even if you wanted to. The way they fit together made everything else seem smaller, less important. And yet Harry’s eyes shifted to you, seeking something. Approval, maybe. He didn’t say it, but it was clear. His look said: Don’t disagree.

"That's true. Summer is beautiful," you replied, feeling the words slip out too easily, forced through your teeth. Your voice came out softer than you intended, and you felt Lisa’s smile hit you like a jolt. It was stunning—perfect in a way that seemed almost too much, like she’d been born to smile in that exact way. You hated her for it, just a little.

"We look forward to seeing you there," Harry said, breaking the moment, his words direct and heavy. "We haven't received your confirmation—you’re going, aren't you?"

How could he ask that, not see how unnatural this felt? But Harry wasn’t cruel—just unaware. You’d never told him you loved him, never made your feelings clear. To him, this was normal. He thought you’d be fine.

“I... um—” 

“Don’t worry about going alone,” he said, that same nonchalant tone that had once made you smile. "You always meet people at weddings."

Heat flooded your face, burning like a slap. The words stung, but his obliviousness made it worse. You wished the ground would swallow you whole—or anything to escape. Instead, you laughed—a thin, brittle sound that barely masked the pain.

"Ah, no, that’s not it," you lied, your voice trembling just enough for Harry to notice. "That's covered."

“Oh, is it?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow, his interest piqued. He leaned forward, a relieved smile crossing his face.

"Sure," you said, forcing a confidence into your tone that you didn’t feel. "I’ll... I’ll go with my boyfriend."

Harry's eyes widened a little, and then the smile appeared again—this one more genuine, more curious. He tapped the table, an excited gesture that made your stomach twist.

“You don’t say?” he said, his voice rising in pitch. “And who’s the lucky guy?”

You wanted to crumble. You wanted to say nothing, because the truth felt too big, too overwhelming, and there was no way to say it without everything falling apart. But you couldn't. You just couldn't.

As if by some celestial miracle, you saw Frankie emerge from the hallway, his attention absorbed by the screen of his phone, scrolling, unaware of anything around him. His timing was perfect, and relief washed over you, as if fate had sent him. He wasn’t supposed to be here, yet there he was—a lifeline in the chaos.  

For a moment, he seemed to glow, his familiar, worn cap catching the harsh lights like a crown. You’d never been so glad to see someone. Then his eyes met yours, and his expression shifted—confusion flickering as he took in your frantic stance, the mess of emotions written on your face.  

Before you could stop it, before you could make any sense of what was happening, a smile stretched across your face—too wide, too fast, like a reflex you hadn’t been prepared for. It was probably a little too sharp to be anything but forced, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help anything.

"Frankie," you said, the words tumbling out with more enthusiasm than you intended. It sounded too bright, almost exaggerated, but there was no stopping it now. "This is Frankie... Frankie, my boyfriend.”

You weren’t sure what you were doing, but it didn’t matter—you needed to make something clear. Frankie tensed beside you, glancing your way, trying to read the situation. His eyes met yours, and you silently begged him: Help. Please.

For a moment, he studied you, his gaze flicking between you and the couple. Then, as if something clicked, his expression shifted to understanding. He realized what he had to do and adjusted instantly.

"Right," he finally said, his voice low, the smile on his face still a little unsure but polite. "I’m Frankie."

Harry extended his hand with a practiced smile, warm but a touch too bright. Frankie hesitated, his gaze shifting from Harry’s hand to your face, brow slightly furrowed as he tried to assess the situation—or his role in it.  

You stepped closer, tapping his waist lightly, a subtle signal to act. He blinked, refocusing, and finally took Harry’s hand, his grip firm and deliberate. But in his eyes, there was a flicker of discomfort—one only you noticed.

“Frankie,” Harry said, his voice carrying a weight of something too calm for the situation. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I'm Harry.” Then, he nodded enthusiastically, dropping his hand back to the table. “And this is Lisa."

Lisa smiled, her gaze bright and almost blinding.

“Nice to meet ya, Frankie,” she said, her voice the epitome of warmth, her charm effortless, her presence just... perfect. Oh my God, just stop it!

Frankie finally turned his attention back to you, though it wasn’t immediately clear if he was still processing the social niceties or deciding how best to carry this conversation forward. His voice shifted slightly as he spoke again.

“Same here,” he said, his tone unfamiliar to you—something smoother, almost softer, like he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. 

He moved closer, just a bit too close, slipping his arm around your waist with ease, sending a flutter through your stomach. His hand rested lightly against your side, his palm warm at your back. You froze, unable to focus on anything but the pulse of his touch, the way he effortlessly played the boyfriend role.

It felt wrong, uncomfortable.

Confusion and relief mixed inside you, unsure if the relief came from the act itself or the distraction it provided from the situation.

"Well," Frankie broke the silence. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need to leave soon. I want to make sure this beautiful woman gets some food before we go—otherwise, she goes bad."

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the way he phrased it. 

Harry chuckled, his easy laughter filling the space.

“Yeah, I believe you,” he said, his grin still wide but with a spark of curiosity. He shot a look at Lisa, then back at Frankie, narrowing his eyes just a touch. “That’s the main reason we stopped. Though I’ll admit,” he added, glancing down at the table with a mock grimace, “I was the one really starving.”

The awkwardness of the moment barely registered for Harry. He seemed to think everything was going smoothly, unaware of the small cracks in the facade that were threatening to show. Frankie, however, was more aware than anyone, and you could see it in his eyes—the way his face shifted from the casual smile to something more guarded, something more carefully neutral. 

Frankie gave a short, almost amused laugh, pulling his arm back from your waist with a light tap. His tone was polite, more deliberate than before.

“Yeah, I’m sure you can relate,” he said, a flicker of warmth in his eyes. “Keeping your lady happy, that's what it's all about, isn't it?” 

You tried to smile, but it came out thin, tight around the edges. Your legs became weak. 

Harry’s laugh was light. He buyed it.

Frankie straightened up slightly, offering his hand to Harry in that careful, calculated way that now seemed practiced, even though it hadn’t been moments ago. His movements were calculated, polite, but entirely different from the Frankie you knew. The way he was acting felt like an entirely unfamiliar version of him—Thank God.

“Okay, thanks for the chat, but we bett—” 

"Yeah, of course," Harry interrupted, still upbeat and completely oblivious to the tension. "It was nice meeting you, Frankie. Take care of her, alright? She's... well, you know. A special one."

Frankie’s smile stiffened, the edges barely moving as he gave a short nod. His eyes flicked to you for a fleeting second, his expression tight and controlled, though something was definitely off.

"I will, man," he replied, voice steady but carrying an underlying edge. "I’ve got her covered. Don’t worry. She’s in good hands."

“Bye, Harry,” you said, turning to him with a friendly but somewhat distant smile, your hand lifting in a wave that felt too casual for the weight of everything you hadn’t said. “And you too, Lisa. Good luck with the wedding!”

Lisa smiled warmly. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice smooth. “Let us know if you're coming."

“Yeah. Hope to see you at the wedding. You too, Frankie,” Harry said, just before you thought about starting to walk to the table at the back of the place.

Frankie looked confused, and looked at you for an answer, or for you to say something.

"Sure," you said, taking him by the arm, ready to leave. "We'll definitely be there!"

You moved in silence toward the booth, Frankie's hand resting at the small of your back, guiding you like an automatic reflex. The low hum of conversation in the restaurant seemed to fade as you both reached the table, and you were strangely relieved that the high backs of the seats shielded you from Harry’s view. 

He dropped into the seat across from you, his presence as loud and brash as ever, even without a word. When you looked at him, it struck you how quickly he'd reverted to the expression he always wore around you—furrowed brows, lips pressed into a thin, almost unnatural line. It wasn’t clear if it was annoyance, confusion, or just him being him.

“I’m so hungry,” you said, flipping through the laminated menu like it might hold the answers to something bigger than lunch. “I really want a burger, and some fries.”

He didn’t reply immediately, his stare heavy on you. Then:

“What the fuck was that?”

You sighed, closing the menu and flattening your hands on the table as if bracing yourself. His face was a familiar mix of wide eyes, creased forehead, and that particular grimace that always made you feel like you’d said something wrong.

You shrugged. “My ex.”

“Okay? And?”

“And that’s it. Nothing else.”

Frankie leaned back with a dramatic exhale, the leather of the booth creaking under him. He shook his head in disbelief, his jaw tightening.

“Since when am I your boyfriend?” he asked, his tone sharp with irritation. “Last time I checked, I was doing your brother a favor.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said quickly, cheeks warming. You picked up the menu again, trying to will your face back to neutrality. “Thanks for playing along, anyway.”

He sighed—loud, pointed. You glanced up, and sure enough, he was staring at you, his fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the table. Not impatient, exactly. Calculated.

“You’re not going to tell me what the fuck that was?”

You ignored him, letting the embarrassment swirl hot in your stomach as you fixed your eyes on the menu. Burgers. Burgers. Burgers. Burgers. Fries. Onion rings, maybe.

“Hey,” he said sharply, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

You blinked, snapping your head up to look at him.

“Oh, are you talking to me?”

Frankie gave you a look so exaggerated you almost laughed, except you knew he wasn’t joking.

“Who else would I be talking to? You think I’m out here monologuing? Who are you, fucking De Niro?”

“Hey!” you snapped, slamming the menu down on the table. The sound echoed between you, a sharp punctuation that sent a ripple of air across his forehead, lifting the dark strands just slightly. “Don’t talk to me like that, Francisco. Who do you think you’re talking to? We’re not friends.”

He snorted, the sound sharp but oddly soft at the same time, pulling off his cap and placing it on the seat beside him. With a low groan, he ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching briefly in the strands. His gaze found yours again, his posture seemingly relaxed but betraying a subtle tension. You could see it in the way his shoulders didn’t quite settle, in the way his eyes didn’t blink as he studied you.

“I know, we’re not friends. But I just lied for you. Why? Who was that? And why are you acting so weird?”

Before you could answer, he straightened in his seat, leaning forward slightly. “No, wait. The real question is: why are you acting weirder than usual?”

You folded your arms, leaning back until you felt the booth press into your shoulders. Your gaze flicked to the front door, the thought of walking out taking root in your mind. Leaving felt easier—safer. Honestly, you’d rather trudge all the way back to Austin on foot, the heat and endless asphalt blistering your skin, than sit here and explain yourself to Frankie. He wouldn’t care. Worse, he might care just enough to make you regret opening your mouth.

When your eyes returned to him, though, his expression surprised you. Serious, yes. But not angry. He was watching you with an almost disarming calmness, like he’d decided he had all the time in the world to wait for your answer.

You sighed, the sound shaky as it escaped your chest.

“It’s my ex,” you said, barely above a murmur.

“Yes,” he said immediately. “Your ex. I got that part. And?”

“And his fiancée.”

“Aha,” he nodded slowly, like he was piecing something together, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “Why did you lie to them?”

You swallowed hard, the pulse in your neck thudding too loudly in your ears.

“Because...” Your voice wavered, and you hated it. “Because... Um, he told me I might meet someone at the wedding.”

Frankie blinked, his confusion shifting into something closer to disbelief.

“What?”

“God,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as heat crept up your neck. Your hands dropped to your thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of your jeans. “We dated for four months, and he broke up with me to get engaged to her. Then he invited me to their wedding. When I said I’d go, he told me not to worry about showing up alone, because I’d probably meet someone there.”

Frankie’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out, so you pressed on, a flush of anger sparking under your skin.

“So, I panicked,” you admitted, your voice sharpening. “I told him not to worry, that I’d bring my boyfriend. And then you showed up, and it just—it made sense in the moment, okay? That’s it.”

“It made sense to you to say I was your boyfriend?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “You couldn’t have said I was someone else? Made up something better?”

“No, it didn’t occur to me!” you hissed, your eyes widening as your voice rose, though you kept it just shy of shouting. “I panicked, okay? I’m sorry! What was I supposed to do?”

He stared at you for a moment, his face a mix of annoyance and bafflement, before leaning back again. You could see the wheels turning in his head, though whatever he was thinking, he wasn’t about to share it with you.

You sank deeper into your seat, glaring at the table like it might offer some kind of solace. But all you could feel was the mortifying heat of his gaze, still fixed firmly on you.

Frankie scratched his forehead, his fingers dragging slowly down to his chin, where they rested briefly before falling to the table. His expression was skeptical, as if he were trying to solve a particularly irritating puzzle.

“Okay,” he started, his voice even but edged with disbelief. “So, you dated this guy for three months—”

“Four months,” you corrected, your tone clipped.

“Right. Four months. And then he left you to get engaged?”

“Yeah.”

Frankie leaned back, his posture deceptively relaxed, but the sharpness in his eyes gave him away.

“You’re telling me he cheated on you, and you’re still planning to go to his fucking wedding? Are you out of your mind?”

He propped his chin on his left hand, elbow planted firmly on the table, and his gaze locked onto you. There was something in his expression that made your stomach twist—a combination of pity and incredulity that made you feel stupid, even if he hadn’t said the word outright.

“No, he didn’t cheat on me,” you replied, lowering your voice as you leaned forward slightly, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “We weren’t in a serious relationship. We were just... casually dating. He was always in love with her, but they couldn’t figure things out. I knew that. He told me.”

Frankie’s eyebrows lifted, his disbelief evident.

“He told you he was in love with another woman, and you still kept dating him?”

“No,” you shot back, frowning. “He told me after a while—around the time we broke up. I would never date someone who was in love with someone else.”

“But you were in love with him, weren’t you?”

There it was. That tone. The one that suggested Frankie thought he had you all figured out, as if your life and feelings were nothing more than a series of obvious moves on a chessboard he could read from across the room. He was so infuriatingly arrogant, so sure of himself.

You narrowed your eyes, but the involuntary twitch of your eyebrows betrayed you.

“I had feelings for him,” you admitted, your voice stiff with frustration.

Frankie tilted his head slightly, his lips quirking into a half-smile that made you want to smack him.

“Okay, let me make sure I’ve got this straight: this guy you casually dated for four months left you for another woman, got engaged, invited you to the wedding, and you, still hung up on him, agreed to go but invented an imaginary boyfriend so you wouldn’t have to show up alone. That about right?”

“I’m not in love with him,” you snapped, crossing your arms defensively and shaking your head.

“I don’t believe you."

“I don’t care what you believe."

“You want to know what I think?”

“Are you deaf?” you said, your lips pressing into a pout. “I just told you I don’t care.”

“I think you’re crazy for going to that wedding,” he said, leaning forward slightly. His voice dropped lower, as though he were sharing a secret, though his words carried no sympathy. “Do you want to torture yourself or something? Are you a masochist?”

The word slipped out like a dagger, his eyes narrowing as he studied your reaction, his face drawing closer, his voice almost a whisper.

You exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and disbelief, biting your lower lip as you turned to look out the window. The distant hum of cars on the road outside felt like the only thing grounding you in the moment.

When you looked back at him, your voice was steadier, quieter.

“We’re friends. Things between us ended well. Why wouldn’t I go to his wedding?”

“So he broke your heart, and you’re still going to his wedding. Got it.” Frankie leaned back slightly as he said it, his tone deliberately even, but the words were sharp enough to make you flinch.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, anger mixing with a deep, familiar embarrassment.

“Why the fuck do you care anyway? I already told you everything. Make fun of me all you want, but stop interrogating me and leave me alone.”

Frankie’s eyebrows lifted, his expression shifting into something maddeningly amused. A slow, sarcastic smile spread across his face, the kind that made your stomach twist in irritation.

“You got me involved in this, remember?” he said, his voice light, almost playful, which only made you angrier.

“It was just a little lie, that’s all.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head.

“Well, you didn’t think it through,” he said flatly, reaching across the table to grab the menu you’d abandoned. He straightened it out in front of him, his fingers smoothing the creases, and his eyes scanned the options with an air of exaggerated focus.

For a moment, you thought he might actually drop it. But of course, he didn’t.

“I wonder what he’ll think,” Frankie said suddenly, his tone casual but cutting, “when he sees you show up to the wedding alone.” His eyes stayed on the menu, but his words hung heavy in the air between you. “You should’ve come up with something else. Be more witty next time. Or, I don’t know, just don’t go to the wedding. That works too.”

Oh.

Your stomach churned at the thought, the weight of it pressing down on you as your mind raced through the possibilities. He was right, of course. What were you going to do? There was no way you could actually show up to the wedding now. You’d have to turn down the invitation at the last minute, make up some absurd excuse about why you couldn’t make it. Or maybe you wouldn’t say anything at all. Harry didn’t deserve an explanation. He wasn’t entitled to one.

The silence stretched between you, uncomfortable and loud. You didn’t answer him. What could you say? You felt silly, even ridiculous, sitting there, replaying the moment over and over in your mind. Of all the places in the world, did you really have to run into Harry there, in the middle of the road, with Frankie of all people?

None of this would’ve happened if Santiago had come to pick you up like he was supposed to. If he’d warned you he couldn’t make it, you would’ve saved yourself the humiliation. You wouldn’t have had to deal with Frankie’s smirking face or his infuriating commentary.

You stared at the table, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of it. God, why did everything have to turn into a mess? Why couldn’t things just go smoothly for once?

Frankie didn’t seem to notice—or care—that you hadn’t responded. He flipped a page of the menu, his expression unreadable now, as if he’d already moved on. But his words lingered, heavy and persistent, refusing to leave you alone.

With your appetite nearly nonexistent, you ordered a hamburger. It sat heavy in front of you, unappealing and far too big. You nibbled at it slowly, methodically, as if chewing it down might somehow help you swallow the rest of your humiliation. Across the table, Frankie made quick work of his own meal. He ate like someone who hadn’t seen food in days, the kind of eating that could make anyone watching feel small.

When he finished—barely ten minutes in—he leaned back in his chair and fixed you with a look. Not an outright stare, but enough of one that you could feel the weight of his impatience.

You didn’t care.

Instead, you turned your attention to the fries on your plate. Picking up each one with deliberate slowness, you savored them, your gaze drifting toward the window. Outside, the road stretched on endlessly, shimmering in the summer heat. Frankie sighed, low and exasperated, every few minutes, but to your surprise, he didn’t rush you.

When you finally stood to leave, Harry and Lisa were nowhere to be seen. Relief swept over you like cool water. If you’d had to exchange goodbyes with them, you were sure you’d lose every bite of food you’d managed to stomach.

You followed Frankie out to the car. His footsteps were quick and purposeful, the kind that demanded anyone trailing behind him keep up or risk being left behind. Once inside, the tight, enclosed space of the vehicle made your skin crawl. You clicked your seatbelt into place, but the snugness of the strap across your chest only added to your discomfort.

For a fleeting moment, you considered bolting. What if you just opened the door and threw yourself onto the hot, sticky asphalt? You’d roll a little, maybe scrape a knee, but at least you wouldn’t be here.

The car started with a low rumble, and Frankie turned up the music without a word. The sound wasn’t loud enough to drown out your thoughts, but it added a layer of noise, a distraction you didn’t ask for but didn’t resist either.

Your gaze shifted to the scenery blurring past the window. You rested your forehead against the cool glass, welcoming the breeze coming in through the lowered window. The air smelled faintly of gasoline and sun-warmed earth.

Frankie drove in silence, his hands steady on the wheel. His thumbs tapped along to the rhythm of the song playing faintly in the background—Rebel Yell by Billy Idol. You stared at the horizon, but your mind kept circling back to him.

He probably thought this whole situation was hilarious. You could see it in the way his eyebrows had lifted earlier, the way his lips twitched with incredulity every time he asked about Harry. He didn’t need to say it—he thought you were foolish, and maybe you were. You felt it, deep in your chest, that heavy, sinking shame that told you he was right to think so.

What the hell were you going to do?

Not going to the wedding wasn’t an option, not unless you wanted Harry to think you were still upset—or worse, that you still cared. But going? Going alone? That wasn’t an option either. You could bring someone else, maybe. But who?

Harry knew all your friends, and you didn’t have many male ones left who weren’t married, taken, or entirely inappropriate. Your brother’s friends? Sure, because that would work out great. Another one of Santiago’s buddies, strolling in on your arm. You ran through the list in your head. Will? No. Ben? Ben had a girlfriend.

It was hopeless. Every scenario felt more humiliating than the last.

God, you wished you could disappear. Or better yet, transform into something simple and unbothered. A worm, maybe. Worms didn’t have exes. They didn’t have weddings to dread.

You were spiraling, and it must have shown on your face because Frankie spoke up, his voice breaking through your chaotic thoughts.

“We’ll make a stop to fill up the tank, okay?” His tone was casual, distracted, as he turned left into the gas station lot.

“Sure,” you mumbled, barely lifting your head.

The car slowed to a stop, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. For a moment, the world outside felt steadier than the one inside your head.

You followed Frankie out of the car, your steps slower and more hesitant than his easy stride. He moved with the kind of casual confidence that seemed effortless, his shoulders relaxed and his head bobbing slightly as he hummed along to a song that had been playing a few miles back. The heat pressed down on you, thick and relentless, but he didn’t seem to notice.  

You lingered by the passenger side, arms folded across your chest. Your gaze flitted to the gas station shop, where shelves of snacks and cold drinks promised brief relief from the sweltering air. For a fleeting moment, you considered going inside—maybe grabbing a soda, or even just standing under the blast of an air conditioner. But then you thought about how much longer that would draw out this journey. The idea of extending your time in Frankie’s company, even by a minute, was enough to keep you rooted in place.  

So you waited, watching him in silence. He moved with the kind of efficiency you’d expect from someone used to things like this—mundane tasks, long drives, solitude. He didn’t rush, but he didn’t dawdle either. He glanced at you once as he replaced the nozzle, his expression unreadable, and then he climbed back into the car without a word.  

You followed suit, settling into your seat and pulling the door shut with a soft click.  

The miles ahead stretched out endlessly, yet the closer you got to Austin, the more your thoughts swirled. You cycled through possibilities, none of them good. Each option felt like another layer of embarrassment, a new way to showcase just how deeply you’d tangled yourself in this ridiculous situation.  

Eventually, your mind settled on one solution—a compromise of sorts, though it was far from ideal. You turned it over and over, weighing the risk against your pride. It felt heavy in your chest, but the closer you got to the city, the harder it became to ignore.  

Finally, as the familiar outline of Austin came into view, you forced yourself to speak.  

“Frankie,” you said, your voice tentative. You turned to look at him, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap.  

He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “What?”  

“You know,” you began, cautiously, “Santi loves you a lot. You’re one of his best friends.”  

“I know.” 

“And you must love Santi too, right? I mean, you’d do anything for him.”  

At that, he glanced at you, his brows knitting together in confusion. The kindness in your voice must have thrown him off. But what really seemed to unnerve him was the faint, almost hesitant smile you were giving him.  

“Of course I love him,” he said slowly, his tone edged with suspicion. “What do you want?”  

You smiled a little wider, tilting your head. “Why do you think I want something?”  

“Because you’re smiling at me like that,” he shot back, returning his focus to the road. “And it’s creepy. Stop it. You’re scaring me.”  

“I just think,” you said carefully, “that it was really nice of you to go all the way to Dallas to pick me up. You didn’t have to, you know. I could’ve taken a bus or figured something out. But you did it anyway. You did me a favor today, and I just—”  

He cut you off with a dry laugh, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. A bead of sweat had formed there, glistening in the harsh afternoon light.

“If you want to call it that,” he muttered.  

“I mean it,” you insisted, leaning slightly toward him. “You didn’t have to do this. You could’ve said no, and I wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. Why?”  

His grip tightened on the wheel, and he shot you another quick, sidelong glance. His expression was guarded, like he wasn’t sure where this was going or if he wanted to know.

“I dunno,” he said finally, his tone clipped. “Because Santi asked me to. Because I had nothing else to do. Does it matter?”  

You pursed your lips, staring straight ahead as your thoughts spiraled. Why were you nervous? It wasn’t fear—definitely not fear of him. But still, there was something about Frankie that unsettled you, something sharp-edged and unyielding in the way he looked at you, like he could see more than you intended to show.

You forced yourself to steady your breathing, trying to reason with your own hesitation. It didn’t matter if he was intimidating. It didn’t matter what he thought of you.

“I think you should come to the wedding with me,” you blurted, the words tumbling out before you had the chance to second-guess them. As soon as they were out, you snapped your gaze away, focusing intently on a crack in the dashboard as though it held the secrets of the universe.

“What?” Frankie’s tone wasn’t as surprised as you’d expected—it was more amused, like he thought you’d just said something profoundly ridiculous.

“You should come to the wedding with me,” you repeated, forcing yourself to look at him this time.

He turned his head briefly, his eyes scanning your face, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be studying you, trying to decide whether you were joking or if you’d completely lost your mind. Finally, he clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“No,” he said flatly.

“Frankie.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked, his voice rising slightly in exasperation. “Did you hit your head or something? Have you completely lost it?”

“No, just hear me out,” you said, raising a hand in what you hoped was a calming gesture. He shot you a wary glance but didn’t interrupt. “It’ll just be a favor—a small favor. I swear, if you do this for me, I’ll give you whatever you want. Wathever. Um, well—not whatever you want,” you corrected quickly. “Something reasonable. Something human. Please.”

Frankie snorted, a small, incredulous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re asking me to pretend to be your boyfriend at the wedding of a guy who dumped you? And you’re the sister of one of my best friends?” He shook his head, laughing quietly, like he couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of your mouth.

You sighed, the weight of your desperation pressing down on you.

“Santi will understand,” you argued, your tone bordering on pleading now. “He will. And it’s not like I’m asking for much—just come with me for a little while. We don’t even have to stay all night. Just long enough to…” You trailed off, realizing how pathetic you sounded. “Just long enough to make it believable.”

“Sorry, no,” Frankie said firmly, cutting you off. “I’m not getting dragged into your drama. And honestly? I think it’s stupid for you to go to that wedding in the first place. What are you trying to prove? My answer is no. Invite someone else.”

Frustration burned in your chest, rising up to your cheeks as his words landed. You could feel your face heating, both from embarrassment and anger.

“I can’t invite someone else,” you snapped. “You’re my boyfriend, remember? That’s what Harry thinks. He saw you. They saw you. And you did a pretty good job pretending to be nice to me today—can’t you do it one more time? Just this once?”

“No—”

“I’ll do anything you want,” you interrupted, your voice insistent. “I mean it. Any favor you can think of. Just name it.”

Frankie tilted his head, giving you a skeptical look.

“I’m not interested in any favors from you,” he said bluntly. “I don’t need anything.”

“Then do it for Santi,” you said, desperate now.

Frankie laughed at that, a low, disbelieving sound that only irritated you further.

“What does your brother have to do with any of this?”

“He’s your best friend,” you said, leaning toward him slightly, like you could will him to understand. “And you love him. And I’m his sister.”

“Uh-huh,” Frankie said, still smirking. “So?”

“So, doesn’t that mean you should help me?”

Frankie’s laugh grew louder, his shoulders shaking slightly as he glanced at you.

“You’re really reaching now, aren’t you?”

He turned to look at you then, the movement deliberate, his eyes narrowing slightly as they met yours. There was no malice there, but the firm set of his jaw told you all you needed to know—there was no convincing him. He understood the weight of your request, the quiet urgency stitched into each word, but it didn’t sway him.

“I’ve never asked you for help before,” you said, your voice softer now, almost brittle. “In fact, I’ve refused your help plenty of times. You said I was childish, remember? Well, fine. Maybe I’m being childish. But now I’m asking. Just this once.”

He shook his head slowly.

“It’s not the same thing,” he said, his voice low and steady, like he was trying to explain something simple to a child. “And you are being childish. Like I told you—no. The answer’s fucking no.”

You blinked hard, swallowing against the sting of rejection that settled heavy in your throat.

“Okay, fine,” you replied, the word clipped, your voice devoid of emotion. You turned your face away from him, angling it toward the window, not wanting him to see the look on your face—humiliation, maybe, or something closer to defeat. “Thank you.”

Frankie sighed, long and low, his hands flexing around the steering wheel as though he were squeezing the last ounce of patience from himself. The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the low hum of the car and the faint thrum of your pulse in your ears.

The rest of the drive passed without a single word exchanged. You stared out the window while Frankie focused intently on the road, his grip on the wheel tight and unyielding.

When the car finally pulled up in front of your house, the relief that washed over you was immediate and overwhelming. You reached for the door handle, your fingers trembling slightly, and stepped out into the humid air.

Frankie followed, moving around to the back of the car with the same mechanical precision he’d had all day. He popped the trunk and pulled out your suitcase, the effort seemingly as uninspired as when he’d loaded it hours ago.

He carried it to the door and set it down, his movements brisk, almost dismissive. You stood there, arms crossed, your body angled away from him, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“That’ll be all,” he said finally, his tone flat, his sunglasses obscuring his eyes on your face.

“Thank you,” you murmured, barely audible. “I’ll let Santi know I’m home.”

“Good.”

You didn’t look up as he turned back toward the car. You didn’t watch him leave, but you heard the sound of his door slamming shut, the low rumble of the engine as he drove off.

As the noise of his departure faded into the distance, you stayed rooted to the spot for a moment longer, the weight of the day pressing heavy on your shoulders. The heat prickled against your skin, and your head ached faintly, a dull reminder of how much you wanted this day to end.

You grabbed the handle of your suitcase, pulling it inside as the silence of the house enveloped you. You needed a shower—cold water to wash away the heat, the frustration, the embarrassment of it all. You needed to be alone, to let the day dissolve into nothingness behind a locked door.

Nearly two weeks slipped by, lost in the haze of your routines and the background hum of self-destructive thoughts.

What were you going to do? Probably nothing. You wouldn’t go. That was the easiest answer, and maybe the only one that made sense. What choice did you really have?

Still, Frankie’s words stuck in your head, gnawing at the edges of your resolve. What are you trying to prove? he’d asked. And after a few restless nights, staring at the ceiling and replaying the conversation, you realized he was right. You did want to prove something—to Harry, to yourself. You wanted him to see you happy, radiantly happy, at his wedding, as though it didn’t touch you at all. You wanted to seem light and unbothered, the kind of woman who could be at her ex’s wedding without flinching.

Except you did care. Of course, you cared. You hated that you cared. And you hated Harry for putting you in this position. How could you not be upset? The man had left you only a few months ago, and now he was marrying someone else. It wasn’t normal—none of it was. But you couldn’t shake the question gnawing at the back of your mind: why did you have to be the one left hurt?

And Frankie. You’d hated the way he’d looked at you when he said it; What are you trying to prove? What the hell were you trying to prove? like he couldn’t believe how foolish you were. If you hadn’t wanted to see him before, you definitely didn’t want to now. You resolved to talk to Santi, to tell him how uncomfortable the trip had been—without blaming Frankie, exactly—and to ask, kindly but firmly, that he warn you if Frankie would be around in the future.

