#moonlit eyes : chapter two

[stsgooo]

moonlit goddess.... maybe jinshi is wondering why his dear maid continues to pull away from him... and maybe gao shun lets it slip that "they shouldn't have been close that day anyway".... and jinshi pesters him until he folds n explains.... IDK I JUST WANT A HAPPY ENDING FOR THOSE TWO :((((( (not forced ofc!! i jus love ur writing!)

Bridge the Gap.

✩࿐ summary: life and death really makes a girl wonder.

warning(s): idiots in love, chapters 61-65 manga spoilers, master/servant like relationship, description of near drowning, suggestive content, ambiguous ending. wc; 9.3k

pairing(s): jinshi/fem!reader.

a/n: tysm for reading my fics means the world to hear ppl actually enjoy them, anon!!! ;') i wasn't really going to make a 2nd part of moonlight goddess as i thought it was okay to leave off there, but i love jinshi sooo i'll take any excuse to write him. this was initially going to be a part 2 of clumsiness, but i figured my plans worked better with what you were envisioning! im not entirely sure how to feel about this, but i hope this lives up to the standards! i apologize for any mistakes, this was written mostly in the early mornings when i had time!

part i. m.list

"Are you sure I'm not hurting you?"

"Y/N, please, stop asking me that."

"Oh, yes. My apologies, Jinshi-sama. Sorry."

This were, admittedly, not going well. Both of you soaked, hair dripping, and standing in the cave behind a rapid waterfall, and a dull ache in your chest as you recovered. Partly your fault, partly the fault of some crazed marksman that was hiding in the forest, trying to slaughter Jinshi and, by proxy, you.

To understand how you two ended up in this situation, we would have to back up a bit.

"Oh? Y/N, I didn't know you'd be attending this as well?"

"It was a last minute switch with Suiren and I."

"You... enjoy these hunts?"

"I've done everything I could to avoid them in the years past."

Your lack of excitement was apparent and clear. It appeared to bring no ease of mind to Maomao who dragged her rather disgusted eyes from you towards Gaoshun. The older man just kept his attention on the moving scenery outside, a distant glaze over his eyes.

Maomao obviously wasn't optimistic. Just like you. You were almost proud that she had caught on so easily.

The sweltering heat outside seemed to seep into the carriage, cooking you alive in your rather formal wear. Something that you were spotted in far and few, having been years that you truly cleaned yourself prim and proper. You had been on the edge of declining even going when Jinshi, with a grin and a certain glitter in his eyes, had too happily informed you that it was a direct invitation from Shishou.

Your fate had been sealed.

Maomao peeked at you from the corner of her eye, head tilted, "Do you mind me asking why you avoided these events?"

You don't even spare her a glance, "I fear if I spoke my honest opinion, I'd stain Jinshi-sama's reputable name with my foul mouth." You reply flatly in return.

"Please don't." Gaoshun said softly from his seat, looking particularly tired.

You decided to ignore the slump of Maomao's shoulders as if disappointed by the swift interruption and decline on Gaoshun's part. Turning your eyes towards the shifting world outside.

It'd been exactly five months since Jinshi had danced under the moon and you came to the conclusion that any impure thoughts you held for your master would be safely tucked away in the back of your mind (and heart). Forever your secret. Only to be heard in your dreams and upon your death, when you repent for any ill thoughts to the Great Man above.

Everything had returned to its normal routine. You would get up in the morning, prepare breakfast alongside Suiren, eat, then proceed with any chores the woman gave you for the rest of the day, then repeat. Equally, your relationship (or lack thereof) with Jinshi had remained the same. Conversations filled with pleasantries. Simple things that had always lingered between the two of you since you were children. Pleasant and simple. As the world shall ever be.

It got a bit ruffled with Jinshi had cornered you and practically ordered that you come to the hunt instead of Suiren.

In the middle of scrubbing away at the floors, he had found you. Stood above you with that grin, “Y/N, you’re one of my most loyal servants, hm?” He’d begun with an inflection in his tone that made you horribly hesitant.

You had faltered in your scrubbing to stare up at him with confusion, “Uh…well, I suppose, Jinshi-sam’s.”

“Why don’t you join me for the Hunt this up coming week?”

Your had heart dropped. And, by the look Gaoshun had dawned, his had too. The Hunt, in your humble opinion, was a glorified weekend for the men in high positions to rub one off while killing animals. It wasn’t something you found interesting in or much grace. That’s why you had declined Suiren’s question on whether or not you’d like to take her place only three days prior. You had no interest in watching anyone, even Jinshi, size each other up while a defenseless animal bled.

“Jinshi-sama, I believe Suiren—“

Ever the gentleman, he had cut you off, “No worries, Suiren agreed to take over matters while you’re gone! She’s the sweetest, right?” He had appeared all to eager and all too himself for you to ignore.

So, with a heavy heart, you’d sighed, accepting defeat and his invitation.

Now, you would find your torture for a multiple day retreat with a bunch of men with their c—

The carriage came to an abrupt halt, bringing an unruly end to your thoughts as you all carefully exited and were greeted by the sunshine. The humid air heavy with the condensation of the area and already making a sweat appear on your brow. But, ever the lady, you pleasantly tuck your hands into your sleeves and follow behind Gaoshun and Basen.

You were a little surprised as Maomao stuck closely to your side; but not all too surprised to find her attention on your surroundings, vague surprise in her eyes. The area was as equally as beautiful as it was a burden to you.

The buildings weren't anything for you to revel at. Spending an entire lifetime within palaces and in buildings as equally or above standard to those, it just wasn't anything special. The nature surrounding the area, however, was something to stare in awe at. Lucious trees, beautiful grass, and beautiful array of plants and flowers. It almost made you regret all the time you had spent away from this place.

But it wasn't like you had the chance to truly return since the last time you were here. Nothing could bring back that little girl.

You deterred your thoughts away as Gaoshun slid the door open. Immediately, you were hit with a wave of heat that you made you tense up. It was apparent that you wouldn't find your much needed cool down you were desperate to find since you were confined in the carriage days prior.

You were the last to enter and when you did, you faltered at the sight before you.

Jinshi was sprawled across the couch, wisps of his dark hair framed his sweat glistened face, eyes closed in contempt. A small dent appeared between his eyebrows and a frown adorned his face. However, your attention was caught on a drop of sweat that made its way from his hairline, down his cheek, his jaw, his long slender neck, and past his— his collar.

His modesty was of no worry, apparently, as he laid with his robes parted open to reveal his chest. Itself was glistening with sweat. Delicate skin on showcase for all to see. It brought a soft blush to your cheeks, as you blatantly ogled him. Pressing your lips together to contain whatever thoughts you had about him from burst from your seams.

"Y/N," Jinshi's voice hit your ears, tender and smooth. You're suddenly hyperaware that he's staring at you with raised brows, lids peeked open to stare at you.

You straighten your back and offer a bow, "Jinshi-sama. Do you require anything?" You had to get it together. It was inappropriate to behave in such a scandalous way. "Request for ice? Tea?"

Jinshi shook his head, sitting up, "No, rather I'd like for you to rest after such a long journey."

You falter, your arms wavering from their position in front of your face, "Uh.... Wouldn't the room be more tolerable with some ice?" You spare a glance around the room and grimace. The windows are shut tight, only bits of sun peeking through the cracks. Basen looks rather miserable, but trying to appear his usual stern self. While Gaoshun and Maomao seem rather okay with showcasing their small discontent with the heat. A nice cube would help at least cool down a bit.

You also couldn't stand another second seeing Jinshi like that. As if he were some type of nymph testing your faith.

"Really, it's fine—" Jinshi attempted, but you were already turning on your heel.

"I will return with ice." You didn't miss the way Jinshi's face fell and his eyes cut to Gaoshun who shook his head in return.

Your fast paced adventure led you to the main hall, where people were moving in and out. Various officers and servants filled the area, finding their rooms or helping their masters and fellow officers to their own rooms. Everyone appeared to be feeling the heat as they wiped their brows. Much like you, they appeared to be attempting to defeat the heat.

You found your way towards an attendant who helped you get something situated for Kousen. Something that brought you both distaste and irritation. Something to be addressed at a later time.

Joy filled you as you turned around, ice would soon be in the room and you could crowd around it like it was a new lover.

As you were about to make your way back to the room, you ran into someone.

You were about to apologize when they whirled around and you let out an audibly sigh that conveyed your unwavering exhaustion for them.

"Hey, watch where— Oh, hey, " Lihaku blinked, kind face twisted up in vague recognition. “You’re that lady-in-waiting. What are you doing out here?”

“I’m on loan from Jinshi-sama,” you answered rather flatly, not missing the small frown accompanying the man’s face.

You were vaguely familiar with Lihaku. What with Maomao getting involved in the problems within the inner and rear palace, you were bound to make new acquaintances when she was dragging you around. Lihaku was the first one you had ran into. On orders to accompany the girl from Suiren, you had gotten to see her investigative skills firsthand. You were impressed, surely, when she had made the discovery about the potatoes. But the impression was overshadowed by Lihaku, who had spent the entire time chatting your ear off.

He was kind, handsome, and smart when it called for it. But you could tell that, like most officers, he had an airheaded vibe to him. One that deterred you from making things too complicated with him.

Friendly enough, and one of the few people that didn't seem to disinterest Maomao, you accepted his very vague and shadowed feature in your life.

"Well, that's nice of him." He said, clearly disinterested in where this conversation was going. "I'm glad to see a friendly face, though."

You offered a small smile, "As am I. Not many kind faces around here often."

"You can say that again." You hear a loud inhuman snort and a tug on your gown, taking a large step back, you look down. A large dog with drool leaking out from the sides of its mouth stared back at you. "Oh, hey, boy, no!"

"O-Oh my." You uttered, slightly breathless as you looked at the large beast.

Lihaku glanced at you, offering a withering smile, "Eh, sorry, he gets excited around new people— not a great trait in a dog like this, you would think, but he's a real gem. Just has his moments. Hey, now—"

Lihaku pulled out something metal and brought it to his lips, then blew. It emitted little to no sound, at least, any you could truly hear, making your perk up when the dog tilted his head and sat respectfully before the officer. He blew again and the dog laid. Again, and the dog stood on all fours.

You smiled softly, watching in wonder as it obeyed whatever silent orders it was getting from Lihaku.

"He's very smart." You observed as the dog sat down again.

"Right?" Lihaku beamed, "I can get him to come running from kilometers away if need be."

"Useful when you're in a bind."

"For sure!" Lihaku's demeanor reminded you of a proud father as he puffed his chest and looked distastefully towards the cages lined up outside. "He's real smart, yet they still want to use those birds in the end."

You didn't want to point out the various problems that could come with using a dog; as there were probably another list of various pros to actually use the dog. The hawks had been used for years and you doubt that some dogs would be taking their place any time soon. It'd probably be a long time before these arrogant men came to their senses and found better means. Despite dogs being loyal and determined to their cause, the hawk would always be chosen.

Or, the better alternative, they didn't do this hunt anymore.

But you knew that was a longshot.

It wasn't long after that you bid Lihaku a farewell and good luck on his duties, making your way back to the room. You exchanged pleasant smiles and greetings with familiar faces, but nothing that kept you from relaxing much longer.

When you returned to the room, everyone had found their own areas and activities to occupy themselves. Gaoshun and Basen were playing Go near the windows, Maomao was reclining on the floor where a sliver or air was flowing through (from where, you weren't completely sure). Jinshi was back to sitting on the couch, a book in his hands. Something that was quickly disregarded as you gently closed the door behind you.

"The ice should be up soon." You informed the room with a respectful bow.

Jinshi didn't look at all interested, "What took you so long?" It sounded like contempt. Irritation if you had to really dig. Something that made you falter.

You look up and see the pout on his lips— childish, as always. "Oh, I'm sorry, Jinshi-sama. I happened to run into a friend and got caught up in conversation." You apologized softly. The last thing you wanted to do was bring him more annoyance and disturbance.

He straightened considerably, "A friend?"

You didn't like the way it was spoken. A touch of disbelief was enough for you to eye him with your own distaste. Even if you and Lihaku were nothing more than strangers with vague familiarity with one another.

"Yes, a friend." You confirmed with thin lips. Despite your inner voice telling you to reign in your attitude, you upturn your nose and decide to join Maomao— whose eyes were shooting between the both of you with trepidation and vague sympathy. "He was being kind."

Jinshi huffed, "I didn't know you had any secret friends."

"Not a secret. Just don't find any time to speak about it with you, Jinshi-sama."

That made the man falter, a darkened shadow over his face. "I suppose." He frowned heavily now, squinting at you with something unreadable. "Who is this friend of yours?"

You, finding no reason to lie, continued on, "Officer Lihaku."

In an instant, three heads snapped to you with varying degrees of emotions. Maomao looked shocked, but welcomed the information with a shrug. Gaoshun looked pale and overwrought, for whatever reason you weren't entirely sure, but you had an itching feeling it had to do with Jinshi.

The same Jinshi that was now face down on the couch, letting out a miserable sound. Speaking into the fabric of it all, unintelligiable. But you swore you heard something along the lines of— "that second rate, again?!" As he continued to rant and cry.

With that, you decided it best to not involve yourself with whatever Jinshi was battling. You wouldn't win anyway.

You'd always hated Kousen-sama.

He almost always seemed to loom in the shadows. An masked man who held no personality or words of his own. Pleasantries offered out of necessity and not because that was simply the right thing to do. He was mysterious. He hardly appeared, but he was always there. A reminder for what things would return to one odd day. A symbol for exactly where your loyalties and master lied.

Kousen-sama was to always appear before others with his mask on. To avoid them seeing the ghastly sight of scars and blemishes that adorned his skin because of his sickness (whatever that may be) and spare him the indecency of stares. He was unmoving. Stone amongst he lively environment that ate away at their lunches and softly conversed with one another.

Prince. The respectable Kousen-sama. The great son of the empire. The brave prince against all odds.

Oh, how much you hate Kousen-sama.

But you still had woken up early to help him pin his hair back. To slip his robes on. To delicately place the mask on, fingering the bangs out through the slits to allow some type of familiarity. You were his confidant. His reliable and kind servant.

As always, you and Basen stood behind Kousen-sama with your backs straight and eyes ahead. A pleasant servant on loan and stern guard, you both were familiar faces against the unrecognizable figure in front of you. It reminded the people exactly who was before them. Exactly who had decided to grace their presence.

Still, it brought you discomfort.

You still eyed Gaoshun in the corner of you eye. The older man sat at the other end of the table. Maomao standing behind him with a distant look in her eyes, obviously not paying attention to the things happening around her. Not entirely surprising, but you felt the overwhelming urge to scold her for her lack in etiquette.

Oh, you're starting to think like Suiren, aren't you?

Suddenly, Basen is tensing up beside you and Kousen-sama is turning his head away from a scowling Shishou. Your eyes snap between the two with a scowl of your own. Whatever that man had said—

Kousen-sama's hand clenches. So tightly that his knuckles turn white and he shakes. You know something isn't right. You had missed something. Something so obvious and you were too concerned about Gaoshun.

The man stands from his chair, the legs loudly clattering against the tiled and stone floor. You watch uneasily as Kousen-sama raises, takes a moment to collect himself, then practically speeds away from the room. You don't waste a moment to bring your sleeve covered hands to your mouth and make your own exit.

As you pass a concerned Maomao and Gaoshun, you hear a barely uttered whisper from the girl— heat. Food.

You try to hide your confusion and worry as you follow behind your master.

It doesn't take you long to find him.

Down the path, up against a tree, the masked figure was hunched and obviously breathing heavily. You draw closer, outstretching a hand to gently press it against the large expanse of his back.

"Kousen-sama, are you quite alright?" You ask softly, hunching slightly to capture a glimpse of his eyes from that slit in the fabric.

When you do, you're almost breathless. His violet eyes are alight with something distant and scornful. Eyebrows furrowed as he meets your own gaze.

"Y/N...?" He sounded vaguely surprised under it all, breathless himself. As if he couldn't quite believe that you were here in front of him.

You nod once, reaching out and grabbing ahold of one of the ties keeping the mask all together. "I'm going to remove this. No one is around."

His hand is suddenly wrapped around your wrist. Not tight or unrelenting, but enough to make you freeze. Warm and clammy skin against your own to make you feel scorched. You don't need to see his entire face to know that his jaw was clenched now.

"I can't," he said in all his self-assuredness, "Someone might still come."

What a pain. You thought to yourself as you draw in a heavy breath.

You don't waste a second to slip under his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders and allowing him to lean most of his weight against you. "No worries, sir, I'll just find us some place where no one else is around."

You gently guide Kousen-sama from the line of trees and deep within it. Finding an oddly familiar path created within your mind to follow that takes you towards an overflowing waterfall. A loud crash of water hitting the rocks and body of water below that brought you a distant sense of comfort. The refreshing smell of the water hits your nostrils and you take a deep breath.

With Kousen-sama against you, you felt the sweltering heat hit you tenfold. But the mist from the waterfall brushed against your skin like a gently caress from an old lover.

This is it.

You stumble over to one of the few trees next to the waterfall and gently guide Kousen-sama to sit up against it. The man took a heavy breath and you finally felt a little at ease. Reaching forward, you moved to take the cloth off once again and then—

A loud thud and chunks of dirt hit your cheek.

You frowned, looking to the ground only a could feet away and saw a small crater. A sharp smell filled your senses and you stiffened. It was an unkind and almost putrid scent. The smoke from the small crater was the main cause.

"Eh—?"

You were suddenly cut off as Kousen-sama wrapped his arms around you, jerking you upwards and away from the tree. You would've basked in the way his body was pressed against your back or the way his fingers seemed to mold into your abdomen— you would've if it weren't for the loud crack in the air then the pieces of bark that flew through the air around you.

The tree that he had been pressed up against only moments ago was now split open with a piece of metal imbedded into the wood. It looked eerily similar to the same that had been in the ground moments ago.

"Is that a feifa?!" His voice pierced through your thoughts, oddly frantic and uneasy as he moved quickly from the tree and towards the river.

You glanced up at him and found him already staring down at you. Eyes narrowed and, if it weren't for the mask, his entire face would be scrunched up in that familiar distaste and panic. Yet he seemed eerily calm as he dragged you through the trees and into the water.

"Sorry, but this is gonna get a bit dramatic." His voice was soft against your head, warm breath caressing your hair as he wraps a protective arm around your head.

Your eyebrows raise, "Dramatic— WHAT?" You should've known his tone and choice of his words were a warning for what was to come, but you were still caught off guard.

He gave no indication that he was going to jump off the cliff.

"Jinshi, you goddamn idiot!"

You mustn't get ideas above your station.

The water was oddly clear. Even with the mix of the overflowing waterfall, under it all was peaceful and calm. Fishes and water like insects lived in harmony.

Cool and calm. Always.

You are there to serve your master.

The little boy's head burst from the water with a big grin, short hair flat against his head and dripping. The sun reflecting off his violet eyes and almost blinded the little girl curled up on the side shore. Her face set into a scowl, clothes drenched, and a looming unimpressed older man behind her.

"It's so nice out, why don't you come in!" Beckoned the boy from the water.

The little girl shot him a nasty look, "You know why, you jerk!"

The boy's grin faltered, tilting his head at his friend, "Eh? Why are you being mean?" His voice wavered on the ends, still just floating in the middle of the basin.

"I'm not mean! You're mean! You're the biggest meanie!" The little girl stood up to throw an accusatory finger at the boy, her sleeve heavy and uncomfortable as she moved.

The boy's face reddened, eyebrows scrunched together, "I'm not mean! You're mean!" He repeated.

"No, you are! You're the biggest meanie in the whole wide world!"

"No, you are!"

"You are! You pushed me into the water!"

"You are! You should swim!"

"I hope you drown, meanie!"

The boy's expression fell completely. A heartbroken glint in his eyes flooding them. His lips trembled. But, before he could do something like cry, he was already swimming deeper

Nothing less, nothing more.

"Now, now," a large hand rested on the little girl's shoulder and gently tugged her back, turning her around to face the man. He seemed to be trying to appear as tender as he could to try calm down the girl's high nerves. "No need to get angry."

"But, Gaoshun—" The little girl whined.

Gaoshun shook his head, patting her shoulder, "No, we don't argue. Try to forgive and forget, yeah?" He reminded the lessons that he'd attempted multiple times to teach the two children. "No reason to walk around with resentment for others, right?"

The little girl scoffed her shoe against the ground, a pout on her lips, "Do I have to, Gaoshun?" She knew what this would call for. Exactly how this would end for her.

The man heaved a sigh, nodding, "Yes, you do. Now, go reconcile. I'll wait here."

The girl faltered as the man raised to his full height, cupping his hands behind his back. She dragged her feet through the soft soil and found her way towards the boy once more. He was grasping onto the edge of the bank, sniffling and snorting. His shoulders shook and his face was stuffed into his arms.

The little girl frowned. "Um... Are you okay?"

The boy stiffened, not turning around as he answered, "No."

"I'm sorry, I said something real mean." The little girl uttered, stepping closer as she clutched her wet clothes. "I just... You pushed me into the water, I can't..."

"I thought you were my friend!" The little boy whirled around on her, face red and eyes filled with big tears. He looked enraged but incredibly disheartened. The girl blinks in return as the boy glares. "You say such mean things to me. Friends aren't supposed to be mean!"

The girl clenched her jaw, "You were mean to me first!" She accused.

The boy sniffled, wiping under his nose with his forearm. "You're my friend." He repeated as if that cleared up any anger.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The little girl slowly sat beside him, her feet dipping under the water. "It is nice." She whispered.

The little boy dragged his eyes upwards, looking hurt but hopeful. "Right?" he asked, equally as quiet.

"You're my friend too, Jinshi." The little girl nudge him with her leg.

Jinshi's eyes twinkled, wide and all too bright, "Really?"

"Really." The little girl confirmed with a toothless grin. "My friend forever and ever!"

Jinshi positively beamed, the water sloshing as he jumped happily. "Forever and ever, and ever!"

"And ever!"

"It's no longer... appropriate for you and Jinshi-sama to be friends."

"I don't... I don't understand. He's my friend."

"His mother no longer finds it appropriate for you to concern yourself with Jinshi."

"But, Gaoshun—"

"No, Y/N. It's over. Come along. Suiren has a present for you."

"He's.... He's my friend...."

"I'm so sorry."

You are to give your life to your master.

The woman paused, back pin straight, as she entered her master's office, finding him curled up in the corner, muttering nonsensically to himself. The guard of said master was watching on with a pitiful expression of his own, only breaking his eyes away when the woman entered the room. His expression only seemed to deepen.

She didn't need to ask. There was an unspoken understanding as to what their master's breakdown was regarding. The Apothecary. The one that had gotten the attention of everyone in the palace as of late. The one that had been causing her great grief as of late— and was about to create more.

"Jinshi-sama?" The woman called softly, stepping closer.

Jinshi's lifeless eyes continued to stare at the floor below him. A gentle rocking seeming to soothe himself from the rages of his mind. "I don't need anything, Y/N. Thank you, kindly." He uttered just as lifelessly.

The devoted servant's chest clenched. Her face flushed as she reached out a wavering hand. To place it delicately against his hunched back. To offer her best comforting words that she could. To distract him away from her.

Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

She faltered. This wasn't her place. This wasn't a part of her duties unless Jinshi said so. Inappropriate behavior wasn't called for. It will be punished severly.

Retracting her hand, she stands, and offers a respectful bow. "Please call me if you need anything, Jinshi-sama." And left him in his dark corner.

"Gaoshun, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, Jinshi-sama."

"You have been in my life for as long as I can remember. You remember more than I possibly could about my younger years. Whatever happened to cause me and Y/N to fall apart?"

"...."

"It had to be around the time I was eight that I noticed we were growing apart. Even now, I see it so clearly."

"It's been a long time, Jinshi-sama. You're no longer children."

"All the more reason to know, isn't it?"

"I don't know...."

"Gaoshun, nothing will come of it. I'm simply curious."

"..."

"I'm sorry to put you in this position. Please return to what you were doing."

"Jinshi-sama.... you might not like the truth..."

"I usually don't."

"Where to begin.... Before her eighth birthday—"

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

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

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

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

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

"H....E—"

Everything felt so muffled. Faraway. Featherlight.

Was that a pressure against your chest? A thump that came into quick successions, then stopped. For something soft and ever so delicate to press against your lips?

Everything was distant. So far away from your grasp. From your state of being. As if you were already long gone from whatever reality you were in moments ago.

"H—"

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

It was almost like floating. A gentle sway and a crack.

A joyful gliding against the sky that soothed you away from worries and woes.

Thump. Thump. Lips.

Repeating endlessly. Happily. Wetly?

Thump. Thump. Lips.

You welcomed it. Whatever it was. Whatever kept the rhythm. The wonderful rhythm.

Thump. Thump. Lips.

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

Thump. Thump. Lips.

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

Thump. Thump. Lips.

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

Thump. Thump. Lips.

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

Thump. Thump. Lips.

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

Thump. Thump. Lips.

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

THUMP. THUM—

You shot up with a cough.

Your throat burned and head ached terribly. Your eyes almost felt like they were about to pop out of your head and roll away. You felt horrible.

It didn't help that you were drenched from head to toe either.

Beside you, there was a heavy and loud sigh of relief as he fell to his backside. He let a silence fall over you both as you recovered, hand pressed against your throat and heaving.

Jesus. Had you almost...

The thought alone almost made you sick.

"I'm sorry. I thought.... I didn't think you still couldn't swim." His voice was soft, barely heard over the waterfall. Kind and cautious, worried and terrified. Things that seeped from his tone as if it were bleeding out and bearing all its insides to you.

Exposing him to you.

You peeked over your loose strands of hair to glare viciously at him. "When would I have the time to learn to swim?" You shot back ruthlessly, not entirely caring from etiquette in this moment. "You've lost your mind."

"Right." Jinshi immediately agreed, almost looking fearful as he watched you.

You push yourself up and take in a deep breath, coughing slightly at the burn of your throat. Taking in your surroundings, you swore that this was that—

"Are you really alright?"

You glanced back at the man and found him still sat on the damp ground. His eyebrows are furrowed and a small frown on his lips as he stared up at you. It made you uncomfortable. To see such a glittering violet staring back at you earnestly. Honestly.

You instead clutch onto your dress, "Suiren is gonna kill me." You scoff, tugging the garments apart.

You could hear Jinshi sputter behind you. The gravel and dirt below him crunching as he probably scrambled up from his spot.

You spared a feeble look over your shoulder to find him with his eyes clenched slowed, hand covering your body from his gaze. You snap your gaze back around and tug the fabric a little too hard as you scoff.

You wouldn't deny the pang of hurt that clenched your chest.

"Don't worry, Jinshi-sama, you won't have to see my unruly body of mine for long. I just want to make sure Suiren doesn't slaughter me when we return."

"I— No, I'm just— okay." He finally muttered.

You are stripped down to your underthings, placing the dress and various pieces on the ground as delicately as you can to avoid too much dirt being stained into the fabric.

As you place the last bit of clothing down, you hear the flutter of fabric behind you.

Jinshi is a bright red, gently tossing his robe down behind him. His back is facing you and you know its for whatever mock sense of modesty he wants to give the both of you. You instinctively reach out and take his robe in your grasp, twisting it and squeezing it to watch out a fair amount of water drip out.

"You worry about mine later. Take care of your things first."

Yeah, right, You think as you twist it with an unrelenting grip. You are there to serve your master. It's one of the first things you learn. His needs came before your own. His needs were your needs.

Jinshi snatched the robe away and squeezed the fabric tight, an overflowing amount of water released from the cloth and into the ground.

Okay, so maybe he was better at it than you.

You nod, turning your attention towards your own garments and try to ignore the overwhelming feeling that you had eyes on your rear.

"So, um—" Jinshi cleared his throat when his eyes dragged away from you, cheeks a bright red. "What now?"

"Well, we could attempt at trying to swim back—"

"You can't swim."

"I was going to say that."

"Oh, sorry."

There's a soft silence between the both of you as you finish up. Gently redressing, you make your way towards the entrance of the cave, where the waterfall is blocking it from any negative eyes. You press your lips into a thin line and regard it bitterly. You remember this waterfall.... you could recall the times you whimsical pondered what it'd be like to ride down it like in those stories.

Jinshi had promised such when you both were too young and too dumb to realize how naïve dreams like that were.

You couldn't really judge that mini-you, for you had your own dreams of—

"Remember when Gaoshun first brought us here?"

You hadn't realized that Jinshi made his way over until he was standing beside you. Robes lose over his shoulders and tugging on his top layer. Violet eyes were watching the water as if it were a canvas of memories in the long distant past. Something to be admired and viewed with daisies and smiles. Not to be addressed as anything but good or amazing. Not to see the truth of it all.

You press your lips together, drawing in a heavy breath, "I remember you pushing me in the water and Gaoshun having to pull me out."

Jinshi's face screws up slightly, a faint blush on his features as he almost looks around with shame. "Right...." He straightens, "I'm sorry."

You blink, "Huh?"

Jinshi glances at you with a small smile, "I, uh, never really apologized back then. Made you apologize like you did something wrong." He explains weakly.

You raise an amused brow, "I told you I wished you would drown."

"I kinda deserved it!" Jinshi counters, his lips cracking into a grin. That charming grin he gets that makes your heart flutter. Make you hopeful for terrible and wistful. "I'm real sorry."

You smile softly, eyes kind and soft as you regard him, "I forgave you a long time, Jinshi-sama."

Jinshi's expression faltered, "Don't call me...." He trailed off awkwardly, turning his attention back to the unrelenting waterfall. You watched him for that moment. That split second where it looked like he was actually going to say something that would make you lightheaded. His jaw working and the muscle jumping as he seems to contemplate his next words.

Say anything and I'll cling to it, You think, watching his lips part, I always have. I always will.

"I'm surprised you were the one that followed me out. I thought the Apothecary might've done it."

You tense. That was certainly not what you expected him to say. Of all the things he could say? The Apothecary.

The waterfall in front of you is suddenly much too loud and violent. The cave seems to darken and your eyes drag from Jinshi to stare at your bare feet. Of course. Of course. Why wouldn't he want Maomao? Why had you even came here? Who were you to get between whatever silent signal he was trying to send to the other girl.

Him and Maomao. It was nicer than him and you. Jinshi and Y/n.

You straighten, pushing down any ill thoughts and heavy feelings into the dark pits of your chest and mind. "I apologize for the intrusion. I thought it'd make more sense for me to accompany you, Jinshi-sama."

"Why are you apologizing....?" He trailed off and then made a noise that sounded eerily similar to that of a caught man. "No, wait, I'm really glad that you're the one who came! Like really glad!"

"You don't have to spare me, Jinshi-sama. I'm a woman now, not a little girl."

"I'm not—" He visibly slumps, closing his eyes and trying to collect whatever thoughts he has and place them appropriately. He draws in a breath and faces you, looking oddly serious compared to his usual self. "I'm not trying to spare your feelings. I was just trying to say that— Well, it's not— I want you here, Y/n."

He's sparing your feelings. He's being kind. He doesn't actually want you there. You can't be friends.

You don't spare him a response. Instead, walking further into the cave. You raise your eyebrows, looking at the gaping hole above you where light and the sounds of nature filtered in. What could possibly get you both out of there...?

Whistle. Sit.

Of course. Him.

Jinshi sighs, "I spoke to Gaoshun before we—"

You place your fingers in the corner of your mouth and blow. A loud whistle bounces off the cave walls and out of the hole. You wait and hope to hear a bark or see the familiar tall man, but there's nothing.

"What are you doing?" Jinshi asks slowly, glancing between you and the hole above.

"Hello?" You cup your hands over your mouth and shout as loudly as you can. "Is anyone out there?"

Jinshi frowns, staring at you uneasily, "Y/n, please, we don't want to attract them this direction."

In the mess of almost drowning and seeing peeps of Jinshi's bare skin, you'd almost forgotten that you both had been chased down here by some violent assassin. Rather foolish, if you were honest.

You place the tips of your fingers against your lips and try to force the blush spreading across your cheeks off. "Sorry." You offer a bow of your head, despite the position you both find yourselves in.

You receive no response which causes you to peek at him. The stare that he's leveling you with doesn't bring you any type of comfort. It usually meant he was about to say something that—

"Hop on my back and see if you can reach up there."

—you wouldn't like.

Your eyebrows shot upwards and you stared at him with wide eyes. If Suiren was here and knew what he just proposed, she'd positively lose her mind. No matter how long she had known you— she'd think it improper. He was your boss and you were his lowly servant. To be in an position above him or treating him like a mat, it was...

It was simply ridiculous.

"But—"

"If you're the one below, you'll get crushed." He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "Do it."

And that's how you ended up here. Legs wrapped around Jinshi's shoulders and heads, hand reaching out for the dirt above. You dig your fingers in and glance down at the man below you.

"Are you sure I'm not hurting you?"

Jinshi sighed for what seemed the hundredth time that day, his hand on your thigh squeezing gently. "Y/N, please stop asking me that."

You grimace, "My apologies, Jinshi-sama. Sorry." You shakily raise from your place, ignoring the soft and deep grunt Jinshi gives as you stand on his shoulders.

You dig your nails into the damp dirt and begin to tug yourself up.

This is it. Finally, you could get into the open forest once again. You're not going to be suffocated by his presence. Everything will return back to its rightful places—

You froze when it smacked you in the forehead.

You tried to keep calm as you felt the slimy breathing thing rest on your skin. Body tensed up and eyes staring widely at the bright sky above.

"Y/N?" Jinshi softly called, noticing the way you tensed.

"F—Frog." You utter, jaw clenched tight and you felt it shift as you take a deep breath. "A frog."

Jinshi blinked, looking up at you with his own wide eyes, "Hey, don't-don't freak out! Just shake your head and it'll hop off."

You shake a little, but follow his instructions. However, you may have overestimated the shake as you lose your grip on the dirt and begin to fall back.

"Hey!"

The tumble down is short and not all that hurtful, like you had been expecting. You had closed your eyes in anticipation, fear of having to watch the ground quickly approach too much for your tiny heart. You expected to feel the damp mud to be seeping into your clothes and little bits of stone and bark digging into your skin. However—

Nothing.

There was nothing except the soft silk under your fingers. The scent that resembled a sweet fruit, one that you had smelt quite often in the mornings. In the noons, the evenings, the nights, repeat. You knew that smell and that familiar beat against your own chest.