It was humiliating, this whole situation. But you were sure about one thing: you never wanted to see Francisco Morales again.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving your kitchen in soft shadows as you stirred sugar into your coffee. Your gaze stayed fixed on your laptop, on Harry’s wedding invitation glowing on the screen. You’d read it so many times it felt permanently etched into your mind. But now, you’d decided. You weren’t going.

Your finger hovered over the trackpad, guiding the cursor to the “RSVP not attending” option. You paused, just for a second, your chest tightening. Then, before you could click, the doorbell rang, sharp and sudden, making you flinch.

Setting the mug down, you crossed to the window, peering out at the sidewalk. The sight below made your brows knit together. That couldn’t be right. Surely, you were imagining things.

You slipped on a pair of shoes and headed downstairs, opening the door without much thought.

“Francisco,” you said flatly, his name sitting awkwardly on your tongue. “What are you doing here? Did something happen with Santi?”

He dragged a hand over his mouth and shook his head, slow and deliberate.

“Can we talk?”

“About what?” Your tone was sharp, incredulous, your expression twisted like he’d just said something absurd.

He looked different somehow. Neater, you thought, though you hated yourself for noticing. His hair was slightly shorter, his beard more trimmed than usual.

He sighed, long and heavy, like he’d been forced into something he didn’t want to do. The sound made you laugh, a sharp, derisive snort. As if he had the right to be irritated. He’d shown up unannounced, at night, on your doorstep. If anyone should feel fed up, it was you.

“I’m going to help you,” he said finally, the words clipped and begrudging.

“With what?”

“With your ex.”

“What?” The confusion on your face deepened. “Harry?”

Frankie glanced to the side, as if checking for onlookers, before returning his gaze to you and nodding.

“Are there other exes you need help with?”

His question was thick with sarcasm, and you rolled your eyes in response.  

“Well, I don’t need your help anymore. But thanks,” you said quickly, your voice tight, as you began to push the door shut, inch by inch.  

Then his hand was on it, stopping you.  

“Wait,” he said, and this time his voice was different—tinged with something almost like desperation. “I’m serious.”  

You paused, narrowing your eyes at him through the gap.

“Why would you help me? You were very clear the other day,” you said, your tone sharp. “There’s no point in me going to the wedding.”  

“True, there’s no point,” he said, his gaze steady on yours. “But I know you well enough to know you’d love to go anyway. To show Harry how great you’re doing. Am I wrong?”  

“You’re wrong,” you shot back instantly, too quickly.  

Frankie sighed, the sound dragging out like he was trying to buy himself time. He glanced away for a second, then back at you, his expression suddenly resolute.  

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he said.  

You blinked at him, stunned into silence for a moment.

Then, with a raised brow, you asked, “Are you sick? Do you have a fever, Francisco?” You brought your hand up toward his forehead, but he flinched back dramatically before you could touch him.  

“What are you up to?” you asked, pulling the door open wider, suspicion laced in your tone.  

Frankie stood there, his posture stiff, his expression uncomfortable, like he was holding something in that might burst out if you pressed too hard.  

“May I come in?” he asked finally, his brown eyes soft and glinting, almost boyish.  

You hesitated, studying him for a few beats, letting the curiosity outweigh your disdain. Then you stepped back and opened the door fully, sealing the moment with the soft click of the latch behind him.  

Frankie climbed the stairs ahead of you, pausing at the top to wait as you opened the door to your apartment. He stepped inside, scanning the space.  

Your living room was warm, cozy but cluttered—books and mugs scattered across the coffee table and nearly every other available surface, interspersed with pens, pencils, and random odds and ends. Behind the sofa, the kitchen was visible, small but functional.  

You stood back, watching him take it all in. His expression was unreadable, but you imagined him silently judging the chaos. You almost wanted him to—let him think it was messy, or that your style was lacking. You didn’t care.

He didn’t belong there, in your space. Everything about him seemed incongruous with the world you’d built for yourself—his presence like a mismatched puzzle piece, forcibly shoved into place where it clearly didn’t fit. He was out of tune with your reality, standing in the warmth of your living room like he’d wandered in from an entirely different life.

You crossed to the kitchen island, where your half-drunk coffee sat waiting. Sliding onto the stool, you gestured at the one across from you.

“Have a seat.”

Frankie hesitated but eventually sat down, his movements stiff and reluctant, like he’d rather be anywhere else. His expression was tight, uncomfortable, like he was a vampire catching the faintest whiff of garlic in the air. His eyes landed immediately on your laptop, still glowing with Harry’s wedding invitation.

“I see you’re taking the wedding well,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You sighed audibly, refusing to take the bait.

“What do you want?”

As you waited for him to answer, you lifted your coffee to your lips. It had already cooled, the bitterness more pronounced now that it was lukewarm. Another thing he ruined for you, you thought bitterly. Your fucking coffee. 

“I’ve been thinking—”

“Congratulations,” you cut in, deadpan.

Frankie’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and unamused. He didn’t even blink, just stared at you like he was waiting for you to get it out of your system. You shrugged, feigning indifference, though the weight of his gaze made your skin prickle.

“I’ve decided I’m going to the wedding with you,” he said finally.

You raised an eyebrow, lowering your mug to the counter.

“You decided? I thought you didn’t want to go with me.”

“I don’t,” he said. His fingers brushed the edge of your laptop, tracing a line along it.

“But you’re still here,” you said, your voice laced with suspicion.

Frankie exhaled slowly, leaning back slightly.

“I’ll help you… if you help me.”

“If I help you? With what? Don’t tell me you’re finally going to therapy,” you blurted out, a half-smile tugging at your lips.

Frankie straightened in his seat, his back stiffening like you’d just landed a verbal jab. For a moment, it looked like he might get up and leave—walk out and never look back. But instead, he stayed. He clenched his jaw, his eyes locking on yours with a determined, almost defiant look.

“I had dinner with my family tonight,” he began, his voice measured but tense. “With my mom and two of my sisters—”

“Is that why you look like that?” you interrupted, tilting your head.

“What?”

“Like you finally took a bath,” you said, your smirk widening.

Frankie exhaled sharply, his patience visibly fraying. “Can you shut up and listen to me for a second? I’ll be brief.”

You held up a hand as if to say, Fine, go on.

“They’re nice, my family, but they won’t leave me alone,” he said, his tone growing more frustrated. “All through dinner, they kept asking me these awkward questions, trying to convince me to go on these dates they’ve been setting up with their friends’ daughters or coworkers or whoever.”

Your smile widened, thoroughly amused. “Why? Why don’t you just go? Come to think of it—”

“No,” he cut you off, his voice sharp. “I already agreed once, and it was a disaster. I’m not doing it again. And I’m not about to get into that with you.”

“Good,” you said, leaning back slightly. “Because I’m not interested.”

Frankie sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.

“Every time I see them—for over a year now—it’s the same thing. They won’t leave me alone. And look, I get it. They’re trying to be helpful. But I’ve had enough.”

Your curiosity piqued at that. “What happened a year ago? Why?”

Frankie’s face tightened, his upper lip curling slightly as if the question had caught him off guard.

He frowned, his brows drawing together, before finally muttering, “That doesn’t matter.”

The dodge only made you more curious, but you let it go, watching as he leaned forward slightly, his hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“The point is,” he continued, “I got fed up. So tonight, when they started in on me again, I told them to back off. That I didn’t need them setting me up on dates because… because I already have a girlfriend.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, their weight sinking in.

Oh.

“Oh,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyebrows lifted just enough to show your surprise, though you tried to mask it.

Frankie shifted in his seat, his gaze falling to his hand resting on his knee. He shook his head slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible motion, as though he was trying to block out whatever he feared you might say next.  

“Funny,” you said, your voice light with mockery. “And your mother believed you?”  

When he looked up at you, his expression darkened. The amused smile playing on your lips ignited a flash of irritation in his eyes. You looked entirely too entertained by the situation, and it made him bristle.  

“Hardly,” he admitted, his tone sharp. “I don’t even think I convinced her. That’s why I need your help.”  

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly, as though creating space from whatever absurdity was about to come out of his mouth.

“You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?”  

Frankie nodded once, curtly. “My mom’s birthday is in a few days. She’s turning sixty. She’s having this big nice party, and she told me she wants to meet my girlfriend then.”  

You crossed your arms, still trying to gauge whether or not this was some elaborate joke.

“When’s the party?”  

“Next Saturday.”  

Your eyebrows shot up, and your lips parted in disbelief.

“Francisco,” you grumbled, the word low and heavy. “That’s in three days.”  

“I know,” he muttered, matching your tone. His jaw tightened like he was already regretting the entire conversation.  

“And what did you tell her?” you demanded. “What did you say when she asked?”  

Frankie’s hand moved to the counter, his fingers drumming once before he let them still.

He hesitated, and then, in a resigned voice, said, “I told her yes. That I’d bring my girlfriend to her birthday.” He paused, meeting your gaze. “So she’d finally leave me alone.”  

You pushed back from the stool, standing in one swift, exasperated motion. Your hands flew to your hips, your whole body radiating irritation as you glared at him.  

“Oh, so you just assumed I’d help you, didn’t you?” you snapped, your voice loud in the otherwise quiet apartment. “What if I said no?”  

“I knew you wouldn’t say no,” Frankie said, meeting your anger with calm certainty.  

You let out an incredulous laugh, your head tilting back briefly before you fixed him with a sharp look.

“My God, what’s wrong with you? You don’t know what I’m thinking.”  

He didn’t flinch, though you could see his patience thinning in the slight twitch of his brow.

“I know you well enough to know you’ll say yes,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact, as though he were stating the obvious.  

The sheer audacity of it made you want to scream.

Frankie rose from his spot, his movements deliberate and quick. His footsteps echoed as he crossed the room, closing the space between you with purposeful strides. He stopped in front of you, standing taller, looking down at you with an intensity that was hard to ignore.  

“I know you want to go to the wedding,” he said, his voice firm. “I know you asked me to go with you, and you were persistent. And anyway, I think you owe me.”  

You blinked, incredulous, a small laugh escaping your lips despite yourself.

“I owe you?”  

Frankie’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he took a small step closer.

“Don’t forget that the only reason you didn’t make a complete fool of yourself in front of Harry was because I decided to help you. I played along. If I’d wanted to, I could’ve exposed you in front of him and his fiancée. I could’ve made it worse.”  

“Thank you so much, Francisco, you're a fucking angel,” you spat, your tone thick with sarcasm, though the incredulous smile on your face betrayed how absurd it all felt. “What do you want me to do? Give you a hero of the century award?”  

Frankie’s expression didn’t waver; he was dead serious. “No. Come with me to my mom’s birthday and we’re even.”  

You froze for a moment, processing his words, the sheer audacity of them making your heart skip a beat. This was beyond ridiculous.  

"You're fucking crazy! Are you serious?" you demanded, unable to hide the disbelief in your voice. "It’s not even close. Harry’s my ex something, nothing more. And you’re asking me to go with you to a family event, full of your relatives, and you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend in front of all of them?”  

Frankie’s eyes flicked upwards, his impatience seeping into his expression. He rolled his eyes.  

“It’s not like we’re getting married,” he said, dismissive, his voice tinged with frustration. “You’re exaggerating. It’s not the first time I’ve taken a girlfriend to a family thing. What are you, fifteen?”  

You crossed your arms, giving him a skeptical look. “I don’t know, by my standards, introducing a girlfriend to your family seems like a pretty serious thing.”  

Frankie exhaled through his nose, clearly growing more insistent. He looked at you with unwavering intensity, his gaze now pointed, as if trying to break through the walls you were building between you and this ridiculous proposition.  

“I’ll take care of that,” he said, his voice steady but with a finality that made it clear he wasn’t backing down.

You stood there for a moment, the room stretching in a strange, suspended silence. You weighed his words in your mind, the absurdity of the situation tangled with a strange sense of reluctant curiosity.  

“Are you really going to accompany me to the wedding?” you asked, your voice quieter than you’d intended, the question slipping out like something you hadn’t meant to say aloud.  

Frankie nodded, a reassuring, almost teasing gesture, as though he was certain he had already won.

“I’ll help you catch the bouquet and everything,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling in a grin that almost made you want to punch him.  

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, your voice edged with irritation.  

“And yet, here you are, still going with me to that wedding.”  

Frustration rose in your chest, pooling in your throat like heat. You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the rush of emotion that threatened to spill over. How utterly insolent. How impossible.  

“Fine,” you finally spat out, barely containing the anger simmering beneath your words. “I’ll help you. But you’d better make my time count, Francisco.”  

He flashed a half-smile, the kind of smug, self-satisfied smirk that made your fingers itch to slap him. You wanted to say something else—something cutting, something that would make him regret this entire conversation. But you couldn’t.  

Instead, Frankie reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and tapped the screen a couple of times before handing it to you.

“Give me your number.”  

You took the phone from him with a swift, almost startled motion, your fingers brushing against his as you punched in your number. The action felt mechanical, as if you were moving through a script you didn’t want to follow. When you handed it back to him, you watched him tap the screen, adding you to his contacts with deliberate motions. His fingers moved quickly, but you couldn’t catch the name he gave you. It was probably something ridiculous, something that made you cringe even without knowing it.

He didn’t say anything, just slid the phone back into his pocket, and turned to head for the door. But before he reached it, he stopped and looked at you, his eyes meeting yours once more.  

“I’ll text you,” he said abruptly, almost as if it were a last-minute afterthought.  

And then, without waiting for a response, he opened the door and left, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet stairs. You stood there, still staring at the empty doorway, the weight of his words hanging in the air long after he was gone.

With one click, you confirmed your attendance.

beautiful divider by @saradika-graphics 💗

tags: @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti (a few of the tags aren't working, idk why, fix it tumblr!!!!)

[transmascaraa]

Hi! I've currently been into Ga ming recently since he's released and your works for him are really cute 💗💗 so I was wondering if I can maybe request him, Bennett, tighnari, cyno, and Scaramouche (if you write for them ofc!) with a always nauseous and overheating reader?

I've been going through that for a long while now and it kinda adds onto not really eating all the time because of being afraid to throw up when it happens, sometimes feeling like a burden for having a different body temperature than most and feeling like it's just a problem, not being able to wear clothes I really want to because of how hot I may get, the possibility of passing out whenever and the embarrassment I get from that, ect 😭

I hope your day is well, and that hopefully you have a fun time writing this if you decide to 💗🫶

multiple characters headcannons!

how are they with overheating!reader?

characters: gaming, bennett, tighnari, cyno, wanderer x gn!reader

author's note: i love this idea so much😭 i'm not somebody that's overheating easily, but i still get hot faster than others, it's the main reason i hate summer and love winter👍 but i think i can understand people who suffer from overheating. i once almost passed out a few months ago and it's either that i felt sorry for this one dog, or because of sunstroke. either way, i'm glad to do this request, because i really like it<3

Gaming

-he would be prepared ALL THE TIME. it's true. it's canon, i'm the mole on his neck.

-anyways, he would always have one of your t-shirts in his bag. he learnt how to do cpr and what to do IF you pass you. he reassured you that it was okay. that you having a warmer body temperature wasn't something you should be embarrassed of.

-in his eyes, he found the good in that whole problem.

-winter, you're not all the cold in winter, while he... freezes, despite being pyro.

-he's there with you, always ready for anything, encouraging you to eat.

-he also always has a cold drink in his bag, it might come in handy for you...

-either way, he wouldn't mind it. he just wants to help you. he sees nothing wrong with you.

-but he avoids teasing you that much, what if you get too hot and feel nauseous?

-he doesn't want that. instead, he knows when to stop.

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

Bennett

-he's clumsy, and everyone knows that. but he does try his best to help. he WANTS to help.

-when you feel nauseous, he starts panicking a bit but tries to keep a more calm composure to not make it even harder for you.

-he knows how to treat you. he's trying his best, please, thank him.

-he asked lisa about how to help a nauseous person, and he listened closely.

-sometimes, he rants to razor about you, but not about your overheating problem, but about how strong you were. how brave you were.

-how he admired you.

-and when with you, he tries to tell you all of those same things, but he ends up blushing too much, and just telling you to "paint it over".

-but at rare times, when he makes you feel hotter by telling you such sweet praises, he apologizes immediately, and tries to cool you down.

-he's trying, he really is.

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

Tighnari

-he has everything with him. if gaming had everything you needed, tighnari has 2 times more of them. what if you run out of cold water? what if the first shirt he brought with him was still making you hot? he even has an ice pack with him.

-he's like a mom. anything you need, he has it. he would take great care of you, making sure you're alright.

-if you're nauseous, don't worry! he has the medicide. you're allergic to something? you'll never see it again.

-if you're ever close to passing out, he knows exactly what to do, so you shouldn't worry all that much, because you have him.

-others, and even maybe you, might see him as overprotective, or overreacting, but he just says that "it's for your own good" and carries on with taking your mind off of things by talking to you about aranaras.

-he may be a bit strict, but it really is jsut because he cares for you. he wants the best for you, and hopes that he can be the one to help you get to there.

-i could talk about him for ages but i think you get the point.

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

Cyno

-i'm virtually sighing right now. he would care for you, yes, do anything for you, do anything you want him to.

-he'll bring you anything and everything you need.

-he had anything you need with him, but if you run out of anything, he's thinking of a solution to stop that.

-in all seriousness, he'll skip anything and everything for you.

-yes, he does bore you with his horrible jokes no matter what, but if he sees that he's too annoying, he'll stop.

-if you're about to pass out, he's either gonna keep his composure and help you or just...

-call tighnari because he's panicking a bit too much.

-he avoids bringing you to the desert with him, completely, at all costs.

-he wants to to be okay, and reassures you when you have trouble eating.

-he's like a dad, the opposite of tighnari. he may not have anything you need at ALL times, but he always comes up with a solution.

-and he loves choosing outfits for you, and he gets hot easily too, that's why he doesn't wear much clothing himself.

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

Wanderer

-uhhh he's complicated. he'll never show any interest in helping you, but deep down he so fucking worried about you. he would take your body heat if he could. he would splash you with ice-cold water if you wanted to.

-but he'd mask it with saying "weak."

-you know him good enough tho, he cares about you more than anyone else.

-you know he'd sacrifice anything and everything to help you.

-he literally forces you to eat.

-he has everything you need with him, and does his best to help you. if he runs out of something, he'll call nahida.

-nahida plays a huge part in this too, but you don't know.

-he secretly talks to nahida to teach him about overheating more. so he knows how to help. he asks her any question he has, and the almost immediately memorizes it. he needs to know how to help you. so, if you ever almost pass out, he'd just be telling you to shut up while trying to help, but on the inside, it's a mess, really.

-he doesn't want you in pain.

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

i actually really like this one

HELP MY LAST MULTI-CHARACTER ONE GOT ALMOST 400 NOTES I'M GOING CRAZY

either way, i hope you like this one, anon! and that you i potrayed overheating good enough😭

[yesimwriting]

If you do, i hope you write for benefict.

Hes the superior brother

Love you 💋 (i feel bad in ending a request without saying some sort of goodbye, it feels rude)

anon i feel u, ending asks always feels so awkward lol

anyway!! happy bridgerton release weekend!!

there are no season 3 spoilers in this!

----

Once upon a time, this had been nothing more than a story your sister would whisper to you long after you were meant to be in bed. She'd tell you about everything: the members of the ton in their finest clothing, the beauty of the balls, the swell of the music, and the charm of the potential suitors.

Now that you've debuted, and the world of formal gowns and evening dances has become a part of your reality, you wonder if your sister meant to exaggerate. Maybe it had been part of some grand scheme to make you desire what she never did--a husband with a high enough rank to redeem your family name.

It wouldn't have mattered. Your sister didn't need to sell you the fantasy of finding a husband. After some poor investments injured your family's fortune and your formerly perfect sister married someone your parents considered beneath her, you decided that they had experienced as much heartache as they could bear.

The final straw was your mother passing in childbirth. The stress had aged your father, who constantly worried about what would become of you and his name when his time came. You made the decision to never add to his worries, not with your father constantly reminding you that you are your family's final hope.

And while you've made your peace with planning your future around preserving your family's name, you never expected for the process to be so overwhelming.

You thought it'd be easy to take a moment to indulge in the atmosphere. To listen to the soft swell of the music, to watch the crowds enjoy their dancing and conversation. The first suitor found you before you could fully process what you were seeing. The second came right after, and since then, the men have been multiplying.

Perhaps you'd be able to appreciate the practicality of their presence if they weren't so focused on winning your attention through their questions.

"I've always wanted to raise my children in the country, and you, Miss..." You manage to provide your full name before another young man cuts in. "How many children would you like?"

You blink. "Oh, um, children are a blessing, I suppose I'd--"

"Tell me, are you one of those women that allow novels to take up their time?"

"I like reading," you admit easily, "I don't know if I'd say it takes up my time, but I do--"

You're cut off yet again, "You seem oddly familiar. Remind me, is your family from the city?"

Never did you think you'd miss strangers asking you about your desires for your future children. You're not ashamed of your family, not by any means, but after your father's public financial issues and your sister's chosen match existing outside of society, your parents made the choice to leave this world for some time.

They presented the excuse of traveling, then they claimed that your grandmother was unwell and in need of constant familial care, and then the ton stopped asking. The world moved on, forgetting their scandal in favor of more relevant gossip. They might have never faced the potential uproar of returning if it hadn't been for your mother's friendship with Lady Danbury, who offered to make you her personal guest this debut season.

"Excuse me." The attention shifts away from you as the band of suitors fall silent. You blink, turning your head to look your savior in the eye. He's taller than you expected, with deep brown hair and soft eyes that briefly make you forget that you exist outside of your novels. "I was wondering if you'd join me for a dance?"

Your lips part, but there is no response. You blame it on the man waiting for an answer--he had not so much as asked for your name before inviting you to dance and that--and his--his smile and his eyes--they're distracting. Bright and familiar in a way that reminds you of the easiness of childhood.

"Unless, of course," he begins, "Your next dance has already been spoken for?"

The others had been too distracted by their desire to turn what they perceived as a stranger into something more digestible. They wanted to assess before allowing themselves to be seen dancing with you at the first ball of the season.

One of the other lords raises his chin slightly, a precursor to an intervention. The thought of having to let go of your ability to escape brings you back to. "No," you manage, "No, it has not." The answer feels more jumbled than it should be. You're meant to be a lady--a mature lady that does not turn bashful at the first sign of attention. "I'd be delighted to join you for a dance, Lord..."

His eyebrows briefly pull together as he responds, "Bridgerton. Benedict Bridgerton."

Bridgerton. It hits you with no warning. The summer afternoons spent--much to your mama's horror--running through the gardens, the conversations in the library, the birthdays, teas, and large family gatherings.

Benedict Bridgerton is standing in front of you, asking you to dance. If the version of you that used to hold onto the every word of her sister's stories could see you now, she'd faint of happiness. While you were always closest to Eloise, often joining her and Penelope as your parents spoke to the older Bridgertons in the foyer, the first boy you ever wanted to imagine in this situation was Benedict.

Your feelings for him might have been defined by the innocence of childhood, but they were also painfully obvious. Your only saving grace was the fact that Benedict never looked at you long enough to notice.

"Then...I'd be delighted to, Lord Bridgerton."

He offers you an arm. The other men are forced to give you the space needed for you to approach Benedict. Your movements feel hazy as you step forward. This reunion has been fun, and extremely satisfying for your childhood self, but you really should mention that you know him. He'll likely go back to viewing you as a child, which is okay. It's not like he'd marry you. After the way you disappeared on his family after the passing of his father, you'll be lucky if he doesn't hate you.

Benedict guides you forward, the music coming to an end as the pairs already on the floor begin to still. "Forgive me if the intrusion was unwelcome."

The comment surprises you as you step back. "Unwelcome?" His lips press together as he places a hand against your back. The uncertainty does not suit him. "You do not have to worry about misstepping." His eyebrows draw together, and you realize your misstep. Benedict does not remember you. A lady should not encourage any man, suitor or otherwise, to speak so freely.

"I mean--" You pause as a soft melody begins to play. "All I meant was that I value honesty. If you were to unintentionally say something that you viewed as too transparent, I'd sooner appreciate your candor than pass judgement." The words tumble out, too jumbled and heavy for a first dance. Instead of responding, he watches you. "A courtesy I've often relied on. Clearly."

Benedict shakes his head once, a smile you'd like to believe is as good humored as it seems tugging at his lips. "No, no--for the sake of transparency, I was just thinking that I didn't expect to enjoy our conversation as much as I am."

The response immediately burrows into your chest, forcing all of the air out of your lungs. In the moments it takes you to recover, you're surprised that you don't miss a step of your dance. "And what were you expecting?" The question feels too sharp and sudden. "For the sake of transparency."

You're not sure if the joke has run its course, but Benedict seems to ease at it. "I was expecting...an escape from the mamas attempting to find me for their daughters."

Benedict's admission is stiff, his eyes focusing on something just beyond your shoulder. You would have never imagined that the eligible men had their own version of feeling trapped by the confines of politeness and societal duty. Despite Benedict's lack of malice, the mental image makes something in your chest ache. The thought is oddly endearing. A hovering mama, inserting herself in her daughter's affairs, guiding her through finding a match.

"I did not mean to offend you--"

"No," you shake your head, forcing yourself to think about what you do have, "No, it's not you. In fact, I was just thinking that I was also in need of an escape."

Benedict steps forward, continuing to lead you through the dance. His expression softens at your response. "Then it appears we've helped each other."

The music swells to its climax. The song will end soon. "It appears we did."

You match another step, careful to remember the dances your sister made you go over before arriving at Lady Danbury's home. "Unless your mama was part of the pack hunting me down."

"Pack?" You repeat, forcing yourself to feel your amusement more than your grief. "I did not realize I was in the presence of a bachelor so eligible, he's quite literally hunted by a frenzy of mamas desperate for him to speak to their daughters."

Benedict laughs at that, the sound fighting to be more restrained than it actually is. Your awareness of your surroundings isn't enough to keep you from laughing with him. "That's not how I meant it."

"I know." A beat passes, and when the glowing feeling slowly but surely growing in your chest doesn't dissipate, you continue, "Actually, my mama's not here." It's as close to getting the words out as you can get. Not gone, not buried, just not here. "I am here as Lady Danbury's charge."

The music comes to an end. Some quality of his expression that you can't translate shifts. "Really?" You nod. Okay, Benedict now knows who you're staying with. It's time to confess who you are. Your lips part, but Benedict beats you to it. "I know who you're with, and I still don't know your name."

An undeniable question. You swallow, preparing to force out your own name.

"Benedict." At the sound of his name, he turns his head. A young woman you vaguely recognize from your debut approaches him. "I think I should need some air, brother." Oh--his sister. A Bridgerton who's closer to you in age--Francesca. You tense, waiting for some sense of recognition to pass over her. She barely glances at you, her body language stiff and uncomfortable.

Benedict seems to pick up on her worry. He allows her to take his arm. "Alright...I'll escort you." He looks over at you, expression apologetic, "I'm--"

"It's alright." You mean it. "Go, help your sister. You've already helped me more than I thought possible."

Benedict nods, offering you a parting glance as he escorts his sister away from the floor.

What were you thinking? Discussing an appreciation for honesty and transparency while actively keeping a secret from him? Perhaps Francesca's appearance was a sign that things are better off ended there.

Benedict's aversion of mamas implies that he is not ready to be married. He has no plans on courting you, and you may very well go the rest of the reason without speaking to him. The thought of getting to keep your secret, of not having to find out if Benedict holds the fact that after his father passed and your family moved, you didn't write to him or his family against you, is a blessing. It should make you happy, but instead, it only magnifies the hollowness of your chest.

----

i want to write a part 2 for this something BAD i love bridgerton

[doki-doki-imagines]

hi! maybe a little self indulgent but was wondering if you could write a lil drabble of earthrealm gang x yn (fem y/n if possible) but she’s related to shang tsung in some way (idk sister, daughter if u wanna get real silly) and shes just as pretty but just as mean :3c ty!

author note: In some the reader is the sister in others the daughter. Going for hcs for my mental health :)

Do you like what I write? Consider tipping on my ko-fi!

Johnny Cage: -He doesn't completely trust you, even if damn, you are hot. -Like he can't resist flirting with you even if it means getting the harshest rejection ever. -At this point, it is a challenge more than anything else. Once one of your failed potions exploded right into his face while he was blabbering one of his cheesy pickup lines. "You are smoking." "Hot?" "No, just smoking." You reply, pinching a strand of hair still on fire, extinguishing it. -You know 99% of boys stop flirting just before getting a date? Johnny's positive mindset won't let him fall for this trap. -Maybe you'll fall for his loserboy behavior…

Kenshi Takahashi: -Mh the ex-yakuza doesn't trust you one bit. Even if you never betrayed them. -It's just that you like lying a bit too much for his liking. -"I'll keep an eye on you." You chuckle "What eye? I don't see any on your face." You shrug his words off. -Nobody has ever been blacklisted this fast in Kenshi's mind. -But for real, he'll keep your every step checked ready to attack at any of your missteps. -"If you like spying on me so much you could take me out on a date so I can answer all your questions." You hear him choking on his saliva before snapping back. "How do you know I'm spying on you?" Your eyes widened getting closer to him "So I was right? You are spying on me? Damn, you must be so down bad for me-" -The idea of falling one of Wu Shi mountains sounds so good now for Kenshi. "Come pick me up at 9 p.m. and take me to a nice place it has been so long since I've eaten something nice." -Seems like Kenshi has a new problem to deal with. -Also because Madame Bo is the only place nearby…

Kung Lao: -He doesn't trust you at all, your mother may have been a nice woman but your father is terrible! And with your sharp words, Lao thinks you have taken his personality too. -"Begone sorcerer! My hat will slice you in two if you take another step closer." "I'm sure my words have done more damage than that stupid hat." -Actually, a friendship will develop thanks to your constant fights, not always won by you. -Raiden better if you stay alert, you have two sly foxes in the temple now

Raiden: -He isn't as wary as the others, after all you haven't done anything wrong. Being born from such an evil guy doesn't make you evil. -But damn, you can be so harsh with him at times. More than once Raiden wanted to remind you that if it wasn't for him you would be homeless and a loser just like your father. -But then Raiden remembers it's actually thanks to Liu Kang if you are there and bites his tongue. -You are also one of the few people able to make Raiden snap! Most monks never saw such fury before he met you. -"You should thank me. Weak minds don't last much in battle." "If you expect me to thank you for pissing me off you'll have to wait your entire lifetime, snotty sorcerer."

Liu Kang: -When he created this new timeline he hoped a sister could tone down Shang Tsung's evil intentions. -But at the end he threw you away, treating you like a stepping stone to the road to achieve his goal. -So Liu Kang took you in. That doesn't mean you will so easily forgive him for his mistake. -Your words slice his heart frequently. Not because you want to cry about your condition, it's mostly your fault after all, but simply because you like to tease that raw nerve that awakens a usually hidden side of him. -"Shut your mouth or I'll seal your lips forever!" "Ohhh-" you coo at his words "But then how I'll latch my lips at your throat? You seemed to like it yesterday." You say, pressing a finger on the spot where the hickey should be, already recovered thanks to his godly nature. -Liu Kang stomps his right foot on the ground before running out from your lab. How he can love you so much and despise you at the same time is something he still has to wrap his head around.

Geras: -A saint. You may tease, joke, just be nasty and Geras will reply with the calmest voice ever. -Liu Kang told him to make you feel at home and Geras takes his job seriously. -You nagged him a lot about the hourglass, making you take a small peak at it but he never let you close. -"You are too serious Geras, loosen up a little." "It's to compensate for your lack of rules." -You still have to warm up to each other…

Bi-Han: -He doesn't like you. AT ALL. -Bi-Han looks at you with a face dripping with scorn. Even if you are taller than him, he'll make you feel like an ant. -If you tease him too much he'll snap back and won't keep himself from hitting you. -But if you stroke his ego, promising him strength and glory… -As your brother told you "If you want men to do what you want stroke their ego and they will be at your feet." -He also did an analogy comparing the ego to a di- Okay I think the point is clear.

Kuai Liang: -He doesn't trust you, but if Liu Kang decided to keep you with them he won't oppose his decision. -Liang will often ask to train with you, mostly to test your skill level and eventually prepare for a future betrayal. -Also your lab will be often spied, checking if your experiments are safe and good for Earthrealm. -Till one day Liang found a small card on your desk "Train better your men, I could tell someone sneaked in the first time. Shirai Ryu won't last long otherwise." -He tightens the grip on the card, rolling it up before throwing it on the ground. -Liang was the only one that has been spying on you…

Tomas Vrbada: -He doesn't trust you immediately but he is one of the few to give you a chance. -Tomas won't be like a dog, following you around and completely trusting you, but he'll be one to bring you a hot beverage in cold winters when you are alone in your lab. -He answers wittily to your words and rarely he gets dejected. -"I suppose you won't survive in the Lin Kueis if you had a weak mind or if you are simply an idiot…" You whisper out, Tomas' ears catching your words anyway. "…You thought I was an idiot?" -You'd like to reply "Why the paste tense? I still do." but you decide to bite your tongue. You don't mind his company after all.

[italeean]

Truth or Dare?

A game of truth or dare takes an unexpected turn~

A/N: Hello hello everyone! Merry belated Christmas and Happy New Year!! 🥂✨️ I hope everyone is doing well, and if someone isn't, I hope that 2025 will be kinder to you ❤️ Today I'm here to deliver my gift for @duckymcdoorknob because I'm the one and only squealing santa for this amazing person anf super talented writer!! It's a honor to write something for you, especially because I've been reading your fics ever since before I created an account here! You're a source of inspiration for everyone, dear... stay amazing and Buon Natale 💚🤍❤️

PS. A huge thanks to @cantsaythetword for hosting this amazing @squealing-santa !! You did an amazing job, thank you for giving us the possibility to partake in this beautiful event 🥹🩵

DISCLAIMER: This is a tickle fic. If it's not to your taste, I don't suggest you read it.

It wasn't meant to go like this... it wasn't meant to go like this at all.

Tighnari kept staring at his friend, not knowing what to say next. The situation wasn't that complicated, he just had to complete a dare...

[FLASHBACK TO 30 MINUTES PRIOR]

"Cyno, I'm absolutely exhausted... I yield, please show some mercy!" The fennec fox pleaded, his tail thumping nervously on the floor. It was the 10th match of Genius Invokation TCG he played with Cyno, and the 10th match he lost. He really needed a change.

It was in that moment that Cyno proposed a few rounds of truth or dare, just to get to know each other even better and have a good laugh together. Tighnari wasn't too fond of the idea, but he was desperate to stop playing TCG enough to accept without hesitation.

Things seemed to go pretty smoothly for a while... until the fox picked "truth" and a much-dreaded question came.

"Are you ticklish?"

The poor Amurta graduate tried to change topic by immediately switching to a dare, but Cyno was too cunning, too curious and most importantly too mischievous to let go such a fundamental topic that easily, which is why he chose a very specific dare for his friend: "I dare you to raise your arms for five minutes straight, so that I can get the answer to thw question I asked you by myself."

[END OF THE FLASHBACK]

And there Tighnari was, undecided about what to do. Stop playing? Cyno would ambush him. Answer the question? Cyno would use that info immediately, just to verify, obviously... Raise his arms? A literal death sentence, unless he managed to hold back his laughter.

He decided to risk it all and go with the third option, hoping that his friend would get bored by the lack of reaction, so he raised his arms all the way above his head, exposing his torso. There was no way that a forest ranger like him wouldn't be able to handle a little tickle, right?

Oh how wrong he was...

The moment Cyno's hands came in contact with his sides, he wanted to crawl out of his skin and screech. He'd never realized that those fingers were so nimble, strong and gracefully merciless.

"Hm- hmpfff-!" A few sounds came out and didn't go unnoticed by the General Mahamatra, who somehow seemed to know how to make this whole ordeal as unbearable as possible.

"Come on... laugh a little more, I don't understand if you're ticklish or not" Cyno purred, clearly in his element whenever it came to annoy Tighnari. "Am I hurting you? Do you need me to stop..?"

The black-haired guy felt the immediate  need to reassure his friend, so he muttered a quick "N-no..."

If only he could've seen Cyno's ominous smirk when he gave that answer...

"Oh well, if you don't  need me to stop, I don't see why I should~"

"Nononono Cyno be reasonable, d-don't do anything dumb you'll regr- AAAAAEEHHH-!" The unlucky fennec fox didn't even have the time to protest when ten mischievous fingers reached his lower back, right at the base of his tail.

"HAHAHAHAHA CYNO PLEASEEE MOVE ALREHEHEHEADYYY!" He scream-laughed on top of his lungs, trying to crawl away... only to have the General Mahamatra sit on the back of his knees to keep him pinned to the ground.

"I am already moving, Nari." The white-haired guy stated as if it was obvious, "Don't you feel my fingers move right here?" He poked the area he was targeting just to enjoy the squeals of his friend, "Should I move a little faster?" He didn't even wait for an answer, he started scribbling all over the sensitive area at full speed, hoping that no one would come after hearing the glass-piercing screech made by the forest ranger.

After a while, he decided to show some "mercy" and change spots, targeting Tighnari's palms, where he had smooth, soft pads like foxes have. Is it really mercy if the second spot is worse than the first one, though? It was no secret that Tighnari never let anyone touch his pads, due to their sensitivity, and he was right to do so, because the lightest, softest caress had him in tears, to the point that Cyno decided to have actual mercy and stop the assault.

The Spantamad graduate gave his friend a minute to recover, then he scooped him up in his arms and gave him some needed ear and scalp scritches, which never failed to make the dark-haired guy melt.

"I guess my question has found a certain answer," Cyno stated after a few minutes, "you are deadly ticklish... too much for your own good." He concluded, chuckling at the irritated thump that Tighnari's tail made.

Another five minutes passed, and both friends were absolutely relaxed when the fennec fox's eyes fluttered open, gazing at his friend's peaceful features.

"Hey Cyno, can I ask you something?" Tighnari asked while wrapping his arms around the General Mahamatra. "Sure, go ahead." The white-haired guy replied without even bothering to open his eyes, feeling completely safe where he was.

"Are you ticklish?"

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Phantom pain

Summary; Price said he would be back before Christmas, but you didn't think it would be like this.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot 

Word; 9k

Warnings; angst, injury, copious amount of fluff

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

A/N: Surprise update everyone! I've been feeling so festive this year, there's so much snow and everything's just so cosy, so this chapter comes as a little hurt to feel-good thing on the third of advent. If you don't celebrate Christmas or don't like the festive period, I simply hope that you have a great December nonetheless🥰

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

It had been a slow morning. Despite snow greeting you on the ground and in the air, you'd felt warm huddled in your jacket and the thought of cosying into one of the plush armchairs at your coffee shop. It had been serene; not many ventured outside in this weather. Yet, you'd smiled behind the lapel of your jacket when something other than cloudy skies and rain doused everything in a hue of grey.

You'd been in such a good mood that when you returned home with some pastries to go, saffron and caramel the main components in the golden danishes and tarts, you started a deep cleaning of your flat.

With the least Christmasy of Christmas songs playing from your speakers, you put up some festive lights, the warm glow softening every hard edge.

Although, while you're balancing on your stool, using some double-sided sticky tape to fasten a string of light behind your curtains, the music from your speakers is cut off by your phone ringing. You didn't think twice about heading to your phone, believing it was Marissa or one of your other friends. Yet, you stall when spotting the caller I.D. lighting up your screen.

Two weeks. John said his deployment would last two weeks. Of course, you would've been happy if he returned home earlier on any other occasion. But something made your stomach twist and your brows furrow when John now was calling less than a week and a half after he left.

"John?" You ask tentatively after answering the call and putting it on speaker.

"Sorry, lass, probably not the John ya wanted". Your heart fucking drops, your face falling in record time when it's a Scottish accent and not the easily recognisable British variant greeting you.

"J-Johnny?" Your voice breaks halfway through, unable not to. Even tears managed to well in the short seconds you realise what this call might be.

"Hey, easy, Price is alive and kickin'-"

"Oh god", you choke out the words, dropping to the couch behind you as you'd remained standing since you answered, for some reason. The tears that collected in the corner of your eyes trail down your cheeks upon your eyes shutting, more so from the sudden burst of relief than the fear that brought them.

"Fuck, you scared me, Johnny".

"Should've started with that", he excuses with a slight, strained chuckle before he clears his throat. "But... still callin' for a reason".

"Yeah, gathered that much", you return, wiping away your tears with your shirt sleeve.

"Captain got downed durin' the mission, nasty shot in the shoulder".

"What?" Your motion stills when you register what Johnny said, gaze falling to stare at the call-time ticking away tauntingly slow.

"Last time I saw him, he was in the infirmary and had just returned from a quick surgery".

"But is he alright?" You bring your phone closer to your face as if it somehow would make Johnny feel how you pressed for an answer.

"Huffin' and groanin' 'bout it but fine otherwise. He wanted me to call ya, knowin' the pain-meds he was forced to take wouldn't help him give good 'nough explanation of things".

"Okay, okay", you mumble. He's alive. Hurt but alive.

"He'll need to stay a while. But ya can come to see him if ya want".

"I can?"

"'Course, we'll be able to get ya a visitin' pass".

"Oh, thank you, Johnny", you breathe out.

"Nothin' to thank, lass. Can't stand the Captain's grousin' anymore". You chuckle half-heartedly at that. "I'll send you the details 'bout the visit and some information that's needed".

"Yes, yes, absolutely". You nodded along even if the Scot couldn't see the motion. "Send it over, and I'll fill out whatever's needed".

You don't know how much of a shit show things had turned into for them to return home early. Although, it must have been bad if not only John didn't go unharmed from it, but even Johnny seemed to have seen better days. 

It was hard not to notice his roughened-up look when he met you by the army base's outer perimeter about two hours later. There were a few cuts and bruises littering his face, and even though the Scot didn't hesitate to bring you into a comforting hug as you jumped out of your car, you noted the slight wince he waved off as a 'bruised everything'.

Even if you'd been shaken after ending the call with Johnny, you attempted to calm down, telling yourself 'John's fine' before leaving your flat. Yet, those nerves flared right up when you entered the small visitors' centre beside the road. Thankfully, the very man who'd given you the news of John seemed to notice that the military surroundings were vastly unfamiliar and unnerving for someone not used to them, especially considering why you were here.

Johnny kept close the entire time, helping you with the needed papers for the visitor's pass by pointing to where your signature was required, even if he talked familiarly with the armed guards all the while.

You took deep breaths to steady yourself numerous times, feeling the Scot's attention fall on you each time he noted the same unease he previously only caught over the phone. You knew you weren't succeeding in hiding your nerves. Nevertheless, between being in a strongly off-limits zone for usual civilians and the fact you wouldn't be here if John wasn't in a hospital bed, you don't think Johnny or any of the other soldiers blamed you for it.

When everything was finally signed and read through, Johnny scribbled his signature on the dotted line beside yours on the last page.

With the I.D. around your neck, you exited the smaller building and jumped into your car again, only now the Scot hitched a ride back with you.

Your fingers rapped against the steering wheel once you were let through the gates and rolled forwards, teeth worrying your lower lip, eyes trained on the main compound further ahead.

"Lass", your eyes had swiftly adverted to Johnny, noticing his eyes shifting to your hands. You stopped with a tight lipped smile, your gaze having adverted forward again. "Price is roughened up but fine. He's been through much worse".

"I know", you sighed, having to hold yourself from going back to biting your lip. You'd seen John's scars, some on worryingly critical places on his abdomen. "But I haven't been there to see that...", you mumbled, eyes fixed on the parking lot ahead.

You and Soap didn't share much chatter as you parked, nor more than needed as he guided you through the building closest to the parking lot. However, he offered a reassuring squeeze of your shoulder when he saw you hesitate in the elevator upon reaching the medical wing. 

A327. That was the room John apparently was in. 

You looked at each door you passed, waiting for the right one. 

324. 325. 326. 

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you finally reached 327.

With hands intertwining hands, fingers wringing each other, you merely stand rooted before the door. All of a sudden hesitant to step inside.

"He's gonna be fine, lass". Johnny's comment makes you look up at him. A gentler smile than usual meets you, causing you to release the breath you didn't know you held as you nod. "Let's get ya to meet him". The Scot gives you an encouraging smile as he opens the door, motioning for you to enter.

John's already facing your way when you step into the room that nearly shines white and beige. But your gaze only briefly meets his before it drops, flittering over his form. 

He rests beneath multiple blankets that reach his stomach, his upper body clad in a soft white t-shirt that doesn't look like his own. Your jaw clenches when you spot his arm in a sling, stabilising it against his chest. As your eyes trail further upwards, a distressed sound bubbles up in your throat upon spotting the bandages peeking from beneath the left sleeve.

"John-", you don't manage to say anything more before you stutter to a stop, chest heaving on a sharp inhale.

"C'mere, love", his voice is hoarse, strained, barely more than a grating sound, but you move forward as on command.

You can't help how your mouth purses at how tired he looks, the hint of pain in his eyes so evident when you stop beside the bed.

"M'fine", John raises the arm of his healthy side, even so, he winces, eyes shutting tightly for a brief moment before they open again.

"Don't lie, I see that you're not", you murmur as you take hold of the hand that tried to reach your face, allowing his upper arm to drop and rest along the bed, instead meeting him halfway by bending down to kiss his knuckles.

John exhales deeply, eyelids fluttering close, the crease between his brows never smoothening. God, it hurts to see him like this. 

You step closer, the side of the bed pressing into your thigh, planting a kiss at the very centre of the furrow. When you look down at John again, his features have softened, but his eyes still have a troubled look when that blue gaze meets yours.

"I'll leave ya two to it". You look over your shoulder, sending Johnny a look of gratitude.

"Thank you, Soap", John says. The Scot only nods in return, giving you a last look before he exits.

Once you're alone with John, you exhale almost painfully before gazing down at him. 

"You don't know how scared I got when Johnny called", you admit. This time, John pulls your hand rather than face towards him, tipping his head forward to plant a firm kiss against your knuckles. "Thought-"

"Sit down, love". Upon catching your distress, John pats the side of his bed with a gentle voice. Although his attempt does little to ease your nerves, seeing how the slight move of his legs sideways to give you space only makes his features twist.

"Not a chance", you protest with a shake of your head, fearful of accidentally hurting him more. Instead, you glance around the room, finding a pair of chairs along the wall.

John doesn't hold you back as you release him and move towards them, but you guess it's more because he can't then don't want to. 

You pull the chair along and put it as close to the hospital bed as possible, not hesitating to lean over the low metal railing at the side to hold John's hand again after sitting down, your other hand settling on his forearm, rubbing soothing motions. 

You gaze up at the blue-eyed man, those pretty eyes of his duller than usual, exhaustion shining in its own faded might. His brown hair is one of the few darker accents in the room; the screen of the heartbeat monitor is the other source. Yet, it's matted, fallen to its own will against his forehead rather than styled into something casual by his fingers running through it and pushing it backwards. 

Leaning forwards, your card your hand through John's hair, not nearly correcting it to how he usually does, but better nonetheless. 

Your gaze flitters to meet his when you settle back in your seat, noting the smile adorning his lips. 

"Happy to see you again, love". Not daring to test your voice, you kiss his knuckles in return. This time, you're positioned low enough that John's hand goes to cup your face when you lean away again, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. "Even if it could've been under better circumstances".

You don't notice it until John's thumb paints a streak of wetness over your skin, but he redirects a stray tear rather than letting it follow its natural path.

"You're here. That's what matters". You squeeze John's wrist, leaning away to wipe your cheeks yourself, offering him a smile with a breathed chuckle.

"Was never not close to return". John wraps his hand over yours, letting them drop to the bed as he reflects your smile. "Shoddy shot whoever they were, used a handgun in close combat and still missed the brachial artery and brachial plexus", John releases one of those huff-chuckles of his. You shake your head, having no idea what difference it would make if whoever shot him hadn't missed those points, only that it probably would've been a lot worse.

"What- what went wrong?" Your gaze flickers to his injured side.

A heaved sigh escapes him before he speaks.

"Mission was bumpy from the start but went fine". You knew he let confidential details out, but you didn’t want to know anything apart from what happened to him. "Needed to wait out exfil in an abandoned buildin'. Remained remarkably silent until we got the call to move to the pick-up point. Got ambushed, absolute shitshow". He shakes his head with a grunt.

"How's the others?" You'd seen two of the four men, though Ghost and Kyle's absence suddenly irked you upon hearing what John told you.

"Bruised but none too badly". John ran his thumb over your hand. A low, partly amused, partly exasperated huff escaped him as he continued. "My turn to take the brunt for the team, it seemed".

Even if you could've wished for a better outcome for John, at least none of the others had gotten off worse. 

You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you really try to take in his state, trying, only try again to find your words. Seeing John like this almost feels wrong. 

You'd witnessed his soft side, but this wasn't soft. This is hurt. He wasn't sluggish as when you managed to keep him in bed rather than rise with the birds on the occasional weekend. This was exhaustion, one he tried to hide, but the lines on his face exposed nonetheless. 

Barely anything could've pulled your attention from John as you tried to find your words, any consolidation that wouldn't sound like pity. And yet, when a knock sounded from the door, soon after swinging open, both your and John's eyes are pulled to the entrance.

When you spit the woman striding into the room, your brows jump up.

"Kate? Didn't think you would be here". Upon noticing you sitting by John's side, the American woman stalled, the computer beneath her arm pulled in front of her.

"I was involved in the mission the boys went on". She juts her chin towards the man at your side. "Mind if I speak to him?" Her tone wasn't stern, nothing hinting at malice or desire to break you and John up. Still, it didn't really sound like she asked.

You looked from Kate to John, not really stunned compared to feeling how a bubble unexpectedly broke. "Oh, yes, of course, I'll wait outside". 

Considering how neither stopped you as you stood, John only squeezing your hand before letting go, you took it as an affirmation this wasn't a conversation you had any clearance to be present for and that one way or another would've happened either way.

Even so, Kate offers you a kind smile as you pass her on the way out. Yet, you note the blonde woman's features looked tighter than on the night of the party, without a doubt due to the predicament making John end up in a hospital bed.

When the door falls shut behind you, you lean against the wall just to the left of the entrance. It's silent to a degree you would guess the room John's in is semi, if not entirely, sound-proofed. Considering it isn't an emergency wing, you wouldn't disregard the possibility.

You sigh, eyes falling close. What a fucking day.

You don't know how long you stand like that, but you're only dragged out from whatever trance you entered once you catch the elevator stopping on your floor and the steps coming closer soon after. Considering you'd anticipated a nurse or the like, your brows rise when the pristinely white surroundings suddenly stand in stark contrast to the person dressed in dark army clothing.

"Heard from Soap you would be around". You smile as you push off the wall, meeting Kyle as he closes the distance between you. "How are you holding up?" The question brushes past your shoulder as he brings you in for a hug before keeping you within arm's distance, studying what must be your tired features.

"As good as can be". You smile in return. The young Brit rubs your upper arms reassuringly as he nods, seeming content with your answer as his arms drop to his sides. "You here to visit John?"

"I was, got some gaps in my schedule", Kyle confirms before cocking his head. "But I guess I'll have to wait, considering you're not there with him".

”Kate is paying him a visit”. He looks at the door with a furrowed brow before his attention tracks back to you and it smoothens. ”If you wanna greet him, maybe you have enough authority to”. Kyle only shakes his head. 

”If Laswell wanted to talk to him first, there’s a reason. The rest of us will know in due time. Hopefully, he ain't such a grouse by then”. He shrugs, and you can't stop your laugh. This time, it's not half-hearted nor forced.

"All of you laying it on thick about how grumpy he is".

"He isn't such a charmer when things don't go his way and he isn't surrounded by pretty faces". You swat Kyle on the arm as he sends you a look. "Only telling you the truth, not all of us get special treatment".

"Yeah, yeah, alright", he nudges your shoulder with his knuckles before stepping backwards.

"Send the Cap'n my regards, have to be on my way".

"Will do. Have a good day, Kyle". He gives you a nod of goodbye in return as he turns on his heel, heading back to the elevator he came from a few minutes ago. You offer him a last wave before the door closes.

Alone again, you look at the clock on the wall. But, considering you have no recollection of when you exited the room, you can't tell how much time has passed since Kate arrived, only guessing it must be at least a dozen. 

You scan the corridor, finding sporadic rows of chairs along the wall, similar to the ones in John's room. Not knowing how long John and Kate's unofficial meeting would continue, you move to one of the seats across from where you'd stood, fishing up your phone to make time pass faster as you sit down.

Taking note this time, you know another ten minutes have passed before the door opposite you opens and pulls your eyes from your screen.

You slip your phone into your pocket as you push up from the seat and head towards Kate, Even though she’s keeping the door open with one hand on the handle, you barely catch the end of John's sentence before it ends.

Just as you reach her side, Kate's attention trails from John to you, giving you space to enter by stepping out of the room. Flashing her a brief smile, you move forward but suddenly gets halted when her hand slips around your upper arm.

"It's good to see the Captain's got someone with him", her voice is lowered, only for you to catch.

Your lips tug upwards in a genuine smile. Without really knowing how to answer that, you offer Kate a nod and a small 'thank you' in return.

The smile she reciprocates with is much less strained this time around. "Take care of him now".

"I will". And with that, she nods goodbye, heading down the hallway while you re-enter the room. 

"Spoke with Kyle". You begin while closing the door behind you. "He says hello". You forward his message to avoid forgetting. 

When your eyes fall upon John, whom you barely catch an answer from, at least not more than a hum, you notice how he's sunken deeper into the bed.

"You tired?" You retake your place in the armchair as he hums again. As John scoots closer to your side and stretches his hand towards you, you settle your elbow on the bed and intertwine your hands again.

"Laswell was worried, wanted to check in and inform me some things that needed finishin' could wait". The pauses between his words were prolonged, and the pronunciation drawled as he briefed you on his conversation with Kate. "Should finish them, though", he grunted, trying to sit up straight against the pillows, but you settled a hand on his stomach.

"You need to rest, John. If Kate said things could wait, trust her". He stilled, looking back at you with slow, almost drowsy blinks.

"Fine", he agreed, settling into the bed again.

 As he sighed, eyes fluttering close, you felt something bleed from your body, making your upper body relax forwards, head settling on the verge between John’s hip and his lower stomach. Feeling the weight, his eyes flutter open, head tilting forward as he gazes at you. 

"Mm, talk to me, love, what you've been up to".

"Not much, really. I worked and met up with some friends. Oh, Marissa and I went on a little investment spree for Christmas".

"Investment?" John humours in a low voice, the twitch in his mouth unable to pull his lips into a complete smile compared to only tilting the edges upwards.

"If they're going to be reused yearly, that's an investment". He chuckles deeply, and you release a chuckle of your own.

You continue talking about what you've done in the week and a half you've been apart. Some Christmas baking, putting up decorations as of today, noting how most things out of the ordinary related to the holiday season. 

Gradually, you notice how John's eyes fall close. Even so, he's still invested in the conversation with few-worded responses. But even those soon become nods and hums when his hand relaxes in yours. As you move to gently trail your fingers up and down his forearm, all while continuing to talk, the soothing motions make him heave a sigh. 

Soon enough, the only sounds he lets out are the breaths escaping his parted lips, his softened breathing followed by the rhythmic movement of his chest. 

You trail off in your sentence with a small smile, watching John's sleeping features. No furrow pulls his brows together, no involuntary twinge in his features letting on his pain. He looks at ease, and it finally settles your nerves as well. 

In stark contrast to how you notice John's consciousness slipping, you don't detect yours slowly doing the same. 

Your movements up and down his skin slowly grow shorter, from trailing between his wrist to the crook in his arm to only rubbing the spot your hand eventually stills on. The tension in your neck releases from the claws of whatever emotions had built throughout the tumultuous day, your head feeling heavier as it rests against his stomach. There's a fine line between when your blinking turns from slow to prolonged, even slimmer to when you can pinpoint your last conscious thought.

You're not the first to wake up. John's the one who stirs when a knock sounds from the door.

If not for the pain in his shoulder, despite being suppressed, he wouldn't blink his eyes so blearily and feel his mind sluggishly awake compared to what's expected of someone like him. Even so, his senses are sharper than yours as he notes your form slumped over the bed and your head resting on him, serene features remaining much like your steady breaths bleeding through the blankets.

His eyes trails to the door, releasing a low sound that must have sounded like a grunt to whoever was on the other side, but he couldn't care. The door swings open, Soap stepping through it much like he'd done a few hours earlier, but then with you by his side. 

Now, the Sctosman closes the door behind him gently upon noting your sleeping form before his attention settles on John.

As Soap steps further into the room, John's eyes flit down to your sleeping form before rising again. With a swift look at the clock, he knows what the Sergeant is probably here for. He softly settles his hand upon your head.

You don’t remember falling asleep, only that John did, so when you’re roused from a dreamless nap by a hand cradling your scalp, you feel groggy when sitting up straight all too suddenly. 

You blink repeatedly as your vision focuses again, finding John looking at you, his hand sliding down to the back of your head and down your arm.

"Sleep well?"

"Mhm". You roll your head, twitching at the twinge in your neck from your not-so-ergonomic sleeping position.

"Not the comfiest spot for ya". The Scottish accent catches you off-guard, as last you checked, only you and John were in the room.

You turn around, spotting the very Scot who'd spoken. "Oh, hi, Johnny".

"Hey, lass", he chuckles in return. "Just came ’bout to inform ya there’s a room waitin' if ya want to stay the night". 

Your brows lift, eyes shifting to John, who's already watching you. "You don’t need to. I’ll be holed up here either way".

"It will just be less travel tomorrow", you shrug, turning back to Soap as you confirm you'll stay.

"Come on then, lass, visitin' hours are over soon". He opened the door slightly as he spoke, showing you he would guide you to your room for the night. You nodded, shifting out of your seat to stand, not without looking down at John.

"Go, get some proper sleep", he nudges your hip. You give him a brief smile before bending down, pressing your lips against his. They're chapped, but their plush warmth is soft. As you part from him, you mumble a 'goodnight' against him, an equally low 'goodnight, love' murmured against your lips, warming you further before you pull away.

You place the chair back where it's meant before fetching your things from beside the bed and offer John a last parting smile and a 'see you tomorrow'.

Just before you pass through the door, you look back at John, offering him a small wave, one he answers with a warm smile.

"You really turn the Captain into a love-sick man", Johnny's comment comes seconds after the door closes. You turn to him, seeing the amused look he sends you.

"Oh, shut up". You swat Johnny's arm, making him bark out a chuckle.

"Ain't nothin' bad, lass", he mused, nudging you back with his elbow.

The Scotsman lead you to another part of the compound, a freestanding building just across the one you exited, at the other side of the parking lot. 

It had begun snowing. Fat constellations of powdery white fall through the air as you trudge through what's already covering the ground. You flick up the lapel of your coat, burrowing your nose in the fabric as you protect your eyes from the snowflakes desiring to stick to your lashes. 

When you entere the building you'd been heading toward, the warmth inside was a welcoming change, and you shrug away the snow that had yet to melt into the dark fabric enveloping you. 

This time around, there was no need to sign papers as upon your arrival, Johnny simply led you straight to the room appointed for you, handing you the key when stopping outside the door. As you entered, you were surprised, not knowing what you'd anticipated, but certainly not a space similar to a hotel room.

A low whistle pulls your eyes to Johnny. "Aye, not bad", his eyes rove over the room before settling on you.

"Much better than I thought", you agree, stepping inside, shrugging the bag off your shoulder, and simply putting it on the floor.

"Didn't think we would put ya in the barracks, did ya?"

"Never experienced military hospitality before, but didn't expect much", you shrug, smiling in return as you turn to face him.

He shakes his head. "That's the thanks", he quips, yet his grin deceives him. "I'll see ya in the mornin', lass".

"Johnny!" He halts in the step he'd begun to take, watching you with raised brows. "Just, thank you for... everything today". His fingers rap against the door handle as he shifts the weight on his feet.

"Knew it probably would be tough for ya and that Price probably hadn’t even thought ‘bout having ya visit here yet. S’jus' wanted to make it as smooth as possible for the both of ya. Know he would've done the same for the rest of us", he shrugs with a gentle smile. Johnny's consideration warming your heart.

"Thank you, really".

The side of his mouth bows upwards. "Ya are welcome". And with that, he closes the door.

***

When you wake up in an unfamiliar room, remembering where you are takes a few seconds. Then it comes rushing back as you see the visiting pass on the bedside table. Johnny’s phone call. John’s injury. The military base. 

You sit up with a jawn, peeking out the room's sole window.

It’s utterly white outside, with no cloud in the sky as the sun just about peeks over the horizon, suggesting today will be considerably colder than yesterday.

Slipping from bed, you’re quick to dress yourself. The t-shirt you slept in gets stuffed into your handbag as you only shrug on the hoodie from yesterday, slipping into your pants not soon after.