Peeking your eyes open, you find that Jinshi is already staring back at you. The first thing you notice is that you both are extremely close to one another. His breath fans against your dewy face, making goosebumps raise off your skin and a shiver sent down your spin. Next is his tender expression, Eyes gentle and twinkling. His expression isn't filled with pain or anything that would indicate that he was uncomfortable with the very short distance between you both. The last thing you notice is the fact that your body is pressed against his.

Your complexion flushes and you blink down at him.

He's warm. Incredibly warm. A sharp contrast to his damp clothes, which are open and pooling under his shoulder blades, revealing his bare chest to you. Your breath is ripped from you as you stare at the plump skin. You've seen it a million times. Every day as you help him get ready for the day. It should be normal. Should be something that doesn't make you lightheaded.

But it does.

He's right there. Right against you. You can feel his heartbeat ramming against his chest and into yours. You can feel every small breath he takes—as if hanging onto this moment with, what? Trepidation? Unease? You weren't entirely sure but you knew that you felt light.

Was it so bad that you felt nice in this moment? That this warmth was wrong? Was it so out of your reach that you simply couldn't imagine a man wanting to embrace you in a way?

You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

Yes. It was.

You clenched your jaw, ignoring the tender look in Jinshi's eyes as you try to bring your mind into the present.

The frog.

It wasn't anything that you wanted to touch, but Jinshi was your master. Your discomforts and fears must be pushed away for his sake and needs.

Reaching down, you feel for any signs of the frog. It wasn't large, but it wasn't entirely small either. It wouldn't be hard to find in all it's slimy and— There it is.

Your hand brushed it and you feel almost elated to find it. Your hand cupped around the bulge from Jinshi's robes. It feels much bigger than the average frog that'd been on your forehead. It was unmoving to, except for the small twitch it gives as you rest your palm down. You gripped it.

"Hng," Jinshi grunts, his eyes close. You're a little shocked as his hips shift, his hands at your hips dig into your flesh, almost too eager. You snap your eyes upward to his suddenly sweating and flushed face. "I-I'm sorry, but... but could you move your hand? It's making things, um, rather difficult."

Difficult?

You grip onto the twitching frog below you—

"U-Uh—" Jinshi moans in a deep and guttural way that would make anyone, especially you, malfunction. It doesn't help that his hands latch onto you harder, pressing you closer and releasing a stuttering breath against your ear.

Why was he squirming so much? Why was his face so red and dripping with sweat? Why was his chest heaving and his hands flexing around your skin? And why was this thing twitching and getting bigger in your hold....

Oh.

Oh.

You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

You felt a little sick at your intrusion. At the gall. You couldn't believe yourself. You had violated one of the single rules you were ever given. You violated Jinshi's space. His entire being. You were to be punished and hated— ousted from your position.

Disgusted with yourself, you slowly stand up. Jinshi's softly panting from his position on the ground, running a hand through his mused hair.

"S-Sorry, I haven't— I'm a bit—" Jinshi's obviously embarassed and uncomfortable. Look what you've done. You've ruined it all. "Hey, where are you going?"

Before you could think much more as his hands grip your hips once again and pull you down.

You're sat on his his lap and you could feel it.

"J-Jinshi-sama, I'm so-I'm so sorry!" You tucked your head down, shaking with trembling lips.

Jinshi's hands fall to your thighs, limp, "Eh...?"

"What I did was truly inappropriate and-and I will take any and all punishment!"

"Punishment...?" He sounded terribly confused, still a bit breathless. You keep your head ducked and he remains unmoved. "Why would I... you're not getting punished."

"I give my life to you. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished." You repeated softly under your breath, tucking your hands against your face to hide away from his gaze. From the judgement and hatred. "It's only just."

There's a longstanding silence between the both of you and you're hopeful that he's coming to his senses. That you'd be released and freed. That you would finally accept the gap and space between them. To fall away, finally, to the shadows.

It was tarnished the moment Jinshi wraps your hands around your own, gently prying your hands away from your face.

He doesn't look vengeful or angered. No. No, he looks kind. As he always has been. Kind and considerate. Honest and open. He'd always been so...

He'd never really been angry with you. Not without sadness being overbearing. Always so quick to forgive you. To push everything away with a smile and crinkle of his eyes.

"Y/N..." His words are as soft as his expression.

Your hands shake, "Please... Please hate me." You pleaded quietly, pressing your forehead against his hands as if he were a monk to be begged to.

"I'm not going to punish you or... or anything of the sort. Why would you want that?"

You draw in a watery breath, shoulders shaking, "It's easier to let go that way." You admitted.

"Let go of what?"

"Of my love for you."

"What?!"

His shout echoed off the cave walls. Your humiliation and embarrassment was quick to follow once it bounced back at you. Made you flinch back and try to push yourself back from his lap. Why did you say anything? Fool. Disgusting fool.

"Hey, hey, hey," Jinshi's hands wrap around your wrists and tug you forward a bit. You refuse to meet his eye. You refuse to be humiliated and demeaned— "Don't do that. Don't close off."

You clench your jaw and try to push the humilation deep within you, taking a deep calming breath as you stared at his bare collar. "You're so kind and so... you. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable or disgusted, but I need to tell you. And then I would hope that you would let me go."

Jinshi's eyebrows shot up. "Let you go?"

You've been thinking about this for some time. That it all would be better if, in the end, you were to serve someone else. That you were pawned off for some soldier instead of this slow torture. This uncomfortable, unbearable tiptoeing.

"I would like for you to offer me to a soldier or anywhere else."

The reaction is instant. The way Jinshi's complexion darkens and he stares at you with wide eyes. He slumps into the damp ground and almost turns into putty. His hold on you slackens and gives you ample opportunity to move away. But you're frozen in your spot.

"Why would I do that?" Jinshi's voice is quiet, slow, "You're... You're mine."

A blush takes over your cheeks, "Jinshi-sama, It's not appropriate! I shouldn't be like this with you."

"What if I like it?"

You blink at him. "Huh?"

Jinshi leans forward, his thumb gently skirting against your skin. "What if I have some love for you too? What if I don't care about what's appropriate or follows the rules."

I would ask who you are. You were tempted to say but your mouth was clamped shut in shock. Following the rules had been completely him. He was put in his current position now to ensure the rules in the rear palace were being followed diligently. The thought that he would love someone like you when there were people like Maomao or princesses out there. People much more deserving of his devotion. It wasn't right.

As if sensing you're not believing him, he pulls away and presses his lips thin. "Okay, I'll convince you." He straightens up and takes a breath. "I spoke to Gaoshun not too long ago. Before we came here and I know everything now."

A pause. Everything. He knew everything now? Everything is so much. Everything is... well, everything. What exactly had Gaoshun told him?

"What's everything?"

"That my mother didn't want you around anymore. That Gaoshun told you that you weren't allowed around me anymore. That you stopped being my friend and became my employee."

Your stare up at Jinshi with wide eyes. "That's not...Us being friends wasn't right anymore."

Jinshi frowned, shaking his head and his hands slide up to your arms. "If I had my way, I would've had you by my side all that time. Not as some lady-in-waiting, but as my equal."

You shake your head, ignoring the erratic beating of your heart against your chest. "Don't say that. Don't say things you don't mean, Jinshi." You beg softly.

Jinshi reaches out, wrapping his hands around your own, pressing it against his chest. "I mean it with everything in me. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have ever been separated from you. Forget what my mother said." His words were sweet, tempting. They made you lightheaded. So did the sudden brightness and tender smile on his face. "That's the first time you've called me Jinshi since we were kids."

"What? I've always called you Jinshi."

"No, you've always called me Jinshi-sama."

"Oh."

You suppose you had.

"Jinshi," You utter, unsure of what else you both could say.

Jinshi's expression, if possible, softens further, leaning forward an inch. "Yes?" He whispers back just as softly.

Your eyes trail between his eyes before moving to his lips, parted and glistening, "Jinshi..."

Jinshi's hand slides up your thigh and his lips are ghosting against yours, "I'm here. I promise." He whispers before pressing your lips together delicately.

Your heart soars. Your hands shakily press against his cheeks, drawing closer as his own press your hips together. He's soft. He's tender. He's cautious and all encompassing. Filling your senses and making you lightheaded.

As you both part for a breath, he flips you onto your back. His hand grips the underside of your thigh and presses you close enough that he lets out a soft and broken sound.

His eyes are heavily lidded as he gazes down at you, lips pink. "I just want you. No one else. I promise." He utters.

You twist your hands into his hair, eyes fluttering. "You're it." You pass back.

His lips are back on yours. Wet and eager. This is sudden. Fast. But you've been waiting for so long. Had been clinging onto the smallest of things. Desperate to have this closeness that you had now. To feel his skin against yours. His breath mixing with your own. Everything him and everything you intertwined.

You just wanted to cherish this—

WOOF!

You and Jinshi both tense up, jumping. Looking over his shoulder, your eyes widen upon finding a familiar dog staring down at you both, wagging tail eager and happy to see you.

Jinshi's eyebrows furrow, "Huh...?"

There's not much warning before the dog is jumping down. Landing straight on Jinshi's back, causing the poor man to let out a pained sound. He's squishing you against the ground as the dog stands on his back, happily lapping his tongue against your cheek.

Vague disgust and disappointment wash over you, but you smile all the same. "Oh, boy!"

He barks again. A greeting you're sure.

Above, Lihaku and, surprisingly, Maomao appear. Both of them stare down at you with varying degrees of emotions. Lihaku looked excited and kinda like his dog, while Maomao.

Well, Maomao looked all too knowing.

"Well, you look rough!" Lihaku called down with a grin, "Glad to see you're not dead."

"As am I!" You huff out a laugh, then look to Maomao. "Hello, Xiaomao!"

"Hello." Maomao said flatly, she looked lower and her face screwed up distastefully. "Is Jinshi-sama okay?"

Lihaku then he spots his dog and slightly pales, letting out a sharp whistle. "C'mon, boy!"

The dog eagerly jumps off Jinshi, going to sit by your head and wag his tail. The man above you sighs in relief, pushing up off you. He sits up and you try not to focus on the bright blush on his face.

"Why did he do that?" The royal asks.

"Must've thought something was wrong." Lihaku rubs the back of his neck, frowning down at you both. "What... exactly where you two doing?"

You and Jinshi glance at one another, furious blushes flushing over you both. Despite anything that Jinshi said, there were things that you weren't allowed to do. Rules and laws that forbid something like this form happening the public eye. For a man like himself from being with a woman like you. A servant with a beautiful prince.

Protecting him was the priority.

"Nothing!" You shout back, ignoring the eyebrow raise that garnered from both Jinshi and Maomao.

Everything was better left alone. A secret between the both of you. To cherish and hold for however long it may need. You could deal with the anger and longing later.

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (10)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 4.7k

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: mentions of fight, injury, wounds.

A/N: finalllyyyyy AHHHHH can't believe we've finally reached this point heheheheheh we're just a few chapters away from the end. stay tuned and lmk your thoughts. thank you <3

part 10: jasmine accelerators

Jungkook cuts the engine completely, and for a moment, all that fills the air is the soft sound of the waves crashing against the shore, accompanied by the cool, salty breeze of the ocean. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a silver glow across the water’s surface, making the ocean shimmer as though it were sprinkled with stardust.

You both slowly get off the bike, your legs a little unsteady from the adrenaline of the ride. Jungkook places his helmet on the seat, his movements smooth and deliberate. You follow suit, carefully removing your own helmet and running your fingers through your hair.

The salty air is fresh against your skin, chilled yet comforting, and the breeze picks up, swaying your hair softly, the strands swirling around your face.

For a moment, you stand there, just taking it all in... the serenity of the scene, the vast ocean stretching out before you under the moonlit sky, the feeling of being so far from everything. You feel small, yet so connected to the world in this very moment.

Jungkook steps closer to you, his presence a comforting weight by your side. You’re acutely aware of how close he is, how you can hear the soft rhythm of his breathing, feel the warmth of his body just beside yours.

Your feet sink into the soft sand as you inch closer towards the water, along with Jungkook, the waves gently rolling up to greet you with their rhythmic whispers. The wind continues to blow softly, brushing your skin, and the moon’s reflection dances across the ocean’s surface like a silver ribbon.

As you take another step, the soft sand cradling your feet, Jungkook watches you in silence. His gaze lingers on you, his eyes soft with admiration as he takes in how effortlessly beautiful you look, standing there in the moonlight.

The way your hair moves with the breeze, how natural and calming you seem, like you were born to be here, in this moment. He can’t help but think how perfect everything feels and how perfect you are. In that moment, it’s as though he was simply ready to give you the world if you just asked for it.

You, too, are entranced by the beauty around you, but something inside you stirs, a curiosity, a question that seems to slip from your lips before you can stop it. “Why did you bring me to the beach?” you ask softly, the sound of your voice almost lost in the vastness of the night.

Jungkook turns to you, his smile playful but with a touch of mystery. “Are you complaining?” he teases, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. You laugh, shaking your head, the sound light and carefree. “No.” you reply, your eyes twinkling with amusement. “Just curious.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, the quiet of the night settling around you. There’s a hesitation in the air, a certain weight that lingers between you.

Jungkook looks down for a moment, and then, as if weighing his words carefully, he speaks again, his voice low and thoughtful. “Well, maybe this was the only way I could get you alone.” he says, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, though his eyes remain serious, almost vulnerable.

The admission hangs in the air, and for a moment, you’re struck by it. You turn towards him, meeting his gaze, and something unspoken passes between you. There’s a feeling in the pit of your stomach, a connection so intense it feels like the universe itself is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

You stand there, quietly absorbing the weight of his words, the beauty of the moment, and the sense that this night, with all its quiet magic, might just be the beginning of something more.

You don’t say anything in return, and Jungkook thinks you don’t need to anyway. The ocean roars in the distance, the waves crashing against the shore, as the stars above shimmer like distant promises.

You take a deep breath, the salty scent of the ocean filling your lungs as you close your eyes for a moment, savoring the cool breeze. Without thinking much, you slip off your sandals and let them fall to the sand, your bare feet meeting the soft, cool grainy sand.

You laugh to yourself, the thrill of the moment rising within you, as you run towards the edge of the water. The waves rush up to meet you, splashing against your feet with a sudden chill that sends a delightful shiver up your spine.

Looking over your shoulder, you catch Jungkook watching you, eyes wide with surprise, amusement flickering in his gaze. You grin, the joy of the moment bubbling up inside you. “You come all the way to the beach, and you’re just gonna stand there?” you tease, your voice playful.

It doesn’t take much to convince him. In the blink of an eye, Jungkook slips off his shoes, carelessly drops his jacket on the sand, and sprints towards you, his laughter mixing with the sound of the waves crashing. There’s something carefree about him now, a side of him you haven’t seen before, unrestrained and lighthearted.

As he gets closer, you bend down, scooping up a handful of water and splashing it right at him. He tries to shield himself, but he can’t help laughing, his eyes narrowing in mock frustration. The playful banter between the two of you feels effortless, the laughter flowing as naturally as the tide rolling in.

Jungkook chases after you, and you both dart around in the shallow water, splashing each other with the ocean liquid, your laughter ringing through the air.

Every time he catches up, he tries to grab you or splash you with more water, but you manage to dodge him just in time. Your feet sink into the wet sand, the cool water drenching the hems of your long dress as you both seem to lose track of time.

There’s no care for the world around you, no thoughts except for the sound of your laughter and the joy of being so free, so unburdened.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been playing for, but in the midst of your playful splashing, everything suddenly shifts. Jungkook, with an unexpected swift move, grabs you by the your arms and pulls you closer.

The cool water laps against your feet, but it feels far away compared to the heat between you two. You freeze, startled, as you feel his body pressed against yours, his chest warm and steady. You glance up at him, meeting his gaze, and he breathes out a soft, low “Finally.” as though this moment was something he had been desperately waiting for.

There’s a smile playing on his lips, but it's different now, softer, more intimate. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore fades into the background as your world narrows to just this… just him, the moonlit beach, the stars above, and the undeniable pull between you.

Jungkook’s hands slide from the sides of your arms to rest on your waist. His touch is tender, unhurried. This time, there’s no hesitation. You can feel the way his fingers curl into you, the pressure growing stronger as he tugs you even closer, until your breath catches in your throat.

His eyes remain locked on yours, full of warmth and something more, like he’s waiting for you to make the next move, like he’s giving you permission to take this where you both know it’s going. “Y/n…” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, his gaze softening as he looks down at you, as if he’s at your mercy.

You swallow hard, feeling a flame ignite within you, a need that has been simmering for far too long. You can’t let this moment slip away. Every time you’ve come close to something like this, it’s always slipped through your fingers, interrupted by something or, more often than not, someone.

Kim Seokjin you think with a flicker of amusement. But this time, you’re certain there’s no one around to interrupt this moment, and it’s about time you take full advantage of that.

Without thinking, your hands instinctively rise, and you grab the back of his neck, pulling him towards you. There’s no second-guessing now because you're honestly done running around and dancing around this very obvious connection.

Your lips meet his, tentative at first, but as soon as they touch, everything inside you combusts. It’s like the world shifts, as if every breath, every heartbeat, has been leading up to this. The kiss starts slow at first, a gentle exploration.

But the heat between you both builds, each touch, each second more urgent than the last. The taste of him is intoxicating, and your body instinctively moves closer, pressing into him as if you can’t get enough.

His hands move again, one at your waist, pulling you even tighter, while the other slides up to cup the back of your head, guiding you as he deepens the kiss. You feel his lips against yours, his breath warm and ragged, his touch both tender and desperate, as if he’s been holding back just as much as you have.

There’s an unspoken understanding between you two, a recognition of the moment’s importance, and you give yourself fully to it, feeling the world around you fade as the kiss consumes you both fully and completely.

Time seems to stretch as you lose yourself in him. The moonlight dances across the water, the sound of the ocean now like a distant hum, as all that matters is this moment... this kiss, this connection.

The tension that had been building between you two finally breaks, and for once, you don’t have to reach for more. It’s here, right in front of you, and nothing has ever felt more real.

Jungkook pulls away just enough to let you both catch your breath, the cool night air mingling with the warmth radiating between you. His chest rises and falls in rhythm with yours, heavy and uneven, but he doesn’t let the moment linger for too long.

Before you can even process the rush of emotions coursing through you, he’s closing the distance again, his lips finding yours with a fervent urgency.

This time, the kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, as if he’s savoring every second. His tongue grazes your lips, seeking entry, and when you part them, it’s like nothing else matters anymore. The soft groan that escapes his throat sends shivers down your spine, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

His hands, now carefully cup your cheeks as the kiss turns into a languid, intimate rhythm... your tongues dancing together while your breaths move in synch which feels both unhurried and consuming.

The world around you blurs… the sound of the waves fades into the background as you lose yourself entirely in him, in the way he kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.

The kiss feels like it stretches into eternity, yet somehow ends too soon as you pull away, your breath mingling in the space between you. Jungkook’s lips are slightly swollen, a soft blush creeping up his cheeks, and his eyes, half-lidded and dazed, hold a look so tender and raw that it sends your heart soaring.

“Fuck... that was...” he starts, his voice low and breathless, struggling to find the right words. “That was... wow.”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, warmth bubbling in your chest at how adorably flustered he seems. “I know.” you agree softly, the smile on your face as radiant as the moonlight reflecting off the ocean waves.

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, chuckling lightly, still trying to gather himself. “Can’t believe I kept getting interrupted by your friend every time I got so close to experiencing THIS... wow.”

You snort, playfully rolling your eyes. “I know, right? If Seokjin had popped out of nowhere just now, I swear I’d have pushed him into the ocean myself.”

Jungkook bursts into laughter at that, his grin wide and boyish, making your heart flip. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have even stopped you. The guy’s got the worst timing ever !!”

“Worst timing?” you tease, raising a brow. “He’s practically a professional moment killer!” The two of you dissolve into laughter, as you lean your head against his chest, the shared humor and relief of finally having this moment together filling the air. For once, it feels like the universe decided to work in your favor.

"Well..." Jungkook begins after a few seconds, his voice soft yet firm, as though he’s trying to anchor himself in the moment. You slowly lift your head up to look up at him again. "I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been wanting to do this for so long." he says.

His admission sends your heart racing, a shy smile tugging at your lips as a flurry of emotions swirl within you. Heat blooms in your cheeks, and you bite the corner of your lip, feeling both vulnerable and exhilarated. For a moment, you avoid his gaze, but when your eyes meet again, the sincerity in his stare makes it impossible to look away.

“Me too.” you shyly admit, the words slipping past your lips in a voice so quiet it feels almost like a confession.

Jungkook draws in a sharp breath, his heart hammering in his chest as he processes your response. He tries to steady himself, running a hand over his face as though grounding himself in the euphoria coursing through him.

His mind is a tsunami of emotions, yet the only thought that stands out is you... how right you felt against him, how perfectly your lips had fit with his. It’s as if every fragmented piece of him had been waiting for this one moment to feel whole.

It’s not just the kiss... it’s you. It’s everything you are, everything you represent. Being near you feels like finding the missing part of himself he never even realized he was searching for. The way you move, the way you laugh, the way you look at him.... it’s like you were made just for him, and he for you.

His hand brushes through his hair as he exhales, trying to collect his scattered thoughts, but his gaze keeps returning to you. The way the moonlight catches on your features, the way your eyes sparkle with a mixture of shyness and boldness, it’s utterly disarming.

“I don’t think I can put it into words....” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he looks at you with an expression so raw and honest it sends a shiver down your spine. “It’s just... everything about you... feels so damn right.” he confesses, his hand finding its way back to your waist, anchoring you closer to him.

The air between you seems to still, his words settling deep in your heart. A pause hangs in the moment, charged with emotions that neither of you know how to fully articulate. You feel like you’re about to float, his confession lifting you to heights you never imagined.

You want to say it back, to tell him how much he feels right to you too… how much his presence fills a space you didn’t even know was empty. But the weight of your emotions holds the words hostage, leaving you speechless. All you can do is meet his gaze, your eyes silently conveying everything your lips can’t seem to say.

But as the warmth of the moment begins to settle, a weight presses into Jungkook’s chest. His euphoric high is tempered by a pang of guilt and the realization that this newfound closeness cannot exist without clearing the air. He knows it’s high time the two of you address everything that’s been left unsaid, especially his own mistakes.

Still holding you close, his brows knit together slightly, and his lips part as though the words are difficult to form. He wants to choose them carefully, not to ruin the magic lingering in the air. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and steady.

"I don’t want to ruin this moment..." he starts, his voice quieter than usual, tinged with remorse. "But... we have a lot to talk about."

The words make your heart falter for a second, nervousness creeping into your chest but you know he’s right. There are unresolved things lingering between you, questions left unanswered and wounds that still sting faintly.

His outburst during that meeting flashes in your mind, and you know that for this to truly work, those shadows need to be addressed.

You nod, your lips pressing together briefly as you steady yourself. "You’re right..." you admit softly, your voice carrying a mix of apprehension and determination.

Jungkook sighs in relief at your understanding, his thumb brushing soothing circles over your waist. Without wanting to cause any further delay, he starts.

"I know I messed up." he admits, his voice laced with regret. "I should’ve never spoken to you like that... at the meeting with Mr. Kwon and the others. I was out of line, and I’ve been wanting to apologize… not just for this but... for everything." he pauses, taking a deep breath.

"I’ve been a jerk to you, Y/N, ever since I moved in. And... I hate myself for it. You didn’t deserve any of it."

Your brows knit together slightly, but you don’t interrupt, sensing he needs to get this off his chest.

"I’m sorry for that one time one of my friends broke your pot and didn't even have the decency to say 'sorry'. I should’ve made him apologize properly or at least replaced the pot, but I didn’t. I just... brushed it off like it didn’t matter but I know that more than anything... it did matter to you. Those flowers, your shop... they’re important, and I didn’t respect any of that."

He swallows hard, his voice faltering as he continues. "I’m also sorry for snapping at you when that other pot fell, and the mud splashed on one of my bikes. I acted like it was the end of the world when, in reality... it wasn’t. I let my frustration get the better of me, and I took it out on you. That was wrong. I’ve been carrying that guilt ever since."

Your heart softens as you see the genuine regret etched across his face.

"And during those meetings..." he pauses, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "God, I was such an idiot. Ignoring your ideas, acting like what you had to say wasn’t important... I don’t know why I did that. Maybe I was too caught up in my own world, or maybe I just didn’t know how to handle someone who actually stood their ground. Either way, I was ignorant and dismissive, and I’m really sorry for that too."

His words hit you like waves, each apology washing over you with a mix of emotions... relief, understanding, and a touch of sadness for the time lost in animosity. Jungkook steps closer, his hands tightening ever so slightly as though afraid you might pull away.

"I’m sorry for all of it, Y/N. For being an ass, for not seeing you... really seeing you... for who you are. You’ve been nothing but patient and kind, even when I didn’t deserve it. And now, standing here with you, I just... I want to make things right."

His voice cracks slightly at the end, and it tugs at your heart. For a moment, you’re both silent, the sound of the waves and the cool breeze filling the space between you. Finally, you place your hand on his cheek, your thumb brushing gently against his skin.

"I hear you, Jungkook..." you say softly. "And... thank you. For saying all of that. It means a lot."

Jungkook pauses for a moment, the vulnerability in his eyes deepening as though he’s about to share something he’s held back for a long time. He lets out a shaky sigh, his fingers brushing gently against your form as if seeking reassurance.

"And I need to thank you too..." he adds, his voice softer now. "For tending to my wounds that night. I was such an idiot, showing up like that after everything I’d put you through. You didn’t have to help me.... you had every reason to just ignore me... but you didn’t. Instead, you were kind... and patient. I just... couldn’t stop thinking about how, even after everything I did, you still chose to take care of me."

His words carry a raw honesty that you take in calmly. "I felt so... small that night, Y/N. Like I didn’t deserve your kindness. And maybe I didn’t. But you gave it anyway, and it made me realize just how wrong I’d been about you, about... us."

Jungkook lowers his head slightly, the weight of his emotions evident in the way his shoulders sag. "I don’t know how you do it... how you’re so good. But I felt like the biggest idiot in the world for ever treating you the way I did."

Tears sting the corners of your eyes as you take in his heartfelt apology and gratitude. You cup his face gently, tilting it up so he’s forced to meet your gaze.

"Jungkook..." you say, your voice steady but warm. "You’re not an idiot. You made mistakes, sure, but what matters is that you’re owning up to them now. That takes courage. And... I don’t plan on holding any of it against you."

His eyes search yours, flickering with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. "You don’t?" he whispers, his voice almost breaking. You shake your head, offering him a soft smile. "No. You’ve apologized, and I can see how much you mean it. We can’t change the past, but we can move forward. Together."

The word "together" lingers in the air, and you watch as his expression shifts... relief washing over him, his lips curving into a small, hesitant smile. You step closer, wrapping your arms around him in a comforting embrace, your cheek resting against his chest.

"You’re not a bad person, Jungkook." you murmur as you hug him. "You’re just... human. And humans make mistakes. What matters is that you’re here now, and you’re trying." you continue.

His arms encircles you tightly, as if you might slip away if he doesn’t hold on. "Thank you..." he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "For being... you. For giving me a chance to make this right."

You pull back slightly to look up at him, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. "You don’t have to thank me. Just... don’t be so hard on yourself, okay? You’re doing just fine."

For the first time in what feels like forever, Jungkook’s shoulders relax, the tension melting away as he leans his forehead against yours. "I’ll try." he says softly, a promise woven into his words.

You pull back slightly from the embrace, your hands resting gently on his chest as a thought lingers at the back of your mind. Your gaze softens but carries a hint of concern as you finally ask. "Jungkook... that night, when you showed up hurt... what really happened? Why did you have those wounds?"

His expression flickers, surprise giving way to hesitation. He scratches the back of his neck, a sheepish look crossing his face. "It was nothing." he says quickly, trying to brush it off. But you arch an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. He sighs, realizing he can't avoid the question.

"It was just... a stupid fight." he admits, his voice low. "A meaningless scuffle with some guys from a rival biker gang. It happens sometimes, you know, in this kind of world. It's not a big deal."

Your lips part in disbelief, and you step back slightly, away from his embrace, your hands now on your hips as you glare at him. "Not a big deal?" you repeat, incredulity thick in your tone. "You show up with bruises all over your face and hands and you’re telling me that’s not a big deal?"

Jungkook tries to placate you with a small, apologetic smile, but you’re not having it. "You shouldn’t be getting into fights in the first place, Jungkook. What if something worse happens next time? Do you ever think about that?" you ask, fully serious.

He exhales, his smile fading as he takes in the worry etched into your face. "I know..." he says softly, his tone earnest. "I know it’s reckless, and I know I shouldn’t let it happen. It’s just... sometimes things escalate. But I promise, I’ll try to avoid it."

"Try?" you counter, your arms crossing over your chest. "No, you will avoid it, Jungkook. You can’t keep risking your safety like this. Not for some stupid rivalry. It’s not worth it."

He chuckles softly at your stern tone, his eyes filled with admiration despite the scolding. "You’re scary when you’re worried, you know that?" he teases, though his voice is laced with warmth.

You roll your eyes but soften at his attempt to lighten the mood. "I mean it, Jungkook. No more fights. Promise me."

His gaze locks onto yours, sincerity shining through. "Alright." he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I promise. No more fights. At least, not unless I absolutely have to."

You narrow your eyes at him, but a small smile tugs at your lips. "Good. Because if you show up wounded again, I might just never talk to you again."

Jungkook grins, stepping closer and pulling you back into his warm embrace. "Noted. No more fights... and no more injuries. You have my word." You smile in his hold, though the worry still lingers at the edges of your thoughts. But for now, you let it slide, appreciating the moment and the progress between you two.

As you stand there, wrapped in his arms, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours feels grounding, almost like it’s syncing with your own. He calls out your name softly, his voice vibrating against your ear. “Y/N…”

You hum in response, your cheek still resting against his chest, unwilling to let go of the warmth of this moment. “I want to do this right.” he suddenly says, his voice steady but carrying a hint of vulnerability.

You don’t say anything, your breath hitching as you wait for him to continue, sensing the weight of his words.

“I want to do this right with you…” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His arms rest gently around your shoulders, his gaze searching yours as if trying to convey the depth of what he feels.

“We need to get to know each other better. I want to learn everything about you... what you like, what you don’t like, all the little things that make you… you.”

Your lips part slightly, your heart fluttering at his sincerity. “And...” he continues, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips, “I was thinking… maybe we could start with an actual date? You and me. Somewhere nice. Away from our shops and our friends. No interruptions this time, I promise.”

A laugh escapes your lips, soft and genuine. “A date?” you ask, tilting your head playfully, though the warmth in your chest is undeniable. “Yes.” he says firmly, his eyes never leaving yours. “A proper one. No community center meetings, no fairgrounds, no unexpected arguments, no misunderstandings. Just us.”

You smile, your cheeks heating up as you nod. “I’d like that, Jungkook. I’d really like that.”

The relief in his expression is almost palpable, a weight lifting off his shoulders as his smile deepens. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, and he presses a soft, lingering kiss against your lips.

For a moment, you feel dizzy, the kiss gentle yet filled with a thousand promises. When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and the air between you feels electric.

The night takes on a new kind of magic, an undeniable warmth settling in your chest. It’s a feeling that lifts your spirits, filling you with a sense of hope and possibility, as if anything is now within reach.

<- part 9 // part 11 ->

series masterlist

taglist:@kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 @jksusawife @yooforeaa @abbie1847 @myjungkookthighs @thesarcasmqueen-22 @fairypjminie @lovelytaes-blog @jjeonjjk7 @daddyjeonnn @vantelover1306 @jeeykey @shellyyy177 @daskewl @blackswan18 @korian97 @minimoninini @ericawantstoescape @rpwprpwprpwprw @tokkiggukie @jaytheatiny

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 18]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3.7k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

warning: canon typical violence || vomit

“Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight. Lead me out on the moonlit floor, lift your open hand - Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling. So, kiss me.”

You hum along with the song playing quietly in your ear as you scrub the bathtub. It is one of your cleaning nights and you are focused on getting everything back to tip-top shape. The tub currently has a bit of a purple tint to it after you tried a new brand of bubble bath for Minnie - you are lucky she isn’t now grape flavored as well - and you would very much like it gone. It is coming off easier than you expected, but it is taking a fair amount of elbow grease. 

It is easy to space out and listen to music as you work. Your cleaning playlist are songs you can vibe to that you don’t really associate with anything in your life - mostly you think about the movies the song has been featured in - but you are finding, as you scrub and romantic lyrics float through your head, a certain name and face keeps appearing in your mind’s eye. 

You know it isn’t wise for you to develop a crush on Matt - just because you have a daughter together does not mean he wants to kiss you. You know you need to squash the feelings down before you get yourself hurt. 

But sometimes it is nice to have silly impossible daydreams while you are cleaning alone at ten at night. Having a goofy little smile while you picture yourself spinning around a garden in a dance isn’t hurting anyone. You have a good grasp on reality - you just sometimes want to pretend to be the lead in a cheesy 90’s teen romcom - is that too much to ask? 

No one else needs to know Matt has replaced the lead actor. It is a secret just for you. 

As you scrub bleach powder around your purple-haze tub drain, you catch movement reflecting in the shine of the spout. You can’t hear anything over your music - even though you only have one earbud in - so you sit up and turn around. Of course, it is Minnie standing in the doorway, clad in her jammies, and dragging Scooby by his big paw.

You pull the earbud out, frowning to your daughter, “Is everything alright, Mouse? Is my music too loud? Did it wake you up?”

She shakes her head, then in the most miserable voice you have ever heard from her, whines, “My tummy hurts.”

Instantly, you set down your sponge and your earbud so you can go to your daughter, “your tummy hurts?” 

You move to pick her up, wanting to comfort her, but it is made clear she doesn’t want this by stepping back and holding up her toy between the two of you. It hurts, but it passes, as you know you don’t like to be touched when you feel sick, so instead, you kneel down to be in front of her and try to find the root of the problem. 

“How does your tummy hurt?”

She sways side to side, face scrunching up as she self-analyzes. You can see the little wheels turning in her head, but then there is a very subtle shift in her eyes that only years of being a mother makes you notice. With lightning speed, you grab Minnie under her arms and spin around to hold her over the toilet just as her dinner begins to regurgitate. 

Your heart breaks as she empties her stomach and you try to soothe her the best you can, rubbing her little back as she coughs and hacks. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, get it all out. Get all the icky out,” you tell her. 