You move to the bathroom, lamenting the lack of anything to freshen up. Even so, you splash your face with water, trying to tame your hair before sighing heavily, simply fetching the hair-tie you’d remembered to take off your wrist before bed. 

Moving around the room, you remember the package of gum you’d thrown into your bag a few days ago, hoping you hadn’t chewed through the whole package when it would ease your mind about morning breath.

You rummage through your bag, cursing what yesterday didn't feel like a lot of stuff, but now does as you search for what you need. 

A swift two-rap knock echoes from the door just as a triumphant sound escapes you when you spot the silvery package. Popping a gum into your mouth, you move towards the entrance, not surprised to find Johnny on the other side as you swing it open.

”Good morning”. 

Johnny cocks his head as you smile at him before he splits into his own grin. ”Ya seem cheery this mornin’.”

”Seeing that John’s doing good helped me sleep better”, you shrug, catching a hum from him as you turn around to collect your stuff around the room. ”And then the bed was surprisingly good”.

”These ones are heaven in comparison to those in the barracks”.

”Yeah?” You turn towards the Scot standing with his hands behind his back, waiting at the doorstep.

“Aye, happy to not be rookie anymore”.

”Understandable”, you chuckle as you and Johnny step out into the hallway before tracking the same path you’d done yesterday. You could’ve done it yourself but had an inkling that you couldn’t move freely on the base.

”So you’re my guide while I’m here?” Blue eyes flicker down to you as he lets you pass out the door to the courtyard first.

It’s indeed colder today than yesterday, the chill biting your cheeks.

”Aye. Concernin’ Price was bed-bound; I needed to sign those papers in his stead”.

”And you don’t have better things to do?” 

”L.T. gave me five minutes to spare”.

”From what?” The snow crunches beneath your shoes.

”Whatever drill he set up to run us into the ground”. You let out a surprised laugh at that, making the Scot grin. ”Yaself then, lass, goin’ to keep an eye out on the Captain for us when he leaves?���

Your eyes widen, switching to look at Johnny once evading an ice-spot as you cross the parking lot. ”He’s cleared to go home?” 

”Haven't got any confirmation on it. But he's got no vital injury and has stayed close to two days, so it’s probable he’ll get to go home”, he shrugs.

The warmth rushes against your face as you enter the main building, much like yesterday, taking a right towards the medical wing.

”Feel like I’ll need to. Otherwise, he’ll stress the injury”.

”Wouldn’t be the first time any of us did that”. Johnny rubbed his neck as you raised your brows at him. He positioned himself opposite you as you stepped into the elevator, giving you a sheepish shrug. ”Comes with the job sometimes despite medical leaves”, the Scot excused the habit, only making you roll your eyes with a disbelieving huff.

”Then I’ll definitely have to ensure he takes it easy”. The doors close, and the elevator smoothly rises.

”Price won’t be able to say no to ya, never has since he met ya”. When your head dips into a shake this time, a smile adorns your lips that you try to hide. Even so, the Scot slung his arm around your shoulders with a laugh as you exited the elevator upon its chime and the doors opening.

The walk to John’s room seems much shorter than yesterday, without a doubt, because you know of his stable state. So when Johnny drops his arms from your shoulders, it’s not with bathed breath you open the door. 

Unlike yesterday, your eyes don’t lock with John’s the second you enter the room designated to him. His gaze remains cast downwards on the tablet in his lap, even if his head tilts your way to show he noted someone had entered. Not until the Scot behind you offers a ’Mornin’ Captain’ does the man in the bed look up.

”What was that about makin’ him take it easy?” Johnny chuckles lowly, making you send him a look before he departs with a mock salute. You only shake your head at the man before entering the room.

”Aren’t you meant to take it easy?” You watch John with a raised brow, catching how the door slides close behind you while you slip out of your coat. 

”I am”.

”Let me rephrase”, you chide him with a smile. ”Shouldn’t you relax, no work?” You move to the side of his bed with one of the chairs dragged along behind you.

”I-

”Don’t say that you are John. I know that look on your face”, you remark with a finger towards the easing purse of his lips and the furrow between his brows that’s not brought on entirely by pain like yesterday.

He sighs heavily, a locking sound coming from the tablet as he drops it screen-down in his lap. ”You’re right”.

 ”I know I am”. John releases a huff of laughter through his nose at your comment, softening your smile. ”Did you sleep well?”

He hums. ”Woke a few times ’cause of this-”. He jerked his head to his shoulder. ”Bed probably goin’ to set off my back”, he scoffed in annoyance at having to deal with the twinge in the lower part of his spine that you’d learnt most often came and went more frequently after he returned from a deployment or a bad mattress. 

You hum, leaning forward to card your fingers through his hair that had fallen across his forehead after his previous jerky movement. While you do, you catch John returning the question, but your answer is an undeveloped ’good’, all your attention upon the locks your fingers card through.

His hair feels matted, and when your eyes briefly flicker over his face, you note his beard is untamed, not grizzly, but it’s lost the shine it usually always has.

”When was the last time you showered?”

”That's your way of tellin’ me I smell?” Your nose scrunches, hand falling to rest on the metal railing as your gaze locks with John’s amused one.

”No, at least that wasn’t what I was getting at”. 

A chuckle precedes the more serious answer you get. ”About a week ago at the last safe-house, haven’t been able to have one after returnin’. Can’t wet the bandages”. You purse your lips, gaze momentarily switching to his shoulder before trailing back.

”How long before you can take them off?”

”The Doc visited before you came around and said I’m clear to leave, but the bandages needed to stay on until tomorrow”.

You nod. ”Johnny betted you would be able to go home today”.

”We know how these thing goes. Instructions about wound care, then sent off on med-leave before even attempting to come back and get shot at again”.

”Jesus, John”, you let out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking your head. When you raise it again, there’s a slight tug in the corner of his mouth and a knowing, truthful, look in his eyes. "Better we get you home and start the arduous wait, then." You offered him a smile and a raise of your brows, silently wondering if he was ready to pack up.

"Can't wait".

It wasn't a hassle to get John out of bed. He groaned and gruffed to himself as he pushed himself upright with your hand steadying him on his back, but that was about it. As he rose from the bed, you helped him into his boots and gently slung the jacket draped over his duffel-bag on the other side of his bed. 

You'd sent him a look when he'd noted you of the bag's presence, remembering it wasn't there yesterday, to which he only explained Kyle got around and dropped off his things just after the Doctor had visited.

Although standard issued and didn't seem too heavy once you made the proposition to carry it instead of him, you cursed in disbelief when slinging it over your shoulder, not anticipating its weight. It had given John a good laugh before offering to take it regardless. However, you remained stubborn, motioning for him to take the lead out of the room with a 'you don't know how heavy our purses can be sometimes'.

But you don't enjoy a second of it as you trudge through the building; you more than John slowing the tempo. He catches you grumbling under your breath numerous times about what he's got in there, falling back to walk beside you once you reach the parking lot, mentioning he doesn’t desire looking back and find you toppled over in a heap of snow. He'd gotten another glare upon that comment.

You'd thought the drive home to John's would've been less arduous, but you'd found yourself unable to relax just as much, but for entirely different reasons.

With each turn of the car, you noticed how John braced his feet against the floor so as not to move in his seat, his free hand slipping beneath the seat belt to keep it from digging into his injury at times.

The way he acted made you all the more cautious in your driving, even picking routes that had more straight for his sake. You knew John noticed when you didn't take the usual right about halfway through the drive by the glance in your direction.

By the time you pulled into his driveway, the sky had darkened, and snow had started falling, making your and John's retreat into the house from the car hasty. Nonetheless, he managed to escape the weather that was worsening by the second much quicker compared to you as you fetched his bag from the booth.

You don't take more than a few steps into the foyer before you slip John's bag to the floor. When the pressure of the straps disappears, you sigh in relief.

John's chuckle makes you send him a glare. However, it melts away when your gaze finds the absolute disarray of his hair, now a combination of dirty and wet from the snow.

"Come one, I'll help you freshen up". You say, closing the door behind you, shielding you from the chilling cold.

"No need, love". You send him a look over your shoulder as you take off your coat, finding John stepping out of his barely laced boots.

"Why? You always have a shower when you get home?"

"If you have forgotten, can't get this wet for a day more". John nods to his shoulder as he faces you. "Can just wait 'till tomorrow".

Your brows furrow, and your hand falls to your hip while hanging up your coat. "John, I know how religious you are about your routine once you come home. There is no need to skip it just because you can't do it yourself when I simply can help".

You see his resolve falter somewhat as he regards you. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all", you shake your head. "Wouldn't mind a hot shower to warm up in this cold house of yours". A smile tugs in the corner of your lip when you end the sentence with an exaggerated wink.

It makes John chuckle as he shakes his head before those blue eyes rise to follow you when you approach. "Don't think I could supply that need now".

"Out of us two, I'm the one who can go a bit without being dicked-down". You kiss John's cheek as you slide the jacket from his shoulder, catching the harsh sigh as you wander to hang up his piece of clothing beside yours.

"That a challenge?" He hums as his un-injured arm sneaks around your waist as you finish your task, gently turning you around to pull you towards him. "Besides, I got other ways to satisfy you". 

"Oh, I know". You give John a softer look as your hand slides down his forearm before gripping his hand, moving it to hang beside your bodies. "But let's listen to the doctor for now and let you heal up first". You offer him a smile as you back away and head into the house, John letting himself be led by you as you steer towards the stairs.

Not until you've reached his bedroom do you let go of his hand, ushering him to the bathroom as you move to his dresser. You swiftly dig through it for a new pair of pants, opting not to bring a shirt, believing neither of you could bother the hassle of attempting to put it on.

"Strip", you wave your finger towards John as you step over the threshold to join him in the en suite.

"Thought Doc's orders applied". You catch the smugness in his voice, sending him a humoured look, one he answers with a wink as he moves to sit down on the lid of the toilet. While John rid himself of the pants he'd gotten from the hospital, you place his own pair on the sink. 

While he kicks them aside, your attention falls on the white shirt still covering his upper body. A furrow enters your brows, lips pursing. It would be challenge to take it off even if you helped him, being an uncomfortable and possibly painful process no doubt.

"Just cut it off". Your eyes meet John's, checking if you heard him right. With his head falling sideways in a nod, you move to the sink drawer to fetch the scissors, silently agreeing it might just be the easiest thing to do.

Mindful of the sling and bandages, you rid John of the thin cotton shirt, leaving him in only his boxers briefs. 

While you turn around to throw the strips of his shirt into the bin, John stands, moving around you toward the shower. By cocking your hip, you swiftly close the drawer after putting back the scissors.

As you turn to say something to John, you catch him stabilising himself on the edge of the sink, knees just about to bend. Realising what he is about to do, all your previous thoughts are promptly cut short.

”You’re not kneeling on the floor." John stalls in his movement, looking at you. If he says anything in return, you don't catch it as you're already on your way out of his room.

The spare bathroom, which was under renovation the first time you visited, has now been finished. But you remember the stool John had used was yet to be taken to the spare room downstairs. Although you'd reminded him about it every time you'd been over, now you were thankful as you could fetch it as something John could sit on rather than the floor.

With a slight shuffling step, you bring the stool along with you and to where John waits, leaning against the sink, his eyes finding you the second you're visible through the open door of his en suite.

"Sit”, you motion to the stool you brought once John had moved to the side and let you set it down inside the shower's glass doors. A slight tug that doesn't evolve into a smile is present at the edge of his mouth as he follows your command.

When John makes himself comfortable on the stool, you gently nudge the back of his head with your fingers, urging him to bow forward to make it easier for you. Even sitting down, he reaches your stomach.

Pushing up the sleeves of your hoodie, you turn on the tap, testing the water steadily flowing from the showerhead on your hand. When finally finding the perfect temperature, you keep the stream gentle so as not to splash the bandages covering his left arm but rather trickle forward and down to the floor. 

Small groans of appreciation escape John as you wash his hair, fingers running over his scalp to wet every single strand before setting down the showerhead and massaging some shampoo over his head. Earthy and clean scents fill the warm air as it steams every reflective surface inside the bathroom.

You do a double cleanse, not because you think John needs it, but because he seems to enjoy the gentle pressure off your fingers as they run up and down his scalp. 

After washing away the last sudds, you take a towel from the rack and cover his head. Your laughter fills the air as you hear the huff of amusement from beneath the fabric draped over him as you attempt to dry his hair as much as possible by ruffling the fabric.

Ultimately, you slide the towel from his head, letting it hang around his neck to catch any stray droplets from reaching his shoulder. John turns towards you upon having his vision uncovered again, and you instinctively step closer when he does, inspecting his face.

”I don’t trust myself trimming your beard”, you card your fingers through the brown strands on his cheek. A low huff pulls your eyes to the blue ones steadily watching you.

”Can do that myself in a day or two. You’ve done plenty enough, love”. John’s about to stand, but your hand softly settles on his healthy shoulder.

”I only said I don’t want to go near the best part of you with scissors”.

”The best part, eh?” He pinches the back of your lower thigh, a squeak slipping out of you as you bat his hand away with a lower lip curled between your teeth.

”Don’t bite the hand that feeds you”, you chide with an evolving smile. 

You catch John’s chuckle as you switch your attention to the counter, eyeing his products as neatly lined up as usual and the set of your own products beside them. Stepping away to the sink and out of his reach, you grab one of the face towels from the stack he’d bought for you to always have at his place, along with the other products needed.

When you turn back, you set the things on the sink-edge beside you. 

”Said I can’t shape it up, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make the most out of what I can do”.

”You pamperin’ me?” Your eyes flit sideways, meeting a blue gaze watching you with a tilted head.

”I’m taking care of you, John”, you corrected him as you turned to wet your hands beneath the tap and squirted some cleanser into your hands. 

John doesn't respond, only remains quiet when you start coating his face in the milky substance, merely staring up at you for a few seconds before his eyes flutter close when you cock a brow down at him.

You gently rub away the invisible grime on his face, staying clear of his beard as you lather his face. Humming gently, you wipe away the suds after a few dozen seconds and continue with the beard shampoo. 

You’d seen the man, who now lets his chest deflate with a content sigh as you easily angle his head backwards with a few fingers beneath his chin, do his beard-routine a few times. It wasn’t difficult to remember, and you’re happy you didn’t need to ask John and bring him out of the relaxed state he’d entered as you used one of the brushes to rub the product into his beard.

Using the opposite edge of the towel, you also dry off his beard. 

You wash off the white foam from the brush as you discard the towel before coating his skin in your moisturiser, only to continue by dropping some oil into your palms before you settle them over his lower face, smoothening them over the strands. 

As you shift to the sink again, you reach for his comb, only to find John’s eyes had fluttered open when you turn back. 

Those blues of his are soft as you gently comb his facial hair with slow movements. His hand settles on the outside of your thigh when you pick up the beard balm, warming it between your palms. The vanilla white lotion softens and warms between your hands before you work it through his beard. 

Slowly, John's hand moves to the back of your leg while fingers lightly start tracing the line of his beard and skin, both much smoother than previously. 

The moment was soft, gazing at one another in silence, before you cupped John's cheek and bent down. A gentle smell of something nutty from John's beard invades your nose as you press your lips against his. 

Even if you end up trading multiple kisses, the pauses never let you drift further away than for your lips to rush against one another.

John felt the last bit of tension leave his body. Something awfully soft had infiltrated his heart as you fussed around him, your hand leaving gentler touches than even the Doc had done when he’d returned from the field with his shot-up shoulder. He’d tried to ward off your help and doting, but now he realised he needed this.

He’s been on 24/7 for over a week. He’s run on less food than at home. Countless times, his mouth had watered when thinking about the roast you’d shared before his deployment. He’s run on minimal sleep for several days in a row, barely more than half asleep when given a moment of tranquillity and nowhere near as relaxed as when having you in his arms. He’d looked over his shoulder for more than double the amount, only to be hit by a bullet in the end anyway, coming home broken.

John pulls away, cupping one of the hands that rests on his cheek, turning to kiss your palm. But, when he gazes at you again, your brows draw together.

”Don’t”.

"I didn’t say anythin'"

You only shake your head. "I know what you’re thinking, and no, you're not a burden".

"But I'm a broken man at the moment, love. Just see how much you've needed to do today", he scoffs, letting go of your hand, letting his fall onto his lap. You stop John from turning his head to the side, away from you, instead forcing him to watch you.

You look down at the man who meets your gaze with an almost sorrowful look. "And you think that bothers me?"

"Why wouldn’t it? It’s not your responsibility. Should just not have gone about gettin’ shot-".

"Jonathan Price". The use of his government name shuts his grumbling right up, his eyes even widening the slightest bit. "What bothers me isn’t that you got shot. I know the dangers of your work. What does bother me is seeing you in pain".

"I appreciate it, but there’s no need for you to do all this, to care for me". His voice is softer, but you still shake your head.

"Yes, there is because I love you". You barely notice the weight of what you say, those three chosen words leaving your lips in a too-natural fashion to be the first time. But rather than reluctance preceding and nerves following them, there's a sense of them being long overdue in the first place.

"I hate how much it hurts seeing your pain, so it’s not that I need to do anything for you. I very much care because I want to, John".

Compared to a few moments ago when John wanted to turn away from you, now he can't take his eyes off you. Whatever murky emotion which clouded his eyes has lifted, those blues clearer than ever as he stares right back at you, lips slightly parted.

"I’ve said it before, but you're too good for me".

"They say you get what you deserve". You offer John a smile, and something just crumbles then.

"God, you don’t know how much I love you, darlin’".

Your chest swells, heart suddenly pumping much warmer blood through your body. "So let me take care of you now when you need it".

"I- of course", he breathes, voice remarkably thin to support his gravelly cords as he shuts his eyes tightly. John gives you a single nod instead of attempting to continue his sentence, and you lean down to press a kiss against his forehead. 

His arm loops around your waist the best it can from his slumped forward angle, pulling you close so his head rests against your upper stomach. Despite his hair being wet, you card your fingers through it, kissing the top of his head, his warm exhalation warming your skin despite the thick sweater.

"Goin’ to be one hell of a Christmas". The first half of the sentence is mumbled into you, the second half clearer as John looks up at you again.

You hum, feeling how one of the strands at the back of his neck drips water onto your fingers. "I only see more of a reason to have a lazy day".

"Where you do everythin’".

"Hush, now you’ve allowed me to do the work for once". You twirl the hair at the nape of his neck, looking back into those blues.

"Still don’t want you workin’ yourself to death". He gives you an honest rather than pointed look.

"I should say that to you", you only muse lightly in return, not needing to avert your eyes to his bandages as they shine like a beacon in the corner of your vision. "And I reckon it’s going to be fine either way".

"M’sure”, his reply is hummed into the sparse space between your faces before your lips press against his in a fleeting kiss. Before you lean back and straighten, however, his hand cups the back of your neck. "Thank you for all of this, love".

"You know it’s nothing". Although John doesn’t answer as you step backwards, you don’t catch any guilt, no trace of the previous gloom in his gaze. He believes your words, the crows-feet at the edges of his eyes and smile-lines around his mouth further proof.

[ghostlyvoidshark]

Could you do some rival Headcanons between epic and cross sans fighting over us? Like every second you cannot breath, each of them trying to one up each other to show who would treat you better. This idea has been floating in my head for a bit, so just wanted to finally request it. (Also, can we be gender neutral? And romantic, obviously) Thank you and have a good day/night! :)

Hello hun! Sorry this took me a little while - I've had to work more than normal recently. But THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!! I thi k this is my first from a non-moot so im so excited to be able to write this for you! I hope you have a lovely day / night as well :D sorry if this isnt that long, im trying to get some confidence in my writing lolol

Epic & Cross x Reader

Cross doesn't like fighting Epic since they are pretty close but this doesn't stop him from getting competitive.

Epic, on the other hand, loves play fighting and competing with Cross! He's not aggressive about it, he just does it for fun.

Cross is usually trying to prove himself worthy of your affection in some way while Epic just likes flirting and making you laugh.

Epic is surprisingly good at flirting but often settles for making you laugh because he loves it so much.

Sometimes Epic flirts with cross too just to fuck with him lmaoo - Cross is always baffled and a mess when it happens. Its pretty funny to watch tbh.

Most people assume youre a polycule. Epic doesnt help dispel that with his flirting. I mean a poly relationship could probably work.

You will never know alone time again if you don't set those boundaries. They're both Clingy!!

Given the chance, Cross will escort you everywhere - hes like your own personal bodygaurd. (You dont know how he knows your schedule so well or how he finds you so easily when going out.)

Epic also shows up a lot. Hes usually the one initiating lunch & dinner dates between y'all. Well, its not obvious theyre dates but they basically are, lmao.

They do try to one up each other but you'll next to never see them fight. You may catch them bickering about who did better, though. Epic likes instigating and Cross can be sassy.

They may have a fight about you once. Other than that they are chill because they're so close and Epic often gets Cross to communicate.

The fight would probably be mostly on Cross. He would get mad that he fell for someone his best friend likes. He would be upset that he "couldn't have someone himself" both because he feels guilty about Epic and for personal issues (he's lost a lot). Then he'd be mad that he thought that way and felt jealous. He wouldn't like how selfish he feels. Epic talks him through it, though. And talks some sense into him :]

Cross may be quiet most of the time but he is hanging around more often than not. He's just sort of ... supervising lol. Its comforting in an odd way. He likes the quality time too.

Sometimes Epic gets you alone, though. He gets you two to do relaxing things together like a picnic or video games.

He can be surprisingly tender and romantic but he will ruin it with a joke after surprising you or flustering you with the romance so cherish the moment while you can. Good luck, too. ;P

Cross is a mixed bag. One moment he's purposely suave and dashing then the next he cant get a sentence out . Its like he has moments of clarity then goes back to being a dork.

On a few occasions they will team up on you. I don't think they would really plan it unless it was your birthday or something special like that. When they do it it's usually just an accident and their moods synced to cause chaos.

When they team up they are menaces! Epic would be all gentle and romantic with flirty, witty remarks while Cross would be the type to guide you by the small of your back, leaning in to tell you things. And you know he'd be saying stuff like he's your personal knight! "I'll always be there for you." || "if you ever need anything just come to me, I'll take care of you." And shit like that.

Augh they would have you cornered but like in a good way. Cross always behind you, making sure you're safe while Epic leads you around by the hand. I hate them. I actually love them damn it.

Sometimes they get needy and steal you away for a while. The dorks.

Epic "kidnaps" you to cuddle up somewhere and read or watch a movie. He's very touchy (respectfully) so if you're okay with it he will be all over you. He especially loves it if you act as his weighted blanket and lay on him.

Cross gets grouchy and takes you somewhere on an "adventure". Most of the time it'll be somewhere without people. If the place has rough terrain he'll likely try to convince you to let him carry you lol. "You got it?" / "you tired?" / "want help?" Any reason to be close or touching you if you'll allow it.

If you're more of a low and mellow energy person he'll set up a special spot where he sets up stuff for one of your hobbies (if he can) somewhere hidden and will hang out with you.

Stars forbid you give only one of them a gift. They won't guilt you or be mean, but they will rub it in the others face subtly. If they're the one who didnt get something then Epic would jokingly act all clingy and pouty while Cross glares at him. Speaking of, Cross would stand closer than normal and Low-key pout if he didn't get something. Like a cat who wants something from you.

If you're the more affectionate, touchy type then you're going to likely always have one of them touching you if they're around. Epic practically hangs off of you while Cross just has a hand on you somehow. They have probably scent marked you, accidentally or not. They just clingy bois.

Also - not in a kinky way - but Cross has a high chance of biting you during prolonged physical contact lol. It's just a quirk of his. Its like cuteness aggression but in a loving way. You can think of it as kisses it a way.

He wouldn't mention it if you dont but it is a good way to fluster him >:3c

As for trying to be better than each other i think they would choose some things you like and try to be "the best" at it?? Like... lets say you collect shells. Suddenly they are finding great shells - in tact and pretty - and giving them to you. Same with trinkets. Or finding weird coffee mugs if you like those.

Epic also is that bitch who has a lot of money and just sugar daddies his friends LMAOO. You want that expensive thing? Dont worry bby hes got it kcjsbsbsb. If hes crushing on you it just gets worse and more ridiculous.

Cross is the one who has dedication to getting you things. So if something is about timing or searching hard for it he's the one to go to. He also just brings you random things like a bird..?? You dont even know where he gets half the stuff he shows up with. You may even just find stuff on a table in your house randomly.

Also, for no apparent reason, kareoke becomes a thing between y'all. You have no choice /j

[d1xonss]

Hi! I was thinking about a run that ends up being too long because of something like a heard , were Daryl and the reader have to stay the night in a library. The reader is a big fan of books and she knows a lot about literature (maybe you can say she was a student of a literature degree back before the outbreak). Daryl is like 'I've never really read any book' or 'noone read anybook for me when I was little' and reader ends up reading one of her favourites to him while he lays his head on her lap and she tuches his hair or something fluffy like that. Some of my favorite books include Carrie, The Picture of Dorian Gray and Lord of the Rings; just if you wanted inspiration for the book that she reads him.

I hope you like the idea!

Bedtime Stories

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 2 (time jump)

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 3.1k

AN ~ This idea is so cute, I love it! But I am sorry to the person who requested this because I took way longer to write this than I usually would. It’s just been sitting in my drafts for a while now, but I finally got around to writing out the idea. Thank you for being patient and I hope you enjoy!

Your lungs started to burn, your legs beginning to weaken as you continued to run as fast as you could, desperately trying to keep up as the two of you quite literally ran for your lives. Somehow the run you both volunteered to take just turned into one giant disaster, one thing falling apart after another.

It was the dead of winter, the group hopping from place to place ever since the loss of the farm, and everything always running low. All the supplies you managed to have saved went out the window in a flash, leaving you with almost nothing when you had numerous people to feed. So desperate times called for desperate measures, leading to you and Daryl leaving early that morning, trudging through the cold weather and into a small town nearby in hopes that they had at least something to bring back for the others. But luck wasn’t really on your side.

There were a couple small buildings the two of you came across, a few cans of food here and there that you could easily toss into your bags. Though none of it was nearly enough to feed all the people you had. The thought alone saddened you to no end, coming to the realization of how complicated everything was now that you were out on the road constantly. You found yourself not even really knowing how good you had it back when you had sanctuary, a safe place to sleep at night, food…it was all very frustrating.

But you knew you were preaching to the choir as everyone else was easily feeling the same way as you, defeated and exhausted twenty-four-seven now. Though that wasn’t necessarily the only thing going wrong at the moment. The group itself was much more tense than it ever was before, the whole atmosphere seeming to change ever since that night Rick broke down completely. The loss of Shane and Lori being pregnant was taking a toll on him that no one else could understand, leading to him taking it out on everyone else. A part of you almost wondered if you and Daryl subconsciously took this run on purpose just to get away from all of that for a few hours.

Though that wasn’t the only reason you wanted to go, another part of you wanted to be able to bring something back. You wanted to be the one to lift their spirits, hoping that you and Daryl would come across something that would bring back that light. But then again, luck wasn’t on your side.

Unbeknownst to the two of you as you searched, a large herd of walkers were slowly limping their way down the streets of the small town, making even more noise the closer they approached. Eventually you both perked up at the sudden familiar sounds, walking out of the building you were once in to see the group coming straight towards you, their jaws hanging and their arms stretched out with the intention to tear into you.

“Go.” was all Daryl said as he pushed you to run first, sprinting down the narrow streets in hopes to find somewhere to hide. Most of the stores you came across were completely locked up tight, and it was too late to turn back into the one you once occupied. So according to you, you were pretty much fucked. 

The two of you looked around frantically as you ran, adrenaline pumping through your system as your heart pounded roughly against your chest. There was close to nothing else around, nowhere else to shield yourselves behind as they slowly crept up closer, surprisingly fast with how slow they appeared to move. It now seemed that last bit of bad luck had wiped out all the hope that was left in your being.

That is until Daryl came across a door neither of you had tried before, tugging at it as it surprisingly flew open loudly. Relief filled your chest as you didn’t hesitate to book it inside the space, Daryl following in close behind you before he slammed the door shut again. The two of you then frantically looked around for only a moment, before shoving a few pieces of furniture near the double doors to block off the walkers that would surely try to push their way inside. As expected, they began to pound on the structure from the outside, sending the two of you flying back a few steps as you caught your breath, making sure they weren’t strong enough to push through.

Though after listening for a few passing seconds, it was clear they weren’t getting inside anytime soon, leaving you able to slightly relax as you hunched over to place your hands on your knees, your breathing still heavy.

Daryl noticed out of the corner of his eye, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder, “You alright?”

You nodded as you stood back up straight, “Yeah…that was just…too close.” you sighed, running a hand stressfully through your hair.

He huffed, “Yeah…shit’s messy all over the damn place apparently.” he commented, clearly referring to how much had happened in the span of only about a month, or maybe two. You weren’t totally sure, but what you did know was that the whole thing felt like an eternity.

You found yourself wordlessly nodding in agreement, turning away from him momentarily as you grew curious as to where you had ended up. It had grown dark outside with how long the two of you stayed out searching, leading the place being completely pitch black as well. Nothing but a brief glimpse of moonlight shining through the small windows.

You reached back to the side of your backpack, pulling out your flashlight and flicking it on to see a plethora of bookshelves lined up in the large space, your face also seeming to light up in the process. It had been way too long since the last time you came across so many shelves stuffed full of mountains and mountains of books.

But apparently Daryl was less than amused, scoffing to himself as he looked around as well, “Great…we’re stuck inside some damn Barnes and Noble.”

You gave him a look, “It’s a library, Daryl.” you said in an unimpressed tone.

He raised an eyebrow towards you in response, “Yer tellin me there’s a difference?” he asked in amusement.

Your mouth parted to respond, but your mind came up blank as you slowly came to the realization that there really wasn’t much of a difference at all. He chuckled as he watched you grow silent, nudging your side before taking out his own flashlight. “You go ahead and take the left, I’ll take the right. Gotta make sure this place is safe.” he muttered before slowly walking off.

You followed his lead as you turned to head in the other direction, shining your light in different parts of the area to make sure there weren’t any lingering walkers nearby inside with the two of you. Though you couldn’t hear anything besides the corpses still banging on the outside, it was better to be safe than sorry. But everything was eerie and quiet as you passed by the many tall bookshelves, the scene itself almost making you more paranoid that something was going to just jump out at you out of nowhere. The area looked almost untouched however, causing you to smile a little to yourself at the thought of raiders and survivors just passing this place by because well…it was just a library. But you found yourself just the smallest bit excited, always knowing you were a bit of a bookworm at heart.