Luckily, her stomach is small and there is not a lot of expel. Once you are sure she is done, you flush the toilet then close the lid, intent on setting Minnie down so you can clean her up, but of course, now she doesn’t want to be put down. She wiggles and turns until she can bury her head into your neck, sniffling and hiccupping, and clinging to you the best she can. 

You can feel bits of vomit on your neck, but since you aren’t completely covered in it, you try to ignore it in favor of your distressed daughter. You begin to rock her gently, humming one of her favorite lullabies as she processes how distressing throwing up is.

You don’t remember when the last time she got sick was, but you have a guess as to what caused this upset - you tried a new ice cream for dessert tonight. It had made your stomach a bit gurgly and you had solved that with a TUMS. 

It hadn’t occurred to you to ask if Minnie needed one, too. 

A lesson for the future.

Minnie doesn’t dissolve into full on tears and after about two minutes, she pulls back and croaks out, “‘cooby?”

She had dropped the toy when you had first picked her up, so you stretch to grab him for her. She quickly switches to clinging to him and you go right for a washcloth. You wipe down your neck first - you can only handle so much - then start on cleaning up your poor Mouse. 

In a blessing from the gods, she only has a little bit of gunk around her mouth and nose. It doesn’t seem like anything got on her clothes. 

Getting her to rinse her mouth out takes a bit of convincing. 

“It will help the icky taste go away,” you promise, but she just clamps her mouth shut and shakes her head. You very much get why she wouldn’t want anything in her mouth after throwing up, but you also know she needs a good rinse. She only gives in after you demonstrate what you want of her by brushing your teeth and gargling some water. However, the condition is that you have to brush her teeth for her while she squeezes Scooby for dear life. 

Once her mouth is clean and the only sign she was ever sick is her puffy red eyes, you scoop up your baby and bring her out to the living room. 

“How does your tummy feel now?” you ask as you set her on the couch and begin to cocoon her in the throw blanket you keep there. 

Minnie rests her head on top of Scooby’s, lip jutting out into a pout, “Icky. And Hurty.”

“Icky and hurty?” You sympathize. You know well the aftermath of throwing up and how sometimes the aftermath is worse than the event - your stomach often turns sour and you feel drained. You know certain fluids will help relieve this, so you kiss Mouse’s forehead and tell her, “Let me see if we have any things to help.”

“Blue Pedi-lyte?” she asks and you can’t help but smile over how observant and smart your little one is. She may not have thrown up in recent memory - but other digestive problems have occurred, and she clearly remembers enough that the drink helped. 

“Yeah. Let me go see if we have any, okay? Do you want to put on some Mickey?”

“Goofy,” is her quick, but mumbled reply. 

You turn on the television and bring up some Goofy related shorts, then head to the kitchen, hoping you have some old Pedialyte. 

But you don’t. 

You have leftover drinks Karen brought you and the only thing that is comparable to what you promised Minnie is yellow Gatorade. However, you have nothing to turn it blue. You have the feeling that trying to give it to your little one is not going to go well, but you try, nonetheless. You fill a sippy cup halfway with yellow liquid and mentally cross yourself as you bring it to Mouse on the couch.

She takes one look at it before pouting at you, “That’s yellow.”

“I know, sweetie. But we don’t have any blue Pedialyte. We only have yellow Gatorade. It will help your tummy, too.”

To her credit, she takes it and holds it in her lap, looking down at it with disdain. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, then wrinkles up her nose and holds the cup back up to you, “It’s stinky.”

You try to not sigh - lemon-lime is an intense flavor and probably won’t taste the best after vomiting, but it is all you have. You crouch down so you are eye level with your daughter and rub her leg, trying to be encouraging, “I know, but it will help your tummy. Can you try for me?”

She looks between you and the cup about fifteen times, her little eyes full of doubt, before bringing it up to her mouth and taking a sip. She does not swallow - instead she looks disgusted before opening her mouth and letting the drink spill down her chin.

“Oh, no, no, let’s not do that,” you groan. You use your t-shirt - which is luckily your cleaning shirt and gross anyways - to wipe her face and soak up the yellow liquid. 

“Icky,” Mouse informs you, then adds, “I want blue Pedi-lyte. Please?”

You take in your daughter, looking so tiny wrapped up on the couch. How awful it must be to not only be nauseous, but to be so with enhanced senses. You’ve thrown up enough times to know what an unpleasant aftertaste it leaves, so she must be so miserable.

You rub your hands over your face and give in, “Okay, let Mommy go change into real people clothes, and we will go get some for you.”

----

You are no stranger to midnight runs to the bodega two blocks west. You had moved into your current apartment when you were about six months pregnant, and you had spent month seven waddling your way there almost every night for a slice of cake.  The late-night cashier, Sal, practically watched Minnie grow up and he is one of the few people who she will talk to unprompted.  So, you don’t feel embarrassed when you stroll in wearing sweatpants and a band-tank top, with Minnie still in her jammies - Sal has seen you in worse states and at least you aren’t wearing a robe and slippers. 

There’s a couple of college aged boys lingering around the snacks section who smell heavily of marijuana, and they seem more interested in talking about what chips to get than anything, so only your hyper paranoid mind makes you take notice as you make your way to the drink coolers. You pass all the fun things and go to the very back corner of the storefront where the small selection of medicinal goods are. 

Tampons, Tylenol, and band aids are stacked low on the dry goods shelf, and across from them, practically on the floor of the cooler, is one row of Pedialyte. The gods must be smiling on you because it is indeed the blue flavor your daughter is desiring. 

You open the cooler, and with Minnie on your hip, squat down to retrieve your prize. Almost instantly, she starts making grabby hands for it, asking with a bit of a whine, “Mommy, open it.”

“We have to pay for it first, then you can drink it,” you remind her, feeling guilty as you do. You can see the upset in her eyes, and to try and mitigate the damage, you offer, “Do you want to help buy it?”

Mouse, always the eager helper, nods against you, so you hand over the drink, stand, and start making your way to the counter. The stoned boys are debating which chips will leave the least amount of residue on their gaming controllers as you pass them and part of you wants to stop and listen. You don’t have an interest in video games beyond silly ones on your phone, but their passion is intense, and you agree Cheeto dust is one of the worst things in the world. You are lucky Minnie finds them gross and much prefers pretzels as her chip of choice.

As you come up to the checkout, Sal looks up from his phone and gives you a pleasant smile, “Late night snack run?” 

Minnie pipes up before you can, leaning forward as far as she can to hold out the bottle towards him, “I wanna buy this, please, thank you.”

Sal, ever kind, reaches across the counter to get it so you don’t have to try to lean in, “Ahhh, no snacks. Tummy troubles?”

“Tummy troubles,” you confirm. You dig into your purse for your wallet as he begins to ring you up.

Sal clicks his tongue in sympathy, before telling you, “My daughter, Sasha, the tall one, she always had the tummy troubles, too. Turns out, she was allergic to corn. Do you know how much corn is in everything in America?”

You make a face at that because you do, in fact, know how much corn is in everything. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

In your arms, always wanting to mimic you, Minnie gives a solemn nod to Sal, “Sorry to hear.”

Sal laughs warmly, “You are kind. I hope your tummy troubles are not from corn, but too many sweets.” 

That makes Mouse giggle, which warms your heart. When you are told the total, you hand her your card to hand over to Sal. The sweet man swipes it, then addresses Minnie, “Debit or credit?”

Despite not knowing what that means, she instantly replies with, “Credit!” making you smile all the more. 

“Yes, we will charge it,” he says. The receipt prints and he hands that and the card back to you before bagging the Pedialyte in a little black baggie and handing that to Minnie. “Your purchase, little ma’am.” 

“Thank you!” she chimes, and you thank Sal as well. The college boys have finally decided on their snack, so you vacate the counter so they can make their purchase, wishing the cashier a good rest of his night. 

As you exit the bodega, Minnie bonks your arm with the bagged bottle, “Mommy, open it now. We buyed it.” 

“Okay, okay.”

You set her down on the ground, then get the bottle out so you can crack it open. You help your little one take a few careful sips and once she is done, she smacks her lips. 

“Not icky?” You ask and she gives a big nod in response. 

“Not icky.”

“How is your tummy?”

Her fist goes right into her mouth as she thinks over the question. You use the time to recap the drink and drop it back into the bag, then put that into your purse. 

“It feels like jumping dinosaurs,” Mouse finally tells you, “Going ‘bah bah bah’. Like sheepies.”

You have no idea what that is supposed to mean, but you guess that she feels better. She seems more chipper, which isn’t what you need closing in on midnight. If you don’t get home soon and get her back into bed, you are going to have a very grumpy toddler in the morning. 

Which will go great with your expected grumpiness - you still have to finish cleaning the bathroom and who knows how long that is going to take. You’ll need to redo the toilet and throw a load of laundry into the wash. You’ll probably get to bed around two if you are lucky.

So, with the complete intention of tiring your daughter out, you ask her, “Do you want to walk back home holding Mommy���s hand?”

Which completely does the trick and Minnie takes your hand so you can walk back home together, and you begin heading that way. 

Despite being the city that never sleeps, the streets around you are pretty empty. You haven’t come across any other foot traffic and you’ve only seen a few cars roll by, so to you, it seems like a quiet night.

You wonder if that is how Minnie sees it - or in her case - hears it. 

It has been mind boggling learning her range of hearing and how much input she must constantly receive.

Matt is still working on making you his binder - Karen has apparently taken to copy editing it - but he has given you a preview of a few pages and you can barely comprehend it. You think you would go insane if you could hear everyone talking all at once, all the time. Your anxiety would be astronomical, but your sweet Mouse doesn’t seem bothered in day-to-day life.

You’ve been watching her play more and more and you’ve been learning what catches her attention and interests. To your surprise, it has been music. The little wiggles and shakes she sometimes does is apparently her interpretation of dancing and you have been making her a little playlist for her birthday. You think a dance party would be a fun thing to do the night before the zoo trip, to help get out all her energy. You haven’t told her this yet, but you did ask her to let you know when she hears a song she wants to dance to, so you can look into it. 

You don’t want to add anything inappropriate after all. 

You look down at your daughter as you walk, a little smile coming to your face. She’s watching her feet, and it looks like she’s trying to step on her own shadow without making a big deal of it. You’ve seen her do that before or try to walk one foot in front of the other. You aren’t the fastest walker - you tend to stroll - so you never worry about her games slowing you down. 

Plus, if it wears her out, all the better for you. 

You are about half a block away from your building when Minnie suddenly halts and whirls her head back towards the bodega. Curious, you stop as well, wondering what she has heard now. 

“What is it, sweetie?” 

“There’s a hoot-hoot!” She whisper-yells, looking up to you with the biggest, purest smile. 

Your heart practically bursts from your chest with love and your smile grows to match hers, “A hoot-hoot? Can you tell me about the hoot-hoot?”

She nods, then you watch in slow motion as your daughter’s absolute joy morphs into that of horror and before you can even process what is happening, something is ripping you away from Minnie by the base of your neck. 

You are pivoted left and slammed face first into the brownstone staircase you were just walking by. Your vision goes spotty as pain erupts from the center of your forehead - confusion and panic begin to consume you. 

All you can hear is your daughter screaming in fear.

You have no idea what is going on, but all you know is Minnie needs you, and that ignites something deep and primal in your chest.

There is something grabbing and pulling at your top and your purse - which you wear crossbody - and you realize someone is trying to mug you. Fear fills you as you struggle to get away, break free, but whoever it is is stronger than you and keeps slamming you back against the stone.

“Mommy!”

The thing inside your chest bursts to life when you hear Minnie cry for you and you kick backwards best you can, trying to dislodge your attacker. Your foot catches their knee and both of you go tumbling to the ground. You hit the cement hard only to be crushed under the weight of your assailant as they land on top of you. 

You refuse to stay still, squirming and trying to army crawl out from under the mugger, but they easily overpower you. Hands wrap around your throat from behind and you are temporarily overwhelmed by the stench of body odor and filth. You are pressed down into the sidewalk for a split second before being yanked back and you just barely manage to turn your face as you are violently forced back down again. Gravel and glass tear at your cheek. 

Something tangles itself into your hair and your head is once again being pulled back, but you won’t give up. You reach back over your head and grab onto the arm of the person attacking you. You feel flesh, so you curl your fingers and dig your nails in the best you can. 

There is a feral, pained yowl, then your head meets the ground again, but it doesn’t stop. They are trying to push you down into the sidewalk using all their weight, like they are trying to crush your skull.

You kick and buck as hard as you are able to, thrashing desperately in an attempt to break away. The pain is quickly becoming all encompassing, but Minnie is crying, and you need to get to her.

You try to get an arm under you, to try and help to push you up, but there is so much weight and all of it is centered on your upper back and skull.

You can’t get up. 

You can’t get to Minnie. 

You can’t save your daughter.

There is a deep and furious roar, then the crushing weight of your attacker is ripped off of you.  

You gasp for breath as you quickly roll onto your side, terrified you're going to be pushed back into the dirt and smothered. Your vision is swimming, blurry and half black, and everything, everything hurts. 

“DADDY!” 

Your eyes snap open and you try to push yourself up onto shaky arms. You try to turn around to find your daughter, but your body doesn’t want to obey anymore, and you collapse back onto the ground. You force your legs to move the best you can, trying to roll until you can find your daughter. 

“Minnie..” you try to call out but you aren’t sure if any noise escapes your lips.

“Mommy!”

The darkness wraps itself around you and begins to drag you down into its depths. The last thing your mind catches before it switches off is your little Mouse, screaming for you.

“MOMMY!”

“MOMMY!!”

---

:3C

---

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath 

 @allllium

@anehkael

 @nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird  @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare 

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood@mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @ astridstark13

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

[watsittoyah]

Along Came A Spider…2099

Warnings-Sexual content, sex dreams, time travel, oral sex, rough sex, fang play, size kink, and slight blood play.

Chapter 1- Don’t I know you?

As you lay in the middle of your king size bed, you feel a dip by your feet. “Mi Corazon?” You hear his soft voice call out to you and you slowly stir. “Hmm?” You sit up on your elbows and see a large figure crouched at the foot of your bed.

“Baby? Did you get your food? I put it in fridge for you.” You say with a yawn as you sit up fully in the bed. He gently pushes you onto your back and he crawls between your thighs. “Thank you, Mi Corazon. I’ll get it later, I’m sorry for waking you up.” He moved one of your curls that happened to escape your scarf and tucks it behind your ear. “Issokay.” You yawn and wrap your arms around his thick waist. “Did you save some people tonight?”

He nods and leans down, sniffing your neck and resting his weight against you. You feel his arousal which wakes you up fully. “Mmm, tell me about it.” You whisper as you feel his teeth trace down your delicate throat.

“Mmm later, I promise. I just….want you, right now.” He leans up and looks at you with his pretty hazel colored eyes. You don’t argue with him, because you want him too.

It’s been three weeks since you two have had some privacy. Due to him saving people as well as being a scientist, and you starting your new job as a engineering tech. It’s been hectic. But in this intimate moment you wanted your husband.

“This is new.” He says as he looks down at your night gown. It was scarlet and a bit see through. “Do you like it? I ordered it last week.” He squeezes your perky brown breasts and sucks the left one through the thin fabric. Which tells you all you needed to know that he indeed liked the night gown.

You let out a soft moan and feel his heavy dick pressing against your now wet cunt. “M-” He stops you and leans up, so his warm body isn’t pressed against you anymore. “Do you remember our safe word?” Your husband asks as he leans back down, moving his face towards your inner thighs. You nod but he smirks in the dim moonlight. “Use your words, amor.” He says as he hands rubs your outter thighs.

You bite your bottom lip and open your legs, watching his now ruby eyes linger for a moment too long. “Spider.” You say as you lift your night gown, revealing your naked flesh to him. “Good girl.” He says as he lifts up your right leg and places it on his shoulder. He lifts your left leg, kissing your inner thigh and placing it on his other shoulder. You look down and see his pretty eyes lock onto yours.

Your pussy clenched as you see his teeth extend into fangs. You let out a groan as he runs his sharp k-9’s against your puffy lips. He uses his tongue to part your lips and as soon as his tongue dips deep inside of you, you grip your pillow.

You watch as your starving husband eats your wet pussy and you moan out into the moonlit room.

His eyes roll back as he uses his tongue and spit to edge you. Your legs begin to tense up as you rock your hips to his movements. He sucks on your clit and then he stops.

“Amor, you need to stay still. If you move too much I’ll have to pin you down so you can’t move. And I know you don’t want that.”

“W..what if I do?” You challenge him. He raises a thick brown at you and he yanks you closer to his fanged mouth. “You sure about that?” Before you could give a cocky response, his mouth had engulfed your entire pussy lips and you groan out incoherent sentences.

He slows down just enough to give you slight friction, but not enough to make you come. He flicks his tongue slowly as he watches your reactions.

“Baby, please. More.” You moan at as he lazily flicks his tongue again. “Mmm, perdoname mi Amor. But I’m going to go at my pace. I want to savor this, pretty little pussy.” He spreads your lips apart he lays his tongue flat against your swollen clit and he twirls his tongue inside of you. Your walls clench slight around it and you moan to the heavens.

Your eyes rolls to the back of your head as you reach down and grab his forearms. You hump his tongue and moan to a god who you hope isn’t listening.

You look back down at him and you see his fangs trace against your inner lips. His eyes still tracking your every movement. “Please.” You moan out as start to buck your hips. He gives a heavy sigh and with a quickness, your husband had moved his mouth away from your pussy and he had pinned you against the bed. Your front against the bed while he laid on top of you.

“I told you not to move, now you get this.” You hear his boxers being pulled down and he smacks his thick heavy dick against your ass cheeks.

If you were a form of water, you’d be a waterfall right now. You push your ass against him but he pins your lower back down. “No, no you don’t get to tease me. You just have to take this dick and use that pretty mouth of your to bite that pillow.”

He grips your throat and you let out a laugh. “Can’t I use my pretty mouth somewhere else?” You tease which causes him to use his knees to spread you apart and you feel his dick start to push through. “Ay dios mío, next time I’ll use that smart ass mouth. But for now…”

As he slides in from behind you let out a gasp and he grips your neck tighter. His dick fills you up and he hasn’t even pushed his full length all the way in yet.

“A…ay dios mío, mi amor.” Your husband grunts as he continues to slide in deeper. You groan out as he slowly thrusts up inside of you. He bites your ear and you bite down on your pillow.

God he was big and your pussy was sucking him in deep. You feel his fangs against your neck next and you moan for him to do it. “Are you sure?” He moan as he fucks you deeper. You moan out yes and you feel his teeth sink into your shoulder.

You feel the air leave your lungs for just a moment and your body is in pure ecstasy. Your husband pounds into you harder and his devilish jaw lets go. He moves your face and you taste blood on his lips.

You suck his tongue and you moan out how you’re going to come. But he doesn’t slow down. Instead he goes faster and lets his body weight hold you in place. “Come for me, come on daddy’s dick so you can suck it clean for him later.” You go to moan out your husbands name as you feel yourself about to come. “Mig-“

You jolt awake from your erotic dream, hearing construction work outside your window. You wake up wet and you look over at your phone screen to see it’s only 5am. “Fuck.” You throw your blankets off of you and you check your shorts. Sure enough you had a wet dream like some pre-adolescent boy.

You wish you knew who the hot stranger you were dreaming about but you had no idea. Which was odd, because from your psychology class, you’ve learned that the human mind is so strange that it can’t create a human face out of thin air. Which means you had to have seen the strangers face before.

You crank up the hot water in the shower and you step in not caring of the scolding water burned you or not. You take your banana milk body wash and clean between your legs. The dream flashes in the back of your mind and you lean your back against the shower wall and you let your hand cup your one of your breast. You think of how the stranger had his face buried between your legs and you use the body wash as lube.

You rub your clit thinking about your dream guy and you let out a moan thinking about his hazel eyes, his large frame. His thick d-

“Hey! Don’t use up all the hot water! Some of us have to shower and go to work!” Your roommate yells behind the door. You move your hands away like a shamed child and quickly finish up your shower.

Once you’re all dried and dressed, you make it to the kitchen to see Erica, your roommate, running around looking for her left shoe.

“Tommie? Have you see my-” Without a missed beat you point under the couch and grab your overnight oats from the fridge. “Thanks T. Oh you’re still coming out tonight right? I know you, you’ll say yes and then in the last minute you’ll make an excuse and stay in.”

You take a bite of the chocolate oats and nod slowly. Both answering her and being happy with your breakfast. “Yeah, I’m still coming. I won’t leave you hanging with Monica and Jerry.” You loved your group of friends but Monica and Jerry tend to always get Erica in trouble. But with you there, their influence won’t be an issue for her.

“Alright, remember we’re going to club Epic. I want us to get together and…” You space out as you eat your chocolate oats and your mind seems to wonder as you lick your spoon.

You think about your dream guy and you imagine your tongue on him. In his mouth, on his neck, on his chest, down his happy trail-

“Tommie!” Erica snaps her fingers in your face and you snap out of your day dream. “What?” You ask with a scowl on your face. “I asked if you could pick me up after work.”

“Yeah, at seven right?” You ask as you scrap the bottom of the jar. “Yes, look I gotta go, can you feed Milo for me?” Your roommate leaves out in a hurry and you as soon as you hear the door lock you place your hands on the counter and you let out a groan.

“Alright girl, you need to stop having these sex dreams and these sex day dream over a man who isn’t your man. He probably was some stranger you saw on the street, you just need to stop.” You tell yourself as you go and pour some food into Milo’s dish bowl. “Milo? Come eat.” You call out to the small kitten.

You know that Milo will come out to eat eventually and you get your blazer off of the coat rack. You grab your purse as well your water bottle and lock the apartment up behind you.

As you walk to the parking lot you hear your phone ringing. You answer it on the fourth ring. “Hi grandma.” You say as you cradle the phone between your shoulder and ear. “Hi, baby cakes. Remember this Friday is family dinner night.”

You press the unlock button to your car as you continue to the drivers door. “Yes grandmother, I remember because you call me every Tuesday and remind m-”

Your drop your water bottle and it rolls towards down the wall way. “One second grandma.”

You put your phone in your pocket and you take off running towards the bottle.

Before you can grab the bottle a pair of hands grab it and you have your knees on your chest. Holding up a finger. “Whew I’m outta breathe. Thank yo….you.” You stare into a pair of hazel eyes and he stares at you.

You two seem to be frozen in that moment. Your dream guy, the dream guy he’s standing right in front of you, standing at at least six foot four. Which made you feel small considering you’re only five feet.

You finally snap out of it as you hear your grandmother on your phone. You grab the phone and tell your grandmother that you’ll call her back. Once you hang up you look up at the handsome stranger as he gives you a look.

“Do I know you?” You ask him. “No, I don’t think so, but here you go.” He hands you your water bottle and as he does your fingertips lightly brush against each other and you feel a spark.

“Well, you have a nice day.” He turns and you blurt out the first thing you can think of. “I like your eyes, they remind me of caramel candies.”

Caramel candies? Tommie are you stupid?

You hear him chuckle and he turns back to you. “Thank you, it’s not everyday you get a compliment like that.” You feel your cheeks warm and you find yourself smiling wide. “My name is Tommie Valentine. What’s yours?” His eyes seem to search your face before answering. “Miguel O’Hara.” He tells you.

Strangely…you knew that. But how? From your dreams? Maybe you’ve heard it somewhere?

“Isn’t that last name Irish?” He nods as he shoves his hands in his pockets. This type of body language you take notice. Hmm he’s uncomfortable?

“It is. I’m sorry I’d love to chat but-” You shake your head. “It’s fine, I have to get to work anyways. Thank you again, and since you’re a neighbor, don’t be a stranger.”

Tommie get in the damn car and drive.

Before you embarrass yourself any further, he turns on his heel and he walks away from you. You feel a bit hurt by that. “Have a good day at work, Tommie.” Miguel calls over his shoulder. You smile again as he says your name and you can’t help but watch him walk away.

He was well built like in your dreams and you immediately think of what else is well built. You snap out of it and quickly get into your car. Hopefully you can beat Nueva York traffic this morning.

Luck must have been on your side because you make it to the building with five minutes to spare. “Miss Valentine, you’re late.” Your boss says as his back faces you in your office.

“Sir, I have…three more minutes.” You say checking your watch. He turns to you and you feel like a spanked child by the way he is narrowing his eyes at you. “You are late, when my calls haven’t been answered, the coffee hasn’t been made, and my paper work hasn’t been prepped. I advise you to come in earlier. Now be sure to push my meetings back for the hour.” Mr. Stark says as he walks past you.

You fake a smile and give him a yes in response. As soon as he leaves you flip him off and toss your things down. “God Howard Stark is a pure asshole.” You mutter as you get ready for work.

Working as Howard Starks Assistant should be a dream come true, but he always felt entitled to every second of your time. Last year he made you come in on your birthday just so he can have you polish his golf equipment.

The pay was at least good enough to suffer through this until you could find another job in possibly technology engineering.

You look over at your window and you take a deep breathe. Nueva York was so pretty during this time of morning. The skyline had hints of orange, gold and red in it. The city was rough but it still had its hidden gems in it…

As you get the flow of things you glance at the clock and see it’s close to noon which means Mr. Stark will be wanting his noon day coffee. As you leave your office you see Gregory, the sweet old security guard by the elevators. “Miss Valentine.” He says with a nod of his hat.

“Hello, Gregory. I’m heading out for coffee. Would you like anything?” He shakes his head. “No ma’am I’m fine.” But you know him. “I’ll bring you back a vanilla cake pop with a small black coffee.” He gives you a gentle smile. “Thank you.”

About ten minutes later you leave the building and wait to cross the street so you can go to the local coffee bean shop.

As you wait, you hear your phone ringing. You look at the screen and see it’s Erica. As you go to answer it, you feel someone standing a bit too close to you.

When you look back you see a shaggy looking man. He gives you a smile and his front teeth are missing. “Hey pretty lady.” He says which makes you want to shrink back from him. You see the cross sign and you makes haste and cross.

But not without some confrontation. “I said hey.” The shaggy man said as he grabbed your wrist. You snatch back from him. “Don’t touch me.” You snap at him. Which causes a rise out of him.

“Oh someone is feisty. I like little chocolate things like you. Come here, lemme just-”

“Hey!” A voice says causing the man to look behind him. You take that chance and you go inside of the coffee bean. You shake off the encounter and get in line.

There was only five people ahead of you so you look back at your phone and see Erica left you a text.

I think I’ve met the man of my dreams-Erica

You roll your eyes because you know Erica falls in love every day of the week.

Oh? Do tell.

You reply back.

As you see her typing, the line starts to move fast.

He’s this cute nerdy looking white boy. His name is Dennis and he is an oral hygienist. Girl he asked me out for Friday! I am in love 😍

You laugh at what your love bound friend had sent you and you think for a second.

You met the man of your dreams, well sort of. He seemed like you’ve met him before but where you wonder.

“Excuse me miss?” You snap out of your thoughts and see it’s your turn to order. “Oh sorry about that.” You order the usual for Mr. Stark as well as something for Gregory and you get yourself a simple chai latte.

Once the total is given you pay and wait by the pick up area. As you wait you go to reply back to Erica.

I’m happy for you! Just make sure when you go on that date, send me your location and bring your mace.

She gives a reply and you’re about to read it but you glance up and you see Miguel. He seems to search the room and his hazel eyes land on you.

However he gets in line and you fix your curls and blazer. “Tony?” The barista calls out. “It’s Tom-you know what never mind.” You accept your order and Miguel stands besides you.

“Fancy meeting you here.” You say with a breathy smile. He nods and grabs his drink. “I happen to be in the area. And you?”

“I work at Stark Tech. Well I’m Mr. Stark’s assistant.” You tell him as you two start to walk out. He holds the door for you and he follows you outside.

“Do you like your job?” Miguel asks as you wait to cross the street. “I…do.” He gives your a raised brow. “Really?” You let out a breath. “Honest truth? I want to work in tech engineering. My dad, he use to work for his own company but it went bankrupt and you know things happen. I want to revive that for him and I want to build better things for the world. I know I can do it. I have the capability and the drive. I just need…someone to believe in me and I don’t have that. I know my friends and grandparents all say they believe in me but I can tell they don’t. The look in their eyes tells me all the time.”

“I believe in you.” Miguel says to you. You look into his eyes and right there you know, he’s telling the truth. Your foot clips under you and you feel yourself about to fall but Miguel yanks you into his chest and you can’t help but stare.

“You know if you keep getting yourself into these bad situations I’m going to need to become your bodyguard.” Miguel says as he stares down at you. You suck in your bottom lip and press your breasts against him, hoping he feels how hard your nipples feel through your white bodycon dress.

There is sexual attraction between the two of you that isn’t hard to deny. He clears his throat and lets you go just when the cross walk sign indicates it’s safe to walk.

You take a step back from him and cross the street feeling a bit embarrassed by your behavior. As you get across the street with him you see in the reflection of the building that Miguel was staring at your hips and ass.

Which caused a smirk to crawl across your glossed lips. You turn on your heel, almost catching him still staring at you. “Are you busy tonight?” You ask him. He seemed to be taken aback by your question. “No…why?”

“My friends and I are going out tonight. To this place called Club Epic. And since you’re new I’d figured you want to go. If you don’t want to then-”

“I’ll be there. What time?” You tell him to be there around nine and he nods. “How about we exchange numbers, just incase plans change.” Miguel hands his phone over to to you, unlocked and you key in your number. You put your name in as well and call yourself so he has your number as well.

When you hand the phone back Miguel was eyeing you up and down, which made you nervous. “You know in this light your eyes look kind of red.” You comment. He immediately shuts his eyes and turns on his heel. “I’ll see you later. Stay out of trouble, amor.”

Did you say something wrong for him to leave so abruptly?

••••

You were in your closet looking for something to wear. So far half of your closet was on your floor. Erica came to your door and paused. “Damn, what are you doing? Trying to dress the whole neighborhood?��

You ignore her and go to the back of your closet. “So remember how I said I invited someone to the club with us? Well he is extremely cute, and I want to find the perfect outfit to wow him.”

“Oh! The guy! Okay, well why don’t you go for the classic black dress?” Erica suggests. “I was going to do that but I want to wear something red. I don’t know why but I feel like that’s his favorite color.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, look just help me.” You pull out a red two piece suit and she shakes her head. “This is the club, not one of your stuffy business meetings. Oh! This! This will make him stare.” She shows you a form fitting cocktail dress and you make a face.

“I haven’t worn that in like three years. It might not even fit me now.” Erica sucks her teeth at you and throws the dress at you. “Go try it on now.” You go to protest but just go and try the dress on.

As you pull off your t shirt and sleep shorts, you drop them onto the floor and you take the dress and you slide it on.

It was a bit tight in the hips area but other than that it fit you perfectly. As you look at yourself in the mirror you pat your small tummy pouch and look at your cellulite covered thighs.

You had a cute shape but you tried to avoid wearing outfits like this. Only because they show every flaw you felt you had.

Erica had barged into the bathroom and she smiled like a Cheshire Cat. “Damn little mama, you got a boyfriend cause if you do, I know he be eating you every night!” You turn to her and laugh.

As the both of you wipe the tears from your eyes, you see her looking at her phone. “They’re leaving their place now. We gotta hurry up.” You both go back to getting ready and you decided on putting your hair up. As you do you notice two small dots on the side of your shoulder. They look like bite marks, which you know wasn’t there yesterday.

As you go to touch it, you think of your dream about Miguel biting your shoulder and you snap your hand away.

What was that?

You shake out of it and decide to put a bit of concealer on your bite mark as you finish up.

Once your heels are on and your lip stick is in place, you and Erica both head out the door…

••••

It’s been forty-five minutes and you feel nervous about your outfit choice. You tug at the hemline and Monica was coming back with drinks. “You look gorgeous.” Jerry compliments as he accepts his drink first. “Thank you.” You say as you accept your drink next.

“Tommie, where is this guy?” Erica asks as you scan the crowd. “He’s just running a little late.”

“Well I don’t know about the rest of you but I need to go out there and shake a lil sumn’. Jerry come on, I see a few guys eyeing us and I want to leave here with some digits.” Monica says as she throws her shot back and grabs Jerry’s hand onto the dance floor.”

Erica had sat with you and you check your phone again. There was no messages. Maybe he isn’t going to show.

“T, you’ll be okay right here right? I see Nikki over in the corner. I’ll be right back, really quick.” You put on a brave face and nod. “I’ll be fine. Trust me. Go.” Erica leaves you at the table and you look back at your phone.

You decide to text him.

Hope you still can make it, I’m just sitting close to the bar. I’m wearing a red dress.

You press send and you nurse your vodka and coke. “Anyone sitting here?” You turn and regret it instantly because it’s just a random guy trying to talk to you.

“I’m saving this table for my friends.” You tell him. “I can be your friend then, gorgeous. My name is Nathan.” You sigh because you don’t want to talk to this guy. “Nathan, let me just stop you right there. I’m sorry I’m not interested. And I’m not looking for anymore friends.”

“Well that’s too bad because I wanna be your friend. What’s your name?” He slides in next to you and just when you’re about to open your mouth to curse him out. When you feel someone standing behind your chair. You look up and you see him.

“Hello, amor.” Miguel’s hazel eyes seem to glow in the dim club lights. “Hi.” You forget about the creep and Miguel leans over your chair, in a way that makes him look like he’s about to pick you up out of your chair and take you away from all the chaos.

“Excuse me, we were talking.” Nathan tries to cut in. “Looks like to me, she was just leaving. Puedo tener este baile, mi amor?” You accept his hand and he starts to take you onto the dance floor.

“Hey!” Nathan stand up and when he sees Miguel’s full height he backs down a bit. Miguel smirks at Nathan and he takes you away from him and he brings you to the center of the dance floor.

Jungle from H.E.R plays and he pulls you close to him. You look up at him and in your mind no one else was in the room with you two. “Siento llegar tarde. Something came up.”

“It’s fine, really. I’m just happy you came at all.” You say as your sway your hips to the music. “Why wouldn’t I come? I wanted to see you.” He says as he looks down at you with kind eyes.

You swallow hard and lean your head against his chest. You close your eyes and for some reason this feels familiar to you. Like you’ve danced with him before.

When you look up at him again, you go to speak but your tongue felt like it was stuck at the roof of your mouth. “Red is a beautiful color on you. And it’s my favorite color.” Miguel comments as he spins you slowly and pulls you back.

“Thank you.” Is all you can say as you rock to the beat with him. He smelled so good, and his black button down seemed to hug him right across the chest. You start to wonder how he looks out of the shirt. Maybe how he looks in your dreams?

This man has haunted your dreams and now he is in front of you. You stop moving and just stare at his eyes. “Can I just…?” You get on tippy toe and he leans down. Your eyes flutter closed and you feel his cool breathe against your lips.

Shit even his breathe is attractive.

You feel his lips about to touch yours but you feel a harsh push and cold liquid on the front of your dress.

Your eyes snap open and you see a girl drunkenly dancing. You move back and Miguel helps you off of the dance floor. He leads you to the bar and gets you some napkins to get what smells like tequila, off of you.

“I’ll be right back.” Before Miguel could reply to you, you were already heading to the bathroom. You get inside and as you run the cold water, you glance at your dress in the mirror and you feel angry.

Why did that drink have to spill on you in front of Miguel? Why did that creep have to come and talk to you? You wanted to look perfect for Miguel. You wanted this night to be perfect for Miguel. You feel yourself starting to hyperventilate so you hold onto the sink.

You hear a gentle knock to the door and without opening your eyes you call out to whomever was behind the door. “Someone is in here.” You let out a breathe and use the sink water to dab the dress off a bit.

The knocking happens again and you narrow your eyes at the door. “I said someone is in here.” You call out again but they just didn’t get the hint.

So you toss the wet napkins into the trash can and you yank the door open ready to tell the impatient knocker to fucking stop. But your words die slowly when you see Miguel making his way into the small bathroom with you.

Without breaking eye contact he locks the door behind himself and looks you over. “Are you okay? You looked stressed and I wanted to check on you.”

You turn away from him and face the mirror. His eyes find yours and you let your eyes drop to the sink as you scrub the dress. “I’m fine.” You lie. “Tommie? Amor look at me.” The base in his tone made you stop what you were doing and meet his gaze in the mirror.

“Are you okay?” He leans in so he’s trapped you against the sink and his body. Now that’s you’re alone with him, you feel nervous and horny.

That’s crazy right? Feeling as if you know this complete stranger, and wanting him to grip your hair and fuck you till you can’t use your legs properly.

This is crazy.

“I’m fine.” You lie again, swallowing hard. Miguel’s eyes seem to darken a bit as he nods. “Hmm, if you say so. But I think you’re stressed out…and nervous.” His voice drops down to a whisper and you can’t help but feel his warm body heat radiating off of him. “I…I’m not nervous.” You stutter out to him.

“Are you sure about that, amor? I think you’re nervous.” Miguel was tracing a finger down your arm which gave you goosebumps. “What makes you say that?” You ask as you squeeze your thighs together.

“Well I am a highly intelligent man, and when I was in college, I had studied human behavior. For example, you’re biting your bottom lip and gripping the sink, which shows me you’re nervous. You would rather stay in this very room and not go back out there, because of the embarrassment….” He eyes trails down to your backside and when his eyes meet your again, they look ruby red.

“…But you’re also squeezing your inner thighs together, and that didn’t happen until I got close to you….do I make you nervous, Tommie?” He asks as he presses his front close to your ass.

You can feel he’s hard and you accidentally let out a moan. “N..no.” You lie again. He simply tsks and he lets his hand travel into your messy updo. “Don’t lie to me, mi corazón. Tell the truth and maybe…I can help you relax.” He gently tugs your head back so your neck is exposed in the mirror.

The slight pain feels good to you and you swallow hard. “Maybe a little.” You tell him. His ruby eyes looks directly at your breasts that are spilling out of the top of your dress and he pulls it down. You feel his dick throb against your ass and you test it by back up against him.

“No hagas eso, amor. O te devoraré. Do you want that? Do you want me to devour you right here?” He asks as his lips press against your neck.

“God, yes please.” You beg. Your eyes flutter close as he squeezes and massages your breasts. “Put your hands on the mirror and make sure you don’t get too loud.” He whispers against your ear.

You open your eyes and in the mirror you see this man get on his knees for you. You look back but he shakes his head. With his finger he motions you to turn around. You do as you’re told and he rubs his large palms across your ass.

“You are a goddess you know that, right? You are the definition of beauty.” He whispers as he lifts your dress, letting the cool air of the bathroom caress your exposed thighs and ass.

His fingers hook around the band of your panties and he pulls them down to your ankles. He bends you over so that your cunt was exposed to him.

This should be embarrassing but it was erotic and you wanted this man to see all of you. You feel his lips kiss your thighs and you hear the buckle to his belt. Which made your walls clench.

You wanted to peek and see what he was doing but that thought gets interrupted when you feel his tongue lick from the hood of your clit all the way to your ass. You sag against the sink and watch your own eyes roll back as Miguel palms you open and continues to lick you out.

You moan out to him and feel your legs turn into jello. “Baby…don’t stop.” Your dreams couldn’t compare to this moment. Miguel’s nose rubs against you which causes you to arch your back and slowly fuck his mouth.

“Just like that, amor. Fuck my face, just like that.” He moans out as you get a death grip on the sink. He flicks his tongue deep inside of you and you bite your lip hard as you feel yourself getting close to the edge.

He sucks your clit and rubs your asshole at the same time which causes your walls to clench. “Mmm, don’t hold back, amor. Come for me. Come all over my face so I can drink you up.” You let out another moan as he flicks his tongue faster. “Don’t stop, jus…just like that.” Your body tensed up as he doesn’t slow down. He keeps up with his pace and you let out a whimpering moan as you feel your cum drip down his face.

He holds onto your hips and sucks you deep. You collapse but Miguel grabs you before you fall and he turns you around. You grab him close by his shirt and kiss him.

He holds you and you taste yourself on him. As you slide your tongue into his mouth you feel something sharp and it cuts you.

You pull back from him and you feel the small cut on your tongue. “Ouch.” You comments as you turn your head slightly and look in the mirror. You glance at Miguel in the mirror and you jump.

His eyes were blood shot. His mouth looked devilish and his demeanor made him look like a predator. He looked like a monster. When you turn back to him, he had moved away from you and when you reach for him he jerked away from you.

“I’m sorry, I need to go.” And just as fast as he came in was just as fast when he left. You fixed yourself quickly and called out to him. “Miguel! Miguel wait!” You try to catch up to him but he was quick and he was gone.

Leaving you wondering what did you do wrong?

Next

[chrollogy]

iv. NEW YEAR BLUES

miya atsumu x f!reader

── next: v. Misunderstandings | series masterlist

synopsis: After sending a risky text to Atsumu, you avoid your phone the next morning like a ticking time bomb until curiosity gnaws at your skin but it doesn’t take long before you cave. Thus, with a bated breath, you brace yourself for his response.

chapter content warning: college au, angst heh, shrine visit (poor depiction), implied alcohol use, tipsy reader (maybe a dumbass too), miya atsumu is an even bigger dumbass, hinata mention LMAO, mutual pining, slow burn, requited unrequited love, miscommunication (it just got even worse. rip.), not beta read.

word count: 4.1k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. woweeee one more chapter and then we’re done ehehehehe >:)

It was quarter to two.

The mellow hum of Hyōgo’s early winter morning settled into Atsumu’s bones like a pair of invisible shackles, holding him hostage between the borders of sleep, and sobriety. On other nights, it lulled him to slumber without any problem but not tonight, not when his mind was plagued with thoughts of you.

Out of all times, his brain decided to recount every single moment with you from the trip. First, it was the happy, mellow memories of the first day—stolen glances full of yearning, his crimson-tinged cheeks, and fluttering heartbeats, and then came the uncomfortable haze that drove a wedge between the two of you. God, Atsumu didn’t even want to think about that moment on the boat.

Atsumu was fully aware that you knew his response was a complete lie but could you really blame him? What difference would it have made if he said ‘yes’? At the end of the day, what he felt for you was one-sided, nothing was going to change the fact that you only viewed him as a friend.

In fact, maybe this wall between the two of you was the cure to his yearning heart—a space to help him move on, and forget the familiarity of loving you.

As Atsumu’s caramel gaze bore into the ceiling above, tracing the moonlit glow that seeped from the window, his phone illuminated the dark room for a brief second, a tinge of blue catching his attention.

Mindlessly reaching for his device that lay on the wooden nightstand, he let out a tired sigh, honeyed eyes squinting at the sudden brightness that invaded his vision. Letting his eyes adjust, Atsumu carefully read the notification banner on the lock screen.

It was a message from you. His heart violently stuttered. Thank goodness for the tight grip he had or else his face would’ve been aching from his phone falling on it.

As if on instinct, Atsumu sat up, clearly sobered up from the fact that you texted him at almost 2 AM. Were you perhaps also having trouble sleeping? Atsumu wondered if your mind was also filled with thoughts the past few days—thoughts of him. He could only fantasise.

The blonde positioned himself against his headboard before clicking onto your message with a shaky digit, and a thundering heartbeat.

It was an absurdly long paragraph.

‘hey. i know you’re asleep right now, and you’ll probably see this in the morning but whatever :) . .’

Atsumu swallowed thickly. For some reason, he felt oddly nervous about this message but at the same time, anticipated the context behind it. Maybe you were trying to salvage whatever was left of the friendship? Or maybe you just wanted to cuss him out with a long, detailed message.

Nonetheless, Atsumu kept reading,

‘. . . i’m not going to beat around the bush or anything so i’ll get straight to the point. i like you. i’ve had feelings for you since highschool and i know it’s cowardly of me to confess over text but i don’t mind being called one.

god, i cannot even remember the feeling of my heart acting normal around you. my heart is so painfully familiar to yearning for you that it hurts. whenever i see you, i just can’t seem to act right. i hate how my heart stutters, how my cheeks heat, how my body suddenly doesn’t know how to act normally. it’s bittersweet because i feel guilty for falling in love with a close friend but also i’m not ashamed of it because you’re so amazing, and caring.

i cherish you a lot, tsumu, i really do and i know you do too but i don’t think it's in the way i want you to. i’m not pressuring you for an answer or anything because i already know you don’t like me back but that’s okay. i don’t know what will happen after this but just know that i really admire our friendship.

like i said before, you don’t have to reply to this. i just really needed to get all the pent up feelings out of my chest so i can finally move on :) just give me some time to be myself again.’

One word. Speechless. Miya Atsumu was speechless.

There were so many goddamn emotions that ran through every single fibre of his body to the point where his brain couldn’t process it all. Atsumu didn’t know whether to be ecstatic with the fact that—holy shit—you reciprocated his feeling, or to be frustrated with the fact that you thought it was one-sided.

His heart hammered against his chest, the pounding of it reaching his very ears. He was so fucking nervous that he breathed through his parted lips, honeyed eyes re-reading every single word you typed. The winter chill that filled his room went awfully warm, mirroring the crimson tinge that painted his cheeks.

So he was the one you were talking about back then; that drunken confession where you told him you had feelings for a certain someone.

Atsumu didn’t know what to do—didn’t know what to respond.

In all honesty, you put him in a very tough spot. How was he supposed to respond after confessing your feelings but also stating that you did not, in fact, sought an answer. Not to mention how you practically put words in his mouth.

Who were you to decide if Atsumu reciprocated your feelings or not?

The blonde took a deep, shaky breath, palms sweating as he gripped the device. Atsumu knew he needed to respond with a calculated mind—as tempting as it was, he wasn’t going to let his heart lead this time.

Not when his mind painfully reminded him of the conversation you two had,

“I don’t even think I’m ready for a relationship.” “So . . yer jus’ gonna confess for the sake of movin’ on? Even if he likes ya back?”

He vividly remembered the way you solemnly nodded to his question, a sad, subtle smile lingering on your lips as if to reassure yourself that you’ll be okay.

Atsumu closed his eyes, letting the sounds of crickets chirping outside consume him. The gears in his head turned, and turned, working overtime to come up with a response. He had to be sensible, whatever he replied was surely going to change the course of your bond, forever.

Though, there was only one thing he knew—to respect your decision.

The morning came rather quickly, early rays peeked through your window, mellow hues of yellow, and orange painted the ivory walls of your room to cast a warm, inviting glow—a reminder of the impending day ahead.

As you reached for your device to check the time, you were greeted with a black, unlit screen, your sleepy reflection staring back. Oh, that’s right. You had turned it off right after sending that risky text message to Atsumu, wanting nothing to do with it.

Vivid memories of last night came flooding in, filling every corner of your mind. All the words you typed down, the feelings that came with it, the hammering of your heart—it came back to you, and now, you were twice as nervous. You wondered if Atsumu had already read your message, even more curious about his response—if he did send one back.

Just thinking about it made your head dizzy. There was a ray of hope tucked neatly at the bottom of your heart, it wasn’t big but you held onto it like it was the most precious thing.

You let out a sigh, and tossed the device on your bed before getting ready to brave the winter day ahead. There were four more days before the new year rolled around—how you were going to spend the last two days heavily depended on Atsumu’s response.

It was inevitable. Every now, and then, your eyes mindlessly wandered to the device that lifelessly lay atop your sheets, its blackened screen inviting you to turn it on. You turned your room upside down for anything to distract you from the silent beckoning of your device—from re-reading your favourite manga to blankly staring at the ceiling above.

There was even an urge to read a syllabus from one of your new classes this coming semester.

Four hours. You lasted four dreadful hours before curiosity settled into your skin like a painful bite—no matter how much you ignored it, it seemed to worsen.

And with a hammering heartbeat, and sweaty palms, you turned it on. Patiently waiting, you watched as it displayed the brand logo, and then a few seconds before it loaded your lock screen. A heartbeat passed as the device showed several notifications from last night, and this morning. Disregarding them, you scrolled straight down until Atsumu’s message notification came into view.

You sucked in a breath.

The thread of messages between you two quickly popped up as you clicked on the notification. Bracing yourself, your eyes wander down to the start of his response—god, it was equally as long.

It was sent at 2 AM. It made you even more nervous after realising that Atsumu was indeed still awake when you had sent the message.

‘hey :) first of all, i’m very thankful that you had the courage to bring this up to me so please don’t call yourself a coward, i know how hard it is to try and confess to someone. i find it admirable, really. i think it’s brave of you to decide something like this.

secondly, i am over the moon after finding out you have feelings for me. it feels such an honour to be loved by a close friend so thank you again for letting me know. like you said, i, too, cherish our friendship. i don’t know what will become of our bond after this but just know that i am very glad to be friends with you.

thirdly, as you’ve mentioned in your message, i don’t feel the same way. .’

You stopped reading to stare at the ceiling above, a foolish smile plastered upon your lips—it conveyed anything but happiness.

Oh.

Oh.

So, you were right. Atsumu didn’t feel the same way.

That little bundle of hope deep inside your heart disappeared, dissolving into nothing but what seemed like distant memories—memories of your saccharine moments together.

God, you already had a feeling he didn’t like you back but why did it feel like a hard slap on the face? As if reeling you back into dull reality after a haze of fantasy. This was what you wanted, right? To confess with rejection in mind so you could finally move on. But now that the answer lay right before you on a silver platter, why didn’t you want to move on?

You mustered every single bit of your strength to read the rest of his message, vision becoming blurry as tears slowly formed.

‘. . . you’re such a great friend. don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful both inside and out but my feelings for you are just platonic. i’m really sorry that i don’t reciprocate your feelings. i don’t know how much this will affect you but just know that if you want me to stay away, i will. it’s the least i can do to help you move on.

you’re an amazing person, and there are a lot of other guys out there who deserve you so much but i am not one of them. again, thanks for letting me know.’

You didn’t even realise hot tears started rolling down your cheeks until it hit the screen with a soft sound, one by one, droplets of tears scattered the surface of your device as if to wash away all of Atsumu’s words

A weird feeling blossomed in your chest, extending its sharp roots down to your stomach where it painfully planted itself. The grip on your phone tightened, other hand clutching—clawing—at your heavy heart, wanting to take it out from the confines of your ribcage and mend it with your own shaky hands.

Everything felt completely still, birds that hummed their usual morning song were no more, mellow sounds of the city became distant as you let yourself wallow in complete sadness.

It was odd, you felt nothing, and everything at the same time—the ugly feeling in your chest, the sting behind your eyes, the impending headache from your stuffy nose. Atsumu’s words repeated inside your mind, plagued it like an invasive plant which invited more pain to your strained heart.

‘I don’t feel the same way. My feelings for you are just platonic.’

It wasn’t just cupid’s stupid arrow agonisingly digging into the core of your heart, no, it also felt like he had wrung your heart dry with his bare hands, and he was laughing about it.

You felt like a fucking fool. Especially for hoping that somewhere down the line, Atsumu felt the same way.

The last two remaining days of the year were a complete haze, navigating through the last moments with a clouded mind, and an unmendable heart while putting on a brave face. And as the clock struck midnight on the 31st, you put on the happiest smile you could muster in front of your parents, and welcomed the new year with uncertainty. You tried not to think about Atsumu’s words but they were seared into your mind, a mocking reminder of your unreciprocated feelings.

It wasn’t long before the first morning of the new year greeted you with clear skies, and warm rays, paired with an early call from Suna. You already knew the reason for his call—of course, one cannot celebrate the new year without hatsumōde.

“It’s a surprise you picked up my call, you haven’t been answering my texts. Anyway, the twins, and I are visiting the shrine, coming?”

“How about Kita?” You asked. “He’s going with his grandmother tomorrow.”

With a sigh, you hesitantly agreed. It's only been two days since the confession, and you could already feel the awkwardness, and pain seeping into your bones. You knew you weren’t even ready to face Atsumu yet but you’ve never turned down a shrine visit from your friends, especially on new years.

Before you knew it, the crisp winter air engulfed your body. Clad in thick layers of clothes, you walked the quiet footpath to the local shrine, heart hammering against your chest with every step taken closer to your friends—to Atsumu.

His flaxen locks were easy to spot, standing out amongst the crowd of people with raven strands. Your heart violently stuttered but you kept your eyes on Suna, putting on a bright smile to greet them. They stood just before the grand torii gate which led straight to the shrine itself.

“Glad ya could make it.” Osamu greeted you with a hug, followed by Suna.

Throughout the whole exchange with the two men, you could feel Atsumu’s burning gaze on the side of your face, and god, was it an extreme sport to ignore it. The two didn’t notice the way you, and Atsumu awkwardly greeted one another—a tight-lipped smile, and a brief eye contact. You felt small, and naked under his honeyed gaze but it wasn’t anything intimate, you guessed this was the consequences of baring the contents of your heart two nights ago.

Tugging at the neckline of your clothes, you began to grow uncomfortable at the awkwardness that made itself known.

You weren’t going to lie, Atsumu looked devastatingly handsome as ever, and it pained your heart even more. Though, he had this familiar expression painted on his face—the one he always wore whenever he was upset about something. It was subtle but you noticed the way his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly, the light crease between his thick brows.

It was hard not to wonder what Atsumu was upset about.

After showing respect by bowing at the torii gate, the four of you fell into a step. Since it was the first day of the new year, the shrine was packed with families, friends, couples and people alike; some were at the chōzuya—water purification pavilion—to purify their body & mind while others were already lined up to pay respects at the main shrine building.

Keeping to the sides of the main path, You, Suna, and Osamu fell into a mellow conversation—talking about the new year ahead, and the upcoming semester. Surprisingly, Atsumu didn’t join in the conversation, hands tucked deep inside the pockets of his jacket, he stared hard at the concrete beneath.

It shouldn’t bother him but it did.

You were the one who got rejected so why was he more upset about the situation? Why were you able to easily slip into a cheerful conversation with Osamu, and Suna while acting like nothing happened two nights ago? Atsumu half expected you to not even turn up today, he had to practically stop himself from overreacting after the brunette stated you’d come.

Well, it was good that you were already moving on but whatever. Atsumu decided shoving away the weird feeling in his chest was the best option.

After doing the ceremonial purification rite at the chōzuya, the four of you headed at the back of the line for the main shrine. It didn’t take too long until it was your turn, Suna, and Osamu went ahead first which left you, and Atsumu to pair up.

Watching as your two friends prayed at the shrine, you dug your nails into the plush of your palms, awkwardness eating away at you. It felt like everyone’s eyes were burning holes on both your’s, and Atsumu’s backs—as if they all knew what happened between the two of you a couple of nights back; it also didn’t help how you could practically feel Atsumu’s not-so-subtle stares from the side.

Sighing, you spoke to him for the first time since that moment at the boat, “If you’re uncomfortable with me, I’m more than happy to do it alone.”

You didn’t dare look at him, even when he fully turned to face you. It was dangerous, one look into his gaze, and you’d be a sobbing mess.

“It’s not that. It’s just . .”

Atsumu’s sentence trailed off as he noticed you walking up to the shrine. He closed his lips and silently followed, heart weighing heavy with every unspoken word that plagued his mind.

The two of you did the customs as usual: ringing the bell, tossing a 5 yen coin into the wooden saisen-bako, bowing twice, and clapping twice before praying. You, and Atsumu stayed still for a moment, eyes closed, and palms glued together to wish for good luck in the new year ahead. Ending the prayer with another bow, the two of you joined Osamu, and Suna.

“I saw ‘em distributin’ amazake. Wanna go grab some?” The younger twin pointed a thumb over his shoulder. His brother, and Suna agreed rather quickly, their throats bobbing at the mention of the sweet treat.

Feigning a yawn, you spoke up, “I think I’ll head home now. I didn’t really get much sleep last night.” This earned a unison of disgruntled sounds from Suna, and Osamu whereas Atsumu wordlessly looked over your way.

It wasn’t like you were lying, you really didn’t get much sleep, especially after waiting for the clock to strike midnight but it wasn’t like lack of sleep bothered you, no, it was the growing feeling in your chest the longer you spent time in Atsumu’s presence.

Bidding your friends a good bye, you headed home, each step taken away from Atsumu somewhat eased the strain in your heart.

Never in a million years would your old self believe that the feeling of being away from Atsumu brought a sense of comfort, a tranquillity in your heart. Albeit, not easy—nothing ever was when you’re taming a yearning heart—there were days where the urge to bask in his presence were strong, and there were days where you felt fine without Atsumu around.

Safe to say, your year started with the much dreaded new year blues.

Ever since the new semester started, you’ve busied yourself with assignments, weekly quizzes, and whatever else that allowed you to make several excuses just to not see Atsumu—whether it be movie nights at the twins’ apartment, afternoon library sessions, or simply just coffee runs with the group, you had an excuse

Before you knew it, it had already been a little over two weeks since you’ve confessed—two weeks since you last saw Atsumu at the shrine. Two weeks, and your feelings never wavered for him, not even once, that was the stubbornness you were dealing with.

“Whatever, I’ll come by your place tonight, and drag you out if I have to.”

You groaned, “Suna.” He said your name with an equally serious tone, his dulcet voice spilling from the speakers of your phone.

“You’ve been holed up in your room since forever, and we haven’t seen you that much. I miss you, the twins miss you, and Kita misses you. It’s just a few hours to let loose.”

“Isn’t it a bit too early in the semester to party? Also, Kita’s coming?” You tried your best to ignore the fact that your heart stuttered at the mention of the twins missing you. Atsumu missed you? Before you could pick Suna’s words apart, he spoke into the line,

“It’s not a party, just a small gathering with some familiar faces. And, no, he isn’t. He needed to work on an assignment.”

“I do, as well!” “Bullshit. I’ll see you at eight.” With that, he ended the call.

And that’s how you ended up in the twins’ apartment, lazily sloshing the alcoholic contents of your plastic cup. You don’t recall the amount of drinks you’ve drank but it sure was enough to have your head spinning.

There were familiar faces here, and there—which you took time to greet every single one—and some foreign faces. You assumed most of the people here were Atsumu’s teammates from the university team with how close they were with the blonde.

In all honesty, you had absolutely no idea as to why the twins were even hosting this gathering, it was so out of the blue. Though, you did hear an orange-haired male loudly exclaim to Atsumu at how much of a genius he was for organising a gathering this early into the semester.

So, it was Atsumu’s idea all along.

“Y’know, you can just talk to him, right?”

Suna’s slurred voice unceremoniously pulled you out of your trance, shifting your attention over to him. “What do you mean?” You coughed, cheeks heating, trying to hide the fact that Suna just caught you shamelessly staring at Atsumu who conversed with the orange-haired male. He sat beside you, body far back into the couch, narrow eyes fighting the sleep that slowly overtook him.

You didn’t like how your mind instantly agreed with his sentence.

The brunette let out a humourless chuckle but didn’t elaborate further, instead, he pulled out his phone to mindlessly scroll on it. Narrowing your eyes at him for a brief moment, you shifted your gaze back to the blonde, he had a big smile on his face, a tinge of crimson across his cheeks.

God, even under the shitty lighting of their apartment, Miya Atsumu still looked handsome as ever.

You stared at him for a moment, heart hammering against your chest, limbs tingling at the sudden urge to walk up to him. Oh, this was a very dangerous game you were playing, especially with the alcohol in your system. Your mind yelled go, go, go but you knew better than to play with fire, right?

Wrong.

In a heartbeat, you were on your feet, taking slow strides over to Atsumu. The sober part of your mind screamed at you to turn around, and sit back down but the tipsy part of your mind was stubborn—you wondered if it took after your heart.

The sudden urge to talk to Atsumu was fuelled by nothing but liquid courage—all the worries in your mind were magically solved; the weight that pulled your heart down was gone, and suddenly, it didn’t seem like a bad idea to even talk to him.

Deep down, you knew you were playing a very dangerous game right now but you couldn’t care less. Not when your heart pulled you closer to him.

As you neared, Atsumu cut the conversation short with his friend, and stared at you with expectant eyes, brows sky high in surprise. He sucked in a breath as you looked up at him through your lashes, the corners of your lips subtly turned upwards. Heart pounding, he shifted his weight from one leg to another as he waited for you to speak first,

“‘Tsumu, can we talk?”

Atsumu’s knees almost gave out upon hearing his nickname roll off your tongue, an icy shiver running up his spine.

—

taglist (closed)

tags:

@ushijimaschubbs @tsumudoll @starlitsawamura @littlemiyastars @h3art-ablaz3 @eggyrocks @integers @rrosiitas @food8me @schelamski @honeytwo @nyaaa-cat @cherribxio @aloesstuff @bontensh0e @willshebloved @yogurtkags @hyori2 @hibernatinghamster @theepitomeofswag @yawnjjunz @animesimpingismyjob @acowboykisser @rntrsuna @rjreins @prodhyuka @loonalockley @cheesypuffkins87 @kos-misch @iluvaquaphor (kindly turn on your mentions! :>)

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum !

© chrollogy 2024 | don't plagiarise, repost or steal my header.

[nihilityuniverse]

𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ 𝗦𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿 ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇʏᴠᴀᴛ 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗕𝗼𝘀𝘀.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Story inspired by Acheron's Lore, Power, and Personality...

ENG is not my First language

I do not own Genshin Impact or any of the pictures used.

This story is also available on Wattpad: Chapter 0 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Do NOT Repost

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter 0 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐔𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Long ago, in the timeless realm of Liyue, there was a story of love and envy, a tale that has been passed down through the ages. It speaks of Morax, our Geo Archon; Guizhong, the gentle and wise goddess; and a woman of unparalleled beauty and mystery, known to all as the Unknown Beautiful Lady.

The Beautiful Lady was a vision of grace and charm, her presence as enchanting as a moonlit night. Her beauty and elegance captivated even the gods. Morax, our protector, and Guizhong, the embodiment of wisdom, both adored her deeply. Their love formed a harmonious bond, unbreakable and pure.

Yet, this divine trio's tranquility was threatened by Osial, the formidable sea lord. Osial, consumed by envy, coveted the love and devotion that Morax received from his two beloveds. His heart twisted by jealousy, he sought to disrupt their happiness and claim their affections for himself.

Osial's envy grew into a dark cloud of deceit. He whispered malicious lies, hoping to fracture the trust and love between Morax, Guizhong, and the Beautiful Lady. But their bond was resilient, withstanding his insidious attempts to sow discord.

Frustrated by his failure, Osial confronted Morax directly. The confrontation was a cataclysmic clash of divine forces, their battle shaking the very heavens and earth. Osial, driven by his green-eyed fury, accused Morax of hoarding the love of the Unknown Lady and Guizhong, proclaiming that such affection should belong to him.

Morax, steadfast and noble, stood his ground. He fought not only with the strength of a god but with the fierce love he held for the Beautiful Lady and Guizhong. The battle raged on, a testament to the destructive power of jealousy and the indomitable strength of true love. Ultimately, Morax sealed Osial away, imprisoning him in the depths of the ocean to safeguard Liyue and his cherished ones.

And so, dear listeners, this legend became a poignant reminder of the enduring power of love and the perils of envy. The Beautiful Lady's ethereal beauty and mystery, Guizhong's enduring loyalty and wisdom, and Morax's unwavering strength and love form the heart of this timeless tale.

As we gather here tonight, let us remember the lessons of this story. Love is a powerful force, capable of withstanding the darkest storms, while envy and deceit can lead to ruin and despair."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Striking amber-colored eyes with yellow, diamond-shaped pupils intently listened to the old tale spun by the Storyteller. Despite the early morning rain, the hustle and bustle were nothing extraordinary for the residents of Liyue. 

The storyteller's corner was fully packed, with people eager to hear the old legend. His smooth lips touched the rim of a heated cup, and as he took a sip, the flavorful liquid danced on his tongue. A relaxed hum escaped his lips, expressing his delight at the tea's rich taste.

"Woah, the story was awesome!" Paimon exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. "What did you think, Aether?"

Aether nodded thoughtfully, "Interesting, at least," he said, taking a sip from his own cup. He then turned his gaze to the handsome gentleman known as Zhongli. "But did it really happen, or is it just a tale?" Aether asked.

Zhongli only smiled and continued to drink his tea peacefully, the steam rising in delicate tendrils around his face.

"Hmpf, Zhongli! Please tell us!" Paimon demanded, her feet kicking the air in impatience. "At least the name of the beautiful woman!" She flew closer to Zhongli and whispered eagerly.

"Oh, are you truly so eager to hear?" Zhongli responded with a smile. "I thought you might find the old tale boring, considering you both seemed to daze off from time to time."

The rain continued to patter softly against the cobblestones, mingling with the distant sounds of morning vendors setting up their stalls. The air was thick with the scent of rain and the subtle aroma of tea leaves.

Paimon pouted, "We were just... uhh... absorbing the atmosphere!"

Zhongli chuckled softly. "Very well. The tale, as with many old stories, contains elements of truth and myth. The beautiful woman in the story... well, she was indeed real."

"Can you tell us more about her?" Paimon asked, her curiosity beaming.

Zhongli's gaze wandered to the rain, and a genuine yet bittersweet smile appeared on his lips. "She liked the rain a lot. Her voice, soft yet light as silk, would always say..."

- "As the raindrops tumble, their pitter-patter on my umbrella whispers gently to me. I somehow find brief serenity in these moments." -

He recalled her standing in the rain, holding her crimson red paper umbrella.

The raindrops danced on its surface as she extended her hand towards the falling droplets. She slightly turned around to face Zhongli, her peachy lips painted the same color as her umbrella. Her face was half obscured by the umbrella, yet her words resonated clearly.

The memory of her was vivid in his mind, a moment untouched by the erosion that slowly devoured his old memories.

"Y/N... That is her name," Zhongli mumbled, rolling her name off his tongue as his gaze remained fixed on the rain and the passing people.

Paimon and Aether exchanged glances, their faces reflecting a shared sadness as they saw their friend's distant expression.

The early morning rain continued to fall, creating a soft, soothing melody against the cobblestones. Lanterns hanging from shop eaves and street corners swayed gently in the breeze, casting warm, golden light that danced with the raindrops.

The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and the subtle fragrance of tea leaves from the nearby stalls. The crowd had thinned, yet the lingering presence of Zhongli's story created a bubble of quiet reflection.

Aether took a sip of his tea, savoring the warmth that contrasted with the cool, damp air. "She sounds like she was very special to you," he said softly, his voice carrying a note of understanding.

"She was," Zhongli replied, his voice tinged with both reverence and sorrow. "Her presence brought a sense of tranquility that I have rarely found elsewhere. Even now, the rain reminds me of her."

Paimon hovered closer, her usually energetic demeanor softened by the weight of the moment. "Do you think we might ever meet her?" she asked, her voice hopeful yet gentle.

Zhongli's smile returned, though it was tinged with melancholy. "Perhaps. The world is vast, and fate has a curious way of weaving our paths together. Until then, let us cherish the memories and stories that keep her spirit alive."

The rain began to lighten, a delicate mist rising from the ground as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds.

In this serene moment, a crimson red paper umbrella appeared amidst the bustling crowd. Its vibrant red hue pierced through the throng of people, a color deeply etched in Zhongli's memories.

His eyes widened in disbelief, and his cup slipped from his hand, shattering into tiny pieces on the cobblestones. Yet, the sound was lost to him. Everything became muted, his vision blurring as he saw that unmistakable red on her lips, her face.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move.

Was he hallucinating? Was the after-rain playing tricks on his mind? Was he daydreaming?

As the red paper umbrella grew smaller in the distance, Zhongli's heart pounded in his chest. Suddenly, he sprang to his feet, the wooden table toppling over in his haste. He didn't care. He moved forward, pushing through the crowd, chasing the umbrella as if his life depended on it.

The streets were alive with activity, the early morning hustle blending with the gentle patter of lingering raindrops. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, casting soft, golden hues on the wet cobblestones. The scent of rain mingled with the aroma of freshly brewed tea and street food, creating an intoxicating atmosphere. Yet, all of this was lost to Zhongli. His entire being focused solely on the crimson umbrella, a beacon in the sea of moving figures.

People turned, startled by his sudden urgency, but he paid them no mind. His breaths came in short, sharp gasps, his vision narrowing on the retreating figure. The vibrant red color seemed to taunt him, slipping further away with every passing second. His heart raced, a mixture of hope and desperation driving him forward.

Was it really her? Could it be? The questions swirled in his mind, but he had no time for answers. He needed to see her, to confirm what his heart yearned for. The crowd thickened, but he pushed on, weaving through the throng with a determination that bordered on madness.

Finally, as he reached the edge of the crowd, he saw the umbrella come to a stop. The figure holding it turned, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, their eyes met.

The world around him seemed to freeze, the sounds fading into a distant murmur. It was her. The woman from his memories, the one he thought he had lost forever.

Tears welled in his eyes, and his breath hitched. He had found her. Or perhaps, she had found him. Either way, in that magical moment under the after-rain sky, surrounded by the vibrant life of the city, Zhongli felt a spark of hope reignite within him.