Your gaze continued to lazily scan the space for any danger, when all of a sudden, a certain section to your right caught your eye and made you stop in your tracks. The sign read in big blocked letters: Horror. That brought a big smile to your face as you found that was your favorite genre to read back when you actually had the time to read. You loved the thrill, the suspense, everything it had to offer as it left goosebumps on your skin. Something about those kinds of books always drew you in, in a way you couldn’t really understand.

The covers and titles easily had you distracted, hovering toward them just to take a peek at what this place had to offer. And to your surprise there were a fair amount of good finds. The Exorcist, Rebecca, Frankenstein, Salem’s Lot. You found yourself going deeper down the rabbit hole as your eyes scanned the spines of them thoroughly, wondering how many you would be able to actually fit in your bag to take back. Because the truth was you missed being able to read, wanting something simple like this again to pass the time like you used to.

“The hell you doin?”

You physically felt yourself jump out of your skin at his sudden presence, holding a hand up to your chest as you let out a shuddering breath. “Holy shit…don’t do that.” you said as you reached over to push his chest gently.

He laughed softly in response as he raised an eyebrow at you, “I can tell ya what yer not doin.” he hinted, “How’s the left side lookin?”

You shrugged, “It seems...safe enough…” you smiled sheepishly.

“Uh huh.” he muttered.

“I got distracted, okay?” you said with a light laugh before your gaze fell back on where you were once looking, “I mean I can’t even remember the last time I saw this many books.”

The man paused for a minute as he watched your expression, how it seemed to light up even more in the darkness as you looked back to all the covers you still had yet to pick through. A sense of fondness washed over him as he watched you obviously gush over something you were passionate about. He wanted you to speak more about it, wanting to listen to your voice go on and on about the things you loved most about them, but he was almost too embarrassed to ask.

Though after a few moments of silence, his frame leaned up against the shelf to his left as he continued to stare, “Didn't know you were a reader.” he commented.

You shrugged as you didn’t break your gaze away from the book you pulled out to look at, “I guess I just never mentioned it…” you trailed off as you read the short summary on the back, before placing it up in it’s place again, “But I used to read all the time. What about you, you got any favorites?” you asked as you looked back towards him with a small and exciting smile.

It was an innocent question really, but all Daryl could do was pathetically shrug, not really wanting to go into depth about the real answer.

But you tilted your head at him as you wanted to know, genuinely growing curious, “Oh come on. You have to at least have one.” 

Daryl scoffed as he looked back up to you, “I…I ain’t ever really…” he trailed off again before letting out a harsh sigh, “Look, I ain’t ever read anythin before, alright? I don’t got no favorite.”

You were slightly taken aback, almost not believing him at first. But his face and tone were nothing but serious, showing you that he was telling the truth about having not read a single book in his life. “...Really?” you asked softly, “Not even in school or anything?”

He huffed out a small chuckle, “Ya mean when I actually went ta school? Yeah…don’t really think readin was at the top of my priority list.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Okay, fine. But seriously, no one ever read anything to you? Not even your…”

The two of you froze when you trailed off, though it was obvious what you were about to say. You knew of his past, how hard things were on him when he was a kid, you honestly didn’t even mean to let that last part slip as if you had forgotten. You hadn’t. But now you just wished you could take it all back as you felt ashamed and utterly embarrassed, a part of you also feeling terrible that he had never had that kind of comfort before.

In your childhood home, it was somewhat of a nightly routine that your parents would read you a short story every night before bed. You always loved that part, getting all snuggled up while your eyes slowly fluttered closed, hearing the soothing sound of their voices as they spoke until you were fast asleep. Now realizing that Daryl had never even had a sliver of that, brought a small frown to your face. But in a way, it also made you a little determined to make it up to him somehow.

Your eyes slowly trailed back to the bookshelf for a moment or two, before your eyes widened ever so slightly when you caught a glimpse of an all too familiar title. Carrie by Stephen King was one of your favorite books of all time, the plot being so interesting it left you at the edge of your seat as you went on. It was almost like some sort of sign to you as an idea formed in your head.

“Well…” you spoke quietly as you reached up to grab it, “It looks like we could be stuck in here for a while.” you mentioned, jutting your thumb back towards the doors where the walkers were still lingering. “What if I read to you?”

His eyes whipped back up to look at you, his face almost unreadable as he processed what you had just said. At first he wanted to decline, not because he didn’t want to hear the gentleness of your voice reading aloud to him, that sounded like a damn dream. But he didn’t want you to do something like this out of guilt, like you pitied him for not having that kind of luxury you used to have. It honestly wasn’t that big of a deal, something he hadn’t really thought about until now. But not even he could deny that as he stewed over it, he found himself missing out on something else from his childhood that he could never get back.

“Nah,” he shook his head as he stood up a bit straighter, “You don’t gotta do that, it’s alright.” he assured.

But your brows furrowed as you shook your head, “But I want to. I think it’ll be…nice.” you said honestly, wanting to reassure him that you actually wanted to do this.

He took in a breath as he studied your facial expression, seeing you were truly being genuine and sincere, and that warmed his heart more than you were able to imagine. You truly were the sweetest person he had ever met, constantly treating him with kindness ever since you had first met. And that only made his tough exterior soften in an instant.

“Alright…if you’re sure…” he finally agreed hesitantly.

You smiled brightly at him, “I’m sure.” you promised, nodding your head back for him to follow you to find a place to sit for the time being. Neither of you knew how long you would be trapped in here. A few hours? Overnight? You weren’t sure, but one thing you did know was that the two of you did not want to go back to the group just yet. You could almost feel the tension radiating from all the way over here when they were miles and miles away.

The flashlight in your hand shined down towards a spot where there were a few cushioned seats, causing you to pick the one placed in the corner before you plopped down, removing the bag from your shoulders in the process. As your body was turned away for just a brief moment, you then felt Daryl sit down beside you, before he adjusted himself to where his head was gently resting in your lap. Your eyes quickly glanced back down to look at him, catching the small smile he had on his face as he stared up at you softly. You couldn’t help but smile back, shaking your head a little to try and focus. But it was hard to do when his eyes were piercing, so clearly full of gentleness and care.

“Okay, so this right here is a classic.” you said as you pointed to the cover, “It’s one of my favorite horror novels, and I actually think you’ll really like it.”

His eyes moved over the cover as he nodded along, “Do I get ta hold yer hand if I get scared?” he suddenly teased with a small smirk.

You laughed quietly, “Sure, tough guy, you can hold my hand.”

He chuckled lightly as he nodded, watching you intently as you opened up the book, using the light of the flashlight you placed behind you to be able to see the tiny words on the pages. You squinted a little at first, before your soft voice began to read out loud to him, already feeling himself relax a little more at something so simple. If he was being completely honest with himself, he didn’t really care what you were reading. You could be reciting words from the English dictionary for all he cared. There was just something about hearing your voice in general that sent a wave of peace through him.

Eventually as the minutes flew by with the two of you engrossed in the events happening, your other hand traveled down to his hair, running your fingers through it gently. Daryl felt his heart flutter in his chest at the mindless action, almost as if it was second nature to you, making his eyes involuntarily close as he sighed deeply. He hadn’t felt this calm, this comforted by someone he cared about deeply in quite a long time. In fact, he seemed to question to himself if he ever had this feeling. The realization seemed to hit him then, but he almost didn’t care. He was just happy he had someone in his life now that was willing to give him all of that and more.

You noticed quickly however how his breathing seemed to change as he still laid beneath you, your eyes moving down to look at his face and see that he had fallen asleep after only barely getting through about three chapters. A small smile stretched across your face, closing the book and placing it back down beside you as your hand continued to gently run through the locks of his thick hair. Your eyes moved over the calm features of his face, taking in the fact that you had given him something that you once used to cherish. The unwinding feeling of someone reading you to sleep.

“Thank you…” his voice suddenly spoke quietly, moving to get even more comfortable in your lap as he drifted off.

In an instant your eyes seemed to glisten with tears at the simple gratitude, seeing how precious he really was. “Of course.” you whispered back, blinking away your tears as you hesitated for a moment, before leaning down to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

And after that night you two spent together, you found yourself always trying to do the little things for him to make him feel safe. Because those were the things you found that mattered the most.

~ Thanks for reading!

[lucy90712]

love your fics so much could you write one where jude and the reader are football player it could be fluff or like any other scenario ❤

"Mum can I go and play football with Jude?" I asked 

"As long as you are back for dinner go ahead and remember what I've taught you about being mindful of your surroundings" my mum said 

"Thank you thank you" I replied grabbing my boots and running out the door 

Jude was waiting at the end of my driveway for me with his boots and a football in hand. Before I even reached the end of the driveway he challenged me to a race to the football pitch at the end of the road. He always does this he likes to challenge me to a race when he knows I'm at a disadvantage but today I was ready and I started sprinting until I overtook him just before the entrance to the pitch. It's the first time I've beaten him in a race so I celebrated while he sulked and told me I cheated. 

To settle our argument we decided on various tests to see who was best at football which is something we also argue about a lot but it makes us better as we spur each other on to be our best. Without Jude I wouldn't be as good as I have become without him making things hard for me I wouldn't have made the academy for the local girls team but that doesn't mean I don't want to beat him. The first challenge was dribbling which I am so much better at and I beat Jude quite easily next was 1v1s which he was better at as he was able to get past me with just a bit of force. We did more challenges after that but we were still even by the end of them so we decided to settle things with a keepy uppie competition. It isn't our strong suit but we were both so determined to win that we both reached our personal bests before all of a sudden I lost control of the ball and dropped it giving Jude the win.

"That was fun we should do this again sometime and see if we've improved" Jude said 

"Yeah but for now congratulations you did well" I said 

"Thank you but you were great too you are going to kill it at the academy" he said 

"Thank you I sure hope so" I said 

"I hope we both make it as professionals would that be fun we can tell people we were friends since we were 6 and we played together every day after school we can be the best friends that conquer football" Jude said excitedly 

"That would be fun" I replied 

~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm leaving for Germany next month I signed a contract with Borussia Dortmund" Jude said 

"But we'll still stay friends right?" I asked 

"Of course I might be moving but that doesn't mean you won't still be my best friend" he said 

Those words still stick in my mind. Jude left a year ago now and he kept up with his promise for a few months but as he got busier and got more media attention he forgot about me and we lost contact. I always knew Jude would make it and I hoped that we would stay friends when he did but I was stupid to think that he'd remember me when he could have famous friends. For a while it hurt but then I used it as motivation to make myself a better player so I too could make it and become successful like Jude. 

It took a year of hard work and a lot of sacrifice but I did it. Last night I flew to Barcelona to sign my first proper contract as an fc Barcelona player. I never thought I'd get to sign for one of the best if not the best women's team in the game but clearly I made enough of an impression in the women's championship for someone to see something in me and take the chance. I know this is a big opportunity and I don't want to waste a single second of it any chance I get to play I am going to put in 110% as I know this is my chance to live my dream. 

Going to the club to have my presentation feels so surreal. The transfer announcement came out yesterday and ever since my phone has been blowing up with messages from just about everyone I've ever met in my life and my following on instagram has reached numbers I never thought I'd see. Before my presentation I had a bit of time to chill so I went to text my mum as she's been my biggest supporter and I wouldn't be here without her so I want to keep her updated on everything going on as she couldn't make it to be here today. Just as I was about to click on her contact a text popped up from the last person I expected to hear from. Jude. He must've seen something on social media and remembered my existence finally but honestly I couldn't be mad I was just happy to hear from him again. 

Jude 

Hey I've just seen the announcement congratulations I always knew you'd make it Barcelona are lucky to have you 

You 

Thank you it's been crazy but I'm so happy to be here how have you been it's been a while 

Jude

Yeah I'm sorry about that I didn't think my schedule would be so insanely busy but I've been good playing for a big team is so much fun you'll really love it 

You 

I'm already loving it I've got to go to my presentation now but promise me we'll actually keep in touch this time 

Jude

I promise and I won't break that promise this time 

~~~~~~~~~~

Jude actually kept his promise this time and we talked every day but it was like no time had passed since we last spoke. Jude has always been so easy to get along with and that hasn't changed we can speak for hours about nothing but it doesn't feel like it the time passes so quickly. After we started talking more we made time to actually see each other in our free time I'd go and visit him in Germany and he'd come and see me here not as often as we'd like but it was nice to see him again. 

Both of us had grown up a lot in the year we didn't see each other Jude had grown and he didn't look like a kid anymore. I'd never found Jude attractive until I arrived in Germany and saw him waiting for me at the airport. I didn't think I'd ever look at him that way as we've always just been friends but something about his smile and the way he'd matured made him so much more attractive to me. I tried to ignore it as we've just reconnected as friends and I needed the support of someone who's experienced their first season and knows the ups and downs. 

Ignoring it didn't last long though as Jude arrived to Barcelona to surprise me on the weekend of my debut with roses and asked me on a date after the match. I didn't see it coming at all but he explained that he'd had feelings for me for a while but after we lost contact he'd pushed them to the back of his mind until we started talking again and he couldn't ignore them anymore. I was a little hesitant as I was scared that things wouldn't work out but after our first date all those worries went out the window as it was just so perfect I felt like a little kid with a crush the entire time which is not something I've felt on any other date. 

We went on a few more dates before Jude asked me to officially be his girlfriend. Since then we've made a lot more effort to see each other as much as we can even if it means flying to random cities to catch each other for a few hours or using our days off to go and see the other play in important matches. It's not easy to be so far apart and have schedules that don't work together but we've made it work and it makes our time together so much more special so we have to soak up every second we get together. The hardest part has been the uncertainty of football you never know when you are going to get hurt or when another team might make an offer and you'll have to move to another country but we've been really lucky so far that nothing has gone too wrong. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Barcelona star under fire after details of relationship with new Real Madrid signing Jude Bellingham emerge 

The new Romeo and Juliette? How did the forbidden relationship between y/n y/l/n and Jude Bellingham begin

Questions about y/n's commitment to Barcelona as relationship with Jude Bellingham is confirmed 

I should've seen it coming after Jude told me about his move to Real Madrid but I thought people would have enough common sense to realise that Jude and I got together long enough ago that he wasn't a Real Madrid player at the time. It also shouldn't, matter my commitment to my team shouldn't be based on who I'm dating and I shouldn't be receiving so much hate over it especially when Jude isn't getting any. Jude has been great though he's been defending me and our relationship in interviews and he's been telling me that what other people think doesn't matter as we know what we have and that it doesn't affect our careers at all. 

I wasn't worried about the media though they can think whatever they want I was worried about my teammates and if they would judge me. It was stupid to think that though as instead of acting cold towards me or judging my choices the first thing they asked was if I was ok after the barrage of hate online. They all understood that I'm more than my relationship and that I didn't have control over Jude's career. Having their support meant a lot to me as my team is incredibly important to me and I'd never want to break their trust but luckily they don't see this situation as me betraying them like everyone else seems to think. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Today was the most nerve wracking day of my life the champions league final the biggest match of my career so far. All of my friends and family including Jude were coming to the match which added to the pressure I was putting on myself as I didn't want to let any of them down after they travelled to watch me play. My teammates were also counting on me as I've become a vital member of the team with the injuries we've had and of course I don't want to let them down either not after they've had so much faith in me from the minute I arrived. 

It was a hard match the first half was tough but eventually we were able to make a break through and somehow the ball ended up by my feet and I knew I had to just go for it which I did and the ball went straight past the goalkeeper and into the net. The feeling of scoring a goal in such an important game can't be described I felt like I was going to cry but also explode with excitement at the same time. That feeling carried me for the rest of the game until the end where we finished the match winning 2-0. Hearing the final whistle is when I finally let my tears go I just couldn't hold them in anymore as all of the adrenaline I've been feeling all day came crashing down. I'd just won the biggest trophy of my career and I scored a goal it all just felt so surreal. 

The trophy presentation went by so fast and before I knew it friends and family were allowed on the pitch. The first person I saw as my mum so I ran straight to her to hug her and of course she was crying which made me cry again but we still shared a lovely moment together. Then I saw Jude who was smiling so much as he picked me up off the ground and spun me round while kissing me. Once he put me down I showed him my medal and I started rambling about the game as I love to talk to him about all my games as he understands what I'm talking about. As we were talking a tv crew came over and the presenter asked us to do an interview. 

"Jude you must be so proud that was a great match for the whole team but especially y/n" the interviewer asked 

"Yeah I couldn't be prouder I think y/n has shown everyone that she's an amazing player that isn't affected by the unnecessary hate she receives online" Jude answered 

"We know that there was a lot of backlash over your relationship has that affected you at all" they asked 

"I didn't receive much hate it was all directed at y/n very unfairly but no it hasn't affected either of us we are still both dedicated to our clubs like we always have been even before I moved to Madrid and we support each other no matter what as it's not like we will ever play against each other so I will always be her biggest cheerleader" Jude said 

"That's very sweet I'm glad you are both happy together and congratulations on the win y/n hopefully you can do the same in a few weeks Jude" the interviewer said

Jude's interview really made me blush as he's always stood up for me but to be stood right next to him and hear him say all these things while he held me tightly to his side made me fall even more in love with him. Once the interview was over Jude told me to forget about all the hate and the people who don't like and to just enjoy the moment which he's right about this is a big moment in my career and I need to just soak it all in. There is no one I'd rather soak it all with than Jude so I'm glad he's by my side. 

[willalove75]

Alcina's New Maid Pt. 6 Lady Dimitrescu x Reader

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu brings you in as one of her maids, at least, that's what you thought she brought you to the castle for.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI

Tags: flirty, fluff, slow burn, smut, angst.

Notes: Part 6! The angst, SO MUCH ANGST. I think this is the least amount of dialogue I've ever had in a fic so I hope you all like it💕 Do I want to stay up all night and write chapter 7 right now? Yes. Holy shit yes. But I have stupid 'sponserbilities and adulting to do so part 7 will have to wait until next week. Until then, please enjoy this angsty as fuck chapter💕💕

Click here for the rest of the series

It struck you as odd that Alcina said you were to be by her side at all times, yet you barely saw her over the last few days. You were either in your room or with the girls; a couple of times you felt like Zina was tasked with babysitting you while you followed her around the castle, helping her with some of her duties. You haven't even been into your Mistresses chambers or her study since you got the concussion. Every time you did see Alcina, she didn't act like she normally does when she's around you, she seemed colder, more distant. That was apparent when you went to the dining hall the night of the incident and instead of being seated next to Alcina like you usually were, your chair was at the opposite end of the long dining table. Alcina barely looked at you, you thought maybe she just had a rough day and you tried to not think too much into it; but every time you've had a meal with them since, your chair was placed as far away from her as possible.

It was impossible for the thoughts to not flood your mind, wondering if you did something wrong, if maybe she was finally bored with you, if you just weren't living up to her expectations? She hasn't relieved you of your duties and she hasn't brought any other maids into her chambers, at least that you're aware of. The thought of her bringing another maid into her bed made your stomach twist with jealousy, but not rage. It was mostly just sadness, disappointment, heartbreak even. You hoped she wasn't, but truth be told you really had no idea and the thought haunted you a little.

The girls noticed a difference in their mother too, but they didn't dare talk to you about it, and you respected that. That didn't stop you from overhearing them mention that Alcina has been more agitated and easily angered lately. She damn near took a maids head off when the maid tripped in front of her. The maid was fine, traumatized for sure when Alcina whipped out her claws and threatened the poor girl with them, but physically unharmed.

Alcina's week has been anything but relaxing, she's done everything she possibly could to avoid you minus locking you away in your room. She tried her hardest to avoid looking at you during meals, seating you on the opposite end of the table. Being directly across from her made trying not to look at you difficult but she managed to ignore you for the most part. There were definitely a few stolen glances, but every time she caught herself looking at you she pried her eyes away and tried to distract herself with something else.

She noticed the look in your eyes during the last few meals, a look of sadness, confusion, uncertainty. Alcina brushed it off and did her best to keep the guilt from eating away at her. Her vices were her crutch during these trying times, she's been smoking nearly twice as much and drinking at least a bottle of her wine a day, sometimes two. The only vice she hasn't been able to satisfy was the sexual frustration that's been pent up inside of her. At this point she might as well be avoiding you because the minute she talks to you, she might just throw you onto her bed and ravage you, the complete opposite of what she feels like she has to do. She's been horny, but hasn't been able to bring herself to take another maid into her chambers. Instead her pent up frustrations have been released in bursts of unbridled anger.

It's not that Alcina really wants to avoid you, to shut you out, to put every feeling she has towards you into a box and never touch it again; she feels like she has to. Not only to protect you, but more for her own protection. She hasn't let herself get close to anyone since she was human, years before she was infected with the cadou and was mutated. The walls she built only got bigger and stronger once she was turned into what she is today, only letting her daughters in once they came to her. You managed to climb over and break down so many of her walls so effortlessly it terrified her, but the companionship was nice and she enjoyed caring for someone other than the girls, plus, she genuinely began to like you.

As soon as she realized how attached she was becoming, she bolted. Between Stefana and Mother Miranda, especially Mother Miranda, coming after you, wanting to cause you harm, she couldn't bear the thought of it. It was as if someone threatened to rip her heart out of her chest, a feeling she was not only completely not used to, but something that made her feel more vulnerable than she's ever experienced before. Every day since she began avoiding you she's had to convince herself that what she's doing is for the best.

After lunch you asked the girls to take you into the library, which Daniela happily agreed to, the other two followed out of obligation to their mother's orders. Daniela enjoyed the same kind of books as you, romance novels for the most part, some fantasy. She also enjoyed thrillers, but after one night of terrible nightmares that were brought on by reading her "It", you both decided it was best if she read those by herself. You began piling a few books you and Daniela picked out on one of the tables while the girls bickered as usual. Once you were satisfied with your selections you went to find the girls to head back to your room.

"Daniela? Bela? Cass?" You call out for them as you walk around the library. "Are you guys still here?"

After walking around for a minute and unable to hear them arguing, or even the buzzing of flies, you call out for them again; searching between the bookshelves in case they were just playing a game.

In one of the chaise lounges near the window you see Alcina laying across it, her head resting on her hand, invested in the book she's reading. Her eyes shift up to you as you come around the shelf.

"Oh, hi, sorry. I didn't know you were here." You nervously say. "I was looking for the girls."

Her gorgeous gold eyes stare into yours for a few moments, you try and see if you can gauge any kind of reaction in them but they're like stone. They shift back down to her book and she continues to read, as if you already walked away, or as if you were never there to begin with.

You feel a pain in your chest when she acts like you don't exist. It's taking all of the self restraint in your body to not break down and grab her face and ask her what you did wrong, begging for forgiveness for something that might not even exist. Instead you settle for asking if she needs anything, anything to make her speak to you.

"Is there anything you need me to do?"

Her eyes leave the page and snap up to yours, an intensity in them that hasn't been directed at you in a while. She closes the book in her hand and stands, you crane your neck and follow her eyes up, desperate for something, anything. Even if she just screamed at you, at least she'll have spoken to you. A lump in your throat grows as she turns and walks away without saying a word.

Closing your eyes in defeat, you stand there for a minute, gathering the strength to keep the tears you feel building at bay. You go back to your search for the girls, a swarm eventually showing up in the middle of the library.

"I'm so sorry!" Daniela cries and wraps her arms around you.

"What? What happened?"

"We left you!"

"It's okay," you laugh "I'm fine, I had a feeling one of you were gonna show up eventually."

Daniela looks at you, she has a small smile on her face but guilt in her eyes.

"Hey, it's okay kiddo, I'm not upset or mad, we're good, no worries." The guilt in her eyes fade and her smile grows. "Want to go read one of these?" You ask, picking up the stack.

"YES!" She squeals.

In a flash there's a swarm of flies surrounding you and lifting you off of the ground.

"Oh my god!" You yell as you laugh.

Daniela flies the both of you to your room at lightening speed, you're surprised and grateful you managed to hold onto the stack of books the whole way there. She sets you down onto your feet and emerges next to you from the swarm.

She picks out one of the books and you read to her until dinner. When the dinner bell rings Daniela whines, not wanting you to put the book down. Reluctantly, she gets up and swarms out and you follow her to the dining room.

The girls appear in their seats in the dining room as you walk in, you see your chair at the opposite end of the table, the same place its been for the last week, and you take your seat.

The maids bring out your meals, you quietly thank the maid who puts your meal down in front of you and you stare at it for a moment. What's the point of having every meal with them every day if she's just going to ignore you? There's a part of you that wants to get up and go back into your room, but you fight against the urge.

The clinking of silverware against the plates pulls you out of your thoughts and you quietly eat, although your hunger is suddenly gone.

"How was your day girls?" Alcina says. You look up and see her looking at her daughters, not even acknowledging your existence.

"Our hunt this morning was a lot of fun!" Bela says.

"Yeah, I killed so many lycans, I even got a deer!"

"Hey! I helped!" Daniela says.

"Yeah, barely."

They begin to argue over the subject and Alcina clears her throat and gives them both a look and they immediately drop it.

"Y/n started reading this really good book to me!" Daniela says with excitement in her voice.

You notice Alcina's face drop a little when she hears your name, you feel your heart drop as you watch. She gently smiles at Daniela, hiding her reaction.

"That's wonderful draga."

Your heart feels like it's in your stomach, you've barely touched your food and Bela notices.

"Do you not like it y/n?" She asks.

"Oh, no" you say, snapping out of your trance. "No it's delicious, I'm just not very hungry."

Your eyes meet Alcinas for a second and she looks away, crushing you even more.

After dinner you head to your room and read for a little while. Your stomach begins to growl and you get up and open your door, hoping to find a maid or one of the girls. Luckily you see a maid walking through the hall with cleaning supplies in her hand.

"Hey, can you do me a favor? Can you get one of the girls for me?" It's well known that you're not allowed to go anywhere by yourself now so the maid nods her head and walks off.

A few minutes later a swarm appears in your room.

"You rang?" You hear Bela say as she emerges from the swarm.

"Yeah, sorry, want to come down to the kitchen with me? I'm starting to get hungry."

"What is with you lately? You seem, weird. You and mom seem weird."

"I'm fine, just an off week I guess." You shrug.

"Okay," she says, unconvinced. "Lets go."

The two of you go into the kitchen and you whip up a quick sandwich and eat it as you both head back to your room. Once you get up the stairs Bela turns to you.

"Do I need to walk the extra 50 feet with you or can you manage not getting killed?" She teases.

"I'll be fine, thanks Bela."

She heads off in the opposite direction as you head towards your room.

As you walk past Alcina's door it opens and you see one of the new maids walk out. Her face is flush, her hair is messy, her legs are shaking and she looks mortified when she sees you. Your heart sinks into the bottom of your stomach, you know what caused the maids disheveled look, you know what just took place in Alcina's chambers. Looking up you see Alcina, who's surprised to see you as she wasn't expecting you to be outside of her door; you think you see shame in her eyes but your vision starts to become blurry as tears filled your eyes. You run into your room and shut the door without saying a word to either of them.

Hot tears flow into your pillow as you curl up in bed and sob. You're heartbroken and mad, mad at Alcina for providing such a false sense of security, mad at yourself for not listening and for getting attached. Zina was right, about everything. She'll make you feel special, but she really doesn't care about you, you're replaceable, disposable to her, just a plaything. A toy to use for her own enjoyment until she gets bored and wants something new to play with.

Unlike Stefana, you're not mad at the maid, you know it's not her fault, you don't even feel the urge to lash out at her. You're more upset at Alcina, not just for making you feel special and ripping it all away from you, but for not even giving you the curtesy of telling you. No warning, nothing. One day she's protecting you, from two different people and nursing you back to health, and the very next day its like you never existed.

Heartbroken, you cry into your pillow until you tire yourself out and finally fall asleep.

With some rare free time, Alcina decides to go to the library and find a new book to read. She picks up a book that peaked her interest and begins to read the first few pages. Immediately drawn in, she abandons her plans to read in her chambers and sits down on the closest thing to her, a chaise lounge in the corner by the window. Noises fill the library, but her attention is glued to the book so she pays them no mind. Her attention wasn't drawn away from her book until she sees something moving in front of her over the edge of her book, she looks up and sees you.

Surprised, she masks her emotions as she looks into your eyes. The knot in her stomach grows, she hears you speak but doesn't respond. Hoping you'll just leave, she turns her attention back to her book, although she can't focus at all with you standing in front of her.

"Is there anything you need me to do?"

Her eyes snap up into yours when she hears your shaking voice, she anticipates seeing fear in your eyes, she's a little taken back when she sees desperation, a deep sadness instead. An internal battle in her mind wages on, part of her just wants to wrap you in her arms and hold you, the other part just wants to pretend you don't exist. Realizing she's staring for too long she closes her book and stands up, there's a small second where she almost gives in to her desire, but she stays steadfast with her plan; she says nothing and walks away.

The look in your eyes haunts her as she makes her way back to her chambers. She tosses the book on her bed and walks up to her vanity and grabs the edge, lowering her head she pushes everything she's feeling back into its box. With her frustration and tension at an all time high she decides to try and provide some relief for herself.

She removes her hat and gloves and makes herself comfortable in her bed. With her eyes closed she pulls up her dress and slides her hand between her legs. After a few minutes of finding absolutely no relief, she gets up and goes into her wardrobe and grabs her favorite toy. This one always seems to do the trick and she's desperately hoping it doesn't fail her. She works the toy in and out of her and her anger only grows; she might as well not be touching herself because that would give her just about the same amount of pleasure that she's getting right now.

More frustrated than ever, she chucks the toy against the wall and lays back down, staring at the ceiling. In her head she goes over a list of maids she can bring into her chambers, every time she tries to picture one in bed with her, they always turn into you. Her frustration reaches its peak and she hears the dinner bell ring. A low growl rumbles in her chest and she gets up, places her hat back on her head, slides her gloves back on and makes her way down to the dining room.

She manages to avoid looking at you for the majority of the meal, focusing her attention on her plate and her girls. It wasn't until Daniela mentioned your name when she felt a sinking feeling in her heart. In an instant she pushes the feeling away, hoping you didn't witness her moment of weakness. Bela mentions that you barely touched your food and she quickly glances at your plate. It hasn't been touched except for one or two bites, you've just been pushing the rest around mindlessly.

Once dinner ends Alcina quickly makes her way back to her chambers. As she's walking through the halls she spots one of her newer maids. A cute, sweet looking girl, she can't be more than 20. Alcina doesn't know her name, and truth be told she doesn't really care to. All she knows is that the girl is quiet and does a decent job on the tasks she's assigned.

Usually when she talks to a maid about coming into her chambers she's flirtatious, mysterious, she likes to toy with the girls for a little bit, but tonight, Alcina doesn't have the patience.

Alcina walks up to the girl, who immediately looks terrified. Bending down to come off as less intimidating, Alcina speaks softly to the girl, but her demeanor doesn't change. If anything, she's more afraid now that the Lady is nearly eye-level with her. If she wasn't so pent up with frustrations Alcina would make a mental note to try and come off as less intimidating, but she's too focused on finding any kind of relief to even think about anything else.

With the girl finally in her chambers, Alcina lays with her on the bed and softly kisses her. It annoys her that the girl doesn't soften up at all, she's stiff as a board with fear, even after Alcina repeatedly tried to ease her fears, it was no use, so she continues anyway. It's not that the maiden was unwilling, Alcina told her she can tell her to stop at any time and she would, whether or not the maid believed her, or was too terrified to speak up was another story. Although if the maids drenched panties were any indication, Alcina had a feeling she was fine with it, probably just terrified that she was going to kill her. The girls soft cries as she came almost made Alcina finish without even being touched. She's never been this desperate before.

Alcina laid next to the maiden on her bed and pulled up her dress and removed her panties and ordered the girl between her legs. Nervous at first, the girl seem scattered, but after some praising and reassuring moans she found her rhythm and within minutes Alcina was cumming all over her face and hand. At the height of her orgasm she thought of you, she almost called out your name but bit down hard on her lip to stop it from slipping out. As she was recovering she looked down at the maiden between her legs and for a fleeting second, was disappointed it wasn't you. It was getting harder and harder to get you out of her head and she wasn't sure if she would be able to take much more of it. She felt as if trying to ignore you so much just made you more irresistible to her, it frustrated her to no end.

The maiden cleaned herself up and Alcina led her to the door for her to leave. Alcina opened the door and froze, there you were, standing right in front of her, walking back to your room. The look in your eyes when you saw the maiden, the way you immediately knew what had just happened almost broke Alcina. She's never felt shame like this before in her life and the guilt practically swallowed her whole. Alcina wasn't even able to hide the look of shame on her face when you looked up at her, the feeling only got worse when she saw the tears building up in your eyes.

She would have been grateful that you ran off if it didn't cause her so much physical pain in her chest seeing you that way. Knowing that she was the cause of your pain, she couldn't even think about it. The maiden stood there frozen, unsure of what to do. Alcina bent down and put her lips to her ear.

"Thank you sweetling." She said, petting her head.

The maiden took that as her cue to leave which Alcina was grateful for because she didn't have the patience or the constitution to keep herself together for much longer.

With the maiden on her way Alcina closed the door and stood there for a moment with her hand against it. She could hear your heartbeat in the room next door, she could hear you quiet sobs as you cried into your pillow. Out of all of the horrific screams and sounds she's heard in her life, hearing you crying, because of what she did to you, was once of the worst sounds she's ever heard. Alcina somberly got herself ready for bed and laid down, pulling the duvet over her. She listened to you cry until your heartbeat finally settled, letting her know that you finally fell asleep.

Alcina can't remember the last time she cried, but for the first time in years, tears escaped from her gold eyes and plummeted onto her pillow.

[shadowynn]

| in love and lore | eleven |

pairing: ot8 ateez x fem reader

genre: fantasy/daemon/soulmate au

warnings: some cursing, negative thoughts, a little bit of self-loathing, slightly possessive thoughts

wordcount: 10.7k

a/n: so, this chapter was an absolute joy to write, which might explain why and how i managed to get it out faster than normal. it has been a very long while since i've been able to write ilal so easily and with so much joy, so i hope you all enjoy this piece as much as i do. and for all you yunho biases out there, i hope this piece might do some justice for him. <33

| ten | eleven | twelve |

~~~

The stars were falling tonight. 