He had been given a second chance, and he wasn't going to let it slip away.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You turned around to find out who was following you, and your eyes landed on a tall man with brown hair and striking amber-colored eyes. He seemed out of breath, as if he had been chasing you through the crowded streets.

You waited for a response from the stranger, but he kept staring at you, his gaze intense and unyielding. The crowd continued to pass by, casting curious glances in your direction.

"I'd be embarrassed too, getting stared at like that," you said, your voice breaking the trance he seemed to be in. Somehow, your words pulled him back to reality.

He skipped a beat as he heard your voice and stepped forward as if he were dreaming. "Y/N..." he muttered your name, and your eyes widened in shock.

Instinctively, you stepped back, your right hand drifting closer to your sheathed Divine Key.

"How do you know my name?" you demanded, narrowing your eyes.

A strange feeling gnawed at you, a sense that something bad had happened between you and this man. Yet, your memories of this place were fragmented, coming and going in a chaotic, disjointed order that left you feeling more confused and hurt rather than providing any answers.

You could feel in your bones that this man had inflicted great pain on you. There was something about him that screamed betrayal, something tied to Osial.

This man... this man... You gripped your scabbard tighter, ready to draw your weapon if necessary.

The air around you felt charged with tension. The gentle murmur of the crowd faded into the background, the world around you shrinking to just the two of you. The man took another hesitant step forward, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and regret.

"Please," he began, his voice soft and laden with emotion. "It's me, Mo-"

"Step back," you commanded, your voice icy and cold. Zhongli halted, a shocked expression taking over his face. Different, hazy memories sprang into your mind wildly, flickering like a faulty lantern. The pieces of your past were still too fragmented, too muddled to make sense of.

"Zhongli!" A shrill voice called from behind, snapping you both out of the tense moment.

The tiny figure of Paimon floated closer, her curiosity evident. "Why were you running..." she trailed off as she felt the murderous and cold aura radiating from you. Aether, sensing the dangerous presence, quickly stepped in front of Paimon and Zhongli, his expression wary. Yet, you noticed how his legs were shaking with fear.

Neither you nor the group in front of you moved or made a sound. The bustling crowd around you seemed oblivious to the tension, continuing their day as if nothing were amiss.

You focused on Zhongli, the man whose name triggered such a whirlwind of emotions and memories within you. Your right hand still rested on your sheathed Divine Key, ready to strike at any moment.

"Zhongli," you repeated, tasting the name on your lips. "Why did you call me by that name?"

Zhongli took a cautious step forward, his gaze steady despite the coldness in your eyes. "Because that is your name, Y/N. We shared many moments together... drank tea with Guizhong... why can't you remember?"

Aether, still shielding Paimon, looked between you and Zhongli, clearly unsure of what to do. "Maybe we should all take a step back and talk this out," he suggested, his voice gentle but firm.

'Guizhong?' you questioned in your mind. The name felt familiar yet strange, as did Zhongli's face. It was as though you recognized him from a dream you could no longer fully remember.

The confusion was palpable, and your hand trembled slightly on the hilt of your sheathed Divine Key.

"I suggest you leave me be," you said, your voice barely above a whisper but carrying an undeniable force. Without waiting for an answer, you turned and walked away.

Zhongli watched you go, his expression a mixture of sorrow and determination. He took a step forward, but Aether halted him, shaking his head. "Give her some space," Aether advised softly. "She needs time to sort through this."

Zhongli nodded reluctantly, his eyes never leaving your retreating figure.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Many papers lay scattered across the metallic table. Dottore leaned over, his crimson eyes scanning document after document, his hand pressed to his forehead in deep concentration.

This was unexplainable.

It didn't make sense.

Yet, he was certain his eyes and mind weren't deceiving him about what he had witnessed after the funeral.

He quickly fetched another sheet of paper and a pen, determined to capture every detail of his experience once more.

The moment Innamorati turned toward the frozen church, the falling snow had stopped, as if time itself had halted. Could she possess the ability to stop time? But why would she use it then? For what purpose? He recalled her muttering, 'Meaningless...'

Then, he heard the sound of shattering glass, and he perceived everything and nothing simultaneously. In that instant, he felt worthless, reduced to nothingness.

...

Dottore threw the pen away in frustration.

In that moment, he had felt a presence. A divine and pure presence, untouched by filth, yet sorrowful and sad. It was unmistakably the presence of the Divine Creator. Dottore was certain of it.

The Divine Creator had finally arrived.

His crimson eyes rested on a metallic black box, sealed with a highly complex mechanism. Only he knew of its existence; neither Pierro nor Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, were aware of it.

Innamorati, the 0th Harbinger. She was the Divine Creator, Dottore was convinced. Nothing else could explain that unexplainable moment.

He walked towards the box and unlocked it. Inside, a glass tube filled with golden liquid sparkled under the lab lights.

This was the only solution to confirm his theory. One way or another, Dottore would get his answers. He could hardly wait for Innamorati to arrive at his lab.

As he gazed at the golden liquid, he felt a mixture of anticipation and reverence. This discovery could change everything. The Divine Creator, hidden in plain sight as the 0th Harbinger, was a revelation of immense proportions.

Dottore's mind raced with possibilities. If his theory was correct, the implications were staggering. Not only for the Fatui but for the entire world of Teyvat. The thought of unraveling such a profound mystery filled him with a thrill he hadn't felt in a long time.

He carefully placed the glass tube back in its secure position and sealed the box once more. His heart pounded with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The arrival of Innamorati would either confirm his greatest hypothesis or shatter it entirely.

Either way, he was ready. Dottore's eyes gleamed with determination. He would uncover the truth, no matter the cost. The Divine Creator was within his grasp, and he would not let this opportunity slip away.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Reblog if you like this story

[meownotgood]

let us live, if we must die. / chapter two: of blood and fire

You are a witch, and since the purging of all magic, you've been forced to live a life of solitude and secrecy. Your destiny was always beyond your control — until, by a pure twist of fate, you unknowingly fell for the kingdom's only prince. 

════════════════════

pairing: prince!aki x witch!reader

word count: 6.6k

tags: fantasy au, royalty au, reader is fem, tending to aki's wounds, but things don't all go to plan. warning: a few small mentions of blood / wounds / a knife

notes: we're in aki's perspective this time! reader & aki's relationship is off to an interesting start... hope you enjoy this one hehe. next chapter will be a bit longer and include multiple scenes!

masterlist read on ao3 join the taglist here!

════════════════════

Aki awakes to the sound of a crackling fireplace. 

He blinks, his eyes still tired. His blurry vision slowly begins to come back into focus. When it does, he is met with an unfamiliar ceiling in a room he doesn't recognize. Candlelit shadows dance above him. The cottage, right. Relief washes over his mind, his body, and his weary muscles, the sensation as strong and comforting as the warmth from the nearby fire. The forest was cold. Rain soaked into his bare skin, until every droplet felt like ice in his bones, bitterness in his boiling blood. But now, he is warm. Safe, at last. 

He remembers first spotting the cottage in between dense trees and pouring rain. Every step grew harder and harder to take, his legs becoming heavier by the second. By the time he reached the doorstep, he knew he was at the end of his rope. Now, his fate was no longer in his own hands. He recalls knocking on the door, seeing it open, falling, fading — 

Yeah, he needs to apologize for that. He has a lot he probably needs to say to you, actually. 

Aki listens to the fire flicker and fizzle, while he continues to idly watch the ceiling's pirouetting shadows through heavy eyelids. He's alive. His heart pounds forcefully against the caged walls of his chest, as if reminding him, taunting him. Attempting to recall the moments before he lost consciousness, his thoughts can't help but wander back to you. 

You were moonlit, the serene glow of the stars shining in your eyes and your panicked expression. Aki felt his throat go dry. His hands shook. His breath took on a tender hitch, despite the pain still splintering through him. He plays that moment over and over again in his mind, and Gods, he knows he's already messed everything up. He probably scared you. No, he definitely startled you. Arriving at a stranger's door all blood-soaked and weary, before proceeding to pass out on them doesn't make for the most positive of introductions. 

Of course, all things considered, getting off on the wrong foot with you was perhaps inevitable. He can only wonder how long it might take now, to try and get the two of you on the right foot. 

With a steady breath in, and a moment to prepare, Aki pushes himself up. Instantly, he winces, grunting in pain. The still-fresh wound on his side sends pain tearing through him like sharp, icy daggers. A heavy ache settles over his spine, then his limbs. 

He glances around; you have him resting next to a stone fireplace, on what seems to be a makeshift wooden cot. His shirt is laid out, drying by the fire. You've washed the blood from it, for the most part. When he examines himself, he sees his torso wrapped in cloth, torn and tied together to make bandages, fabric closest to his side stained a dull, dried red. 

"Don't move." 

The sound of your voice gets him to glance in your direction. With your back turned towards him, you're standing at the kitchen counter. You are preparing something, your knife chopping smoothly, echoing a firm noise each time it hits the cutting board. Aki huffs the start of a rebuttal, but you don't let him get very far. 

"I'm fine, I-"

"You risk tearing your stitches if you move," You scold, tone stern, your movements halting. Aki feels the anticipation heighten in his veins, the room briefly going silent, save for a persistent echo of rain hitting the roof. 

You glance over your shoulder to look at him, and proceed to shoot him a particularly harsh glare. "So please, lay back down." 

The intricate features of your face are just as captivating as Aki remembers. 

Slowly, without taking his eyes off you, he leans back, the cot creaking once he's settled. You breathe an annoyed-sounding sigh before returning to your work. A drizzle hums outside steadily, softer than the earlier downpour. The storm is passing, thankfully. 

Your stone pestle knocks and grinds against a wooden bowl. The fireplace crackles, calm flames flooding Aki's body with a comforting sense of heat. It casts him in gentle light, lambent sparks reflecting off his eyes, and in the smooth metal of his earrings. 

Once you've finished grinding the herbs, you unscrew the cap of a nearby flask, and you pour a generous amount of water into the bowl. Each scrap of vegetation dissolves almost immediately, leaving behind a thin mixture, colored in shades of green and muddy purple. You have the bowl held in both hands when you finally walk over to him, careful not to let anything spill. 

You kneel down beside the cot, eyeing him nervously. Your lips press together to form a taut line. Awkward seconds pass in droves, before you manage to say something at last. 

"Tilt your head up," You're instructing. You have the cadence of someone who isn't used to their own voice leaving their lungs, Aki notes. When he does so, propping himself up a bit, your free hand hesitantly shifts to rest underneath his head for support. He swears he can feel your uneasiness. 

"Drink this." 

You've let his hair down, and the long, messy strands brush your palm; they lightly tickle the back of his neck, and fall to frame his pointed ears. Orange light caresses him, flickering over old scars and freckled skin. Aki breathes deeply, his gaze locked with yours. You're so close. Close enough to make him feel as though the stars themselves are burning in his heart. 

There's fear in your eyes. The sort of fear he's come to recognize on others, countless times before. The same fear that would've taken over him when he was much younger. But there's gentleness, as well. A genuine concern, as you watch the choppy rise and fall of his chest from the corner of your eye. 

He owes you everything, and more than that, still. If it wasn't for you, he surely would have died out there. When he was running, rain pelting his back while he sprinted as fast as his weak legs could take him — fruitless, for the devils were already following his blood trail — he thought he was definitely going to. 

What a terribly awful, terribly stupid death that would be. Aki always imagined his end would come at the clawed hands of a devil. It was the fate he accepted, when he swore to hunt them. With no mercy, they will end him someday, just as they've taken his family, and each of his peers. Yet, to die there, from such a foolish mistake, to perish because he merely fumbled with his weapon when he should have been focused — In whatever afterlife he stumbled into, kind or cruel, he would never have forgiven himself. 

His mind has been wandering elsewhere quite often, as of late. From now on, he needs his focus maintained if he wants to survive. Between his troubles, his training, and his responsibilities, it's like his brain hasn't rested in weeks. And then there's this damned forest, the devils, and you. Something tells him he won't be finding his composure any time soon. 

Aki's nose wrinkles up on instinct when you bring the bowl to his lips. You tut, shaking your head. 

"It smells bad, I know," You're scoffing, "But it isn't going to taste any better. Drink it all, it'll help." 

With his eyes screwed shut, you begin to tilt the bowl back, and he forces himself to down the entirety of the mixture. It sticks to his throat, thick and unbelievably bitter; it makes him cough once he tries to breathe. He swallows dryly, allowing the taste to gradually dull. Satisfied, you rise to your feet. Empty bowl in hand, you're finally heading back towards the kitchen. 

"Demons got you good," You hum, sweeping stray scraps of herbs from the counter into your palm. Glass jars line the back edge of the counter, and you pop the lid on one, carefully brushing the corresponding traces inside. "You'll heal though, in time. Shouldn't be left with another scar, unless you keep messing with your stitches." 

Aki leans back into the cot, his messy hair fanned out around him. He runs his fingers over his torso, feeling the outline of the ragged bandages. They're wrapped tightly to protect the wound on his side. The gash underneath stings slightly when he touches it, still. 

"Thank you," He murmurs, turning his head to glance at you. His voice is low, breathy. Honest. "If you hadn't brought me in, I think I would have bled to death." 

"You definitely would have," You grumble under your breath, a bit louder than intended. You exhale a small tsk, your nails rhythmically tapping against the side of the glass jar. "You're heavy, very heavy. I had to practically drag you inside. And you talk in your sleep, too." 

Aki snorts, breathing something of a dry laugh. He props his head up, resting it on top of his arm. "What was I talking about?" 

Briefly, you hesitate. "How am I supposed to know? It was gibberish." You set the jar back into place, and carefully straighten the entire assortment. "At least I knew you were sleeping and not- you know. Dead." 

At last, you're starting to sound sure of yourself. He hardly minds your harshness; he's the one who nearly barged in, he certainly deserves to be met with a hint of vitriol. Aki finds your sudden ray of confidence to be pleasant, in fact, like standing in the shimmer of a rising sun. Perhaps he can make amends with you after all. 

"I was lucky," Aki starts. "I wasn't expecting to find anyone all the way out here. You saved my life. I don't plan on forgetting that." 

Busying yourself with cleaning your kitchen knife, you pour water onto a towel before using it to hastily polish the blade. 

"Where are you from?" You ask him, changing the subject entirely. "The city?"

He shrugs. "I suppose you could call it that." 

"The city's awfully far from here." 

"It is," Aki responds calmly. He distracts himself by watching you, his gaze flickering over your form: bathed in shadow, and touched by the slightest lamp glow. Your back is facing him again, and your shoulders are tense, wound up. Your hooded cloak has holes here and there, with the bottom edge of your cape distinctly ragged from tear marks. The deep blue color of the cape's fabric matches the makeshift bandages around his torso. 

"But you're from there," He continues, eyes narrowed, "Aren't you?" 

You pause. Just barely, he hears you take a shuddery, uncertain breath. "I've never been." 

Aki concentrates on the idle drum of raindrops — tapping against the roof, the windows, and the ground outside. Nourishing each blossoming tree, and every overgrown blade of grass. The sound is low, yet calming. 

"That's a shame," He says. "The weather in the kingdom has been so much nicer." 

Suddenly, in one smooth, quick movement, you're turning around. You're dropping the towel and the knife down on the counter with a faint clatter, and you're twisting to face him head on. Your cold glance is immediately interrogating him, flickering up, and then back down. 

"Has? So you've been there recently?" You snap, the bridge of your nose forming a disgruntled knot. Your arms cross tightly over your chest. "Thought you were an adventurer. The kind that doesn't like to stay in one place, the kind that goes out searching for treasure and jewels and monsters- that sort of thing. Why don't you explain what you were doing in the kingdom, then?" 

Aki frowns. "I was born there, if you must know." 

"Yeah, I must," You counter sharply, a brow raised. "And that still doesn't answer my question." 

Aki's teeth grit slightly when he sits up, a hint of stinging pain promptly sparking in his side. Firelight frames his face in amber hues and pockets of shadow — his expression is unreadable, but soft. Desperate, almost. If you were planning on telling him he should lay back down, the annoyed twitch in your brows is the most you let on. 

"I'm an adventurer, just not the kind you're thinking of. I'm… I'm a devil hunter. That's what the people in the kingdom call it," He explains; the ache spreading through his body leaves him a tad out of breath, and his next words are spoken between a subtle wince. "I'll venture far from the kingdom to kill them, but I also take care of anything lurking too close to the city's outskirts. I came here to practice. The devils in this forest were reported to be weaker. At least, compared to the hunts I usually go after." 

"Really?" You roll your eyes, huffing in exasperation while your arms go loose at your sides. "And I'm supposed to believe you came here to fight demons, without a weapon on you?" 

"Devils, you mean." 

"Whatever you call them." 

Aki presses a palm against his side, and matches your stern gaze with a composed one. "I had a sword. The devils disarmed me, and when they did, they all but destroyed it. I left my things behind when I ran, to make it easier to escape. Hence why I showed up empty-handed." 

You're quiet as you think, eyes glancing between him and his torso. "You're awfully terrible at coming up with excuses. Either you're a trained demon hunter, or you're an idiot who nearly lost his life to a bunch of demon-sprat. So, which is it?" 

"Devils are ruthless," He explains hastily, "They can easily overwhelm their target if they attack in numbers, and I know you're aware of that, you must be. The storm- I think it was causing them to flock together. I'm telling the truth, there's no need for this. You don't have to keep trying to intimidate me." 

"Shut up," You mutter through a scowl. Your hands have clenched into tight fists. Your brows are furrowed, and your jaw is locked tight. "You already deceived me once. I'm not going to sit idly while you do it again." 

"I'm not lying. If you would just listen, please just calm down and-" 

Quickly, without tearing your fierce gaze from his, you're reaching behind you to snatch the kitchen knife. You point the sparkling, sharpened end right at him. Thunder booms, and the sky alights with sparks that fleetingly bathe the room in a blinding flash. Aki goes quiet, his heart in his throat. In the darkening afterimage, he finally sees the whole of you — A raging flame, a thorned heart. The fire in your eyes is near engulfing. Your fear runs far deeper than he ever could've known. 

He watches, as your arm trembles just barely, unease concealed behind a struggling steadfastness. You gnaw anxiously on your bottom lip. Your knuckles protrude from your hand, your grip on the leather hilt rigid and unacquainted. 

Aki lets go of a long, deep breath. "Put that down." 

"Give me one good reason, then." Your gaze is sharp, honed enough to cut through him all on its own. "Give me one reason why I should believe any word that comes from your filthy mouth." 

Allowing his palm to slip from his torso, he carefully puts both hands up. It seems to do little to put you at ease. 

"The knife," Aki murmurs, his gaze darting to you, then to your unsteady hand. "You don't know how to use it." 

"Would you like to put that statement to the test?" 

Aki tenses. "Devil hunter sounds far more intimidating than adventurer. I was trying not to scare you, that's all there is to it." 

"Liar," You chide, "Serpent." 

"I'll show you, if you'll let me." He speaks in a level tone, attempting to stay collected. His voice comes out quieter, his words are slow and deliberate, and he remains as still as he can possibly manage. Regardless, his chest gently rises and falls, falling in line with the relentless pound of his heart inside. Low light dances across his bare skin and faded scars. 

"Once the storm clears," Aki continues, "I'll head back out, and I'll retrace my steps to find everything I dropped in the woods. You can come with me. Hold a knife to my throat the whole time, if you must. I'll lead you right to where the devils attacked me. My sword will be there, and my bag. Devils like to snatch whatever shiny gold pieces they can get their hands on, but if there's any gold left in my bag when we find it, it's yours. How does that sound?" 

A conflicted expression dawns on your face — your brows knotted, eyes dark, lips pressed together. You stay focused on him, not yet answering. You're refusing to look away, with stress present in your form, stiff like a statue. Aki's chest aches, from something other than the wound's persistent pain. 

"I'm sorry," He apologizes, mumbling earnestly, his voice soft. "I shouldn't have- I'm not dangerous. I won't hurt you. I promise. I'm just-" 

"Don't." Your next breath trembles, it is shaky, weak. The knife's silver point, aimed towards his chest, glitters with his own reflection: warm and fire-lit. "Don't make promises you can't keep." 

Through your frail gaze, locked with his, Aki can taste the bitterness on your tongue. You remind him of the wolf, and the deer. The spark to ignite the flame, and the pyre, woefully made to be burned upon. You are shrinking up, your hand shaking ever-so slightly — and he can't help but feel as though he has just taken one step forward, and a thousand steps back. 

He should feel frightened. Anyone else in his shoes would be. Truthfully, he doesn't think you'd hurt him; it's this keen intuition he's held onto, ever since he first wound up at your doorstep. And although he knew it was foolish of him to push his luck, to underestimate you, when you helped him, when you saved him, he realized he was always right. 

Just like when he found himself deep in those devil-filled woods, he's come face to face with something — someone — who he's sure could destroy him. Everything he's ever known is telling him you could do so quickly, fiercely, in a tempest of crimson blood and vivid ash. He'd be lucky if he managed to take one final breath, before the heavens came down to greet him. Or, perhaps, you'll opt to destroy him slowly. Softly, waves of built-up hopes and intentions building until they're complete, deep enough to drown him in a sea he could never escape from, because he's never quite learned how to swim. 

Fortunately, Aki isn't frightened by fate. Nor has he ever been scared by the things he really ought to be scared of. 

Silence stretches on, and so too does the hum of the rain. All at once, you break it; Aki glances at you with a little less apprehension as you turn away, clumsily tossing the knife back onto the counter. You sigh listlessly, and you rest your elbows on the surface, leaning against it. 

"This is pointless," You scoff, seeming defeated. "We're never going to get anywhere." 

Aki slowly drops his hands into his lap. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing. He almost speaks a handful of times, before finally settling on something to say. 

"I've- I've made a mess of things, haven't I?" Glancing down, he doesn't meet your eyes. "For what it's worth, I am grateful for everything you've done for me. I know this is my fault. I won't take advantage of your kindness or your hospitality. It wouldn't be right. Come morning, I'll leave as soon as I can." 

"No, you can't," You're suddenly arguing, turning around to face him. As he expected, your words sound sharp as ever, but your gaze on his is different, somehow. "You need to rest, for at least a few more days. Otherwise, your wound might leave lasting damage. You'll have to give up your whole demon hunting thing for good." 

"I'll be fine." Aki stretches, bringing his arms over his head, then rolling his shoulders back. He rests his palm back on his side, and he uses his free hand to push his bangs from his eyes. "I've been through worse. Besides, I think whatever you gave me is working already." 

You roll your eyes. "It's just numbing you, you fool. Please, didn't I already tell you to lay back down?" 

Aki tries not to let too much guilt show on his face. With a hand on your hip, you glare at him expectantly, until he's slowly settling back into the cot. Once he's fully lying down, you take it as your cue to snatch the flask and towel from the counter behind you; the knife is distinctly pushed away, out of your reach, and out of the realm of worry. You make your way over, kneeling down next to him. After quickly unscrewing the cap, you reach out to offer him the flask. 

"Here," You hum. You gently shake it, making the liquid inside slosh back and forth. "It's just water. Prop yourself up a bit, so you don't choke." 

Hesitant at first, Aki props up slightly on his elbow. He takes the flask from you, careful not to let your fingers brush. He only has a few small swigs, but it's plenty refreshing. It immediately relieves the dryness in his throat, and chases away the last few bitter hints of medicine. 

Once he hands the flask back to you, you're pausing, taking a moment to get a clear look at him. You focus on his face, his ruffled hair. His pointed ears, decorated with sparkling earrings. He can't help but feel his chest tighten, your gaze locking onto his. You hold his stare for merely a second or two, but your eyes; they transfix him, like they're a sanctum he should be praying to. 

Then, you're looking down, and Aki watches while you silently inspect his torso. Idly, he wonders what you might've seen to make your brows furrow, and to cause your lips to form the slightest pout. 

"You were angry enough to hold a knife to me mere moments ago," Aki murmurs, before breathing a short, light-hearted sigh. Your gaze meets his own once more, your brow raised in curiosity. "And now, you're asking me to stay." 

"Yeah, I am. Would you prefer I toss you out?" You proceed to pour a generous amount of water onto the towel. You set the flask aside, and then, you reach up, bringing the towel to his nape. "Hold still."

Aki tilts his head to the side, the water cool and damp when it touches his skin. "Not really," He answers; you dab the towel onto a small, fresh scrape just above his collarbone, and you wipe off the traces of dirt and dried blood. "Unless you think that'd be best." 

You lean over him a little, giving a quick once-over to his adjacent side and shoulder. "Your legs, let me see them." 

Aki shoves the thin blanket you'd covered him with aside. The moment it's gone, you're rolling up the legs of his trousers. You clumsily push them up to his knees, until he can feel the warmth of the fire, lapping at his bare skin. 

Both legs have a few sets of scrapes, but his knees are the worst offense. They're bruised and raw from falling, firstly after those stray devils had managed to topple him. He recalls rushing through the forest, hearing their howls from behind him as they gathered in numbers. Vision growing dizzy, he tripped over overgrown roots and rocks obscured by the darkness, just to force himself to his feet over and over again. The sight clearly displeases you, getting you to breathe an annoyed tch, and you press your damp towel to the knee closest to you. It stings, slightly. 

"I wasn't going to hurt you, just so you know," You huff, focusing on your work. "My mind was made up from the moment I brought you in. There would be no sense in going back on that now." 

"I know. But I wouldn't have blamed you," Aki remarks. "You have good reasons not to trust me." 

Those words get you to freeze, briefly. Aki eyes you, calm and straight-faced. Diligently, you apply water to a new corner of the towel, and you reach over to clean the scrapes on his other leg. 

"You're to stay right here for the next few days, and not move. Got it?" You instruct; you lean back, and he nods, pulling the legs of his pants back into place. In spite of your assuredness, you seem to falter, staring down at your hands and pondering to yourself. As if, while you think, you've momentarily forgotten he's even here. Each breath, once, and then another, you take on edge. He almost asks if you're alright — before abruptly, you return to busying yourself. 

Your towel is discarded onto the floor, as you murmur, "Sit up. Slowly, please." 

Aki pushes up all the way, straightening his back. You shift until you're able to reach his side. Your touch is gentle, and your fingertips begin to softly evaluate the bandages around his waist. 

When he fails to hold back a wince, you ask calmly, "Does the wound still hurt?" 

"A little," Aki manages. He keeps most of his weight rested on his arms, his palms pressed flat to either side of the cot. "The pain is dull, though. It isn't as strong as it was before." 

Your touch is feather-light and foreign. He isn't used to being fretted over like this; his shoulders and the back of his neck feel hot, and he can feel the delicate brush of your fingers faintly, even through the fabric. The weak ghost of your touch on his sensitive skin is enough to make his spine tingle. 

"You've got those herbs to thank for that," You remark, pulling away. "Once you're rested and healed, and only then, you'll be free to leave. I'm not sending you back out there just to be demon food. Not after I've used a month's worth of medicine on you." 

There's a small beat of silence, as you search for the cap you'd set aside, carefully screwing it back on the flask. You rise to your feet. You neatly spread the damp towel out by the side of the fireplace, next to Aki's drying shirt, like it's a task you've performed a thousand times before. He grinds his teeth together — an action you don't notice — but inevitably, he isn't able to stop himself from speaking. 

"If it's alright," He starts, waiting until you've turned back towards him to continue. "Could I ask you something?" 

Your arms cross. "Possibly." 

"Why did you help me?" Aki swallows, and he feels his jaw start to grow tense. His gaze wavers, shifting between you and his lap. "You could've turned me away, thrown me out, swore at me- You could've done anything, besides what you did. I hardly understand it." 

Expression softening, you laugh — You actually laugh, lips upturned, the corners of your eyes crinkled, and Aki fights against his own heart as it threatens to burst from his chest. 

"I wasn't aware I needed a reason," You retort, shrugging. 

"You don't need one. I was just wondering if there was one." 

"If you must know," You mumble; mocking him, he thinks, as you put on some horrible, deep impression that he can only assume is meant to be his own voice. You clear your throat after that, glancing away, quieting. You hold your own arm, and you rub it in a nervous sort of motion. "I wanted to, I suppose. End of story." 

"You- You wanted to?" 

"Of course," You're answering dryly, "What, are you saying you don't believe me? I can't save some stupid lying adventurer out of the goodness of my own heart?" 

"No, I believe you." He answers you calmly, smoothly. "That's a fine reason." 

"Is it?" You hesitate, gaze tearing away from his own to focus on the ground. Aki watches you take in a subtle, steady breath. "Sorry, I didn't expect- I'm not sure how I should explain it. I think I…" Suddenly, you sigh, letting your arms fall limp at your sides. "I guess I've seen too much death to just… let you die." 

I've seen too much death to let you die. 

Oh. Aki stalls, the sound of his own heartbeat and the echo of steady raindrops working in tandem to play a tune in his ears. Your previous lightheartedness dissolves with the room's building silence, and with those words. They remind him of himself. You remind him of himself — Scared and alone, a herald of death, despite all your efforts to wash its stench from your skin. And Aki, he has been followed by so, so much death. 

It's impossible to know exactly what you're burdened with, but he knows what that sort of weight feels like. Death is a heavy thing. The tolls of both people and devils alike have long since sunk into him with fangs bared. Necessary evils, his colleagues would say: the men who trained him, the men who died beside him. To meet your end protecting this land is an honor, to slaughter devils is an accomplishment. By now, blood and death and slaughter are practically burned into his palms and the back of his eyelids. Grasping the hilt of his sword feels as natural as breathing. He can't remember the last time he dreamt of anything pleasant. 

In the quietness to follow, Aki tries to picture himself in your place. How much have you lost, to make you so distrusting? How strong and how good is your heart, to still have offered him a safe place to land? Sure, if you were dying, bleeding out, the sight filling his lungs with embers, his head enveloped in the scent of blood and petrichor — Even if you needed him, he shouldn't be saving you. Saving you would go against everything. But he would. In much the same way, he wouldn't let you die. And he knows he wouldn't hesitate. 

When it was all said and done, his path at your side would have led in the same direction. Perhaps because it was meant to. Perhaps, if he defies everything, he can keep that path on its course, and he can deserve your efforts to save him. 

Realizing you've opened up a little more than you would have liked to, or maybe discerning that you've been standing there gawking at the puzzled, wide-eyed look on his face for far too long — Abruptly, you stand up straight, righting yourself. You stride over to him, taking quick, certain steps. Aki can't help but tense when you put a hand on his shoulder, keeping him steady. Your eyes narrow, your glance traveling over him with quiet contemplation. 

"And if we don't want you to die," You start; you're standing up again, with liveliness finally returning to your tone. A faux liveliness, maybe. "You need more medicine. I'm fresh out, so I'll need to gather more if you're to fully recover. Damn," You study him, your hand coming to your chin. "Bandages, too. I almost forgot. I'll need to substitute them- Leaves? No, I'm sure there's some clothes I don't need somewhere…" 

Aki's brow raises once you start to trail off. "Are you sure I should stay?" 

"Yeah. Of course I am, I already told you." 

Leaving it at that, you head back to the kitchen, taking care of the last few steps needed to clean up. While you're busy, he decides to have a proper look around for the first time since he awoke. 

The cottage is small, but well lived-in. There's a bowl of chopped fruit, and a vase of fresh flowers sitting atop a rickety-looking dining table. Asters: flowers with purple petals, and a bright yellow center. A few candles line the table and the kitchen counter, flickering with light and dripping with wax. The shelves in the living room are filled with dusty books and interesting nick nacks. He recognizes various creatures hand-carved in wood: a bird, a Great Elk, a kelpie. You've carved lots of birds, actually. You have a whole shelf dedicated to them, large and small and mystical alike. 

A book is left sprawled open over the arm of a wooden rocking chair. As if whoever was reading it needed to mark their page in a spur of the moment, and they'd left it there, planning to return to it shortly. 

Aki recognizes the cover; a knight, with armor and a shining sword, holding the blade up to a painted sun. The Holy Knight, the story is called, if Aki remembers correctly. Some tale about a knight rescuing a princess, saving the land from a curse, and marrying her to become the king — awfully traditional, for a fairytale. 

Not that he minds. Books rarely interested him when he was a kid, but his brother loved those sorts of stories. Aki would read them to him, when their parents were away. Have you read this one as many times as he has, he wonders? 

"You're sure I'm not- ehem," Aki clears his throat, turning his attention back towards you. "Overstepping? Feels like I'm intruding on your home." 

Your response is quick, sharp, and immediate. "This isn't my home." 

"Really?" Aki questions innocently. 

You freeze up for a moment, before returning to washing the bowl in your hands, scrubbing the inside with a tattered rag. "I mean- for now, it is. This place was abandoned by the time I got here, I'm only passing through. I'll be leaving once I'm done gathering what I can from the forest. The demons are becoming too much lately." 

Immersed in thought, he can't help but restlessly chew on his bottom lip. He won't press you, it'd be best not to. Although, the current plan he's thought of isn't exactly the smartest of choices, either. 

Damn it all. 

"I understand," Aki hums. He brings a palm to the back of his neck, nervously running his fingers over a mismatch of scars there. "We should leave together, then." 

Immediately, you turn around on your heels, your cape fluttering, and give him your most agitated glare yet. "Why are you so insistent on dying?" 

"I didn't mean 'leave right now,'" Aki corrects, matter-of-fact. "We can head for the kingdom once I'm healed, and once you've taken care of everything you need to do here, however long that might take. I can keep myself busy. You said you've never been, right? I know the way, I can take you." 

You scoff, shifting your weight from heel to heel, "They aren't letting anyone in unless you come with a letter of admission. It's been that way for years now." 

"I grew up there. I know how to get you in," Aki replies. Firelight dances in his eyes when you catch them: blue hues, warm and earnest, sparkling like sapphires. Such riches have always been out of your reach, until now. "I can show you around too, if you'd like. It'll be to repay you. For everything you've done for me." 

"I don't have any interest in going to the kingdom." 

"Why not?" Aki shrugs, tilting his head. His pointed ears give the slightest curious twitch. "It isn't as bad as you might think. If you'd let me talk to you about it, maybe I could end up convincing you." 

"You'd sooner convince me to toss myself to the demons." You half-roll your eyes, leaning against the edge of the counter. You turn to watch the dying rain pelt the dining room window: cascading droplets on colorful stained glass. 

"Either way," You're continuing, "I have plans. There's somewhere else I need to be, somewhere far away from here- Close to the north mountains, that's where my hometown is. The kingdom is in the exact opposite direction, if you recall." 

"That's fine," Aki pivots, after a slight pause. He follows the line of your gaze, trying to discern what you're looking at. Droplets race on the window, before disappearing once they've chased each other too far. "You're still welcome to leave when I do. It'll be safer that way, traveling out of the forest together. As long as you're alright with that, of course. By then, I'm sure I'll be fine enough to head out alone. I want you to be safe. But I don't want you to… feel like you have to listen to me. Or something like that." 

He feels like a damn fool, stumbling over his sentences as if he's got no clue what he's trying to say. Aki's jaw tenses, but thankfully, you don't seem very fazed. 

"Let's just figure it out later," You huff, "Alright?" 

Aki eyes you, up and down. You stand in place, your arms crossed, tapping your foot. Finally, you quit leaning on the counter, standing up straight, and you approach the dining room table. He watches as you reach up, deftly untying your cape and pulling it from your shoulders. You drape it over the back of a wooden dining chair. 

"I should introduce myself, shouldn't I?" Aki starts; you stare at him from the corner of your eye, and you're moving in his direction while he's continuing. "You can call me Aki. I'm glad to be acquainted." 

He has his hand extended for you to shake by the time you're stopping in front of him. Though, instead, you give him a once over, before immediately striding to the nearby fireplace. Aki awkwardly lowers his hand into his lap, and you proceed to grab a log, tossing it into the fire, where it becomes swiftly accepted by the flames. 

Aki clears his throat. "Could I know your name, as well? I'd like to know who I have to thank for saving my life." 

You dust your hands. Without giving him a passing glance, you head towards a door on the room's opposite end. The wood is engraved with an intricate design: twin birds, and blossoming flowers. 

"I'm going to bed," You tell him, and Aki stares at your back and tensed shoulders, somewhat dumbfounded. You turn the doorknob slowly, allowing the door to open with a creak. It's far too dark to make out anything inside, besides the light of the moon, shining onto some shelves from a small set of windows. 

Tone unreadable, you spare him one last look from over your shoulder. "I'll be waking up at sunrise to gather herbs for your medicine. I'll try not to wake you when I do. If you're hungry, I chopped some apples for you earlier. They're on the dining table. I suggest you get some rest, you won't regain your strength without it." 

He still doesn't know your name. He still doesn't have your trust — but that's alright. The kingdom is days away, isn't it? And besides, if anyone followed his trail, he doubts they'd be able to find what they're looking for. This cottage is well-hidden. Nearly too hidden for him to find, actually. As long as he's here with you, treading this line, there's time. Plenty and plenty of time. 

The Gods can watch, as he defies everything his wretched people once prayed for, once sought to destroy, while letting himself get swept under. 

"Goodnight," Aki murmurs, before you can finish closing the bedroom door behind you. "Sleep well." 

The fire crackles. Rain taps against the roof in fading whispers, and Aki watches your door shut with an inferno in his heart. 

[thepascalparadox]

Chapter two: Everything feels...

Word Count | 1.9k Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x OC F!Reader Chapter Warnings | slow burn, mention of the activities of the colisium, Acacius being a confused man. There'll be some author's note in the end. masterlist series “From where I stood, the general was the most striking man I had ever laid eyes upon.” “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Vera. He looks... well, old and weary,” You said with a light tone.

“ I wouldn’t call him old. Word is, he hasn’t even seen thirty summers yet. And as for weary—he carries it as any soldier should” she replied with a grin.

Vera nudged your shoulder playfully, a gesture that spoke of the ease and familiarity between you. You feel tired and ready to take a good night of sleep—tomorrow would be a long day. Your father had planned a grand celebration in honor of General Marcus Acacius, with feasting and music from dawn till dusk.

Such celebrations always filled you with a peculiar joy. For at least one day, you could shed the weight of expectations, lose yourself in dancing and revelry, and be as free as any common citizen.

“Well,” You smirked, “tomorrow, you’ll have your chance to meet him. You could look into those famed eyes and say—”

Without hesitation, you took Vera by the waist, adopting a dramatic pose as if you were the general himself. Mocking the voice of a lady overcome with admiration, you declared: “General Marcus Acacius, you are the most handsome man I have ever beheld!”

Vera erupted into laughter, her mirth echoing through the room as your exaggerated performance ended.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · · The celebration began, and the day unfurled with a vivid splendor. Everything feels perfect. The music, the food, the flowers, even the way your dress touches your skin feels perfect. Hours passed in laughter and dance until your feet ached, and the cacophony of music and merriment became overwhelming. Seeking a quiet place, you slipped into the cool solitude of the back garden. The night’s breeze kissed your flushed cheeks, and the stillness wrapped around you like a gentle embrace. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment. A soft laugh escaped you as you tried to recall the last time you had so much fun. No more wine for the night.

“I see the evening agrees with you, Lady Aurelia,” came a deep voice from behind, startling you from your reverie.

You turned quickly, your heart skipping a beat. There, standing tall under the pale light of the moon, was General Acacius himself.

“Dominus,” you greeted, offering a somewhat unsteady bow, made less graceful by the wine. “I—indeed—I am enjoying the festivities,” you added, a smile lingering on your lips despite yourself. You should definitely not be smiling like this alone with a man like him.

And yet, there was something about his presence that felt oddly reassuring, disarming even. To your surprise, his own lips curved into the faintest of smiles.

“The feast is remarkable,” he said, his tone warm with amusement. “Your father truly knows how to host a celebration worthy of the gods.” He paused, then added in a conspiratorial whisper, “Though I confess, after such a day, I long for nothing more than the embrace of my bed.”

The way he spoke, as if sharing a secret meant for you alone, made you chuckle softly. The conversation flowed easily as you strolled through the moonlit garden paths.

He humbly spoke of his long campaigns—two hundred days away from home, he said, with the weariness of a man who had seen much and yet carried it with quiet dignity. “If I could, I’d sleep for three days without stirring,” he mused.

Feigning seriousness, you teased: “So, you reject the grand festivities my father has arranged in your honor? Even the games in the arena tomorrow?”

He stopped abruptly, his expression turning grave. “Forgive me, Domina,” he said earnestly. “I meant no disrespect. Your father is as dear to me as my own. I would lay down my life for him. The celebrations are an honor beyond words. As for the arena—” He hesitated, his gaze shadowed. “I respect his traditions deeply.” You couldn’t help but laugh softly at how seriously he had taken your jest. Following Vera’s example from the night before, you nudged his shoulder lightly. “I was jesting, soldier,” you said with a grin.

But the moment the words left your lips, you faltered. Your familiarity had crossed a line, and you realized with a pang of regret that he was not a childhood friend to banter with so casually. Drawing back, you lowered your gaze, chastened.

“Forgive me, General,” you murmured, your voice tinged with shame. “The wine has loosened my tongue more than it should have. I fear I’ve overstepped my place.” With a hurried bow, you added, “I wish you a restful night. If you’ll excuse me, I must retire to my chambers.”

Before he could respond, you turned and left, your steps quickened by the heat of embarrassment. It felt as though you were fleeing a ghost—one whose presence had stirred something within you that you did not yet understand.

But the soldier was no ghost—not at all. If you had looked back, you would have seen how utterly taken by surprise the General was. He parted his lips, as if to say something—anything to make you stay—but no words came. He simply stood there, watching as you walked away.

If only you knew how his heart felt just a little weaker with your departure. · · ────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

Your head throbbed. The deafening roars of the crowd, mingled with the clash of gladiators within the coliseum, did nothing to help. Attending the games was a duty you loathed above all others. You recalled your mother’s soft whispers when you were a child, not much older than six, as she leaned close during your first visit.

"You don’t have to look. Find something else to occupy your mind—count the soldiers in the stands, the women, the children..."

And so, every time you were forced to sit in that pit of violence, you obeyed her advice. Today, you noted there were more children and soldiers than before. The coliseum itself seemed different, too—three additional beams along the upper gallery, and a newly constructed gate to the prisons below.

Why does it grow larger every time I return?

You pressed your fingertips to your temples, moving them in slow circles to soothe the ache in your skull. The rhythmic motion was your only solace against the chaos surrounding you.

“I see the revelry of last night has caught up with you, Lady Aemilia.”

The voice was soft, tinged with humor. It came from the seat beside yours, where General Acacius sat. His words hung in the air, and with a light tone, his gaze lingered on you, searching for something.

Is he mocking me? Have I become his amusement?

Your eyes remained shut, but your tone turned sharp as you replied. “I expect respect from you, General, as I have shown you nothing but the same.”

Have you forgotten how to address a lady, Marcus?

The sting of your words landed precisely as intended. You heard him shift uncomfortably, and though your eyes were closed, you could sense the weight of his regret. Ever since your arrival, he had been looking for a way to earn your attention—desperate to hear your voice again, even if only to rebuke him.

Perhaps if I make her laugh...

He had misjudged, thinking of last night’s fleeting, playful moment when your shoulders had touched. He wished for that again—a simple touch, no matter how brief.

“I didn’t mean—” he stammered, pausing to collect himself. Then, taking a deep breath, he began again, his tone softer. “I wasn’t trying to mock you, Lady Aurelia. I only... Please, forgive me. I truly hope your headache eases soon.”

There was something in his voice that made your resolve falter, a sincerity that bordered on vulnerability.

If I could, I would take the pain from you and bear it myself, carissima.

You opened your eyes, finally meeting his gaze. For a moment, you saw the weariness etched into his face, more pronounced than the night before, as though he hadn’t slept at all. The sight gave you pause, but you said nothing.

Instead, his expression shifted, his features hardening into the same stoic mask he wore before his men. Diverting his eyes, he straightened in his seat, retreating behind his soldier’s composure.

Have I hurt him?

Before you could dwell on the thought, the cries of the crowd swelled around you. The word they chanted took a moment to register, and when it did, a familiar chill ran down your spine.

Death.

Your father rose from his seat, commanding the attention of the entire coliseum. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his hand. The crowd fell silent, holding its collective breath. But you knew what would come next.

His thumb turned downward. The crowd erupted in cheers, and another life was extinguished.

You flinched, as you always did. The hollow ache in your chest never lessened, no matter how many times you witnessed this. Bowing your head, you prayed silently for the soul of the fallen.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the General. He had risen as well, but the look in his eyes was not one of approval. Fury smoldered there, dark and restrained. Without a word, he turned and left his place, seeking an exit from the coliseum.

You felt an inexplicable longing to follow him. You weren’t sure if it was to escape the horrors of the arena or simply to be with him—anywhere, as long as he was there beside you. · · ─────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

You felt no inclination to read or write today, so you wandered to the principal garden instead. The serenity there always held a quiet magic for you. How you longed to see the untamed fields beyond the city walls, where birds soared freely and the wind danced through the trees, carrying with it the fragrance of wildflowers.

Your steps were slow as you moved among the blooms, the gentle rhythm of your walk an attempt to soothe the lingering ache in your head.

I am never drinking again. Never, ever.

“Lady Aemilia Aurelia,” came the voice of the guard assigned to you. His tone was respectful but firm, pulling you from your thoughts. “A letter has arrived for you.”

You turned to him, accepting the letter with a nod of thanks. Curiosity flickered in your mind as you examined it. It couldn’t have come from one of the maids—they had been dismissed for the day. And letters from beyond the palace, whether from princes or clandestine admirers, always passed through your father’s hands first.

Carefully, you opened it, and to your surprise, a small flower fell from within. Its delicate petals rested lightly in your palm, and you lifted it to your nose, inhaling the sweet, calming aroma.

The letter was brief, the handwriting unmistakably bold yet neat:

"This bloom is known for its healing properties, particularly for those burdened with aches of the head. I hope it brings you relief. Your loyal General, Marcus Acacius."

The ache in your head eased almost at once, but now, inexplicably, something else stirred—a gentle, unfamiliar ache in a different corner of your heart.

That night, as sleep claimed you, the faintest of smiles lingered on your lips.

next chapter · · ────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

AN: I know pedro is beyond thirty years but this is how I imagine him for this fic. It is actually very dificult to keep it historically accurate, but I hope you understand! I will insert some references to the balls that happened in Pride and Prejudice and Bridgerton, but I think it'll be all. There's nothing I love more than an unconfortable dance between too characters who love each other in secret!

[shapard]

Sweet Delusion🌙

Lucifer x fem!reader

Sucker

Tw: Death, miscarriage, Violence (a lot), traumatic events, reader going Harley, Harley is a warning itself, Angst

Chapter 3 < Chapter 4 > Chapter 5

Story begins under the cut

Your laughter rang out like a soft melody, filling the cozy little café you and Sharen frequented. 

The warm glow of the hanging lights bathed the space in a golden hue, casting a soft shine over his impossibly perfect features. His golden hair caught the light just right, accentuating the sharp angle of his jaw and the mischievous glint in his eyes. How had you gotten so lucky?

It had been a month since you and Sharen had made it official, and every day since had felt like a dream you never wanted to wake up from. He wasn’t just attentive—he was thoughtful in ways that left you breathless. The flowers he sent weren’t just bouquets; each arrangement seemed to carry a message. The letters he wrote weren’t just words on paper but pieces of his heart laid bare for you. And the dates? Every single one was magic, from moonlit strolls to surprise candlelit dinners under the stars.

Today was no different. You sat across from him, sipping on a perfectly brewed latte, as he leaned closer, his smile soft and inviting. His presence had a way of making everything else fade into the background.

“And then Darien said we should go find a woman for him because he feels so lonely,” you said between fits of laughter, clutching your stomach as you recalled the ridiculousness of the moment. Sharen chuckled, his deep, velvety voice melting into the warm air around you.

“You’re cruel, you know that? Laughing at Darien’s misery like that,” he teased, though the sparkle in his eyes told you he was thoroughly enjoying your happiness.

“I can’t help it,” you said, grinning. “It was just so unexpected!”

Your cheeks were starting to ache from smiling so much, but you didn’t care. Sharen had this way of making you feel alive, truly alive, like he saw you in a way no one else ever had. He didn’t just love you—he cherished you, celebrated you. You’d never known love could be like this, an endless cycle of giving and receiving that left you dizzy with joy.

The feeling was intoxicating, like riding a roller coaster at its peak, the rush of adrenaline and exhilaration so powerful you almost forgot to breathe.

You glanced over at him again, and for a moment, it felt surreal. His golden hair fell perfectly against his forehead, his lips curving into that easy smile you’d come to adore. How had someone like him chosen you? How had this beauty—inside and out—become yours?

“Are you even listening to me, hun?” His voice broke through your thoughts, and you startled, realizing he’d leaned forward. His face was mere inches from yours, his warm breath tickling your skin. Had he always been this close?

“I—I am,” you stammered, your voice a little breathless.

Sharen tilted his head, his amber eyes narrowing playfully. “Mmm, I’m not so sure about that,” he said, his smile quirking mischievously. “But I’ll let it slide this time.”

You giggled, the sound light and effortless, and he joined you, the two of you dissolving into laughter that felt like it could chase away any shadow.

For a moment, the world outside the café ceased to exist. It was just you and him, the aroma of coffee and pastries wrapping around you like a cocoon, the steady hum of conversation fading into the background.

As your laughter subsided, Sharen reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours. His fingers were warm, strong yet gentle, as they entwined with yours. His thumb traced small circles on the back of your hand, a simple gesture that sent sparks up your arm.

“You know,” he began, his voice softer now, almost tender, “seeing you happy like this... it makes everything worth it.”

Your heart fluttered, the sincerity in his words wrapping around you like a blanket. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I mean it,” he continued, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your cheeks flush. “You deserve this, Y/n. All of it. Every flower, every letter, every moment like this.”

You smiled, the kind of smile that came from somewhere deep inside, and squeezed his hand. “And you deserve it too, Sharen. You’ve given me so much... more than I ever thought I could have.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world outside moved on, but in that little café, time seemed to slow, stretching out this perfect moment between you. You wished it could stay like this forever, this feeling of safety, love, and warmth cocooning the both of you.

If this was a dream, you thought, let me never wake up.

_______

Two years. Two beautiful years, and your love for Sharen had only grown deeper with every passing day. The two of you had become inseparable, like two halves of the same soul, woven together so tightly that the thought of being apart felt unimaginable.

Sharen’s hand was warm against yours as he leaned in, his lips brushing tenderly against yours. The kiss was soft, unhurried, filled with a quiet affection that made your heart flutter every time. “I have a surprise for you, mon chéri,” he murmured against your lips, his golden eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and something deeper—something unspoken.

You smiled, letting him guide you outside into the cool evening air. The sky was painted in shades of twilight, and the shimmering lights from the pool danced across the surface like tiny stars. The moment felt almost too perfect, as though the universe itself had conspired to bring this scene to life.

Sharen stopped near the pool’s edge, turning to face you. His hands were trembling slightly as they cradled yours, and the weight of his gaze made your chest tighten. He seemed nervous—an unfamiliar look on a man who was usually so composed.

“I’ve wanted to ask you this for so long,” he began, his voice low, each word deliberate. “But I needed it to be the right time. And now... now, I know it is.”

Confused but intrigued, you tilted your head, your e/c eyes searching his face. “What is it, Sharen?”

He exhaled deeply, as though steeling himself for what was to come. Then, with a sudden, graceful motion, he sank to one knee.

Your heart stopped.

“I love you, Y/n,” he said, his voice steady now, but his eyes glistened with emotion. “I always have, and I always will. You are the light of my life, my goddess. Just one look into your eyes makes me the happiest man alive.” He paused, his free hand reaching into his pocket to reveal a small velvet box. “So, I’m asking this to the one and only person who holds my heart…”

The box snapped open to reveal a stunning ring, the diamond catching the pool’s lights and scattering them in every direction.

“Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over before you could even think to stop them. You nodded, your voice trembling as you gasped out, “Oh my god, YES!”

Sharen’s hands were gentle but firm as he slipped the ring onto your shaking finger. In the next instant, you were in his arms, his embrace warm and steady as he held you tightly, grounding you in the whirlwind of emotion. You buried your face in his shoulder, your tears soaking into his shirt as you whispered, “I love you, Sharen.”

“I love you more,” he whispered back, pressing his lips to the top of your head. In his arms, you felt something you’d never truly known before: peace.

The day of the wedding was like a dream brought to life. The venue shimmered with golden hues, filled with the laughter of friends and family. Sharen’s entire family was there, their warmth and love enveloping you, and your closest friends stood by your side, sharing in your happiness.

But there was a twinge of sadness that you couldn’t completely push away. Your mother wasn’t here—and perhaps, deep down, you’d known she never would be.

“You’re a disgrace to the family.”

The venomous words echoed faintly in your mind, a shadow that hadn’t entirely faded. Your nails dug into your palm, grounding yourself as you forced those memories away. That torment was over.

No more.

There would be no more nights crying into a pillow, no more eating what she forced out of you, no more cruel barbs that left scars deeper than you could bear. You were free now. Free to build a life filled with love, warmth, and joy.

And at the center of it all was Sharen

.

He stood beside you now, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. His touch was tender, yet it held a quiet strength, as if he knew how much you needed him in this moment. He leaned close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You look breathtaking, mon amour.”

Your chest swelled with emotion as you turned to look at him. His golden eyes were filled with so much love, so much adoration, that it made your heart ache in the best possible way.

Your life was perfect now. No more fighting. No more pain. Only him. Only love.

And as the two of you danced beneath the twinkling lights, surrounded by those who celebrated your happiness, you knew that this was where you were meant to be. Forever.

_______

Your hands were trembling, slick with sweat and blood. Everything around you was a haze of crimson—splattered walls, dripping curtains, and the sticky pool at your feet that clung to your shoes with every move. The gun in your hand felt impossibly heavy, its barrel still smoking as it gleamed under the dim, flickering light. At your feet lay a lifeless woman, her once vibrant eyes now dull and vacant, her face frozen in a mask of terror.

A strangled, broken laugh tore from your throat, bouncing off the suffocating silence of the room. It was a sound that didn’t feel like your own, an awful mix of hysterical laughter and soul-shaking sobs. Your chest heaved with the weight of emotions clawing at you from the inside—grief, guilt, rage, and despair blending into an unbearable cacophony.

You hadn’t wanted this. You never wanted to take another life. You weren’t a murderer. But it didn’t matter. You had done it.

Because it’s what he wanted.

“I just... I just wanted him back,” you whimpered to no one, your voice raw and trembling. “The real Sharen. The caring Sharen. The man who loved me…” Your words dissolved into a guttural sob as you looked at your hands—shaking, bloodied, foreign.

But Sharen wasn’t that man anymore. He had become a monster, a hollow version of the man you loved. And to keep even the faintest glimmer of that love alive, you’d done unspeakable things for him. You’d slept with strangers to satisfy his whims. You’d pulled the trigger to line his pockets with blood money. All for him.

Your clothes clung to your skin, soaked through with the sticky warmth of the woman’s blood. The metallic tang filled your nose, making you gag. Your body felt as if it were crumbling under the weight of your crimes, yet your heart screamed for the life you had lost.

“For us!” you cried out, your voice echoing through the empty house. Your trembling hand went to your stomach, clutching protectively at the small swell there.

Lucifer watched in silence, unseen within the boundaries of your memory. His crimson eyes widened with horror as realization struck him like a lightning bolt. “She’s pregnant…” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. His hand flew to his mouth, unable to stifle the cry that threatened to escape. He wanted to save you, to pull you out of this nightmare, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He was trapped in your memory, forced to watch your pain unfold like a gruesome play.

“You don’t deserve this, Y/n,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “They care about you—Charlie, the others—they love you. Please, hold on.” But his words fell into the void, unheard and unacknowledged.

Your steps were heavy, dragging across the bloodstained floor as you made your way to the bedroom. Each footfall echoed in the silent house like the tolling of a death knell. Your hand hesitated on the cold iron door handle, but you pushed forward, your trembling grip turning it.

The sight inside was a knife to your already bleeding heart.

There he was. Sharen. The man you had given your heart, your body, your soul to. And he was entwined with another woman, their limbs tangled in an embrace so intimate it made your stomach churn.

“Sharen?” Your voice was weak, breaking on his name. You looked at him, your bloodied hands trembling at your sides, your hollow eyes pleading.

Sharen froze for a moment, his golden hair tousled and his perfect face clouded with irritation. He slipped away from the woman, wrapping a robe around his body with casual ease. His eyes scanned you with disgust, taking in the blood-soaked dress clinging to your form.

“God, look at you,” he sneered, his voice cold and venomous. “You’re pathetic.”

Your breath hitched as you took a step toward him. “I did what you told me to do,” you murmured, your voice cracking. “I did it for us, Sharen. So we could be together.”

Sharen stepped back, laughing bitterly. “You stupid bitch. You actually did it?” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. His laughter wasn’t warm—it was sharp, cruel, cutting into you like shards of glass. “Good thing I married such an obedient little lapdog.”

“Sharen… I… I love you,” you whispered, tears streaking down your bloodied cheeks.

His smile twisted into something monstrous as he reached for the knife on the nightstand. “Love?” he spat. “You think this is love? You’re nothing to me. Not as a wife, not even as a woman.”

The world tilted as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you down. You gasped, pain shooting through your scalp as his words hit you like a series of blows.

“And more disgrace,” Sharen spat, his voice dripping with venom as his cold eyes raked over you. “A mixed thing growing in your stomach. How utterly disgusting.”

You staggered back, clutching at your abdomen protectively. Tears blurred your vision, but you could still see the gleam of the knife in his hand as he took a step closer. “Sharen… please…” 

The words choked in your throat, thick with desperation.

But he wasn’t listening. 

He never listened.

The blade plunged into your stomach with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs. You screamed, a bloodcurdling sound that echoed off the walls, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. With a cruel twist of the knife, pain exploded through your body like fire, searing and unrelenting. Blood gushed from the wound, hot and sticky, soaking the front of your dress and pooling at your feet.

Your knees gave out, and you crumpled to the floor, clutching at the wound in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. “No… no, please…” you sobbed, the words barely audible over your gasps for air. “My baby… my baby!”

But he didn’t stop. Sharen kicked you savagely, the impact sending you sprawling across the blood-slicked floor. Your head struck the corner of a nightstand with a sickening crack, and stars danced in your vision. The pain in your womb was unbearable, a relentless reminder of the life being ripped away from you.

“My child…” you whimpered, your trembling hands pressed against your abdomen. Blood seeped through your fingers, warm and unyielding, as the reality of what he had done crashed over you like a tidal wave. “No… my baby…”

Your scream tore from the depths of your soul, raw and guttural, a sound of pure, unadulterated anguish. It echoed through the house, but it brought no help, no mercy. It was a scream for a life that would never be. A scream for the only thing that gave your shattered existence meaning.

Sharen sneered down at you, his face twisted into a mask of contempt. “How can someone like you be so damn annoying?” he hissed, his tone laced with disgust.

You didn’t have the strength to reply, didn’t have the air to scream again as the knife came down once more. This time, it pierced your throat.

Pain erupted anew, and you gurgled helplessly, blood spilling from your lips and staining the floor in crimson rivulets. You tried to scream, tried to cry out, but all that escaped was a wet, choking sound. Your hands clawed weakly at the floor, at him, at anything, but there was nothing left to hold onto.

Sharen leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “Farewell, you stupid bitch,” he hissed, his voice cruel and unfeeling. “Who could ever love someone like you?”

The final stab came with deliberate precision, the blade plunging into your skull. The pain was blinding, like shards of glass driving into your brain. Sharen used his full weight, forcing the knife deeper, the sickening sound of bone cracking filling the room.

Your body convulsed, every nerve screaming in agony, but you were too weak to fight back. The darkness crept in, slow and suffocating, as your vision blurred and your thoughts faded into nothingness.

There was one last snap—a grotesque, final note in the symphony of your suffering—and then, silence.

That was how you died.

Lucifer’s eyes widened in horror, the scene before him an unbearable tableau of carnage and despair. Blood pooled beneath her lifeless body, staining the ground a deep crimson, the metallic scent hanging heavy in the air. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground with a thud, his breath hitching as an agonizing whine escaped his throat. He had seen many things in his eternal existence, but this—this was a nightmare that cut deeper than any punishment he had ever endured.

He tried to speak, to form words of defiance or comfort, but all that emerged was a strained whimper. His gaze snapped upward at the figure looming above her broken body—Sharen, or what had been Sharen. The man stood tall, the flicker of a smirk curling his lips. But there was something wrong with him, something off.

Lucifer’s voice was low and trembled with fury. “You… you did this to her. You’re a monster.”

Sharen chuckled, the sound low and mocking, like the scrape of nails on stone. “A monster? Oh, Lucifer, you give me too much credit.” He leaned down slightly, his golden hair catching a faint, eerie glow from an unseen source. “Do you really think I’m Sharen?”

“What are you talking about?” Lucifer’s fists clenched against the floor, his voice tinged with desperation.

The figure straightened, an unsettling grin spreading across his face. His form began to shimmer and warp, the edges of his body blurring as though he were made of smoke. “I am not Sharen. I am her torment.” His voice was layered, a mix of Sharen’s tone and something far darker, more insidious.

Lucifer froze, his jaw tightening as the figure continued.

“I am not real. I am what she created in her mind to protect herself from the truth. To make sense of the pain, the loss, the destruction. I am her fear, her guilt, her self-loathing—and her hope twisted into despair.” The figure stepped closer, his movements fluid, unnaturally smooth. “And guess what, dear king…” His grin widened, a sinister glint in his eyes. “You’re part of me.”

Lucifer’s breath caught, his heart pounding as the figure’s form flickered again, and suddenly, he was staring into his own face. The same crimson eyes, the same cruel smirk—an exact, malevolent mirror of himself.

“You’re one of her tormentors, Lucifer,” the dark reflection sneered. “You are me.”

“No!” Lucifer’s voice thundered, his hands slamming against the floor as he surged to his feet. “I am nothing like you! I didn’t…” His words faltered, his memories flashing unbidden—of her screams, her tears, the fear in her eyes when his rage had burned out of control.

The dark Lucifer laughed, a sound that seemed to echo from every corner of the void. “Oh, but you did, didn’t you? You hurt her, you burned her. You broke her spirit when she tried to reach you.” The shadow leaned in close, its voice a whisper that wrapped around Lucifer like chains. “You and I are the same, King of Hell. Both of us destroy everything we touch.”

Lucifer recoiled, his hands trembling as he fought to push back the flood of guilt and memories. “No. I won’t accept that. I can still save her.”

The shadow smirked, folding its arms across its chest. “Save her?” it taunted, its voice dripping with malice. “Look at her. She’s gone. She’s dying, slipping away even as we speak. There’s no returning her from this. She’s too far gone. You’ve already lost.”

Lucifer’s eyes blazed with fury, a fire igniting deep within his chest. He stepped forward, his jaw set with determination. “Watch me.”

The shadow tilted its head, amusement glinting in its eyes. “Oh, Lucifer,” it purred. “You don’t understand. Saving her means more than pulling her body back to life. You’ll have to face the depths of her pain, her memories, her torment. You’ll have to face me.”

The void around them seemed to pulse, the darkness growing heavier, suffocating. The shadow began to dissolve into tendrils of smoke, its laughter echoing as it disappeared. “I’ll be waiting,” it hissed, the sound slithering into the air like a serpent. “You won’t survive her truths.”

Lucifer stood frozen, the weight of the challenge pressing down on him like a mountain. He turned back to her fragile form, lying broken on the blood-soaked ground. Her face was pale, her breath shallow, her soul flickering like a dying ember.

He knelt beside her, his fingers brushing against her cheek as his resolve hardened. “Y/n,” he whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and determination. “I’ll bring you back. Even if it destroys me, I’ll bring you back.”

The ground beneath him began to crack, the void itself splintering as if in protest. A sudden gust of wind whipped around him, and the world seemed to fracture, pieces of the memory falling away into nothingness.

And then, a voice—soft, broken, but unmistakable.

“Lucifer…”

His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto hers. Her lips barely moved, but the sound was there. Her soul was still there.

Before he could respond, the world crumbled around him, dragging him into the abyss once more.

I need a drink. This chapter was so hard to write. Anyway here is a little peak for the next chapter:

Lucifer’s voice cut through the chaos, urgent and filled with desperation. “It’s time, Y/n! Wake up! You have to wake up!” Your eyes widened as the world shattered around you. The torment let out one final, guttural roar before it was swallowed by the flames. The last thing you saw was Lucifer’s outstretched hand, his scarlet eyes blazing with determination.

💫

@ravensdecent36 @i-have-no-life-charlie @sirenetheblogger @concentratedconcrete @ylovei @cimadreamer @ayanazoldyck @froggybich @ravensdecent36 @fangthesandwing @luna-naoffcial @emilyispookie @aro-ace-asshole

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 9

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Ao3

Thank you once again to @azure7539arts for listening to me play relationship counselor for, like, an hour while I figured this chapter out &lt;3

-

It takes a bit of driving before Eddie finds Steve. 

He swings by Steve’s house just to be sure, then the overlook at the quarry, then the roadside where people park when they’re heading up to Skull Rock, then the park where Steve goes running sometimes, and then finally, begrudgingly, the lake. 

Which is where he spots Steve’s car. 

He parks next to the beemer and gets out, glancing out over the moonlit surface of the lake. He still doesn’t like it here; avoids it when he can. He wonders briefly, bitterly, if that’s why Steve chose to come here over anywhere else. 

Eddie shakes the thought away and approaches the shore, where he can see a figure standing, the light of the moon glancing off the pale fabric of a members only jacket. 

He isn’t quiet as he comes up behind Steve, letting his sneakers crunch across pebbles and dying grass to signal his arrival, and he watches as Steve bends to pick something up off the ground – a stone, Eddie realizes, as Steve draws back and flicks it out over the water, sending it skipping across the surface. 

It bounces two, three, four times, and then sinks into the water several yards out. 

“How’d you know I’d be here?” Steve asks without looking over as Eddie comes to stand next to him. 

Eddie doesn’t mention how many places he’d checked before coming here. Instead, he glances around and finds a smooth, flat stone of his own. “When you’re sad, you go to Robin,” he says (or me, he doesn’t say; you used to come to me), “but when you’re angry, you want to be alone, because it still scares you. You’re afraid you’ll say or do something you regret, and you won’t be able to take it back.” 

Eddie sends the stone skipping out over the lake; one, two, three jumps, and it sinks. 

Steve scoffs, picking another stone up out of the dirt. “Yeah, you know me so well,” he mutters. He doesn’t bother skipping the rock in his hand; he hurls it like a baseball over a field of water, where it lands and sinks with a loud plunk. “So fucking well.” 

“I thought I did,” Eddie says. “I thought I was doing alright, until tonight. That I could give you what you needed and make you feel like… like I see you.” 

“Dinner in the park was nice,” Steve mutters. “The diner date was a shitty idea.” 

“Yeah, I get that now,” Eddie replies ruefully. 

“I just– Where was all of this before?” Steve finally turns to look at him, eyes demanding in the silvery light. “You know all of this about me, you were paying attention and you saw all of this, but you just – what? Ignored how I was feeling, anyway?” 

“No,” Eddie says. “I didn’t– I wasn’t ignoring you, I was ignoring everything. You, me, the whole situation – I thought I had it figured out and I didn’t let myself think about it any other way.” Eddie pulls in a breath, trying to keep calm. “I’m not trying to make excuses, okay? I’m not saying it was okay, I know that I hurt you, and I’m trying to make up for it, and you keep saying you’ll let me, and then– and then I fuck up and you shut down again, and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

Steve glances away. He kneels down to pick up another rock, but doesn’t immediately throw it. Instead, he stands for a moment, worrying the surface of it with his thumb. 

“I’m sorry for jerking you around,” he says quietly. “That wasn’t fair. I thought I was ready, but I just– I still don’t understand why you’re doing this.” 

“I told you: I fucked up and I hurt you and I want to make it better–” 

“But why?” Steve pushes, looking back over at Eddie. “Why do you even want me? Is it that you miss the sex, or – just that I threatened to take everything away? Because I was there, for months, loving you, even before we slept together, and falling deeper after that, and you didn’t even notice. It wasn’t good enough for you then, so why is it suddenly good enough now?” 

Steve’s voice cracks, and a little piece of Eddie goes with it. 

“Steve, no. It was always good enough, you were always good enough.” Eddie turns and takes a step towards Steve, instinctively trying to bridge the gap between them; Steve doesn’t step away, but he watches Eddie warily. “I didn’t– I didn’t know what I was looking at. I didn’t understand.” 

Steve doesn’t say anything, just crosses his arms over his chest, stone still clutched, forgotten, in one hand. 