You had thought it was luck when you caught sight of the first one streaking across the sky a few hours after dinner, but a few minutes passed and your eyes had found another. They were difficult to make out amongst the canopies of the tents and lights flickering around the camp, but the night sky above was clear and you were just able to make out a few streaks of light flying across the sky.

After a day amongst people, you relished the time you had to yourself. It was impossible for you to be completely alone, but you found solace in your position at the back of your tent. Yunho was on watch duty for the first half of the night, but other than a quick question of concern when you had exited your tent an hour after retiring, he had left you be. He had disappeared into the sea of tents shortly after you requested some space, but you knew he was still a call away. If anything were to happen, he would be at your side in an instant. All you had to do was say the word. 

You considered calling him over to you now at your revelation of the night sky’s activities, but quickly decided against it, not wanting him to think something might have been wrong. It had happened often in the past weeks, any small beckon you made for any of them was met with instant concern. You hadn’t minded too terribly at first, overwhelmed by what had happened yourself, but it had quickly become stifling. No matter how many times you had insisted you were fine, they never seemed to hear you, making it impossible to go anywhere without one of them trailing behind you.

You understood their concern, at least, up to a point. No one had hidden the fact the culprits had gotten away that night, but who they might have been or why they had attacked, escaped your grasp. It was clear they knew something more than they let on, but any answers you were given had been allusive at best, if they weren’t dodged completely. They claimed they didn’t want to worry you, continually stating they had it under control, and though it frustrated you, you didn’t push too hard. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps it was better if you didn’t know the whole truth. You had long since learned living in ignorance was sometimes easier than knowing the truth, after all. And you had enough other things on your mind to worry about. 

But despite the threat of the attackers still being somewhere out there, you couldn’t stand being under constant supervision for too long. And it wasn’t until you had gotten caught sneaking out the back of your tent once that they finally relented. You still had a guard on you at all times, but they were no longer right on your back, breathing down your neck. 

Of all nights, you had thought it would be the one you would most want to be alone. And you did. You yearned for some time alone, away from the daemons that had invaded your life. For just a moment, you wished to get away. To forget everything that had happened and everything that was yet to come, but the stars were calling you. Each flash across the sky beckoning you to come and watch them. To allow them to ease your worries for just a moment. 

But to do that you would have to leave camp, and unless you wanted another wave of panic to erupt when they inexplicably found you gone, you would have to go accompanied. 

You weighed the decision in your head for a minute, trying to decide which would be a more welcome distraction from the thoughts that had been driving you mad. It didn’t take you long to come to your decision. You might have felt more comfortable on your own, but Yunho’s presence would just maybe distract you from the thoughts you had tried to bury for the night. 

So, you picked yourself up to your feet, stretching out the kinks in your muscles. Ideally, you would return back to your bed and sleep the rest of the night away, but you knew the chances of that happening were slim. Not when you were finally arriving at Taeyang tomorrow. 

After a month on the road, you had just started getting used to the flow of things. You had just started to grow comfortable with your new life among the daemons, but this way of life had only ever been temporary. As much as you wished you could be on the road forever, it wasn’t plausible. The day would finally come when it would end and you would be left with no choice but to deal with the reality of your new life. A life you had purposefully avoided thinking about to this day, but one that had haunted the back of your mind ever since Hongjoong had told you the truth. And now that it was here, you didn't know what to do.

You wrapped the blanket you carried with you closer around your body, shuffling in the direction Yunho had said he would be. While the days still held a hint of warmth to them, the nights had grown cold. Cold enough, your cloak was no longer warm enough to fight against the night air, forcing you to make due with whatever else you could find as you had foolishly left the majority of your winter clothes behind. 

True to his word, you found Yunho in the small clearing between the tents that housed him and the other generals. A fire had been started since you had last been over, illuminating him and what appeared to be a large dog at his feet. 

“Who’s this?”

Yunho jumped at your question, most likely not expecting you to make an appearance this late at night. His eyes softened as he took you in, before following your gaze towards the animal in front of him. Now that you were closer, you saw it wasn’t a dog like you had originally thought, but a wolf, black as the night sky above you. 

“This is Haru,” Yunho replied as the wolf stood to his feet, stretching out his legs as he went. His tail quickly began to wag as you bent down in front of him, showing no hesitation or aggressiveness towards you as he nudged your hands with his nose. “He’s one of many animal companions I can conjure up if needed.”

“Really?” Your head tilted, reaching out to oblige to Haru’s request and scratch him behind his ears. You were quick to recoil, however, taken back by the strange sensation his fur elicited. It was cold to the touch and not quite fully corporeal, causing a shiver to course through you. 

“Each beast has their own unique use, and I’m able to see and hear what they do from quite a distance if I need to.”

“That’s amazing.” You recovered quickly, finding the sensation of his fur against your fingers still strange, but not quite as unnerving now that you were expecting it. “What other animals can you create?”

“As long as it’s an animal that I’ve seen before, I can conjure up any beast using my blood and the surrounding shadows.” He reached out for Haru, running his hands through the fur at his back. “It might not be quite as useful as some of the others’ abilities, but it does have its benefits. Haru, for example, can track a scent for miles.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s pretty wonderful.” Haru leaned further into your touch, eliciting a giggle from you at the tickling sensation caused by him licking your face. “Definitely wonderful,” you repeated, gently coaxing Haru away from your face. You turned your gaze to Yunho, proffering him a soft smile in the hopes of reassuring him you thought his ability truly was as wonderful as you said. 

“Thank you.” Yunho returned your smile, causing you to quickly turn your gaze back to Haru. Something in his eyes had caught you off guard, causing your heart to flutter. “I’m glad you think so.” 

Silence settled between you, one which neither of you seemed keen on breaking. You wanted to, but you could feel his gaze lingering on your figure as you busied yourself with Haru, preventing your brain from coming up with anything worth saying. 

“Was there something you needed from me, angel?” Yunho asked after a few more seconds, jumpstarting your brain and reminding you why you had come to see him in the first place. 

“Oh, yes.” You nodded. Haru’s presence had distracted you, but it hadn’t deterred you from voicing your request. “I was wondering if I- if we could head outside the camp for just a little.” 

You were quick to correct your statement, already aware there was no chance at all that you would get to go out on your own. Despite being less than a day’s journey from their capital, everyone was still on edge. It made you begin to wonder if perhaps they were no longer only worried about the recent attackers, but the surrounding daemons as well. After all, it was common practice to kill your kind before Hongjoong was crowned, especially near the capital where the bloodlines were purist. 

“The stars are active tonight,” you added upon seeing his confusion, “and, well, I don’t believe I’ll be going to sleep anytime soon, so I was hoping we could maybe go out and get a better view.”

Yunho was silent in the moments that followed, making you more nervous with each passing second. Haru had nuzzled his head against your chest, and you buried your hands and attention into him to help break the anxiety you felt awaiting his answer. And though Haru added to the chilliness of the night, you let him wiggle his way into your arms, wrapping the blanket around the both of you. 

“Is that what you want?”

You nodded, relieved to hear him finally speak. “If you don’t think it’s safe though, I can observe them elsewhere. I just thought I might get a better view away from-“

“No, if you wish to go, I will gladly go with you.” This time he was quick to respond, taking no time to get to his feet before proffering a hand down to you. “Shall we?”

You didn’t respond, staring at his open hand. It wasn’t until now that you became aware of the unintended implications your request had with it. What had meant to be an innocent desire to see the stars a bit clearer, held the additional weight of being alone with him. A weight you hadn’t been aware of until you noticed the way he had reacted to it. All too eager to oblige to your request. 

It left you hesitating, unsure if it was something you were comfortable with yet. Of course you had been alone with some of them up to this point, and you were clearly alone with him now, but this situation felt different, far more personal than anything you had been through before. 

And yet, what was the alternative? To stay here on your own and inevitably worry over tomorrow’s events until the sun rose? To sit and stress over the uproar your presence was sure to bring when they realized just who their king’s mate was?

As much as going with Yunho terrified you, it also sent a shiver of excitement flowing through you. You could feel the warmth flooding your stomach at the thought of sharing the night with him, at being able to share your love for the stars above with him. 

You took Yunho’s hand, allowing him to pull you back to your feet. Haru let out a whine as you separated from him, nudging your side in an attempt to grab hold of your attention once more. 

“Haru, no.” Yunho was gentle as he called out the wolf’s attempt to get in between the two of you, yet the intention was clear and Haru backed away from you. “Stay.” Haru made it clear he didn’t enjoy the command, whining once more, but eventually settled back down on the ground next to the fire to obey it. 

“I’m sorry.” It took you a second to realize the apology was directed towards you. “Haru is for the most part, an extension of myself, so he…” The light was dim, your figure casting a shadow on his, but it wasn’t hard for you to decipher the almost bashful expression that had crossed his face. “He will bother you all night long if I were to let him join us, wanting to be as close to you as I’ll allow him to.”

“Oh.”

You could feel your own embarrassment creeping up at his confession, unsure just how to respond to it. But as embarrassed as his words made you feel, you thought you were beginning to understand. They had said the bond wasn’t quite as strong for you as it was for them, but even you felt its effect this close to him. If you struggled to keep yourself from burying yourself into his side for warmth, what was it like for him? And if it was stronger like they claimed, how the hell was he resisting it?

“It’s for the best if he stays anyways, especially if someone were to wake and notice our absence before we return. We’ll be too far to communicate with anyone other than Hongjoong, and San will be taking over my watch within the next hour or so.” 

“Is it fine if we go, then? I don’t want to cause any more trouble.”

“Trust me, angel, your request is no trouble at all. Haru will let me know if anyone is searching for either of us and lead them our way if needed,” Yunho replied, brushing past your worries. “And if it’s your own safety that concerns you, I give you my word that no harm shall come to you tonight. If my word still means anything to you, that is.”

“It does.” Despite doing your best to reassure each of them that night had been your own fault, they still blamed themselves for what had happened. And though talk of that night had become sparse, you could see the blame they still laid upon themselves in moments like these. “And my safety was never a concern of mine. I trust you, Yunho. I guess-“

You didn’t understand the impact your words held until you saw the way he reacted. The hand that was still clasped firmly against yours tightening its grip as his body tensed. His eyes widened ever so slightly as your words caught him off guard. 

“I guess,” you repeated, trying not to think too deeply about what you had just said or the implications it might have had, “I guess I’m just worried I would be inconveniencing you and I don’t want to cause any more problems than I already have. If it’s better for me to stay-“

“Angel,” Yunho’s eyes softened, bringing up his free hand to cup the side of your face, “nothing you could ever ask of me would ever be an inconvenience. You are not an inconvenience.”

Your eyes shifted to the ground, pulling away from his touch. Despite the genuinity in his eyes, you didn’t believe him. You couldn’t believe him. Not when you had only ever been told the opposite. Not when you were more than aware your mere existence had always been an inconvenience to those around you and would continue to do so. After all, how much easier would it have been for all of you if you had just been fully human? No one would have a problem with you then, would they?

“It doesn’t feel like it.” 

You felt slightly guilty once the words left, not meaning to voice your frustration towards him. If anything, he and the others were the first ones in a long time that had treated you like you mattered. That they wanted you to be around. 

But that didn’t mean you didn’t still feel like an inconvenience around them, though this was no fault of their own. It simply came down to the fact they had been stuck with a mutt for a mate. 

“y/n.” Yunho’s voice was gentle as he called you back to him, taking no offense to your earlier statement. “You are worth it-“ You shook your head, opening your mouth to rebuke his statement, but he didn’t allow you a moment to speak. “And I know you might not believe it now despite how many times I may try to tell you, but I hope that someday you might.” 

He tugged you against him then, pulling you into a tight embrace. Your eyes widened at the sudden move, body stiff as you were pressed flush against him. You struggled to react, still attempting to process what he had said to you right beforehand. The combination was almost too much, the situation threatening to overwhelm you, and yet… you could feel the panic easing out of you as the surprise faded away. Your head had fallen against his chest and you could hear his heart beating, the steady rhythm it thrummed helping to control the panic that had risen up. 

“In the meantime, please try and extend some of the grace and kindness you show those around you to yourself.”

His body was warm, making it impossible for you to keep from moving in closer, burying yourself fully into his arms. “It’s hard.”

“I know.” His reply was soft, words mumbled against the top of your head. “But you can talk to me. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

You knew the wisest action to make would be to pull away, but was that what you wanted? His touch was comforting, helping to ease the anxiety coursing through you. It was a welcome relief from the past hour you had spent by yourself, trying your hardest to avoid the fears that crept up in the corners of your mind. Would it be so terrible if you were to give in just this once? If you opened up just a little and allowed him to carry your burdens with you for just a moment?

You felt the words bubbling up at the back of your throat, begging you to open up and confess them to the man before you if you only found the courage. 

“Yunho, I’m scared.” You hadn’t realized how heavy the words were until they were out, immediately lightening the load on your shoulders. “I’ve stepped foot into hundreds of war zones, snuck my way around them knowing exactly what might await me if I were to get caught by the wrong person, but none of it compares to the fear that has been building up with each step we take towards your world.” Now that it was finally out, the rest of the words flowed with ease. “I’ve barely come to terms with the fact I’m your mate here within the safety of this camp and around those whom my identity as the Black Angel might have earned me an inkling of respect. So, how the hell am I supposed to come to terms with any of this amongst those who will be more vocal in their distaste for it?” 

And there would be those against it. There was no doubt about that. Even if you weren’t their mate, and had simply been brought back because of your ability to heal, you would come to deal with the same prejudice and hatred you had faced back home amongst the humans. But this time, you weren’t just some random half-daemon who could save a person from death, you were Hongjoong’s mate, and by proxy, his guardsmen as well. If they didn’t want you in their city, they most definitely didn’t want you as their queen. 

And you couldn’t even blame them. Not when you didn’t want to be queen either. 

“I’m sorry, angel.” Yunho’s arms tightened, attempting to bring you in closer than you were already. “I know how terrifying it can be to leave your home and arrive at court in Taeyang, but that doesn’t mean I have any idea what it must be like for someone like you. Nor will I ever.” He was gentle as he slowly loosened his hold on you, pulling away just far enough so that he could look you in the face. “I do not know exactly how things will go when we arrive tomorrow nor how some will react, but you won’t have to go through any of it on your own. We’ll be by your side each step of the way.” 

“What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” Yunho’s brow furrowed, taken back by the sudden change in conversation. “Taeyang?”

You nodded. Though you had caught snippets of the daemon’s capital from them over your time on the road, the majority of the city and its inhabitants were a mystery to you. And though Yunho’s confession had prompted the question from you, you would have been lying if you had said you hadn’t just asked if as a way to direct the conversation away from yourself.

“I would assume it’s quite different from any city you’re used to.” He let you go for just a moment, hands lowering to take hold of your hand and begin guiding you towards the southern edge of the camp. “Though I’m sure you’ve already been able to gather that much from the few cities we’ve passed through this past week.”

He was right. Though you had done your best to keep your head down in the cities and villages you passed by, all it took was one passing glance to take note of the difference. The design of the buildings was vastly different from any town you had been to before, alongside the structure of the town itself. You were used to hard lines and stone, buildings compact against each other between streets of dirt and mud. But here, everything was more open, buildings sprawled out amongst the terrain, incorporating the nature around them into their design. And a large majority of buildings featured areas, though covered by the sloping roofs above, left completely open to the warmer air of the south. 

“To me, it’s most beautiful in the autumn during the Festival of Memories when the Dal is set ablaze by the lanterns sent out along it.” The hint of a smile appeared on Yunho’s lips. “Then there’s the way the city comes back to life in the spring when the plum blossom trees bloom. You should see the royal gardens at that time, especially at night when the fireflies come out.”

“It sounds beautiful.” You could only imagine the scene in your head, having only ever caught glimpses of the gardens in Maehwa when your services had been requested by the council. “Do you miss it?”

Yunho was silent for a moment, mulling over your question as he led you past the edge of camp and off into the nearby field. “Parts of it, perhaps. There’s a familiarity about the city that is comforting after all this time. It is my home, after all, but I do not miss the politics of deception that fills the halls there. There are many who will do or say anything if they believe it might benefit them in some way.”

You understood what he meant. Though Maehwa had never treated you well, it had been your home and a part of you longed to return. It may have not been the greatest of lives, but you had been happy at times. Life was constant. There were no surprises. No unexpected events that would change the entire course of your life. You were normal, or at least as normal as you could be as a half-daemon, able to carry on with your life with little issue with your siblings by your side.

“Do they know?” You were conscious of the way Yunho hadn’t let go of your hand during this time, but you didn’t dare attempt to slip it away. Not with the way it helped to keep you grounded, a physical reminder that you were not alone at the moment. “About me? About my relationship to all of you?”

Yunho nodded, but you weren’t sure exactly how the revelation made you feel. “The majority of the court learned about you when Hoseok, Hongoog’s father, did. He… he saw your relation to his son as a reflection of weakness upon him, so he wasted no breath shaming Hongjoong on the matter.”

His words made you feel like you had just been dumped into a bath of ice, body freezing as the weight of them hit you. You had always known how ridiculous it was for someone like you to be his mate. When they had told you, it had felt like some attempt at a cruel joke, made worse by learning it was indeed true. To know the only reason any of them had shown an ounce of kindness or expressed attention towards you was because of some supernatural bond that tied you all together. Even now, it still hurt, fully aware Yunho wouldn’t even be out here comforting you without you. 

And yet, you had never stopped to consider how it all might have felt from their view. From Hongjoong’s view. How had he felt when he first learned about you? How had he felt when he had first learned the person he had been waiting for was a half-daemon? Had he been upset? Had he felt shame? Had he wished things might have been different? That you had been different?

He must have. It was only natural for him to wish fate would have delivered him a better hand. It was only natural for him to wish it had been someone other than you. Someone better than you. 

And yet, he had saved your life, going so far to risk his own for yours. When he should have ignored the bond and listened to the other daemons and allowed his father to kill you, he hadn’t. 

Why? Why hadn’t he? Why hadn’t any of them? 

“Many of them believed you to be dead alongside your father in the years that followed.” Yunho continued, sensing the way your body had tended beside him. “And it wasn’t until after Hongjoong was crowned that they discovered what had truly happened and that you were still alive. As you can imagine, it created quite the uproar on many accounts. Nothing like this had ever happened before.”

Was it simply because of how difficult it was to reject a mate? They had told you how impossible it was to fight against the bond. How it was stronger than either of you could fight against and strong enough to drive you insane if you attempted to reject or ignore it. In the end, it didn’t matter how ridiculous it all sounded. It didn’t matter if they were against it. There was simply no way to fight against it. A fact you were quickly coming to learn for yourself. 

But would they have dealt with the repercussions if none of them had ever met you? Would it have been impossible for them to reject you if you had died so long ago? 

“Would it not have been easier to just let me die?” You pulled Yunho to a stop, terrified to hear the confirmation you knew awaited you at the other end, but desperate for it all the same. You needed to know. “Perhaps if Hongjoong had never met me. If none of you had ever met me, then-“

“He would have spent an eternity with a part of him missing, just as we all would have when the bond between us fully snapped into place. Even if we had never fully known you, we would have spent the rest of our lives mourning you.” His reply was soft as he brushed aside the hair the wind tossed into your face, expression terribly gentle “As impossible as it all may seem, none of us regret the choices we made to get to this moment here. To get to you. How could we?” He raised a hand against your cheek, thumb tracing along the bone. “You have no idea just what you do to us, do you? What you do to me?” He moved the hand he held towards his chest, laying your palm against the area above his heart. “Can you feel that, angel? Can you feel how it beats for you and only you now?”

You could feel the heat pooling inside you, locked into place from the intensity he took you in. The raw emotion in his voice made your breath hitch, heart thudding in your chest. You didn’t believe him. You couldn’t believe him, but one look at him left you trembling as your chest ached for you to just let him in. To let yourself be loved.

“Never before have I so fully been enraptured by another. Your presence captivates my entire being and not a second goes by that I do not think of you and what I wish might become between us. Of everything I would do for you to finally make you see yourself the way I see you.”

“Yunho…” Your voice quivered, breathless from his confession. You didn’t know what to say, let alone what to think. All you could focus on was the way he peered down at you so lovingly, as though he fully believed each and every word he spoke to you. 

Whether it was on purpose or not, you could feel the wave of emotions that flooded through him into you. You could feel the desire he spoke towards you filling him, of how much he yearned for you to return the same sentiment towards him. And when his thumb brushed against your lower lip, it was impossible to tell whether you simply felt his desire to kiss you burning through you or whether it was your own natural inclination building up. 

“We chose you, angel. We have accepted you just as you are.” Yunho leaned closer, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. “Won’t you now please accept us? Just give us a chance?”

He gave you no time to respond - not that you would have been able to if he had, his words fully rendering you speechless - closing the gap completely and pressing his lips against your own. They were hesitant at first, just barely brushing against you as though testing to see just how you would respond to it. Only once you hadn’t pulled away did he finally deepen it, using his grip on your face to tug you closer to him. 

You were frozen in place. A thousand different thoughts were running through your head, but you couldn’t quite grasp at any of them. It was impossible to differentiate them from his own desire that overflowed into you still, looking at the base of your stomach. The only thought you could properly take hold of was how soft his lips were against your own and how very warm they were. 

Your body responded before your mind did, fingers tightening their grip on his shirt in an effort to pull yourself in closer. The action left him gasping, and a wave of pure joy ran over into you from the excitement he felt at you returning the kiss with a similar fervor. 

It was over just as quickly as it had started. Yunho was the first to pull away, breathless as his forehead came to rest upon your own. You remained silent in the seconds that followed, eyes still shut as your mind replayed the moment in your head, holding on to the high the act had created for as long as you could before reality came crashing back down on you. 

You could feel his fingers trailing across your face, taking you in as much as he could for the brief moment he had you with your guard down. And when your eyes finally fluttered open, you were caught off guard by the face that met you; the pure adoration that lined his features convincing you for just a moment that everything he had said was true. That you were worth it. 

Your face turned away as the situation finally processed in your mind, cheeks tinting pink as you realized what you had just done. You felt no regret for allowing him to kiss you or for the way you had returned it, but the yearning you felt to give in and close the distance between you once more did scare you. The desire you felt for the man standing before you was completely foreign and you struggled to process it. Never before had you ever wanted something, wanted someone, as much as you wanted him now. 

“I’m sorry,” Yunho’s voice was strained as he broke the silence, “should I not have?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s…” It was a struggle to speak, unsure of just what to say. Your head was still spinning, thoughts flying as you tried to straighten it all out in your head and just how you felt about all it. “It was nice. It’s just… I just…” You stumbled over your words, face growing hotter with each passing second. You struggled enough as it was with communicating your emotions and having to do so now over something you had very little experience with felt nearly impossible. “I’ve never-“

You cut yourself off, unable to stop the wave of embarrassment that ran through you at the thought of revealing your lack of experience. Of revealing that you had never before shared this sort of experience with anyone before. Of how you had never kissed anyone before. Of how you had never felt this way before and how terribly overwhelming it all was. 

Instead of attempting to finish your thoughts, you tucked your head against his chest in the hope of hiding your reddening face. He didn’t try to push you further and was silent alongside you as his fingers brushed through your hair. 

“Shall we go and observe the stars now, love?” Yunho was the first to speak, pulling your face back out to meet him.

You nodded, having completely forgotten why you had come to him in the first place. Despite the overwhelming nature of everything that had occurred between the two of you, it had worked as the distraction you had hoped for. You had long since forgotten why you had wanted out in the first place and the stress that had plagued your mind earlier in the night had been replaced with a different anxiety altogether. 

You allowed him to guide you further into the night, away from the lights of the camp behind you. As you went, you resituated the blanket along your shoulders, feeling much colder than before now that you weren’t pressed up next to Yunho. You hoped it would help with the heat still pooling inside you and prayed it would ease the redness of your cheeks.

It was just a kiss. It may have been your first kiss, but it was still just a kiss and nothing to get so worked up about, but one glance in his direction was all it took for your face to flame again. Your thoughts kept trailing back to the feeling of his lips on your, alongside the way he had looked at you so lovingly. The way he had so unabashedly confessed his feelings to you making your stomach flip. 

“Is this far enough?” 

You nodded, any and all feelings you might have pushed aside in the silence fully returning once Yunho turned back to you. A hint of a smile danced across his face, and you were once again struck by just how beautiful he was. You had always known it, but the kiss had given rise to a whole new wave of emotions flooding through you. It made you wonder if you had fallen asleep without ever realizing, and the events that had transpired between you nothing more than a dream. Seeing him bathed in starlight, the near epitome of perfection, left you feeling small beside him. How could someone like you have ever caught the eye of someone like him?

You tumbled to the ground, wondering why you had ever thought this would be a good idea. When you had asked for a distraction, this wasn’t what you had meant. You hadn’t wanted to spend the night wrestling over your feelings for a man you knew was way too good for you despite everything he said. 

The night sky offered little comfort. Everything was cleared out here away from the lights, but you struggled to piece the stars together. Everything was different here, the stars shifting far more than anything you had seen in your travels before, reminding you just how far from home you truly were. 

“Minnie, Woo, and I used to sneak out all the time when we were younger to observe the stars. My mother had taught Soomin the constellations before she passed, who in turn taught them to us before she outgrew the act of sneaking outside Maehwa’s walls.” Your voice was soft as you spoke, finding a bit of your panic fading away as you slowly found your way amongst the twinkling lights above. “Soomin says she loved the stars, so much so that she named each of us after them. And though I never knew her, I feel as though I can see a sliver of her in them.”

And tonight, the stars seemed to echo your sentiment. The stories said that falling stars were tokens of good luck and fortune sent by those who had long since passed from this world. And though you had never given much merit into the thought, it gave you some form of comfort tonight. Who else could have sent them besides your mother who had loved them so dearly in her life? As though to tell you, I see you. I hear you. I am with you always. 

You shivered, wishing more than ever that you had had a chance to know her. What had she been like? What about her had drawn the attention of someone like your father? Hadn’t he also been a member of the former Black Guard? Hadn’t he also been forbade from any sort of relation like the one he had with her? Had she ever felt the same way you did now? As though she wasn’t worth the love he gave her? As though she wasn’t worth the risk despite how happy she might have been?

It hurt to think about, chest aching as you wished more than ever before that things had been different. You wished you could have known them, seen who they truly were for yourself and not from snippets you heard from others. You wished it could have been your mother sitting by your side tonight, giving you guidance at a moment you felt completely lost. 

“Soomin is a summer child, so you aren’t able to see her constellation this time of the year. The stories claim it is because the serpent goddess disappears into the southern seas each winter, hibernating through the colder weather to return in full strength in the spring.” You didn’t know what possessed you to explain the origins of your namesakes, but it was comforting to think about and a welcome distraction from everything else. “It’s why they say it always rained so much at that time, as she brings the sea with her to nourish the earth for the new year.”