“I mean, it’s like I had the world’s most precious object in my hands, and I didn’t know what it was, and I used it as a fucking paperweight,” Eddie manages. “No one has ever loved me the way you did. No one has ever put as much work into – into making me feel good, making me happy, doing things for me and teaching me how to do them and – and bringing me fucking flowers. You’re like something out of a fucking storybook, Steve, and I didn’t think I would ever have or… deserve that, so I didn’t even let myself consider it. 

“And that’s not an excuse, I get it. It’s not. It’s just– it’s the only reason I can give you. And I’ve–” Eddie breaks off, takes a breath, and pushes on; Steve needs to hear all of it, deserves to hear all of it. “I’ve never been in love before. So even though it was sitting right on my fucking chest the entire time, I didn’t recognize it for what it was. It should’ve been all yours, but I couldn’t even name it, and I’m sorry.” 

Steve pulls in a sharp, shuddery breath at the end of Eddie’s confession, watching him now with wide and startled eyes. 

“Can you say it?” he asks softly. 

“What?” Eddie asks, thrown by the unexpected question. 

“Can you say it? Tell me that you love me?” Steve’s voice nearly chokes around the words, and he’s staring at Eddie with so much trepidation that it’s almost smothering out the hope that’s there beneath it. 

“I love you,” Eddie says automatically, without even having to think, because it’s true. “I love you. Of course I love you, Steve, holy shit. I love having you around, I love when you’re being selfless and kind and I love when you’re being petty and bitchy and I love when you listen to me and when you tell me about what you like and I love you when you’re in my bed and I love you when you’re angry at me and I can’t believe I’ve never said it before because now it won’t stop coming out–” 

The problem is solved when Steve takes two steps forward, drops the stone he’s been holding at their feet, puts one hand on Eddie’s jaw, leans in, and cuts him off with a kiss. And in spite of the words that had just been streaming from Eddie’s mouth, he has absolutely no trouble immediately getting with the program and kissing back. 

He can’t help the “I love you” that slips out when Steve pulls away, but then he grips the front of Steve’s jacket and reels him back in for another kiss. 

“I love you, I love you, I promise I do,” Eddie manages between presses of lips. “I’m going to show you every day if you let me, I will.” 

“Yeah,” Steve says shakily, finally breaking their connection so he can bury his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s middle and holding him tight. “Yeah, okay.” 

Eddie’s arms are around Steve’s shoulders in an instant, pulling him closer still. “Okay.” 

“I love you, too. I still do,” Steve says, a little muffled. 

Eddie inhales sharply. He’d had a feeling – Steve Harrington isn’t really the sort of person who ever stops loving someone, not really, but having it confirmed is like a burst of pleasant static in his chest. He lets one hand slide up over the back of Steve’s neck and into his hair, cradling his head, and Steve nuzzles in a bit closer, only to make Eddie flinch when the cold tip of his nose brushes his neck. 

“Jesus, you’re cold,” Eddie says, running his other hand down Steve’s back and finally noting how little body warmth seeps through his jacket. 

“Been out here a while,” Steve mumbles. “Told you I should’ve worn something heavier.” 

“Shit, uh–” Eddie ignores Steve’s annoyed little sigh when he’s forced to pull away so that Eddie can shimmy out of his battle jacket and hold it out for him. “Here. Might help.” 

Slowly, Steve lifts his hand to take the jacket, glancing up at Eddie and raising his eyebrows. “You wanna talk about recreating history…” 

For a long moment, Eddie stares, uncomprehending, until Steve’s eyes flick out towards the lake and then back towards the vest. 

“Oh, shit,” Eddie hisses. “Wait, no, I wasn’t trying to–” 

“Relax,” Steve cuts in, smirking as he shrugs the vest over his own jacket and then steps back into Eddie’s space. “I’m teasing.” 

Eddie tries to frown at Steve, but he can’t maintain it as Steve slips his arms under his leather jacket and around his waist and pecks him on the cheek. 

“You making fun of my chivalry, Harrington?” Eddie grumbles, slinging his arms back around Steve’s shoulders. 

“Little bit,” Steve answers, before resting his chin on Eddie’s shoulder and relaxing against him so heavily that Eddie has to readjust his center of gravity. 

They stand there on the shore for a bit longer, swaying together in the comfort of what they’ve both been missing, until Eddie’s fingers begin to get cold. The late October chill is starting to bite, and Eddie can feel the cool breeze coming in off the lake. 

“So…” Eddie says quietly, pulling reluctantly back from Steve; he knows they’ll need to go back to their cars soon, but he can’t leave without addressing one last thing. “If we’re really doing this... And– and we are?” 

Steve nods. “Yeah. I want– I really want to try again.” 

“Okay.” Eddie nods, unable to help the nearly reflexive little smile that quirks up at that. “Then I’m gonna do my best to be better and pay more attention, but I need you to tell me when you want something. When you need something.” He reaches up and cups Steve’s jaw, cold skin on cold skin, swiping his thumbs across Steve’s cheeks. “I know you’re not used to doing that with people, but I need you to. I want to give you what you want, but I can’t unless you tell me. Okay?” 

Slowly, Steve nods. “I’ll try,” he says, a little hoarse. 

Still smiling, Eddie leans in for a kiss, and Steve meets him halfway. 

It doesn’t last long; it’s dark, and they’re both cold and tired, and Steve is the first to pull away, heaving another put-upon sigh. 

“Okay, let’s go home,” he says, grabbing Eddie by the hand and leading him back towards where they’d parked. 

Eddie spends a moment furiously working the statement over in his head, trying to figure out what “home” means—Eddie’s place? Steve’s place? Each to their respective houses?—but he’s saved from having to ask when Steve glances back over his shoulder at him. 

“You go first, I’ll follow,” he says, and Eddie relaxes. 

Home it is. 

Though it genuinely hadn’t been his intent at the start of the evening, they do both end up in Eddie’s bed. Steve steals a set of Eddie’s pajamas and claims the same side of the mattress that he always has, and they both drift off curled into one another’s space. 

It’s the best Eddie’s slept in weeks.

Part 10

-

Tag List: (Currently full! Message me if you'd like off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e @pearynice @giverobinagfbrigade @novacorpsrecruit @hotluncheddie @strangersteddierthings @alongcomesaspider @theheadlessphilosopher @jettestar @rajumat @garden-of-gay @jamieweasley13 @dam28lh @oldwitcheshat @lololol-1234 @perfectlysensiblenonsense @salty-h0e @r0binscript @mavernanche @back2beesness @a-lovely-craziness @paintsplatteredandimperfect @redbullgivescaswings @emmabubbles @heartstarstar-blog @thesuninyaface @thatonebisexualman @fruitandbubbles @erinharvelle @m-owo-n @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @surroundedbyconfusion @luthienstormblessed @3ldr1tchang3l @pansexuality-activated

[simpingforstardew]

misty [chapter two]

pairing: sdv harvey x reader

synopsis: harvey has always been a man of routine and order— although just as he begins to tire of his life in pelican town, a new farmer moves to the valley and turns his life around. chapter two.

warnings: some angst in this one (tw/ description of familial death). pure fluff and romance; eventual smut, but that'll be tagged when the time comes !! please enjoy my harvey playlist while you read ♡ (this is crossposted from ao3).

word count: 1.6k

<< last chapter | next chapter >>

The Stardrop Saloon, bathed in the soft glow of warm, dim lighting, welcomes its patrons with a comforting ambiance. The air carried the distinct aroma of aged wood and the faint scent of a crackling fireplace, giving the bar a rustic charm. The gentle hum of conversation mixed with the mellow tunes emanating from the vintage jukebox, creating an intimate symphony that echoed throughout the space.

In the games lounge, a haven within the heart of the saloon, the atmosphere took on a relaxed and casual vibe. Two arcade machines stand as silent sentinels; their screens flicker with pixelated adventures. The soft glow of the games cast dancing shadows on the well-worn couches nearby, a testament to the countless conversations and moments that must have been shared over the years. Adjacent stands the pool table adorned with worn-out felt and scarred by countless games. A haphazard arrangement of colourful pool balls wait patiently for their turn, illuminated by the warm glow of an overhead light.

“What the fuck? Fired?” Shane’s disbelief echoed through the saloon, as the cue ball he hits ricochets off the side of the pool table, “Just like that?”

“Yep,” You chuckle— both at the absurdity of your own misfortune, and Shane’s awful shot “HR claimed my ‘extended bereavement’ could lead to ‘performance issues’ and ‘wasting company resources’… Whatever that means”

Shane let out a snort, taking a swig of his beer. “And here I thought working in retail was a special kind of hell. Turns out even the corporate suits have their own issues.”

You accepted the pool cue he passed your way, unable to resist a playful jab, “Thanks, Shane. You’re making me feel so much better.”

The short man scoffs, grabbing his beer from the table behind him to take a long sip. “Just sayin’, you dodged a bullet getting the fuck outta there.”

Chuckling, you circled the pool table, searching for the perfect shot, “Well, it’s not all bad. Getting the boot from Joja pushed me to embrace farm life here. Guess I’m lucky in a weird way.”

“Yeah, lucky you,” he deadpanned, though a glimmer of curiosity flickered in his eyes. His attempt at sarcasm faltered as your shot proved victorious, sinking the 8-ball with a delicate tap.

“Talk shit all you want, but it seems like my luck’s holding up pretty well considering I just wiped the floor with you.” You flashed a triumphant grin, leaning the pool cue against the wall. Shane’s stoic exterior cracked, and for a moment, a genuine smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Beginner’s luck,” he huffed, yet the twinkle in his eye hinted at a begrudging acceptance of your presence, “That kinda luck doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, yeah— A win is a win, Shane!” You shrug on your coat with a smile, heading towards the front door of the saloon, “You owe me a drink next time I’m here!”

Without turning to see Shane roll his eyes, you step out into the quiet darkness of the night. Your smile quickly fades as the door of the saloon swings shut, leaving behind the warmth of the bar. As you enter the town square, a serene hush settles over Pelican Town, its sett streets bathe in the soft, ambient glow of vintage street lamps scattered along the thoroughfare. The spring breeze carries the distant melody of an insectile symphony, the noise of crickets underscoring the serene ambiance that envelopes the town.

Strolling through unfamiliar streets under the moonlit sky, your steps echo against the rough cobblestones beneath you. Your shoulders are hunched against the night chill and your gaze remains fixed on the ground, a mosaic of uneven stones beneath your feet. Each step whispers a story of the town’s resilience, of seasons changing, and the curious rhythm of life in Pelican Town.

Once inside the farmhouse, however, you realize that you have made a grave misstep. Arranging for your grandfather’s funeral, clearing your new land of trees and shrubbery, drinking with the townsfolk— these had all allowed you to keep your hands busy and your mind blank. Now, alone in your dark farmhouse, you had no distractions from your new reality.

The house itself was bleak. Each attempt to redecorate felt like an intrusion— as if the space itself was resisting your efforts to make it feel like home. The bed stood as a lonely sentinel in the corner of the room, illuminated by the crackling flames of the fireplace on the furthest wall. The room itself was adorned with remnants of your grandfather’s presence; even your sleeping cat— Pixel— was the runt of your grandfather’s cat’s litter.

A small pot of forget-me-nots, once vibrant, now drooped listlessly on the windowsill. You reached out, your fingers gently brushing against the frail petals, a silent acknowledgment of the grief that clung to every corner of the room. You are at least blessed with a working CRT television, although with access to only two channels in the valley, the device feels like a relic of a bygone era.

A cold draft sweeps through the room as you look above the TV: the otherwise barren wall displays a single faded family photograph, featuring your late grandfather, grandmother, and you. The glass of the frame cracked during the move and the photograph itself never seems to hang straight. You move to bring the photograph down from its place on the wall, holding it delicately in your hands— as if it could shatter at any moment. The photograph captures a moment frozen in the sepia hues of nostalgia.

In the centre, your grandfather stands tall, a patriarchal figure with calloused hands cradling a newborn lamb. His eyes, warm and crinkled with a lifetime of stories, radiate a quiet wisdom that guided your childhood. Besides him, your grandmother’s hands gently cup a cluster of wildflowers. The fabric of her apron was slightly swept, caught in the breeze. In the foreground, you: a child with innocent eyes and a smile that mirrored the joy of the moment. Clutched in your small hands was a clumsy, makeshift bouquet. The backdrop was the farmhouse itself, standing proudly amidst a sea of greenery; the sun bathed the scene in a warm glow. Yet, even in this idyllic tableau, there lingered a subtle melancholy, as if the photograph itself harboured the prescience of inevitable goodbyes.

The frame, once resplendent, now bears the scars of time—a crack here, a chip there. The glass that shields the captured memories has grown cloudy, as if the passage of years had draped a delicate veil over the faces of those who once shared laughter under the farmhouse’s sturdy roof. A sob escapes your throat as a tear splashes on the glass of the portrait; hesitantly, you place the photograph on top of your small table. You take a step back. You chuckle solemnly, wiping your eyes using the back of your sleeves as you yawn.

Pixel mews softly, as you climb into the cold sheets of your bed, before falling back to sleep. The silence of the farmhouse envelopes you like a weighted blanket, as moonlight floods through the windows of the farmhouse. It seemed that sleep was becoming increasingly elusive as you tossed and turned in bed.

The gratitude for your budding friendship with Elliot and Shane brings a bittersweet comfort, as you stare up at the ceiling, watching the way the moonlight casts a silver glow above. Elliot was the first person in the valley to approach you. His efforts to get to know you eased your anxiety about the new town. Shane was a tough nut to crack, but you suppose any stranger is your friend after too many beers— at the very least, you had a new drinking buddy.

The doctor you met before entering the saloon flashes through your mind as your eyes flutter shut.

‘Harvey,’ You mentally correct yourself, ‘His name is Harvey… and he doesn’t like decaf.’ You softly exhale, a smile tugging at your lips. He was… cute? A little bashful, sure, but he was more than gorgeous enough to make up for his nerves. Your face heats up thinking about his broad, towering figure; and the way his moustache curls up with his coy grin; and the way his dimpled, freckled cheeks blush so intensely when you look into his forest green eyes…

You turn to cover your face in your firm pillow, attempting to control your wondering thoughts; eventually, your breathing slows and your blush fades as you finally drift off.

[cssns]

The FINAL YEAR of the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer is behind us, so it's time for the CSSNS24 Event Roundup!!!

Does anyone else need a min? I know I do...

Before we get to the roundup itself, I have to give the LOUDEST OF SHOUT OUTS and GROUP HUG to the team of mods - @winterbaby89 @jrob64 @stahlop and @ultraluckycatnd - who helped me EVERY STEP OF THE WAY!!! This event absolutely wouldn't have happened without them and I'm sooooo grateful that they stepped up to the plate to make this final event a success!!! Thank you all soooo much, ladies!!!!

Also as part of this final roundup, I want to share all the links to all the other event roundups that have been reblogged the last few weeks. This has been an PHENOMENAL ride over all these years and I'm so grateful for all the love and support y'all have given it!! And now, all of the fics and art from all of the years will be in one place!!

CSSNS18

CSSNS19

CSSNS20

CSSNS21

CSSNS22

CSSNS23

Thank you all again for EVERYTHING all these years!!! Its been an honor and privilege to man the helm for most of these years, but it certainly wouldn't have lasted as long as it has without the contributions of all the participants and the enthusiasm of the audience!!!! So thank you all from the bottom of my heart!!!

And now, on to the roundup!!!! Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

I opened us up this year on July 2 with the first of two contributions I prepared for this final event. The Arena was a short and - kinda, maybe, not so much overall, but def by the end - sweet werewolf oneshot with breathtaking artwork by @motherkatereloyshipper !!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On July 5, @exhaustedpirate posted a not-so-short and extra sexy werewolf fic, In Your Moonlit Eyes, with wonderful artwork by @thejollyroger-writer.

On Tumblr

On ao3

On July 7, @whatevenisthisbloganymore posted the first chapter of a fae fic, Where Idle Feet Wander. Princess Emma of the EF finds herself in the Fae lands and needs help to return home. The first ch was fantastic and I can't wait to see where the journey takes us!

On ao3

On July 9, @jrob64 posted the first chapter of her ghost hunter Killian fic, Ghosted, with artwork provided by yours truly, manips of Neal and Liam courtesy of @motherkatereloyshipper! Now complete with five chapters, Joni took us on QUITE a spooky ride!! Don't read before going to bed at night!!!

Ch1 on Tumblr

On ao3

On July 13, @grimmswan updated both of her fics from last year, Dracula in Storybrooke and Love Bites (But So Do I). Both of these fics are SO MUCH FUN and we are getting very close to their conclusions!!

Dracula in Storybrooke on Tumblr on ao3

Love Bites on Tumblr on ao3

On July 14 @anmylica posted an update to last years fic, Fly With the Black Swan, her alternate telling of the Dark Swan arc. Now three chs in, this is an absolutely beautiful tale so far and I can't wait for more of it!!! Artwork by @zaharadessert

On ao3

On July 15, @theartofdreaming1 posted original artwork for the event featuring mermaid Emma!!! Absolutely beautiful work brought me to tears!!

On July 17, @mie779 posted an alternative take on episode 3x17 The Jolly Roger featuring merman Killian!! Don't Kiss and Tail, a fantastic and utterly delightful what if fic!!! Lovely banner by @iamstartraveller776.

On Tumblr

On ao3

On July 17, @goforlaunchcee updated last year's fic, Smoke and Mirrors, with absolutely perfect artwork by @piinfeathers!! A ghost/witch story, it's an absolute HOOT and I'm always so happy when she updates!! Now up to ch7.

On Tumblr

On ao3

On July 19, @snowbellewells posted the first of her two offerings for this year's event, On Wings of Storm, with magnificent artwork by @motherkatereloyshipper !!! A beautiful one shot that left me in tears of joy!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On July 25, @laianely posted the first chapter of her crime mystery No Rest for the Immortals with artwork by @captainswan-kellie (x) and herself (x). A murder mystery featuring vampire Killian, I am BESIDE myself every time she updates. Now on ch7.

On Tumblr

On ao3

On July 27, @xarandomdreamx posted the first chapter of her fic, The Kiss of Life with beautiful artwork provided by @motherkatereloyshipper!! Ohhh, she killed me sharing snippets on discord and the whole chapter did not disappoint!!!! Cannot wait for more of this!!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 4, I posted my second fic for the event, Return to Me, again with stunning artwork by @motherkatereloyshipper !! Since the whole purpose of this event was to bump up the number of werewolf and vampire CS fics, and I'd already posted a werewolf fic this year, I came up with a fic that I thought the original Dracula was kinda about. Turns out that I was very wrong. But anyway, it was a lot of fun to write.

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 6, @belovedcreation posted the first chapter of an epic werewolf fic, Can I Be Your Werewolf? featuring lovely artwork from @mie779!! 33 chapters that she just finished posting TODAY, it was an awesome ride from start to finish!!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 8, @everything-person shared with us a smorgasbord of ideas that she came up with, but real life intervened and she wasn't able to write full fics for them. HOWEVER, she did make art for them all and shared a snippet of where she wanted to go with each one. Each one was absolutely fantastic and I hope there will come a day when she is able to write the fics and share them with us!!

On Tumblr

On Aug 10, @jonesfandomfanatic posted the first two chs of her fic, Into the Parallel. Now on ch6 of 7, this is an incredible time travel/realm jumper fic that I am absolutely in love with!!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 16, @exhaustedpirate posted her second fic of the event, Haunted By the Ghost of You, again with beautiful artwork by @thejollyroger-writer. The first chapter was lovely and heartbreaking in equal measure and I cannot wait to see the happy ending she has promised me will happen. Someday...

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 21, @snowbellewells submitted her second fic of the event, For All Life and For All Time, this fic actually inspired by Dracula. The first of three chs is currently up and I cannot wait to see more of it!!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 22, @hollyethecurious posted the first chapter of Once Upon a Grimm, her incredible fic using the lore and some storylines of the TV series Grimm featuring Once characters. @eastwesthomeisbest provided the gorgeous artwork!! We are now two chs in and I can already tell, we are in for a really fun ride!!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 24, @wyntereyez posted a second fic to her series Bats In the Belfry. This year's fic, Wool of Bat and Tongue of Dog is a MC and a fantastic follow-up to A Little Batty from last year!!! Artwork by @jrob64 .

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 25, @cocohook38 posted her artwork for last years fic by @iamstartraveller776 To Cleave Destiny. We only have the first ch of the fic posted, but it's amazing already and Jules artwork just gives me chills!!!

Artwork post on Tumblr

Fic on ao3

On Aug 26, @eastwesthomeisbest posted a series of manips of Emma Dressed in Blood. Literally took my breath away!!! Gorgeously creepy!!!

On Tumblr

On Aug 29, @zaharadessert posted the Prologue of her fic, Forget Me Not, with a lovely moodboard made by @exhaustedpirate . This first chapter sets up quite a mystery and I can't wait to see where she goes with this!!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

On Aug 30, @deckerstarblanche posted the final chapter of last year's fic, An Offer She Can't Refuse, with artwork by @undercaffinatednightmare. A super sexy Omegaverse fic, I was soooo thrilled she came back to give CS the happy ending they deserve!!!

On Tumblr

On ao3

Our last fic of the event, Scattered Earth (Mortua Terra), posted just yesterday. Real life intruded and kept @dykelilypage from finishing her fic until last week, but I told her that if she could get it in before I posted the roundup, I'd still include it, and boy did she deliver!!! The fic was absolutely incredible!!! Supernatural investigative reporters Emma Swan and Killian Jones team up to solve a mystery. Utterly perfect artwork done by @eastwesthomeisbest

On Tumblr

On ao3

Well, that's it, y'all!! Our FINAL CSSNS has come to an end!!

Everyone take a moment, take a deep breath, and join me in expressing your appreciation to all the participants this year and over the last six for giving us such PHENOMENAL, INCREDIBLE, FANTASTIC supernatural stories!!! There are still many fics from past years that the authors are still active in fandom and plan on continuing whenever they get a chance. And to that end, this blog is not going anywhere. Whenever an update to a fic posts, I'll be right here to read, flail, and reblog.

Until then, y'all!!!

[amongemeraldclouds]

better than revenge | chapter six: twelve days of christmas

Summary: Flashback, spending your winter break with Mattheo Riddle.

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Warning: smut, 18+ minors dni, fluff. Smut is just short and not detailed given the format of this chapter so lower your expectations haha.

Author's note: If you read this as part two of chapter three and discard the rest, Mattheo will continue to be your boyfriend. No heartbreak.

I wanted to try writing in a different format where I can showcase how your relationship with Mattheo developed over the course of winter break in just one chapter. It was fun writing this!

♡ main masterlist

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

I just wish I could forget when it was magic.

Day 1: Brand new day

“Good morning sunshine,” Mattheo says in a sleepy voice. I blink, why is there a boy beside me in bed?  Memories of last night return - of broken bones, healing spells, and snarky comments. “How do you feel?” I ask, noting the absence of yesterday’s cuts and scrapes. “Never been better,” he smiles, rising from bed. “To thank you, my kind savior, I must take you out for tea and biscuits. Or hot chocolate, if you prefer.” I narrow my eyes in distrust, “why are you being nice to me?” “We got off on the wrong foot yesterday,” he explains, “on account of all the bleeding. But today is a new day. Let’s start over?”

Day 2: Stargazing

“Riddle, you’ll be the death of me! You can’t just apparate me everywhere!” “I wanted to show you the view from the roof,” he says, laying down the blanket he brought along.  I look around and gasp at the panoramic view of moonlit castles and bodies of water, flames flickering in the winter air. “It gets even better,” he smiles at my amazement, “look up.” I lay down beside him and marvel at the twinkling stars. He leans in, “if you stare long enough, you could pretend you’re floating among the stars.” I look at him then and at his quiet smile. He has no idea his eyes reflect the same beauty he tries to impress me with. 

Day 3: Chocolate vices

“Do you want one?” He asks, offering me a cigarette. “No thanks, I actually like my lungs.” He snickers, “hey, it helps me relax.” “It’s okay, I’m not judging you.” “So no vices at all?” He asks, “alcohol, drugs, whatever?” “Nope, I don’t like feeling out of control. But does chocolate count? I have a notoriously sweet tooth.”

Day 4: Snow bombs

“Take this!” I say, hurling a ball of snow at Mattheo. It catches him square at his shoulder. “Oh you’re going to regret that,” he says, picking up a pile of snow. I run away but he manages to catch my leg. I duck behind a statue, gathering the next snowball. 

Day 5: A quiet day

“This is all your fault,” he says, sniffling into the tissue. I sneeze in response. “We’ve already taken the potion, we’ll be fine by tomorrow.” I snuggle deeper into the blanket, fighting the fever chill in my bones. Mattheo tucks me in his arms. “Come here, we’ll keep each other warm.”

Day 6: Pillow thoughts

“Why do I keep waking in bed with you?” Mattheo asks. “Then stop sleeping beside me,” I wave him off, sleep clouding my mind. I don’t want to, he thinks.

Day 7: Cold hands, warm hearts

“Merry Christmas!” I beam brightly at Mattheo, placing a neatly wrapped present in his hand. “Um, it’s not yet Christmas?” He states, turning the package over in his hands. “Open it!” I urge. “It’s tradition with my mum to give presents early back when she was around. So you have more time to enjoy them.” “Um, thank you.” He tears the package open and wraps the emerald green scarf around him. “Nice and warm, did you make this?” I nod, “with magic!” I wave my wand around. “Do you like it?” He’s quiet for a few moments. “Yes! It’s just…it’s the first time I’ve received a Christmas present. The dark lord doesn’t really do Christmas, it’s why I’m here at winter break.” he waves his hands awkwardly. “We can make it a yearly tradition?” “I’d like that,” he smiles.

Day 8: For the love of eggs

She swore she would never fall in love. Not after seeing what it did to others. Love is all consuming, it takes everything and leaves you hollow when it’s gone. But sitting across him, eating eggs for breakfast, she didn’t think it would be so bad.

Day 9: Frigid hazards

He watched her skate across the pond, hair flying in the wind. She once said he would be the death of her. He thinks it’s the opposite.

Day 10: A flower blooms in winter

“Can I kiss you?” I ask Mattheo. His face lights up. “It would be my pleasure.” 

Day 11: Maybe it’s worth the risk

“Will you be my girlfriend?” “I thought you’d never ask.”

Day 12: Never have I ever before

“Mattheo, please,” I beg. “Please what, baby? Use your words,” he commands. “I need to feel you.” I gasp. “Breathe, angel. It’s okay, you can take it.” I nod, gripping the sheets and feel myself adjust to him. “Good girl, you’re doing so well.” He laces his fingers through mine and kisses my lips, moving into me again. “We’ll start slow, we’ve got all night.”

Christmas Day: On thin ice

“Matty, I’m scared.” “What’s wrong, love?” His brow furrows. “I want this, I want you. But so many things can go wrong,” I say, waving my hands around. “Don’t worry,” he says, brushing my hair from my face. “I won’t hurt you.” “Promise?” “Promise.”

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

♡ main masterlist

A/N: We're just three chapters away from the canon ending, then there will be a bonus alt ending. Stay tuned!

Taglist: @hoeforvinniehackerrr @i-think-you-are-gr8 @thecraziestcrayon @adreamingpendulum @themarauderswife7 @midsoulz @ultramarinetovelvet @val-writes @lafrone @daisiesformylove @mildly-delulu @allebasi05 @enha-stan @skb4000 @nat1221 @s0urw00lf

[doumadono]

Warnings: violence, viking!Dabi, viking!Shoto, earl!Endeavor, viking!Hawks, fem!reader, viking themes, seer!Mirko, blood

Summary: the Earl sought counsel from the seer, seeking guidance after Shoto's proposition to send him and Touya on a mission to the north. Concerned about the rumors surrounding the mission, you resolved to extract information directly from Shoto

Word count: circa 6.5k

A/N: if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know ♥

MASTERLIST KVITRAVN - MHA VIKING AU

PREVIOUS CHAPTER • NEXT CHAPTER

ACT III - SEEKING ANSWERS

The cold winds of late autumn swept through the rugged hills as earl Endeavor rode toward the dwelling of the renowned seer, Mirko. His thoughts were consumed by the intriguing proposition his youngest son, Shoto, had presented regarding a land rich in goods. The idea of sending his eldest son, Touya, to oversee this promising territory crossed the earl's mind, a strategic move that could secure his settlement's prosperity.

Upon reaching Mirko's abode, the atmosphere seemed to change. The air grew thick with an otherworldly aura, and the eerie silence made the settlement's seer even more intimidating. Mirko was a young woman with a fearsome reputation, her presence alone sending shivers down the spines of those who sought her guidance. Mirko was not beautiful in the conventional sense; her appearance held an unsettling allure. Long, wild locks framed her face, and her eyes, intense and piercing, seemed to hold secrets of both past and future. Tribal markings adorned her skin, marking her as a conduit to the spiritual realm.

Earl Endeavor, a man hardened by battles and strategic decisions, felt a twinge of uncertainty as he approached the seer.

Mirko's dwelling, draped in dark fabrics and adorned with symbols, exuded an aura of mysticism. She welcomed him with a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with ancient wisdom. "My lord," she spoke, her voice a haunting melody, "what brings you to seek the guidance of the unseen?"

Endeavor hesitated momentarily before speaking. "I come seeking counsel, Mirko. My youngest son has spoken of a land rich in goods. I contemplate sending my eldest, Dabi, to oversee it. What do you foresee in the tapestry of fate?"

Mirko, seated in the midst of her mystical domain, gestured for Endeavor to sit.

Endeavor unfolded his plan, explaining the potential prosperity and influence this land could bring. "I intend to send Dabi to ensure our dominance over this territory. What do your visions reveal?"

The air thickened with an unspoken power, and her haunting hums echoed through the room. The earl observed, a sense of unease settling over him as he witnessed the seer's transformation.

Her eyes closed, Mirko began to sway rhythmically, her body guided by an unseen force. The haunting melody of her hums intensified, creating an otherworldly atmosphere within the sacred space.

Endeavor found himself being on the precipice of something beyond his understanding.

Her voice carried a spectral melody, and the room seemed to pulse with an unseen heartbeat. Mirko's eyes, still closed, painted visions of impending doom with her words.

"In darkness veiled, the land awaits, Echoes of sorrow, at destiny's gates. A wolf, fierce, prowls in the night, A dance with death, a sinister delight."

The seer's hands moved gracefully through the air, as if conducting an unseen symphony of fate. Her words painted vivid images of a land consumed by shadows and the imminent clash between two primal forces.

"An eagle, majestic and bold, Descends from heights, its destiny foretold. A battle fierce, 'neath the moonlit gleam, In shadows cast, where spirits teem."

The eagle and wolf, symbols of opposing forces, danced in the tapestry of Mirko's vision. The room echoed with the weight of her words, each rhyme a forewarning etched in the annals of fate.

"Blood on feathers, and darkness entwined, A struggle unfolds, destinies aligned. In the land cursed, where choices are made, The echo of battle, in shadows will fade."

"What does it mean?!" The earl growled loudly. "Tell me, now!"

As Mirko's body moved, a voice emerged from her lips, yet it seemed detached, as if another entity spoke through her. The words, laden with an eerie resonance, foretold a grim fate awaiting those who ventured into the land Shoto had spoken of. "The path you tread is bathed in blood, earl Endeavor. Death dances upon the horizon, and shadows darker than the night itself await those who dare to grasp the threads of destiny."

Endeavor felt a chill coursing through him. Mirko's words seemed like a macabre prophecy, a dire warning wrapped in a melody that resonated with the spirits of the unseen.

"Blood will stain the soil, and death will be the echo that reverberates through the ages. The spirits speak of a land cursed by the choices of the living," Mirko continued, her voice carrying the weight of the ethereal.

Endeavor, despite his stoic exterior, couldn't shake the disquiet settling in his chest. Mirko, in her trance, spoke as if guided by forces beyond mortal comprehension. The grim portrait she painted clashed with the earl's visions of conquest and prosperity.

As Mirko's humming reached a haunting crescendo, she opened her eyes, the once vacant gaze now piercing through the fabric of fate. The trance lifted, leaving the seer standing before Endeavor, a conduit between the living and the unseen.

"The spirits have spoken, my lord. The path ahead is shrouded in darkness, and the choices you make will echo through the very essence of time," Mirko uttered, her words lingering in the air like an unspoken decree from the spirits themselves.

Endeavor leaned forward, his expression stern. "Speak plainly, Mirko."

Mirko's voice carried a weight beyond the present. "The flames may consume not only the intended but all who stand too close. Choices shape destinies," the woman replied mysteriously.

Endeavor emerged from Mirko's dimly lit hut, the weight of her prophecy hanging in the air like a shroud of uncertainty. The pale light of the moon bathed the settlement nearby in an eerie glow as the earl took a moment to collect his thoughts.

Silence enveloped him, broken only by the distant sounds of the night. Endeavor closed his eyes, reflecting on the words Mirko had spoken. Despite the foreboding visions, a resolute determination burned within him. He knew the risks, but the allure of wealth and power beckoned him forward.

Turning to Mirko, he offered a nod of gratitude. "Thank you for your insights, Mirko. May the spirits guide us through the shadows." As a token of appreciation, Endeavor gently took Mirko's palm in his hands and pressed a grateful kiss upon it.

The seer's eyes, still veiled in the mystery of her visions, met his with a knowing gaze.

Mounting his horse, Endeavor set forth, determined to confront the future that awaited him. The night held its breath as Endeavor rode back to the settlement, a lone figure against the canvas of the darkened landscape. The journey ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but the ember of ambition burned brightly within him, lighting the path toward the destiny he sought.

Dabi sat in the dimly lit corner of the tavern, his presence almost like a shadow against the flickering candlelight. The rhythmic sound of a whetstone against his sword filled the air, a comforting repetition that matched the beat of his troubled thoughts.

The raucous atmosphere of the tavern buzzed around him, but the glances thrown his way were not ones of admiration or desire. The courtesans, usually attentive to potential patrons, seemed to cast him disgusted looks. Even though he was the heir to the earldom, the one who would sit on the throne after his father's eventual passing, they all were disgusted by him. His status brought him no favors in this realm of longing and fleeting connections.

Dabi's eyes occasionally flickered across the room, catching those disdainful glares. He couldn't deny the sharp pang in his chest — a mix of frustration and a longing for a connection he had been denied for so long. He had grown accustomed to rejection, so much so that he had stopped actively seeking companionship. Still, the yearning for the warmth and softness of a woman's touch lingered, a desire he had learned to bury deep within.