“Hyunwoo and I were born in the dead of winter, however, so you should be able to see them at this time. In fact, Hyunwoo’s should be somewhere…” Your eyes followed the trail of stars, piecing together the patterns until you found the collection you had been searching for. “There!” You did your best to guide Yunho’s gaze towards them, subconsciously leaning over to better line up his sight. “His namesake was said to be a great and mighty archer whose ability caught the attention of the Gunungsins. They challenged him to a competition, promising him a spot amongst their rank if he were to succeed. He did, of course, and now he roams the skies above keeping watch over those down below.”

“And then-“ Your words cut off when you caught sight of him in the corner of your eye. He was looking at you again, the hint of a smile dancing across his face. “I’m sorry.” The blush you had finally gotten under control came rushing back. You had been rambling, boring him with information he hadn’t asked for, nor did he care to hear about. “You probably didn’t care to hear about all that.”

“No, please continue. I’m most interested in what you have to say, especially on your own.” He nudged your shoulder, gently encouraging you to continue on. “And I apologize if my distraction made you think otherwise. It’s just… you’re very beautiful, you know? Especially when you are talking about the things you're passionate about.”

God damn it, Yunho.

“I’m sorry, truly.” Yunho replied, clearly hearing you curse him in your head. It hadn’t upset him though, and he struggled to control his laughter at the outburst, making you wonder if his apology was sincere or not. 

Your cheeks were definitely red again, however. Any and every feeling you had managed to suffocate over the past few minutes returning once more. 

Was he doing it on purpose? Enjoying the way you squirmed under his gaze and hoping perhaps if he prodded enough, you would do something about the growing desire you had to kiss him that had been pooling in your stomach ever since the first. 

“Please, continue,” he added in your silence, leaning closer towards you as he finally turned his gaze back towards the sky. “Which one is yours?”

“It’s the cluster just to the south of Hyunwoo’s, just above the horizon.” It took a second for you to steady your voice, aware of Yunho’s side now brushing against your own as he followed your guide. “She was said to be a maiden whose lover had become deathly ill. The only cure was in the flowers that grew at the peak of a nearby mountain, and though he had begged her not to go as the path was long and treacherous, she persevered and obtained that which she sought.” It had been a while since you had last thought of the story, and it felt strange telling it to Yunho now. Despite being a tale told through the ages, it felt oddly personal telling it to him now. “When she arrived home, however, she learned her lover had succumbed to the disease in her absence. She mourned for days, unable to live without him and ready to take her own life. The moon, however, who had watched the tragedy unfold, was moved by the woman’s selfless love and offered the woman passage to her immortal domain in the stars where she was reunited with her lover. Now they forever roam the skies together, given the happy life they had been stolen here.”

“Your mother named you well.”

“Soomin thinks so as well. She used to curse our mother for naming me after the maiden, claiming it had caused me to take the story too seriously and share her lack of concern for her own life. And I don’t know,” you shrugged, remembering all the times Soomin had cursed you in the past, “maybe she’s right. Maybe I have been cursed by my namesake, but she persevered to the end, did she not? Perhaps I will too.”

“y/n?”

You hummed in response, wondering what it was that had prompted him to call you out by name.

“May I kiss you once more?”

This made you stop, and you could feel the wave of heat flooding through you at the request. You didn’t dare look over at him, doing your best to not show just how much his sudden question had caught you off guard. 

“You wish to kiss me?”

“Very much so.” The pressure at your side grew as he leaned in closer next to you, fingers brushing the hair that blocked your face back behind your ear. “If you’d let me, that is.”

Your fingers dug into the fabric of the blanket you held, trying to process his request in your head and just what it was you wanted. Deep down, you already knew what it was. You wanted him to kiss you because you wanted to kiss him. 

So, then why did the thought of it scare you so much? 

You wanted it. There was no doubt about it, but the thought of acting out on your emotions terrified you, and you couldn’t quite pin your finger as to why. Was it the unknown that scared you? Simply self-conscious of your lack of experience. Or was it the underlying fear that they would change their minds that strayed at the back of your mind? That despite their reassurances, eventually they would realize what you knew all along and move on. And the only way to keep yourself safe was to keep your distance. 

You made the mistake of turning your head. One look at the man beside you and you could feel yourself caving; your want for him outweighing any fear you might have had. 

Fuck it.

You didn’t have to verbalize your consent, the way your head tilted towards his own telling him everything he needed to know. He wasted no time, pulling your chin up towards him and capturing your lips against his own once more. 

He continued to periodically kiss you throughout the next few hours you remained awake. At his behest, you pointed out more stars and constellations, telling him their stories as best you remembered. He would interrupt you every so often to kiss you once more, seemingly at random. You would be in the middle of a story or pointing out a new constellation and he would cut you off with his lips, making you lose your train of thought each and every time. 

At some point, the blanket you had was extended towards him, and he was quick to bring your body in next to him. A part of you was still conscious of the closeness, of the vulnerability you were showing him. Would it not be best if you pulled back? The less involved you got with them, the less it would hurt when it all came crashing down. And it would, would it not? You would arrive in Taeyang tomorrow and they would finally come to their senses and realize you didn’t belong in this world. In their world. 

But for now, it was nice. Perhaps the nicest night you had had in a very long time. For once in your life, you were able to forget your worries and just relax. Thoughts of tomorrow had been pushed to the back of your head, overtaken by the man next to you and how warm he was. How terribly sweet he was. 

So, for once in your life, you let yourself enjoy the moment for what it was. You let yourself relax into Yunho’s side, allowing yourself to open up just a little bit, because perhaps he was right. Perhaps things would all work out. All you had to do was let them. All you had to do was accept them. 

~~~

Is it almost time to switch?

San didn’t so much as open his eyes as he lazily reached out to Yunho, hoping the other daemon would tell him he still had a little time left to sleep. He hated pulling the second shift of your guard. While Yunho might have gotten an hour or two of your time before you went to sleep due to your insomnia, he wouldn’t get to see you until you woke up in the morning. And by then, everyone else would also be awake and vying for your attention. 

Yunho?

It was only in the second bout of silence that he realized Yunho wasn’t just ignoring him. He couldn’t feel the taller daemon’s presence on the other side of the bond at all. Yunho was nowhere in his current vicinity at the moment, cutting off communication between them. 

This had San waking quickly, reaching out just a bit farther along the bond that tied him to you only to be with silence once more. Neither of you were anywhere nearby. 

While he was concerned, he didn’t allow the panic hovering at the back of his head to take hold of him just yet. San knew how nervous you had been, he could feel the anxiety growing within you each day you drew closer to Taryang, so he didn’t doubt you must have simply wandered off somewhere in the hopes of easing it. And with Yunho being gone as well, he could only assume the two of you must have gone out somewhere together. 

He was met by a pair of black eyes as he exited the tent, finding one of Yunho’s shadow beasts lying near the fire Yunho had sat near at the beginning of his watch. Haru’s head lifted at his approach, observing him with mild curiosity. 

“Where are they, buddy?” San bent down next to the beast, scratching the back of his head. If Yunho had left him here, then he knew the two of you must have been somewhere safe and there was no reason to wake any of the others. “Can you take me to them?”

Haru stood up at the request, stretching his front legs and shaking out his fur before setting off towards the south of camp. San was quick to follow, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to straighten it as he yawned. He wasn’t sure what time it was. The candle set out to signal the end of the first watch had long gone out, signifying Yunho’s watch had ended some time ago. Wherever the two of you had gone, he must have lost track of time, causing San to curse under his breath. Normally, he wouldn’t have minded if Yunho took over part of his watch, enjoying the extra sleep, but not when it was because he had gotten distracted by you. If only the watches had been switched, then it could have been him out there with you right now instead. 

You hadn’t strayed too far from camp. Once Haru had left the tents behind, he could feel hints of your presence along the bond once more. To his surprise, your emotions had shifted significantly since he had seen you last. The anxiety that had riddled your body had almost completely disappeared, leaving you far more relaxed than he had ever felt you before.

This had him curious, wondering what might have conspired between the two of you to put you in such a state. For one brief second, the impossible crossed his mind. Yunho hadn’t mated with you, had he? But he shook the thought away before he could ponder it long enough to feel the outcome of that scenario. It was impossible, at least now. You hardly let them touch you at this current time, growing flustered and escaping away the moment things became too heated for you. There was no way you would give in and bare yourself completely to Yunho at this time. 

He didn’t have to wonder for long, eventually finding you curled up against Yunho on the ground in the nearby field. The two of you were bundled up beneath a blanket and your head rested against his chest as you slept. It was the most peaceful he had ever seen you, for once completely at ease with one of them. It didn’t completely erase the jealousy that was brimming in his chest as he took you in, but it did alleviate some of it. How could he be upset seeing you like that? Knowing that whatever Yunho had done or said had eased your mind enough to help you sleep before the day you had tomorrow? 

Yunho’s eyes were also closed, but San knew he was awake before he brushed against his subconscious. Despite how comfortable the other daemon might have been next to you, he would have never drifted off. Not when your safety was at risk in an environment like this.

I see now why you didn’t wake me.

It was hard for San to keep his tone from sounding too bitter, wishing once again that it could have been him instead. Though you had loosened up around each of them in your journey, he had yet to get as close to you as some of the others. And not nearly as close as he had been that night in Maehwa so long ago. 

He still remembered the moment he had first seen you that night. He had thought you were beautiful the moment he first saw you, but the feelings that had arisen seeing you dressed like that had been something else altogether. You had looked so radiant, so regal, that night, and it was at that moment he knew without a doubt that he would lay down his life for you. Spend the rest of his waking moment serving you in any way you desired. He would do anything for you, his queen, and bathe the world in the blood of anyone who stood in your way. 

“She fell asleep,” Yunho couldn’t hide the smile Sam’s words pulled as he replied, shifting slightly in the means of pulling you closer to him, “and I didn’t see the harm in straying here for just a bit. I don’t want to wake her after she finally got to sleep. She needs all the rest she can get for tomorrow.”

San couldn’t blame Yunho, both of them aware the moment between the two of you would end the moment he took you back to camp. And if he had been in Yunho’s position, he would have held you as long as he could. He would spend the entire night under the stars with you if he could. Whatever it was that you desired. 

“She kissed me, San.” Yunho’s following words made San stop, and he had to replay them over in his head before the implication of them hit. “Well, technically, I kissed her, but she let me. She kissed me back. And then she allowed me to kiss her again when I asked.” He paused, shifting to his side as gently as he could to better take in your sleeping figure next to him. “Don’t worry though,” he was quick to add, eyes glancing over at San as if he knew just what thoughts had popped up in his mind, “I think it will be a while again until she allows me to do it again. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have done it. She was vulnerable, desperate for any form of distraction from the days she has in front of her, but I couldn’t control myself. Not with the way she was looking up at me, and certainly not with the thoughts running through her head.”

And what thoughts would those be? San spoke to Yunho directly when you stirred in your sleep. As much as he did want to spend time with you, he couldn’t stand to wake you either. Not after you had finally gotten to sleep. 

She thinks we should have just let her die. 

San was thankful he had taken the time to sit down on your other side, Yunho’s confession shaking him to his core. 

That everything would have been easier if none of us had ever met her.

San was well used to your attempts at rejecting them. You had made it clear that you didn’t believe you were deserving of any of them, believing your status as a half-daemon made you lesser than them in some way. He knew the insecurities you held towards yourself, fueled by all the lies you had been told by the people before them. Their treatment towards you had cut you deep, and though killing them had alleviated some of his anger on the matter, it did nothing to heal the scars that remained. And to now hear their lies had led you to believe it would have been better if you had died alongside your parents, refueled his hatred towards them fully. He wished more than anything he could go back in time, realizing whatever death he had given them then was far too merciless. They deserved to suffer for what they had done to you. 

But the rage Yunho’s revelation brought only lasted so long, dissipating the second his mind thought of the inevitable. What would have happened if Hongjoong and Yeosang hadn’t gotten to you in time? If Hoseok had succeeded in his attempt to kill you alongside your parents? 

He could only stray on your death for so long before it became too much. The sheer panic he had felt when you had been attacked was something that still haunted him to this day. For days he had been unable to keep you from his sight, putting up as many barriers as he could manage to ensure nothing else happened to you, even going so far as to sketch the runes beneath your saddle to ensure no one but them could approach you when you were on the road. The last thing he wanted to think about was a life without you in it, let alone a life in which you never were. 

It made him wonder just where he was going wrong? Had their actions not shown you how much they cared? Had they not shown you just how much you meant to them? Had they not been enough to convince you that they would do anything to keep you safe? To keep you happy? 

He would have been lying if he said he hadn’t cursed your humanity before. Not for the reason you would have expected him to; he couldn’t care less about your blood status. He didn’t care if you were considered pure or not; it didn’t change who you were as a person, let alone how he saw you. But he did hate how your human heritage did limit the effects of the bonds that tied you to them. It had only been around two months since you had entered his life and he was already beginning to go insane. Every fiber of his being was drawn towards you, desperate to finally claim you as his own. It was driving him crazy. You were driving him crazy. Each second he spent next to you only fueled his hunger for you. A hunger you very well would have felt just as strongly if you had more maetha flowing through your veins. 

He may have promised alongside the others to wait as long as you needed, but he knew he hadn’t been the only one who had lied to you at that moment. He wouldn’t be able to wait that long. It would be impossible for him to wait another lifetime to finally have you. He knew it. The others knew it. But it didn’t really matter. In the end, the lie was meaningless. Even with your humanity, not even you could fully withstand the bond that mates shared. Already, you were cracking. A fact shown in your current position curled up to Yunho beside you. 

Does she realize that would have changed nothing? That it would have simply resulted is us feeling as though a part of us would have been missing for the rest of our lives? 

I told her as much. 

And? 

And… then I kissed her. Yunho paused, weighing the situation in his head. I guess a part of me hoped to convey just how much she means to us and that we mean each and every word we say. …At least that was the original intention, but then… The way she looked at me, San, I couldn’t control myself anymore. 

San was silent as he took in Yunho’s confession. As much as he wanted to be jealous, he knew Yunho wasn’t telling him all this to simply rub in the fact he got to kiss you first. Some of the others might have, including himself, but that wasn’t something Yunho would do. He was simply trying to piece the situation together himself, working through the wave of emotions flooding through him. 

Did you know she was named after the stars? Yunho shifted, eyes wandering the sky above. That’s why she stays out so late at night. It’s the one place she feels truly at home. 

Do you think she’ll ever feel that way with us? 

I hope so. Yunho sighed. You should have seen her, San. The passion that filled her. The way her eyes would light up. I like to think a part of her enjoyment was getting to share a part of herself with me. Of having someone to share it with. 

A wave of images flooded San’s mind as Yunho shared his thoughts with him. He could hear the hushed excitement in your voice as you spoke about some particular collection of stars, and see the way your eyes lit up just before turning away shyly when Yunho gently encouraged you to continue. To think Yunho had managed some control over kissing you was a shock to San. If it had been him, he would have kissed you under the stars until your lips were bruised and you were desperate for air. 

As much as I wish to stay here, we should probably head back. Yunho’s fingers ran through your hair, taking in what little time he had left with you. Dawn will be arriving soon and I don’t doubt she’ll be more comfortable waking up in her own bed rather than here. She has enough to worry about tomorrow. 

I’ll get her. San was quick to offer, eager to have you in his arms again, even if it was just for a few moments. 

Yunho offered no resistance, allowing San to wrap his arms around your sleeping figure and gently pick you up. You stirred once more from the movement, but did little more than curl in closer to him once he had you secured. San’s heart fluttered at the action, unable to resist planting a chaste kiss against the top of your head as his grip on you tightened. 

It was hard to let you go once they had made it back, and even harder to lay you down in your own bed, knowing he couldn’t stay there with you. All he wanted was to take you back with him, curling up next to your body which would slot in so perfectly next to his own. 

Nothing would happen if you weren’t ready. He’d be perfecting content with just having you next to him for now. But if you would just give him a chance, oh, the wonders he could show you. The things he could do to convince you he wanted nothing more than to have you by his side for the rest of your lives. The way he would worship your body and sing your praises all but forcing you to believe just how much you truly meant to him. 

But today was not that day. And he didn’t doubt it wouldn’t be any day in the near future either. For now, you were still stuck behind the walls you had built around yourself, an invisible barrier he had yet to find his way through. For now, he would have to be content with your mere presence, knowing that one of these days you might finally allow him to come inside. He just had to be patient, because one day he would succeed. One of these days he would finally get to fully savor you in the way he had craved ever since he had first set eyes on you. 

And he couldn’t wait. 

~~~

taglists are in the reblogs :)

[totallybakedcake]

Hello! I just can't get this idea out of my head and I just need to let it out. Considering the rivalry between gen and soshiro, I think it would be funny if they found out that their younger siblings are dating. Could I please request gen and soshiro's reaction to their younger sibling dating the other's younger sib? It would be even funnier if their sibling has the exact same personality as the other.

I am sorry but I changed a idea for your fic it's like Gen's little sister x Soichiro because I didn't want to make Hoshina another younger sibling if he already has one I could add. Hope it doesn't bother you so much!

I sort of you this idea to bring me out of writer's block so not my best. Sorry for that..

Listen to this song while reading? I listened to it while writing this and had fun!

It had been 100 days. It had been 100 days since you and Soichiro had been dating, but you hadn't told your older brother Narumi and his younger brother Soshiro. Sweat would pour down each time you tried to even consider telling Narumi that man would become a nuisance whenever even one of the Hoshina brothers was brought up. To even think he will let you be in contact with Soshiro, he would end up even using the number 1 weapon to decimate them.

As you tried to find out any option where Narumi would not be a brat, a pair of arms wrapped around your figure and pulled you to the lap. "Soie?" I called out to Soichiro, who had plates full of your favorite meals, as he smiled gently and kissed your forehead.

"What's with that look, cupcake?" He cupped your face, pressing a few kisses before feeding you some stew. He knows you can get tense quite easily.

"It's just…" Your voice trailed off, trying to collect all the thoughts before speaking again. "Wondering how Gen-Nii will react to us dating, you know. After he hates your younger brother and isn't very fond of you,

Soichiro also knew it was about time to tell the brother duo about his and your relationship. It also concerned him, but he knew it would turn out alright. "It will be a cake walk, silly! Just lax a little and enjoy the view." He pinched your nose before letting those thoughts go away.

That turned out to be awkward.

"THE FUCK?" Gen was speechless. How the hell could his adorable sister be in a relationship for 100 days with one of the Hoshina brothers when he had clearly mentioned a gazillion times that he hates them to the core of their existence?

"Name, are you serious? Why the hell didn't you tell me you were with Hoshina Soichiro? What if they hurt you, make you uncomfortable, or might not be able to protect you from dangerous things?" He hugged you too tightly, trying to hide you from Soshiro, who was as confused as Narumi.

"I never say something to you, but to be in a relationship with someone like this dude's sister is not something I expected!" Hoshina pointed at you, practically ready to murder Gen.

He went towards you and placed a hand on your head. "I don't mind a little sister. Commander Narumi, you should make your sister happy while she is dating, isn't it?" Gen then all at once calmed down, not wanting to make you more annoyed or to show Soshiro he actually cared for you.

It ended up as both of them leaving you and Soichiro alone, going to a cyberpunk cafe where both of them would spend their day together and make bets. Didn't both of them hate each other? but now they are going to spend their day together.

Odd..

As he walked towards you, Soichiro placed his hand on your head, rubbing your hair as he spoke in a soft tone.

"I told you not to worry!" he said, as a hint of a grin crept on his face.

Bonus

"That maniac," Gen yelled out angrily. Showing you his calm side was not true at all; inside his heart was a fire that was spreading. He needed to get revenge, no matter what it took.

"Don't worry, bro, I've got you all covered. Here is what Soichiro doesn't like and his strange habits." Hoshina pulled out a list and showed it to Gen. He was once helping Gen because he also knows how it feels to see your sibling be annoying and not do things properly.

"Dare to even think about something like that, and you will pay." They jumped as both of them turned their heads around.

It was Okonogi and Mina, ready to kill them with glares. "If they break up, you will see your end." Their voices were enough to send shredders down Narumi and Hoshina's spines.

End of this saga, as the two of them never did something like this.

Wink, wink, Mina and Okonogi.

Also I am starting this new thing where I tag some random followers

@skunabby

@imthecosmicbasball

@7-53-6-8

@aristotle97

A bunch of thanks for liking all my posts, even following me! Truly feel so happy

[bonkbobl]

make a deal or play a game

ROOSE BOLTON X READER

a/n: guys im gonna be so fr with yall i legitimately dont know where this energy came from but here you go. this contains possibly the longest sex scene i've ever written in my entire history of fic writing and i did get a little carried away. like a little more than carried away. the keys just dont stop click clacking

summary: You find out Roose has been plotting against your King but you know the Northern cause cannot survive with the North divided between the King's loyalists and a Bolton-Karstark army backing their martyred liege lords. You and Lord Bolton need each other more than either of you would care to admit, grasping for power over each other.

warning: DUBCON!!!! as in the dubbiest of cons, power dynamics, forced marriage, roose bolton is secretly a perverted old man, EDGING like a LOT OF EDGING, wet humping??/thigh fucking, dacyrphilia, wait girl he's literally like obsessed with you eeeeeeeee

You were always Robb Starks most trusted advisor, and who was to question why. A ward, offered by one of the Starks most loyal vassal houses for the honor of have you join their family as a ward. Your father practically begged them to raise you when your Lady Mother succumbed to the failed birthing of your baby brother. He hoped one day you may reach a higher station that you'd have been afforded, and how better to reach that than through the Starks. Your father shared a great great, a few times over, great grand parent with Ned, and ever honorable, the Lord Stark agreed to take you in.

But its difficult for a woman to rise up in the world, even harder still, in the midst of a war. Men did not like to make room for women at war but Robb was like your brother. He trusted you. And he trusted your opinion on people. It's because while the Starks held that honor must be of paramount importance, you understood not everyone held that same principle. You make sure Robb doesn't trust everyone as he trusts you.

Trust is a funny thing because you could trust someone with your life but you may not trust them to cook a chicken correctly. You may trust someone to lead a garrison of ten thousand for you and not trust them with a knife in close quarters without a guard behind you. Trust was what you dealt in — advising Robb on deals that he was to make with other Lords, even so far as traveling on his behalf.

Deals, and diplomacy — charms, and words. That was your strength.

Robb Stark insisted that Catelyn take you to the twins to aid in negotiations with Walder Frey, he deferred to you to send letters to Renly and Stannis Baratheon, you were even the one who had sent out the rallying cry at the very beginning of his great war to all his Bannermen. Everyone knew it. He was the brain, you were the mouth. The pretty, cunning, biting mouth of the young wolf.

—————

One issue you were never able to resolve was Roose Bolton. He was cold, calculating, and distant. Though he seemed to care deeply for the Northern cause, you had little to believe he was truly as passionate about Robb as King.

It began with certain issues in which you would honestly take Roose's side instead of Robb's and since you saw Roose as an ideological ally, you would shoot glances at him after Robb declared he'd have his way after all. In those moments, a bitter gaze that lingered a few seconds too long on the King in the North roused suspicion in you.

It wasn't serious. You're sure its the frustration than anyone would feel being brushed aside so many times. But as the social tension within Robbs camp rose, you felt that you must do something about it.

You don't trust Walder Frey. He wouldn't so easily brush aside a slight as heavy as the King in the North refusing his daughter's hand in marriage. He wouldn't trade it so carelessly, not even for a claim in the Riverlands. The fact was that a young boy had made him a promise and quickly threw it all away the moment he got what he needed.

Frey's resentment of all the Paramount liege lords in Westeros already made any alliance between you fragile. Compound it with more insult and well, you just didn't know what you expected from this.

So when you saw a rave flying even in the general direction of the twins, you shot it down.

The Bolton seal, you noted, as you inspected the short scroll.

Tomorrow the white sun will illuminate the darkness clouding your castle. We will dine on fishes and the hour of the wolf will drown out in history. Ensure final preparations are made.

R.B.

As you read it, you could feel blood draining from your face and you really should have gone to Robb immediately but the need to find out what plot was brewing overtook reason. When the men were drinking and dining, you snuck into Roose Bolton's tent.

—————

"Letters, letters..." You muttered. You had already checked his desk but of course the man isn't dense enough to store proof of treachery in the drawer of a desk where any young squire may stumble upon them. So you were rifling through everything, casting aside bulks of chainmail, furs, coats, anything.

As you did, your mind ran endlessly about what might happen. So the Boltons and the Freys. Eliminate them and you're forced to then castrate your own army. We were already outnumbered greatly. Losing the Boltons is a blow we may not survive even if we survive this bloody wedding.

And the reference to the white sun illuminating the darkness was not so easily lost on you. You weren't sure, but coupled with the rising tensions with the Karstark men who currently stood one third of Robb's entire army, you could take a gander to why the white sun of their sigil was mentioned in Roose Bolton's death letter.

"Looking for something?"

Roose's voice cut clear through the room, it even felt like it sliced right through your heart. Well die tonight or die tomorrow night it makes no difference to you. But it makes all the difference to the North.

You should have gone to Robb first. Your foolishness.

You straightened up and flattened the blankets on his cot down. "Just tidying up. Waiting for you, my lord," And you took a deep breath, braving a sultry look on your face before turning around.

"Me?" Roose asked, pure amusement in his voice. You'd have to work to really get him to believe you.

"All this talk of weddings, it's all I hear now. Everyone, everywhere," You hoped your hesitation wasn't visible as you draped your arms around Roose's neck and stared into his eyes.

"And why are you here, my lady, waiting for me."

You sighed, careful not to drop the ruse. Of all men why did it have to be Roose Bolton. Any other man, after not touching a woman for years, wouldn't have questioned the logic of your seduction and you'd at least have a chance to hit him over the head with a lantern, maybe a knife if you're lucky. But Roose hed his gaze with you evenly. Challenging you.

How to get him to trust you...

"Isn't it obvious?" You tilted your head, staring with the biggest pleading eyes you could muster. And you looked at his lips, just a moment of hesitation overtaking you before you leaned in and slowly molded your mouth to his.

Your heart went wild as he kissed you back, a mix of emotions forming. You were still scared for your life but you were also happy that your trick seemed to be working. And under the two dominant emotions, there was a slight hint of something else at play. You chalked up to the scandalousness of it all. It wasn't your main worry, but as a proper lady you were raised to not be caught in close quarters with another unmarried man, especially if you were doing salacious things — or if it looked like you were about to. It was also the first time you'd ever kissed a man.

Not the greatest conditions, but alas, you could care less about a tender kiss or even a few. You just need a distraction and its working. Roose kissed you back so fiercly it made you dizzy. So dizzying that you hadn't realized he reached into your pockets.

When the kiss broke, you stared up at him, his face composed and hard as stone, almost as if it hadn't affected him at all. But his lips were swollen and he stared at you, eyes betraying him to look down at your equally puffy lips and you smirked.

You made sure to hold his gaze and you let your hand trail down his front, teasing just above his crotch. "Celebrate the happy betrothal with me?"

Roose cracked a smile and nodded, a sarcastic hum rumbling from him, "Your nerves give you away, my lady." Your heart sank. "You quiver like a virgin playing at being a whore. It was almost convincing, but..." He held up the letter that you had stolen from the raven.

You let the dread overtake your face and you ran.

But you couldn't even make two steps before Roose pulled you by your wrist, back into his chest.

You struggled for a few seconds but stilled as soon as you felt cool metal under your chin.

"A deal," You spoke quickly, equally as quickly deciding you really didn't like the feeling of a cold blade pressing against the neck, that you very much did like.

"A deal?" Roose breathed the question into your ear. He was so obviously not scared or even wary of you. And you scrambled to keep the upper hand.

"I could always scream instead. You could kill me, make some excuse to cover yourself up, but that excuse wont pass, not for our King's childhood friend. You could run. You'd be dead within the fortnight if they caught you." You hoped that you weren't just spewing bullshit, "The camp is so dense. How likely are you to make it to Frey before one of Robbs catches you first? And your plan would fail. Robb would know something's wrong."

He was permitting you to continue, so you did. He wasn't so much as urging you to continue but rather, watching, knowing you would.

"I could offer your head to our king. But I imagine you wouldn't enjoy that very much. So many options but I propose the best one — you could turn on Frey, tell Robb. Warn him about Karstark, too. Wouldn't you much rather become the new Lord of the Twins than deal with a petty mess?"

Roose considered it for a couple seconds before releasing you. You're right that making you disappear would be a little more annoying that simply a petty mess. He knows he can't just let you go either. He doesn't trust you.

Whats to stop you from running to tell Robb as soon as he let you go anyway? Then he remembers that his soldiers make up the largest portion of Robb Starks army aside from the Karstarks. And that there was his leverage. That's why you were trying to reason with him. Which really means, despite everything, he could even go as far to say that he's the one with the upper hand in this situation.

You, apparently unwilling to inform Robb of his treachery, asking him to warn your King and continue to fight by his side, all you had was a secret that only the two people in this room know. Not a very good hand. You don't even have proof anymore. Roose walked over to his bed, pulling a stack of letters out from a slit in the mattress.

You sighed, kicking yourself. You were so close. And you watched him, walking to the fire at the foot of his bed with his eyes trained on you. You watched helplessly hope was scorched in the flames.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest and only now had you permitted yourself to notice it. Sitting at the edge of his bed, You wiped your forehead.

Roose chuckled. Clever girl, weighing logic and strategy, no trouble following the shifting power between you two. You knew you needed him. You knew Robb needed him. You knew the odds of winning this war was slim already now that the Tyrells had joined the fray. You knew if you gave him a reason, he might slit your little throat tonight. And sure that meant Robb might get the hint not to attend the wedding, but the Northern army would still be crushed within half a year.

And perhaps you valued that pretty little head of yours above all else.

Now, Roose took interest, evaluating you with a new eye, "What is your proposal?"

"You go, tell Robb of the plans but tell him you intended on being a turncoat this entire time."

"And what do I receive in exchange for this act of mercy."

You chuckled, "My many thanks, redemption in the eyes of the Gods," you offered sardonically, knowing the answer would come as too dismissive. You could tell Roose wasn't impresssed, "I can still tell the King, my lord, if it pleases you.

Roose, ever perplexed by your mind, drew closer but stowed his knife back in his holster, behind him. He made it so that you had to tilt your head up to look at him. "Do not think for a second that you might have the upper hand in this position, my lady. I say that, not as a threat, but as advice. Know when you do not have the upper hand. Know when to serve."

You glared up at him, scanning his eyes, baffled by his audacity. You are— "I am a—"

"Stark Ward. But not a Stark. If you go to Robb, you have no proof. I might have my own story. You and Greyjoy, bitter that you'd never truly be accepted into the Stark family plotted the demise of the King in the North, who I so faithfully served up until now. There is no reason for Robb to view me with less trust than you... The King may grow weary with paranoia. First his brother... then he doesn't know to trust his closest advisor or his sister. "

"But you---"

"I am guilty. And you have no evidence. You are asking for a favor. Tell me, what difference does it make if the King dies tomorrow or three months later on the Battlefield without my men to back him." he questioned, enunciating each word clearly, staring down at you.

You cursed yourself for sitting. The scare was not over, you should have realized. Even if the cold blade was no longer physically at your neck, Roose Bolton still had a knife to you.

"What do you want?"

He chuckled, "One day I will have a need for you. And that day, you will obey. You owe me your life, my lady. And the King's life."

You glared at the ground, wishing you could say something of his arrogance, "And Robb?"

"I will tell him of the plans. And you will not tell him the truth. Any time you think you want to tell the young wolf what we discussed in these chambers remember that it is your pretty neck and your reputation that may be in my hands." Roose gave you one last look, then whispered, "Go on now. Back to your tent."

You stood, meeting him with one last glare.

He smiled sweetly at you, nodding, "I thoroughly enjoyed the display."

—————

Your promise to Roose Bolton loomed over you every day for a month. You spent your days watching his actions closely to know when he was plotting anything, but he's yet to step blatantly out of turn.

He was showered with honors for being savior at the Red Wedding, not only becoming the official Lord presiding over the Twins, but he was given a large portion of the remaining Karstark forces, which thankfully very few deserted the King in the North after the victory at the Twins. Roose sent his Bastard to serve in his stead at Karhold, which was now under close surveillance for their treachery.

You paled to hear these developments. Because in truth you still failed to trust Roose Bolton though you hoped these gifts from the King in the North sweetened the pot enough for him to follow through with his promise to you. You simply shivered at the obscene amount of power that was showered to him.

So long as he retained the upper hand you would continue to be unsettled. You wish he would just tell you what he wants from you quickly so that you may get it over with. Really, something you think he just enjoys watching you squirm.

"Milk of the Poppy," Talisa said calmly.

And you moved to argue with your queen but hearing the screams of agony of the man being tended you, you decided there was a time and place.

The queen finished up with him quickly and turned back to you. That's when you started, "My Queen, I'm sure you're tired of hearing. And I, more than anyone else here understand your concern for the wellbeing of unnamed Lannister boy-soldiers."

Talisa, laughed, ducking her head in preparation for your words.

"But truly... Milk of the Poppy?" You pleaded, "I know it may seem cruel but it's really more of a luxury in wartime than anything. Perhaps that can be saved for the men fighting for our King."

Your queen met your eyes again but then at something behind you. Turning, you saw Roose speaking with Robb. Robb glanced at you, spoke something back to the Dreadlord and patted his arm before making his way to you. Roose spared you a glance before walking in the other direction, toward his tent.

"I'll take your words into consideration, my lady," Talisa reassured, "I understand. Thank you for stating your opinion calmly and without judgement."

You smiled in sympathy, knowing the men in the army could be quite rough around the edges with their opinions.

Talisa started again, taking some time to gather her tools "My husband is coming. I think he wants to speak with you."

Robb came up to the two of you, placing a hand on the small of Talisa's back, pressing a kiss to her cheek and whispering something short in her ear.

"I'll leave you to it then," Talisa said sweetly and left to find more sick to tend to.

As soon as she did, Robb's features were cast with a stern seriousness. You evaluated it, wondering if it had anything to do with Roose Bolton's conversation with him just moments before.

"What is it?" You asked.

Robb sighed, "You don't have to agree. You can think on it for a while. I know it can be daunting seeing as I'm almost sure he's older than father."

"What is it?" You pressed urgently.

"Roose Bolton asked for my blessing to take your hand in marriage."

Your heart sank, the full weight of the deal you made with Roose falling on your shoulders.

"I gave him my blessing as I have no reason not to. But I warned him that I cannot force you to be amenable." With a laugh, Robb tried to cheer you up but to no avail, "I even warned him you shared Arya's disdain for marriage from a young age."

You simply nodded, expressionless and quickly muttered something to dismiss yourself and you ran straight for Roose Bolton's tent.

—————

The route to Roose's tent felt quick, like you had stormed off from Robb and landed right at his door. Your anger bubbled at your throat and you could hardly wait before storming in and yelling at the man sat at his desk.

"So that's it?" You asked, bewildered, "That's how you aim to make me repay my debt?"

Roose didn't even look up at you as he continued to write on a small strip of parchment. "It seems with my sudden acquisition of the Twins, even if I legitimize my bastard, it will not be enough to sustain my achievements. I'm in dire need of heirs. You owe me a favor."

You were speechless for a second and you felt a laugh be punch out of your chest, the mere ridiculousness — the scale of this favor. "A favor, my lord, usually doesn't include a lifelong bind. A favor, I would imagine is a one and done type of deal." Marching to the side of his table, you attempted to command his attention, "Was the twins not enough? Was having your bastard installed as acting Lord of Karhold not enough?"

Roose looked up at you, calmly speaking. "I'd like to remind you, my lady, that had I not warned the King in the North of the Freys and Karstarks treachery, I'd have been named Warden of the North by the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

Closing your mouth, you huffed, amazed by this mans blatant selfishness. Titles.

"The Twins, and temporary reign over the Karstark maneuvers pales in comparison to what I had abandoned."

"Well you our deal wasn't for me to make that loss up to you, it was so you could keep your head and remain loyal to King Robb." You shook your head, "I wont do it. If you're the pragmatic, power hungry man you claim to be, why don't you plot your way into some other lady's bed — someone who could give you another stronghold to place your seed upon? I'd just be a cow to breed, nothing else to gain from there"

"A pretty cow to breed with a respectful name and no brothers to take your family home. I'd say you're as good a match as any."

You gasped at his blatant disrespect, blood rising to your head, and you landed a firm slap to his face. You even went for seconds but he grabbed your wrist firmly. You tried to pull it away but he wouldn't let you.

"Of course, we'll have to do something about that temper of yours once we are wed," He warned, pulling you a little harshly — not too rough but enough to make you fall forward and catch yourself on his table. He stood, circling around the table, as casually as he could managed but he did adjust his jaw from the slap you landed on him. "Your spirit and smart mouth have done you well in the past but only when they are in company with your wits. Don't go losing those wits and getting yourself in trouble. As I'm sure you are aware, there are dangerous men lurking in times of war."

"Dangerous men like you," You pushed yourself off the table and faced him again, crossing your arms, "I owe you my life. What happens if I decide I'd rather die than marry you?"

"Then what will be protecting your King, if not your life?"

That took any retort out of your mouth, as this was not an avenue you'd expected him to take. You stuttered dumbly for a moment. "M-my King? What of him? They—... House Frey and the Karstarks have been dealt with. You—"

"I can still betray him. He trusts me now more than ever. If I write to Tywin Lannister detailing how the plan had been spoiled and I explain that I'd counted our losses and regained the trust of the King so that we may try again well, that'd be easy enough," He stared down at you and said the next part clearly, "You are the only thing stopping me from doing so. If you'd rather die..."

You shook your head at him, scowling. The entire North, dependent on what you say to this man. "I don't want to marry you," you stood your ground as well as you could, "Anything else, I'll do."

Roose looked to the ground next to you, "Well then," He sighed.

Then he glanced back at you, giving you a lazy once over.

He sighed again, this time more sure, straightening his back and that's when you knew he'd had an idea.

You didn't like him getting ideas. You don't like his mind and the thoughts he spins.

"Another deal. A game, more like."

You didn't trust the slight tinge of a smile. Really you just didn't trust or like this man. Every moment you're in his tent feels like a gamble. "What game?" You especially hate the idea of playing his games. Right into the bear trap, it felt like.

Where you excelled in proposing deals that suited the interests of both sides perfectly, the Boltons were infamous for creatively constructing games that were rigged from the start, in their favor.

"Part of it is that you have to figure out the rules," He smiled.

You should have known the odds were against you. They always were when it came to Roose Bolton. How does one negotiate with a man like him?

Your attention was drawn back to him when his hand came up to the pin that secured your cloak to your shoulders. He undid the on on the right, then the one on your left. And you could do nothing but watch it fall to the floor, heart racing, because suddenly you understood.

Why did you have to say "Anything"?

Of course... You watched him, his clenched jaw, barely holding back from just ripping your clothes off, and you realized: Roose Bolton is just like any other man. He only wants one thing. Married to you or not.

One and done, you wondered, Is that better?

He pulled the laces securing your dress in the front, watching his eyes greedily take in your chest as more of it was exposed. Soon, your dress hugged your waist and shoulders, barely covering your top half.

You smacked his hand away as it reached under the fabric draping at your shoulders.

The silent question in your eyes was What the fuck do you think you're doing?

Roose simply chuckled softly, “Letting me see your tits is not as bad as marrying me, is it, my lady?” Dark intentions coated his syrupy smooth voice and it made you shiver.

Breathing a long, angry sigh, you looked up at him, “I could just kill you.”

“Even if you managed, your king desperately needs Bolton men. They'll only follow a Bolton,” He spoke matter of factly, tugging your sleeves so they fell off your shoulders.

He's right. The Starks and the Boltons had no love for each other. Centuries of hate. Many Karstarks remained loyal to Robb because of the history of love between the houses. There was no such history between the Starks and Boltons.

The cool air hit your exposed skin. “Trust me,” Roose smiled satisfied with the sight before him, taking a firm handful of your breast, caressing over it and pinching the nipple as he let go, “You’d rather handle me than deal with my bastard.”

You shivered and took several steps back from him and his touch, and moved to cover your breasts with your hands as well as you could.

You’d definitely heard about his bastard. From what you knew, he was a more unhinged, less predictable version of Roose, more willing to get his hands dirty, more eager to act. You stood and let Roose’s eyes rake over your body, disgust bubbling at your throat.

“So conveniently, my best option is to either marry you or let you fuck me and ruin any marriage prospects in my future?”

“Who said anything about fucking?” Roose raised his brow, playing innocent, “I just want to see you, touch you... feel you touch me. I wont put anything inside your cunt unless you ask me to.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, you dont trust his mercy, especially the last clause. Unless you ask him to. Why in seven hells would you ask him to? “What do you want me to do?”

Roose smirked widely and the look should have terrified you — you’ve never seen such twisted joy on a persons face before, especially not stoic Roose Bolton.

He stepped closer to you once more, hands coming to cradle your face and neck gently. Your hands instinctively followed, grabbing his wrists cautiously. Though a hint of that devious smirk lingered, he looked at you with gentleness between his eyes, “Lets start with another kiss,” He said, condescension lacing his voice, “seeing as my lady was so eager the last time we saw each other.”

You couldnt help but fall a little under his spell, eyebrows furrowing as you tried to figure out why you felt dizzy with him so close to you, cold eyes darting all over your face. Why your mind whirred with the memory of how hungrily he responded to you last time you were in his tent. You wondered if perhaps you had sparked something in him. If that was why he was so insistent.

You nodded softly, so soft that upon thinking on it, you wondered if it was even noticable. But Roose had been watching you closely for any sign of submission and he closed the gap between you before you could move to do anything else.

He noted how you tensed just as his lips met yours and he carefully took your hands, guiding them to wrap around his neck. You tried to relax into it as much as possible and kiss him back, but it proved difficult until his arms came around and pulled you closer to him.

His bare hand on your back made you jolt and he chuckled deeply, the rumble of it making you shy away. "Roose," You started, unsure of what you would say. That you already need a break?

Roose ignored you, hands coming back up to cup your breasts, "Fucking gorgeous. And you've been right in front of me this entire time," He spoke so lowly you almost thought he was muttering to himself. But his eyes trained on you told you different.

He leaned down the few extra centimeters to meet your lips again, this time toying with your hardened buds as he did. Your hand shot up to grab his wrist but he just pinched in response. You squealed, lips parting from his but he kept you held close.

"Behave."

You whined, glaring at him, your dignity clinging to any sliver of hope it had of remaining intact.

Roose glared right back and took your hand, leading you toward his cot. He sat you on his lap and again, turned his attention toward your chest after kissing you a few times. This time, his lips wrapped around the bud on your right while his hand toyed with the other.

You tensed as a moan threatened to escape you, especially with his tongue circling around the way it did. When he sucked and continued that technique at the same time it was difficult not to enjoy. To be honest, you didn't even know a man could enjoy a woman's body like this — so shamelessly lewd. But he promised no penetration. You assume that means he deigns to make use of your body in any other way.

It was quickly proving to be too much. You grunted a few times when moans caught in your throat, gutteral noises and sighs to keep the really embarrassing noises down. But even that was wearing thin. Your hand shot up to his head and tugged at his hair. Your back arched into him, body twitching when he'd trigger a sensitive nerve.

And before you could stop it, you sighed something a little too audible, too close to a full moan. You began trying to push his head away.

Roose grabbed your hands firmly, pushing them away and gave you a small nip as a warning. You yelped, staring at him incredulously. Then he switched to your more neglected nipple.

This same torture continued for far too long, but the result was worse than the torture itself, because you couldn't deny the pool forming in your small cloths. The pleasure of him toying with your sensitive buds just goes straight down there. You can't help it.

"My lord, h-how much more."

"I'll play with you until I'm satisfied, darling," He answered cooly, "Don't ask again."

You nodded, looking at his intense, watchful eyes. And he crashed his lips on yours again. This time, he reached beneath all the heavy layers of your skirts and pulled your breeches down. You helped him kick them off.

When the pads of his finger met your cunt, they circled around in search but he cut his search off, chuckling at what he found. You pulled away from his lips, hiding in his shoulder because you already knew what he was laughing at.

"Look at my little whore. Never been touched like this, have you? You're going to let me ruin you for your King?"

You groaned, feeling his fingers gather your slick, then he found a bundle of nerves. It felt like when he was licking your nipples— the way it tingled down there— but he was touching the exact source of it. Sometimes you'd cross your legs or gyrate your hips against a pillow and feel the same way but Wow you always thought that sensation was coming from something deeper inside you. Turns out its right there. Right at the front of your vulva.

And Roose knew. You gripped his knee and spread your legs for him as he toyed with you in ways you hadn't even known to toy with yourself. Your lips fell open but you wouldn't allow a single sound to come out, though you knew this would be far more difficult to bear than what he was doing previously.

Your body would twitch and tense up under his ministrations. Something was building within you. You'd felt this kind of feeling, grinding against soft pillows, but then the feeling would die after a little while. You'd walk away satisfied with the morsel of pleasure.

But with Roose, it wasn't going anywhere. It kept building and building.

Eventually, you thought that perhaps an end to the build was near but he diverted his fingers, playing with your opening instead, gathering more slick.

You calmed yourself, taking a few breaths to calm yourself. You looked down to see Roose staring at you, eyes hooded with a dark cloud of lust, lips parted, just taking you in like you were the most interesting, captivating thing he's ever seen.

His finger teased your entrance, pushing slightly and you ripped your gaze away from his intense eyes, studying you. Gods... Oh gods. You rolled your hips but he pulled his hand away finally.

Roose wiped his hand on your skirt. "Do you like being touched by me?"

You refused to answer, turning your head and looking anywhere else. Weakly, you shook your head no.

"Don't lie," he scolded.

You forced yourself to meet his eyes, brows furrowed, confusion behind your eyes, wondering how your body could betray you like this. But its just biology. Simple as that.

"You came close."

"Close to what?"

That made Roose smirk wider, a twinge of surprise and excitement, "Close to a release that some women can achieve while fucking." Roose took a second to compose himself before continuing, "A release that you won't experience tonight, unless it's around my cock."

Fear filled you, "You said you wouldn't."

"No, I wont," Roose cooed, a false comfort, "Not until you ask."

"I wont."

"We'll see, darling," He moved his arms from you and nudged your behind a little, "Up. Take off your dress."

You stood and obeyed, albeit hesitantly. He also took to stripping himself, but left on his small clothes. You, having already rid yourself of your breeches, were bare as the day you were born once you took off your dress.

Roose, with a hand to your waist, pulled you into him, standing in between his legs and he pressed a kiss to your stomach, trailing down to your dripping cunt. You shuddered at the thought of his tongue circling around that spot the way it circled your nipple. You don't think you could bear that.

Unfortunately for you, that was exactly what Roose had in mind. He lifted your leg so that your foot rested on the edge of his bed, which sat low on the ground. It's height provided the perfect angle for him to duck under and lick a flat stripe over your clit.

Your cunt convulsed and you were embarrassed for it because unlike your moans, you could not hide the reactions of your cunt as easily. His tongue dipped a little further, barely dipping into your hole to taste you and collect your essence on his tongue.

He groaned into you, the vibration making you bite your lip. He feasted on you like a starved man, wrapping his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves and gently shaking his head as he sucked. Each time he flicked his tongue sent shocks through your body and you'd buck your hips against his face.

Even just the image that you were met with when you looked down— Roose Bolton burying his face into those parts...

If him licking your nipples was considered lewd, you didn't know how to describe this correctly. You hadn't even realized that men did this in the first place. Frankly it felt like something a man like Roose would normally consider to be too debasing and submissive.

There was nothing submissive about the way Roose licked up your juices. This was a man who was confident he held all the power and you'd be stupid to underestimate him.

Whines, real wanton whines pushed through your throat, filling the open air of his tent and that only seemed to spur him on. You submitted to it, feeling his hand come under your buttock and his other wrap around your waist. He then hoisted you up in the air and gently laid you down on the bed.

Roose not so gently spread your legs and settled between them, continuing his treatment on you.

Again the coil in your core tightened impossibly tight and just as you thought you'd reach some higher pleasure. He pulled away, peppering kisses to your thigh to calm you. You breathed heavily, staring at the ceiling.

This time, having him stop was frustrating. You cant lie. And you had a feeling you were in for a rather long night. Your hand twitched, almost wanting to give yourself the pleasure that he refused but you knew Roose would not let you. This was his game.

The game where you win if you steel through and manage to out last him.

You whimpered, legs quaking softly when he carefully bent and flicked his tongue against your clit again. Even, at this point, the feeling of his stubbled cheeks brushing your inner thigh was almost too sensitive to bear. Your body was responding to everything.

Soon you were bucking against his face, cursing the gods, and repeating the process again and again.

He learned what you liked quickly and tried everything under the sun. Dipping his tongue into you, he brought you just to the precipice of something amazing by fucking you with nothing but his mouth.

Once you had settled from the near high a fourth time, Roose pulled your body closer to him and through his lustblown eyes. He whispered to you as his fingers came to tease your entrance again, "May I?"

You looked down at him, biting your lip and you wanted to say yes. Your entire being begged for it. But your pride told you to say, "Do I have a choice?"

He merely chuckled at the loss of any desire to argue within you, and he plunged two thick fingers into your cunt. You cried out, the stretch somewhat shocking to you. But you were so wet that it really just felt nice, despite being foreign.

The noise you made was something you didn't even think could be produced within you. You moved to cover your face, laughing into them neverously because holy shit you need to get a hold of yourself. You need to. You've never felt this weak in the hands of someone else.

His fingers filled you nicely but you dreaded to admit it wasn't enough. And you didn't like how stiff they felt inside you. Something softer might feel more like it belongs. something longer and thicker... Something like—

Roose growled and that noise brought you out of your trance. You stared at him for a second, his eyebrows knit together frustratedly. His fingers did their work inside your cunt while his mouth continued to torture your clit.

"Fuck! Ahhh... fuck fuck—" You groaned, gritting your teeth together as you tried to keep yourself up to watch him.

You breathlessly but sort of victoriously took note of his clear frustration. You were proving to be more stubborn than he bargained for, you assume. But he was persistent too. There was no mistaking who had the power here.

He groaned, pumping his fingers into you. It was difficult not to imagine how it would feel when you finally gave in to him. So he let you know, "Your cunt loves me, my lady. You feel it clenching around me. You're so desperate for more. All you have to do is ask."

"Eat shit," you choked out. You meant to say it more confidently, less weak and shuddery but it created the same effect within Roose as it would have either way.

His lips returned, doing only what garnered the strongest reactions from you. And you were tumbling back down the hill again.

Of course he stopped, again.

You needed more than a second to recover from that one. What was it? Five rounds of the same torture. Your body was sure to be feeling the effects of it. Your cunt continued to twitch around nothing after his fingers were unceremoniously pulled out.

You lay there, unable to do anything but watch him clean off his fingers with his mouth. And it was hot because he didn't necessarily make a show of it. Ever the practical man, he probably only used his mouth because it was the easiest, cleanest solution. But you'd never seen anything so salacious and wrong.

Well, you concede, perhaps its not wrong, just something you, again, wouldn't thought of doing. It made your hips wriggle involuntarily and your cunt clench around nothing again, missing his fingers stretching and making you feel a little closer to whole.

Roose made quick work, ridding himself of his breeches and shirt.

You barely had enough time to appreciate the defined lines of his body, toned, even at his age because he stayed active.

He's undeniably handsome. If he wasn't so evil you'd have jumped at the chance of marrying him. Even now, staring at him, the man in control of your pleasure, you wondered if being married to him would even be so bad.

And his cock... You glanced at it, then trained your eyes back on his icy gaze. He cant see you staring down there, he'll get the wrong idea like he's winning or something. But the image was burnt into your mind. You could end your suffering now and beg him to put it inside you. You could.

But then your pride jumped in and told you to stop acting a fool.

He climbed up the bed, staying to one side of you, then wrapped his arm under you, kissing you briefly. Very briefly. So briefly that when he pulled away, you felt trained to chase after his lips, expecting more. The very accidental admittance of submission was not lost on either of you, an approving chuckle leaving him as he flipped your body on its tummy.

He crawled over you, snaking a hand under your stomach to pull you up and your entire backside felt his bare skin upon it. You bit your lip to stop yourself from whimpering at that feeling alone, again your cunt whined and begged you to just give in. Its right there, hard and pressing against your ass.

It was dizzying, the entire experience. You'd been denied so many times.

"Remember the rules," he murmured in your ear before taking a small bite and kissing down it. "Keep your thighs tight. Until you're ready to spread them like the good little slut you are." And with that, he used his free hand to slip his cock between your damp thighs.

You'd been so stripped of any and all resistance that the dominant emotion filling you was pride at his praise, calling you a good little slut. Something so debasing shouldn't stir you this much.

You were shocked at the warmth, initially scared that he was trying to slip it inside your cunt without you noticing, but Roose stayed true to his word. He wasn't going to put it in unless you asked, unless got to the point of wanting to beg him to. That didn't mean he couldn't put it right next to the entrance to tempt you.

It took him all but two seconds to begin slowly thrusting into the crack of your thighs and you wondered if it was supposed to feel like anything for you because it felt really amazing.

It wasn't as intense as his lips on your cunt but it was more tempting. The head of his cock, when his hips would slap against your ass, would grind deliciously over your clit. You whimpered each time it happened. It was all so wet and warm down there, his cock doing nothing but spreading the mess between your thighs.

His hand came around you to grab your neck, pulling you up so that he could fuck your thighs, using you as leverage. Your cunt pulsed with desire again, wishing he'd angle his hips incorrectly on accident and it'd just slip inside.

Please just slip inside. Please, please. Please slip in.

"Fuck, Roose, It... Its so... please," You said without even thinking

A dark chuckle vibrated right next to your ear. He chewed your lobe and kissed the top of your jaw. "Tell me."

"I... mmm nothing, nothing. I..." You growled frustratedly, burrying your face in the pillow.

Tears pricked your eyes.

The frustration was really getting to you.

Five times denied.

Your hips met him, rolling back to make his thrusts easier and he growled, landing a firm smack to your buttock. You cried out into the pillow.

Having had enough of your muffled cries, Roose pulled you up, situating your neck in the crook of his arm and he hoisted you up to your knees, cock still pumping drenched between your thighs.

It was pure debauchery. Unadulterated debauchery. You felt dirty and you couldn't even bother to be embarrassed by it. You just wanted him to have an accident and slip in. But you knew Roose. You knew he was too careful.

You had to give in first.

Your heart sank, realizing this could go on for so much longer. If he really wanted to, he could release right now, between your thighs and toy with your body mercilessly until he's ready to try with his cock again. He could go on for much much longer than you could ever dream of.

Especially in this position, it was difficult not to imagine him spearing you, your walls clenching and welcoming him instead of your thighs.

Gods, the way he was just using your body. Any part of your body. You were dizzy with pleasure and longing.

“Roose just do it, you win. Fuck me, please,” You spoke through sobs. Frustrated tears trickled down your cheeks.

Roose slowed his movements but that only made your wanting worse. Your thighs literally quivered for him. He took one look at the tear streaks on your face, not having noticed the fact that you were fucking crying for his cock, since your face had just been buried in the pillows a second ago. Roose's heart nearly had a tender little lapse, but it instead, swelled his pride to see you so desperate.

He wiped your tears away with his free hand and kissed your cheek. He wasn't completely done toying with you. He had to make sure you understood what it meant to be fucked by him. Truly understood. “And take my lady’s maidenhead? Will any respectable man take you to be his bride then?”

Your heart sank deeper than it ever had, real dread filling you. You finally understood his play here.

“Of course, as an honorable man, It’d be my duty to inform them of your compromised purity. Tell them this little whore's been tainted.”

He'd riled you up this far. You thought naively that he simply wanted you to admit defeat that you desired him as much as he desired you before taking you passionately.

In reality he wasn't going to let you go even after you gave in. The second another lord comes along for your hand in marriage, Bolton will reveal this little tryst you've had.

This was his goal since the beginning.

Marriage to you has been his goal since the very beginning of this little parlay.

You whined, stomach twisting because your dignity has become a whispered scream within you, telling you not to give in. But your psychology, your biology, everything else was screaming for him. He wanted not just to fuck you but to own you.

Your thighs tightened and you grinded against his long shaft. Still in the weakest attempt to remain stubborn, you stuttered, “Just… only a little, my lord. Only the top part. If you must. But please dont put it all in. Not far enough to break the… m-my maidenhead.”

That was the moment both of you knew you lost. You'd say it was stubbornness. Maybe that's what it was. Maybe you just liked feeling helpless under him, knowing what was inevitable.

Roose reached down, the strain that his smirk had on his cheeks being felt against yours. You're happy he's happy. Truly, you are. It twists your stomach again. You think if your stomach twists again you'll just melt into Roose Bolton. Completely at his mercy.

You whimpered as he used his hand to guide his cock to your entrance and pushed in, only far enough for the tip. Breathy moans tumbled out of you, all effort to hide them completely foregone. You threw your head back against his chest, eyes closed, enjoying the teasing feeling of just his cockhead stretching you.

He alternated between faster pumps and slow ones where you could feel his tip just barely broaching your entrance before pulling away again. He liked to feel your cunt try to suck him into you. Could you get any wetter? Any more ready to take him?

You tried to cheat, you'll admit it. Bucking your hips back, but he always managed to follow your movements, not giving you a single bit more than what you asked for. Tears pricked your eyes again but your heart soared from it. You're at his mercy completely.

“Whats wrong, my lady, you seem distressed.” He wiped a tear away from the corner of your eye, threatening to fall. And the way you whined at that moment, so frustratedly, almost like you hated him, like you might kill him if you had the chance... it actually managed to crack Roose’s composure and he laughed a good hearty laugh from the bottom of his chest.

Still smiling, he tilted his head, giving a condescending hum of mock sympathy.

Roose took your chin in his hand so he can get a good look at you as he continued to tease the tip of his cock in and out of you. Your big eyes looking up at him and begging, begging. He would love to give in but you have to say it.

“I am but your loyal and humble servant. I only do what is bid of me.”

“Fuck me,” You crack, the words coming out not as intelligible words but as part of your moans.

He hummed a deep and clear “Hm?” Pretending he didnt hear but he did. You know he did.

“Please, fuck me.”

“And...”

“Please fuck me and marry me," You forced out, you cringed at the way your voice sounded, so whiny you would have thought it to be annoying and too high pitched. But it deepend the clouds of lust behind your lord's eyes. It made you keep going "Please, my lord, take me as your bride. Fuck me and then save my honor from ruin.”

Your eyes fluttered close, shutting tightly. You expected more taunting from him, anything, but you forced your eyes back to him when you felt his hot breath on your cheek, then his nose ghosting over as well. He pushed his cock in a little past the tip and you whimpered, grateful, melting into him. Your stomach twisted again. Your legs were so so so weak.

Roose tilted his head, leaning in closer and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. When he parted, you blinked, looking up into his striking blue eyes and you whimpered again because he thrusted back in, deeper, only slightly, but he met the little barrier within you and you braced yourself for the striking blow.

He captured your lips more roughly this time as he pushed through, claiming you as his. Your soft squeaks of pain and pleasure getting lost in his mouth. Roose pumped his cock in and out, slowly, waiting for you to stop tensing.

When your ass twitched upward against him, he took that as the permission. Your lips disconnected from each other, both of you left gasping. You stopped trying to hide your pleasure long ago.

Your husband to be let go of you, letting you fall down back to the bed and you caught yourself on your elbows. He grabbed your hips, using your body mercilessly as you damn near sobbed from pleasure.

The view of you bent over for him, the side of your face pressed into the sheet and submissively crying out for him was almost too much. Roose braced himself to last longer but it seemed you were also tumbling embarrassingly quickly to your release after having been denied the pleasure five times over.

"Perhaps tonight," Roose paused to grunt and in his deep, baritone, it was just too good, you whined in response, "Tonight, I will put our first baby in you. A bastard, but no one else but you and I will be privy to that technicality."

"Yes," You shook beneath him, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. And as your cunt tightened around him, Roose knew you were close.

"Beg," was the one worded command, and having learned your lesson, you obeyed nearly immediately.

"Please, let me release. Please, let me carry a son for you, husband. Whatever you need from me, please."

Roose could not deny such sweet words, he came inside you with a few purposeful jerks of his hips and you shuddered for it, the pleasure feeling as if it could blind you if you were even the slightest bit more wound up than you were in this moment. You were unaware of the fact that your pussy, having a mind of its own, continued to pulse, milking Roose Bolton for everything he had to offer.

The sizable load immediately spilled out onto the sheets after your intended slipped out of you. You laid there afterward, with your ass up, desperately attempting to recollect yourself as quick as possible.

You moved to get up but Roose landed a firm but not too painful smack on your ass. It wasn't too hard but in your state, it succeeded in knocking you back down to your hands with how weak your legs were.

"That's for striking me earlier," He said, icily, then he handed you a cup of water, waiting for you to take it before he started to wipe away at the mess he'd left between your legs with a spare rag of his.

The act was more tender than you'd have expected from Roose, especially when he pressed a small, short kiss to your buttock and gave it another playful smack.

"Stubborn little wife."

That brought a pleasant little heat to your cheeks.