As he took a swig of ale, the bitter taste seemed to mirror the bitterness that had settled in his heart. Dabi continued to polish his sword, the repetitive motion a way to distract himself from the disapproving looks that haunted him. In the midst of the crowded tavern, he remained a solitary figure, surrounded by people but untouched by the warmth of human connection.

The loud thud echoed through the quiet walls of the Great Hall, jolting you awake from your shallow slumber. Concern etched across your face as you rushed out of the room you shared with Hilda, following the source of the commotion. The dimly lit corridor led you to Dabi's chamber, where you found him struggling to regain his balance, a victim of the ale's intoxicating effects.

"Easy there," you said, your voice soft but laced with genuine concern. "Need a hand?"

Dabi looked up at you, his turquoise eyes momentarily clouded with confusion before recognition set in. He grunted in agreement, accepting your offered help. Together, you steadied him, and he leaned against the wall for support. The flickering light from the fireplace cast a warm glow on both of you, creating an unexpected intimacy in that late-night encounter.

"Thanks," he mumbled, his usual aloofness momentarily giving way to a hint of vulnerability. The moment was fleeting, but it lingered in the air as you helped him back into his chamber.

You assisted Touya onto his bed. The warmth of the hearth seemed to soften the edges of the usually stern and enigmatic man. However, as you turned to leave, his hand shot out, gently grasping your wrist. When you met his eyes, you were met with a vulnerability that seemed to pierce through his usual façade.

"Stay," he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of desperation.

You hesitated. The rules that governed your roles in this Viking settlement were clear, and getting too close to someone of higher standing could invite trouble. Yet, the sadness in his eyes and the unspoken plea tugged at your empathy.

"I… I shouldn't," you started, but he tightened his grip ever so slightly.

"Please," he whispered, his tone a mixture of loneliness and longing.

In that moment, you found it difficult to resist. Against your better judgment, you stayed, settling on a bed beside him. The room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

Touya's eyes never left yours.

The room was shrouded in shadows, and the warmth of the fire seemed to cocoon you and Touya in a fragile bubble of shared vulnerability.

With a hesitant yet genuine smile, Touya broke the silence. "Tell me about your homeland," he requested, his eyes showing a glimmer of curiosity.

His request hung in the air like a delicate thread, and you couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh before responding. "You want to hear about the place you tore me away from? Like a flower ripped out of the life-giving soil?" Your words held a weight, a mix of resentment and sorrow.

Touya met your gaze, his expression carrying the burden of understanding the pain he had caused. "Yes," he admitted, his voice low and sincere.

In the flickering glow of the fire, you began to weave a tale of your homeland. Your words painted a vivid picture of quaint cottages with thatched roofs, their walls weathered by the salty breeze that swept in from the sea. The narrow cobblestone streets echoed with the laughter of children playing and the rhythmic sounds of craftsmen honing their skills. "Near the shore, where the cliffs stood tall and proud, we built a small chapel—a haven of solace and prayer. Its stone walls echoed with hymns, and the air was filled with the scent of incense," you recounted, your voice carrying the nostalgia of a place left behind.

As you spoke, Touya's piercing eyes remained fixed on you, absorbing every detail of this distant world he never truly understood. The contrast between the harsh Viking settlements and the idyllic Christian village seemed stark.

"The coastline, painted in hues of blue and gray, witnessed the ebb and flow of tides. Fishing boats set sail at dawn, their sails billowing in the morning breeze, while the cliffs provided a vantage point for the villagers to gaze upon the vast horizon," you continued.

Touya's features softened as he envisioned the serene landscape you described, a world far removed from the tumultuous life he had known. Touya's eyes closed, a faint smile gracing his lips as he absorbed the essence of your words. "You must have been missing the place ever since," he pointed out, the words carrying a gentle understanding of the yearning that comes with reminiscing about a home left behind.

You nodded quietly, the flames of a fireplace reflecting in your eyes. "Indeed. The memories are like whispers of a distant melody, a reminder of a life that once was. I can almost feel the salt-laden wind against my face, hear the distant hymns in the chapel. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, I close my eyes and pretend I'm back there, surrounded by the familiar comforts of home."

Touya's smile faded, replaced by a somber expression, as the echoes of your quiet sobbing reached his ears. He opened his eyes, and there he found you, tears streaming down your cheeks, your gaze fixated on the dancing flames in the fireplace.

His heart constricted with an unexpected ache. A flicker of empathy illuminated his usually guarded gaze.

"But it is all gone. All gone. You and your people took everything from me. And now I'm here, locked in a cage of a shadow of something once called life. Apparently, this was God's plan for me," your voice carried a weight of bitterness and sorrow.

His gaze softened as he watched you, the firelight casting shadows on your tear-streaked face. "Gods have their own way of weaving destinies, entangling lives in threads that stretch across time and space. Perhaps, just perhaps, there's a reason our paths crossed in this tumultuous journey."

You gave Touya a searching look, the flickering firelight dancing in your eyes, and asked, "What do you mean? Why would the God bring me here, to this… place of captivity?"

Touya looked at you with a glint of intensity in his eyes. "Our gods are different, you know. Freya, Odin, they're not like your Christian God. They're not confined to a single doctrine. They're free, just like the wind that sweeps through these icy lands. And I believe, with all my heart, that the Allfather sent me to your village for a reason, and that reason was you."

You couldn't help but snort at his words. "You're drunk, Touya. Those gods of yours aren't guiding anything. I'm here because of the whims of men, not gods."

Touya locked eyes with you, his gaze intense and filled with unspoken emotions. Slowly, he wrapped his arm around you, drawing you closer until there was barely any space between you. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "You're beautiful."

His breath sent shivers down your spine, and before you could fully comprehend his words, his lips boldly found yours. Shock coursed through you at the unexpected kiss, your first taste of such intimacy. The heavy scent of alcohol lingered on his tongue, but amidst the surprise, you felt a strange warmth. You hesitated at first, unsure of how to respond, but the gravity of the moment pulled you in.

As the kiss continued, you found yourself brushing your lips against his, a hesitant exploration of uncharted territory. The flickering firelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, bearing witness to a connection that transcended the roles you were assigned in this harsh world.

The following day, Endeavor summoned Dabi to his side, his face stern and determined. The air in the room felt heavy with an unspoken gravity as Dabi approached his father. "Touya," Endeavor began, his voice cutting through the silence, "I have a mission for you."

Dabi's eyebrows furrowed in curiosity and apprehension. "What kind of mission?" he inquired, his gaze fixed on Endeavor.

Endeavor's eyes bore into his son's, revealing a mix of authority and expectation. "You, Shoto, and a selected group of warriors, including Hawks, will be sent to the northern part of Sweden. There's a land there with potential, rich in resources. It's time to expand our influence, and you're crucial to this endeavor."

Dabi nodded, acknowledging the weight of the task ahead. The mention of Shoto and Hawks in the same mission stirred a sense of unease, but he kept his emotions in check. "Understood," he replied, his tone resolute.

Endeavor continued to lay out the details of the mission, his plans unfolding as a complex web of politics, power, and strategy.

Little did Dabi know that this journey would lead to unforeseen challenges, testing not only his strength as a warrior but also the bonds that held his family together.

Hilda approached you with a furrowed brow, a concerned expression etched across her features. The flickering light of the torches in the chamber cast shadows that danced upon the walls as she spoke. "Y/N, I need to talk to you," she said in a hushed tone.

You looked up, sensing the seriousness in her voice. "What is it, Hilda?" you asked, your eyes reflecting a blend of curiosity and apprehension.

She took a moment before responding, choosing her words carefully. "I think I just need a listening ear. Touya is going on another mission. But what worries me more is that Shoto, his younger brother, is being sent alongside him."

You furrowed your brows, recognizing the tension between the two brothers. "Isn't that a cause for concern? They don't exactly get along, do they?"

Hilda nodded solemnly. "No, they don't. The earl's decision to send them together is raising suspicions. It's a risky move, and I fear it might not bode well for the stability of the mission."

Concern etched across your face as you contemplated the potential consequences of such a decision. The dynamics between the two brothers were already strained, and sending them on a mission together seemed like a recipe for conflict. Hilda's worry mirrored your own, and the uncertainty of the future weighed heavily on both your minds.

You finished brushing your hair, the strands flowing smoothly through the comb. The flickering candlelight in your chamber created a soft ambiance, but your thoughts were far from the present moment. Hilda's words echoed in your mind, and the worry for Touya settled like a heavy stone in your chest.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to Hilda, who was quietly arranging some furs in a corner of the room. "Hilda," you began hesitantly, "is there really nothing we can do for Touya? I can't shake off this feeling of unease."

Hilda paused, her gaze meeting yours. The lines on her face spoke of years of experience and wisdom. "Y/N, sometimes the currents of fate are beyond our control. All we can do is navigate the waters as best we can. Right now, the best course is to stay vigilant and hope for the best."

You nodded, understanding the weight of her words. The unpredictable nature of the situation left you feeling powerless, and it frustrated you. "But what if something happens to him? What if Shoto…"

Hilda placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We can't predict the future, dear. All we can do is be prepared for whatever comes our way. Keep an eye on the situation, and if there's an opportunity to help, we'll take it. For now, focus on your tasks and be vigilant."

You sighed, acknowledging the wisdom in her advice.

Hilda observed you with a shrewd gaze, her eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of concern. As you finished your nightly routine and settled onto the furs, she couldn't help but voice the question that lingered in her mind. "Y/N," the woman began, her voice gentle yet probing, "forgive me if I overstep, but your interactions with Touya have been minimal. Why this sudden concern for him?"

You hesitated for a moment, considering your words carefully. The truth was, your initial reservations about Dabi were not baseless, but something about Touya's vulnerability had stirred a different emotion within you. You looked at Hilda, deciding to share a part of your thoughts. "I may not like him, but I can't shake off the feeling that there's more to Touya than what meets the eye. The way he spoke about his past, about losing everything, it resonated with me. It's not pity, Hilda, but a sense of understanding, maybe empathy. And now, knowing he's going on this dangerous mission alongside Shoto, it's hard to ignore the worry."

Hilda's smirk widened as she spoke, her eyes glinting with a mischievous light. "Oh, my dear, I can see your cheeks flushing when you speak about him so fondly. You're having a crush, am I right?"

Hilda's smirk didn't go unnoticed, and you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. Her teasing words struck a nerve, and a flicker of irritation danced in your eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hilda. It's just concern for a fellow human being," you retorted, your tone defensive.

Hilda chuckled softly, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Concern, my dear, often wears a different face. There's no shame in admitting you care for him. After all, this world is full of unexpected twists, isn't it?"

You pursed your lips, attempting to maintain composure. Deep down, you knew there was a kernel of truth in Hilda's words. The concern for Touya had indeed taken a different form, and your heart acknowledged a connection that transcended mere worry. Yet, admitting it to yourself felt like navigating uncharted waters.

Ignoring Hilda's knowing gaze, you turned away, feigning disinterest. But within, a storm of conflicting emotions raged, and you couldn't deny the impact Touya had made on your guarded heart.

As the night wore on, sleep eluded you. Tossing and turning in your simple bed, a peculiar yet potentially useful idea began to form in your mind. The notion of extracting information from Shoto about his plans took root, and you found yourself contemplating the details of how to execute this risky but potentially advantageous scheme.

The flickering light of the dim chamber barely illuminated your face as you hatched a plan to subtly and strategically approach Shoto. The urgency of the situation and the looming mission compelled you to consider taking matters into your own hands, even if it meant navigating the treacherous waters of deceit. With a determined resolve, you prepared yourself mentally for the intricate dance of conversation that lay ahead.

In your best dress, adorned with the finest that could be salvaged among the thralls, you made your way to the tavern after learning from Natsuo that Shoto was seen going out with a warrior named Hawks. As you stepped out, the cool breeze of the late afternoon caressed your face, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within you.

Arriving at the tavern, you could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and clinking mugs seeping through the wooden door. Taking a deep breath, you pushed it open, revealing the warm, dimly lit interior. The air was thick with the scent of ale and the low hum of conversations. You scanned the room, finally spotting Shoto and Hawks in a corner, engaged in a conversation.

Shoto's two-colored hair caught the wavering light as he raised his tankard in a toast. "To power and the thrill of the hunt," he declared with a smirk, taking a long swig.

Hawks leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes.

The duo seemed engrossed in conversation, their laughter mingling with the low hum of the tavern. Female thralls, drawn by their presence, attempted to engage in conversation, but the exchanges were marked by a darkness that hinted at their underlying intentions. Shoto and Hawks were having fun in the company of two thralls with exotic features that hinted at a southern origin. The air was charged with an unmistakable tension as the men engaged in flirtatious banter.

One of the thralls, feigning coyness, asked, "What brings you to our humble company tonight?"

Shoto, with a sly grin, leaned in to the thrall seated by his side, and said, "Oh, just the usual – seeking a bit of warmth in this frigid place. Perhaps you ladies could provide some, hmmm?" He mused, running his hand up and down the girl's shoulder.

The other thrall, playing along, responded, "Warmth, you say? Well, you might need to work hard to earn that from us."

Shoto frowned a little, yet his voice stayed low and smooth, "You seem to be unaware of my position, woman. I am the heir to earl Endeavor, and I demand that you address me with the respect befitting my status," he forcefully grabbed the other woman by her shoulder, causing her to tumble off her chair and land on the floor next to him. "So, I suggest you watch your manners, for I am the best you can find in this establishment. Consider your words carefully before opening that foolish mouth of yours next time."

Hawks nodded in agreement, "Indeed, the gentleman here is right. Shoto, don't scare the lady."

The conversations continued in this bold and wry manner, each word dripping with innuendo as the men skillfully navigated the delicate dance of desire. The atmosphere in the tavern buzzed with anticipation as the thralls played their part in the seductive exchange, the one that previously ended on the floor now sat quietly, letting Hawks wrap his strong arms around her shoulders as his hand was playing with her breasts from time to time.

Summoning your courage, you approached them, the rhythmic thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. As you drew nearer, you caught Shoto's eye, and a subtle smirk crept onto his face. Hawks, on the other hand, eyed you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. The atmosphere shifted as you prepared to enter a world of alliances and secrets, uncertain of what the outcome might be.

"Well, well, what brings you to this den of sin all alone? Where's your precious Touya? Couldn't keep up with his demands?" the youngest Endeavorson taunted, his tone laced with amusement.

You brushed off his wry remark. "I think it's time for us to bury the hatchet. Our relationship didn't start on the best note, and I believe we can find a way to coexist peacefully."

He looked at you, seemingly surprised by your suggestion. Shoto considered your words, and after a moment, he offered you a seat with them.

Throughout the interaction, Hawks observed the scene. You gave him a brief smile, trying to maintain a cool demeanor in the company of the two men.

Shoto turned to you with an air of faux politeness, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I believe we can have a civilized conversation, don't you?" His eyes darted towards the thrall who had been seated beside him, and with a dismissive gesture, he uttered, "You, leave us."

The thrall shot you a cold glance before complying with Shoto's request and vacating the space.

Now alone, Shoto leaned back in his chair, a smug smirk playing on his lips. "There, much better. Now, let's chat, shall we?"

You took a deep breath before speaking, "I must admit, despite the fear you instill within me, there's a certain charisma about you. It's hard not to notice."

Shoto's grin widened, appreciating the acknowledgment. "Well, I appreciate your honesty. And by the way, I quite like your accent. It adds a certain charm." His compliment was laced with a hint of mischief as he reached his hand out to briefly rub your shoulder.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Shoto's hand landed on your shoulder. Suppressing a wince, you decided to play along with his casual demeanor. When he asked about the real reason for your visit, you hesitated for a moment before responding, "Well, I just wanted to get to know you a little better, my lord."

Shoto raised an eyebrow, considering your words. "Interesting choice of words. Here, have some mead." He poured some into a wooden mug and handed it to you, a sly smile playing on his lips.

You accepted, trying to keep your nerves at bay.

Hawks, with a twinkle in his golden eyes, couldn't help but comment, "Quite a beauty you have here, Shoto. Earl Endeavor's thralls are indeed a treasure."

Shoto, taking a sip of his mead, glanced at you and replied wryly, "All Christian women have this softness within them. I just happen to enjoy breaking it." His words were delivered with a certain darkness that sent a chill down your spine.

Trying to maintain composure, you played along, responding with a forced smile, as you looked at Shoto's companion, "Well, thank you for the compliment, sir."

As Shoto continued to drink, you couldn't shake off the unease that settled in the pit of your stomach.

As more mugs of mead were emptied by the men and the atmosphere in the tavern grew warmer, you mustered the courage to bring up the topic that had been gnawing at your thoughts. Leaning in, you addressed Shoto, "Forgive me for intruding, but I overheard that you and Touya are going on a mission. Is it true?"

Shoto's eyes, a mix of icy determination and something unreadable, met yours. He took a moment, swirling the remnants of his mead in his mug before responding, "Yes, a mission to the north. Father believes it's a land rich in resources, and he wants us to secure it for the settlement."

Hawks, who had been listening attentively, chimed in, "Aye, a mission of great importance. The north can be treacherous, though. Many dangers await those who venture into the unknown."

You nodded, though a lingering concern for Touya flickered in your eyes. "What kind of dangers are you talking about? Is it just the harsh conditions of the north, or is there something else we should be aware of?"

Shoto's stoic expression betrayed little, leaving you to wonder about the true nature of the mission and what it might mean for both brothers.

Hawks took a sip from his mead, his golden eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and wariness. "The north is a wild place, full of untamed landscapes and creatures. Wolves, bears, and more roam freely. Not to mention, the weather can be brutal, especially this time of year."

Shoto's gaze never wavered as he observed your reaction to Hawks' nonchalant explanation.

You sensed there might be more to the story, but both men remained guarded in their responses.

Shoto's sudden shift in demeanor caught you off guard, his hand landing on your knee with an unexpected boldness. He began to rub your knee casually, his gaze steady as he threw a question your way. "Let's change the topic, my dear. The ruggedness of our upcoming mission might be a bit too much for a delicate female mind like yours to comprehend," he remarked, his fingers tracing small circles on your knee, playing with the hems of your dress. Then, with a smirk, he leaned in, his tone low and almost conspiratorial. "Tell me, has my older brother had his way with you yet?"

You felt a mix of discomfort and annoyance at his audacity, but you tried to maintain composure. "That's none of your business, Shoto," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "And the mission—"

"Oh, don't play coy," he interrupted, his lips curling into a smirk. "I'm genuinely curious. After all, I'd hate for you to miss out on experiencing the full range of pleasures in our little settlement."

The situation had taken an unexpected turn, and you found yourself navigating the conversation with a mix of caution and defiance, unsure of where Shoto was leading with his intrusive inquiries.

You met Shoto's audacious question with a bold response. "No, my lord, I haven't been with anyone, ever," you asserted, trying to maintain a sense of control in the conversation.

Hawks chimed in with a cryptic comment, "Well, isn't that a rare treasure in these parts. A thrall with untouched cunny, how intriguing."

You shot a wary glance at Hawks, uncertain about the implications of his words.

Shoto, however, seemed more amused than surprised, his smirk widening as if he had expected such a revelation. "You're missing out on experiences, thrall. I could show you what it's like. I doubt my older brother knows how to please a woman. Look at him, covered in scars, a truly disgusting sight. No normal woman would willingly lie with such a damaged man."

You felt Shoto's hand sliding beneath the fabric of your dress, making your breath catch in your throat. His audacious suggestion hung in the air, and the atmosphere became charged with tension.

You pulled away, a mix of surprise and discomfort evident on your face. "Maybe… Nut I didn't have enough mead yet, my lord," you asserted, trying to maintain a semblance of control over the situation.

Shoto, undeterred, leaned in with a sly grin. "Afraid of a little adventure? I promise you, it'll be an experience you won't forget," he whispered, his mismatched eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity.

As Shoto poured another mug of mead for you, you discreetly took small sips, ensuring that the majority of the liquid found its way into Hawks' cup while the two men were engrossed in conversation. The effects of the mead were beginning to show on Shoto, but you remained clear-headed.

The conversation in the tavern continued, filled with laughter and raucous chatter. You observed Shoto's growing inebriation and wondered if this was the opportune moment to extract information about the mission.

As Shoto, in a visibly inebriated state, decided to make his way back to the Great Hall, Hawks was more than willing to accompany him. However, seizing the opportunity to gather more information, you stepped forward and offered to walk Shoto back on his behalf. Hawks, busy with the two other thralls he managed to lure, readily agreed.

With Shoto leaning on you for support, you began the journey back to the Great Hall. The night air was crisp, and the sound of distant revelry echoed through the settlement. As you walked, you subtly steered the conversation toward the mission, aiming to extract any valuable details Shoto might unwittingly reveal in his inebriated state. As Shoto stumbled beside you, you ventured to ask, "Shoto, why do you harbor such resentment toward Touya? It seems like there's a lot of tension between you two."

Shoto's response was punctuated by occasional hiccups, and he spoke with a slurred cadence, "Touya… he's always been the favorite. Father sees him as the rightful heir, even after he attempted on killing him… When he was a baby… I'm just… the spare. I've had to fight for every scrap of approval, every shred of acknowledgment. It's fucking infuriating."

His words were tinged with a mix of bitterness and vulnerability, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was more beneath the surface of their strained relationship.

Shoto's alcohol-laden breath hung in the night air as he delved deeper into the caverns of his animosity. His words spilled out, laced with venom and a fervent desire for retribution. "You see, Y/N… Touya has always been the golden child… Father dotes on him, oblivious to the struggles I faced. I fought tooth and nail, but in his eyes, I'm still the disappointment." His voice resonated with a toxic blend of envy and resentment. "I wish he'd disappear, fade away… It would be so much easier without him overshadowing me at every turn… Fucking Touya. Father might finally see my worth."

As he spoke, you couldn't help but sense the profound wounds that fueled Shoto's disdain for his older brother, wondering if there was any way to mend the frayed bonds between them.

With a heavy sigh, you opened the huge, wooden door to the Great Hall. In the dimly lit hallway, you guided Shoto with careful steps, avoiding any unnecessary noise. As you reached his chamber, the weight of your question hung in the air, and you couldn't help but ask, "My lord… Do you plan to harm your older brother during this mission?"

He paused, his drunken demeanor momentarily overshadowed by a serious glint in his eyes. "Hurt him? No. But if fate has other plans for him, who am I to intervene?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if Shoto's words held any truth or if they were merely intoxicated ramblings. As you opened the door and let go of his waist, you couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling that there was more beneath the surface of his seemingly casual response. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across his face, adding an enigmatic air to the entire exchange.

The sudden force of Shoto's grip on your waist surprised you, and before you could react, his lips collided with yours in a messy, drunken kiss. The taste of mead lingered on his breath, making the encounter less pleasant than you might have imagined. You winced, feeling a mix of discomfort and confusion as the moment unfolded.

Shoto's hand slipped beneath your dress and moved up your leg, resting between your thighs. As he pulled away, his eyes were glazed, and he chuckled under his breath, resting his back against the wooden wall. "You're an interesting one, Y/N," he slurred, releasing his hold on you and stumbling into his chamber. "I'll make sure you're mine, not his." The door closed behind him, leaving you standing in the hallway, processing the unexpected exchange with your palm pressed against your mouth.

As you turned around, your heart sank, its rhythm momentarily disrupted - there, in the corridor, stood Touya. His expression held a mixture of surprise and shock as he observed you, and an unspoken tension hung in the air.

Touya's harsh words hung in the air, stinging like a bitter truth. "I can't believe you're like that, Y/N, letting my brother touch you this way. I thought you were different, not like every other thrall, but I guess I was wrong."

A lump formed in your throat as you desperately wanted to explain, to make him understand, but before you could utter a single word, Touya turned on his heel and left, the resounding crash of the door slamming shut echoing through the dimly lit corridor.

Now, you found yourself standing alone, the weight of his accusations settling in. The corridor seemed colder, lonelier in the aftermath of his anger. You replayed the scene in your mind, the hurt etched on Touya's face, the disappointment in his voice. It was a bitter cocktail of emotions that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

The truth was, you never intended to betray or hurt Touya. You considered chasing after him, explaining that it wasn't as it seemed, that your intentions were never to betray him. But the finality of that slamming door weighed heavily on your shoulders.

A lone tear traced the contours of your cheek, a delicate testament to the waning emotions within. It was as if you had relinquished something profoundly vital, a precious fragment of your life slipping away, leaving behind a poignant void.

heathen wolves: @indignant-alpaca @misafiryanki @roast-toast @within-eyesight @crystalwolfblog @haseki-huricihan @violet-forgetmenot

[sorceresssundries]

Gale sketches by @orangekittyenergy <3

CHAPTER 1 (of 2)

LINK TO CHAPTER 2 - NSFW

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: Set post-game where Tav did not feature in Gale's troubles in Baldur's Gate. A whip-cracking, fedora wearing, Indiana Jones inspired mini-adventure - where Professor Dekarios is tempted out of the classroom, and on yet another perilous quest. (Chapter 2 out soon)

Warnings: Chapter 1 is SFW, Chapter 2... less so.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Just a bit of a fun based on the Gale as Indiana comparisons. Also, he looks like a young Harrison Ford, how could I not? This is not the stuff I'm used to writing! But it's been enjoyable and nice to try something new.

Her forest was dying. Thaes’yána, a sacred patch of overgrowth within Elltavia’s home, had been under protection for so long that the Rangers of the forest no longer knew the reason why. Its guardianship had been passed down from mother to daughter for generations, and all Elltavia had known since being a girl was that entry was forbidden, and it was to be protected from outsiders. 

But now, an arcane rot had settled deep within, and was infecting further and further outside of its bounds. Animals, once serene, were being driven to madness if they got too close for too long. Among the forest-dwellers, whispers of unrest travelled, tales of violence and theft staining the once peaceful community. The responsibility had fallen to her to find help, and she had travelled far to ensure she got it. Just like her beloved forest, if the end was near, she would not be going gently. 

Her quest had led her somewhere unexpected, to the shadowy recesses of a sprawling lecture hall. She was nestled in the farthest corner, seeking refuge from the professor's unrelenting enthusiasm. From her observations, his class appeared to cleave into two distinct factions: the diligent scribes, feverishly scribbling down every word that spilled from his lips, struggling to keep pace with his monologuing, and the other group, who seemed utterly disinterested in the lecture material. Their pens lay dormant as they indulged in a different kind of attention; lingering onto his every subtle gesture and every inflection in his voice with wide-eyed fascination. There were a number of Tieflings in the class whose tails were swishing with telling enthusiasm. She imagined if she looked into their notepads, they would be laden with love hearts and romantic doodles.

She knew who Gale Dekarios was, of course. Word travelled, especially when one had command over birds to receive and deliver news from across the realm. Even as far away as she had been from the chaos and fire of Baldur’s Gate - she had taken up moonlit vigil to pray to Mielekki that the heroes' aim be true and their hope evergreen. And now she was sitting here, staring impatiently at one of the very people who had pervaded her prayers. He was more… academic that she’d expected, in his tweed blazer and bow tie. Rounded glasses perched on his nose, occasionally slipping down during moments of particular ardour, prompting him to deftly push them back up with his finger. 

His talking seemed to go on for an extraordinary amount of time, but maybe it just seemed that way because she could feel each precious second slip through her fingers like burning sand. Eventually, the class poured out with a mixture of yawns and giggles and she approached his desk as he scribbled frantically on the blackboard.

“Your dates are wrong.” she said. He flinched slightly, making the chalk jump.He sighed and wiped away his slip, having lost his train of thought. 

“Excuse me?” He turned to face her, his scholarly face frowning and making the lines between his eyes more pronounced. He looked much older when he was frustrated, she thought with amusement. 

She pointed at his scribbles; “The fighting ended in 1421 sure, but the peace treaty wasn’t finalised until the following year.” Her eyes met his, and she was struck by the depth of them. “You may want to correct your students' next lecture. Well… the ones who were actually taking notes.” 

She briefly cast her eyes over the picture frames on his desk. There was one of a formal looking woman with his tanned skin and warm eyes sitting on a sunlit balcony by the sea, and another of an unimpressed looking Tressym perched atop a pile of books.

It was the larger group photo that caught her attention, frozen in a moment of chaos.

In the centre of the frame, a flame-red Tiefling woman was mid-laughter, proudly displaying a crudely drawn portrait of a white-haired elf, the illustration nestling within an odd-shaped gap amongst the group. Behind her, a slight woman with a silver braid, was in the midst of being lifted by a huge, tattooed wood-elf, their collaborative efforts evident in their attempt to fit her into the picture. Next to them, an older woman in druid armour gestured animatedly, seemingly scolding a large, bald man who was earnestly attempting to position what appeared to be a hamster at the forefront of the group. Meanwhile, Gale, with his finger poised mid-sentence, was engaged in conversation with a handsome, horned man who stood with arms folded, seemingly annoyed. Amidst the chaos, only a Githyanki woman remained composed, her unsmiling gaze fixed directly on the camera, unaffected by the surrounding mayhem.

They were the heroes she had seen in the papers, but here they looked less like champions of the Gate and more like a dysfunctional, loving family. She much preferred this version of them. 

“I was not aware I was being monitored today.” He took in her appearance, her dark braided hair was pulled up and away from her face, and she wore travelling robes and a worn cloak. She definitely wasn’t an academic, he thought. Though she certainly seemed knowledgeable on history. Her eyes looked much older than she did - They were the colour of summer leaves slipping into autumn and sparkled when she spoke. With her being an elf, it made sense that she was probably a lot older than she appeared. 

“How can I help you, miss…” 

“Elltavia Kidd’Alka.” Her tone was brusk, efficient. “I won’t waste time with small-talk. I’m here to request some assistance on an urgent matter.” 

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, as though this was a regular interruption to his workday. “Ah, well you can tell the guild..

“I’m not with the guild.”

His frown deepened, “Fine, the harpers…”

“Nope, not them either.” 

“Then please Miss Kidd… 

“I’m a ranger stationed in the High Forest. My home is being infected by a blight which threatens the lives of many who live there.  It is believed the cause is of arcane origin. I need your help to fix it.” She dumped a heavy, jangling pouch on his desk. “I think you’ll find this should be adequate payment.”

This woman did not mess around, he thought. She was refreshing, although he would probably like her more if she actually let him speak.

“I am a professor, not a hireling. I’m afraid I cannot help.”

“Completely understandable, Professor.” She offered warmly “After everything you’ve been through I can understand why you would prefer a quieter, more relaxed lifestyle. Besides…” She said with an exaggerated, compassionate sigh. “You’re not getting any younger.”

This appeared to have touched a nerve. “Listen, Miss Kidd’Alka - I'm sorry for your troubles, but my answer is no. Now if you’d excuse me, I have much to do before my next class. Apparently my dates need amending” He gestured with his arm for her to leave, and she tilted her head with curiosity. She was enjoying him flustered, and she did not move.

“You must feel very lucky to have such a comfortable position here at the academy. Especially with the influx of ancient artefacts that have been added to its custodianship since your arrival.” Her lips tilted at the sudden stiffening of his posture.

He remained silent, eyes narrowing as she sat down in his chair and put her muddy boots up on his desk. She removed a knife from a strap at her thigh, flashing her toned, supple skin and began to peel an apple which had been left for him by a particularly devoted student. He felt a familiar, but dusty feeling stir within him at the flash of her leg. His hand automatically flew to his chest, before remembering that was no longer necessary. Old scars run deep.

“It’s so strange how the discovery of these artefacts always seems to coincide with your sabbatical leave.” Her tone was playful, innocent, but her eyes were mischievous. She slowly let the peel fall away, her blade so sharp she barely had to stroke the fruit with the edge of it. She wasn’t even looking at what she was doing, her gaze was fixed fiercely on him. 

“Your implication is wasted here, I can assure you.”

“My apologies, Professor Dekarios. I meant no disrespect.” She took a sharp bite of the piece of apple speared at the end of her knife, and he watched with fascination and derision as she swallowed, the juice trickling down to her chin. “I just thought the rumoured artefact causing the problem may be of interest to you and your academy. But, never mind. I hear there’s a ex-Sharran cleric who is fond of adventuring, maybe she can help me out.” She could practically hear the thoughts bouncing around in his head as she stood up to leave. 

She was almost at the door when he gave a loud sigh. 

“Wait. Take a seat. I’ll see if I can get my lectures covered.”

She turned to grin at him, and threw the rest of the apple across the room and into a bin with alarming accuracy.

“Leave some milk out for your cat, professor. You may be gone a while.”

The journey back to her forest had been arduous, mainly down to the fact Gale could not get the elvish pronunciation of her name right and so had resorted to calling her ‘Kidd.’ Frustrating for a woman who was one hundred and forty years older than him. Luckily, his useful knack for teleportation meant that at least the journey was shorter than expected. 

They made it to the forest by the following morning, and Elltavia finally relaxed as the sound of songbirds and swishing trees soothed her tired feet and weary soul. She was home again. The plush canopy above them provided respite from the sun, but not the heat, and it wasn’t long into their journey before Gale had switched his slightly faded wizard’s robes into something more appropriate. 

He now wore a loose, tan coloured shirt, unbuttoned enough to display a smattering of chest hair and what looked like a faded, circular scar. His tight brown trousers were tucked into leather boots held up by a belt laden with supplies and potions, and he had a satchel slung over his shoulders. Atop his head was a weather beaten fedora. Typically, she was not a fan of men in fedoras, but the way it kept his hair back off his face and shaded his handsome features was an unexpected and pleasant contradiction to the professor she had first met. But, it was the sinuous coil of a whip holstered at his side, its braided leather worn smooth by countless flicks and flourishes, that caught Tav’s attention the most. 

“A whip?” She asked curiously, trying not to let any of the thoughts it inspired creep into her voice.

“An enchanted whip.” He replied smugly. “Much more useful than a staff, comes in handy from time to time.” To make his point, he unhooked it from his belt, swished it around his head once and then cracked it at a low hanging branch ahead of them. The tail of it curled around tight and sparked with electricity, zapping the dry wood into flame. It fell to the ground with a burning crash. He looked very pleased with himself as he extinguished the fire with a quick blast of conjured water. 

“Well…” She said in the smoky silence. “That was completely unnecessary” 

The mood shifted as they got deeper into the humid, overgrown forest. Leaves and foliage that was lush green and danced in the breeze suddenly became duller, the air stagnant and unbending. Birdsong had hushed, and the once vibrant heartbeat of the forest had suddenly stuttered and stopped.

They reached the centre of the blight, hidden amidst the greenery, to find an ancient temple almost completely swallowed by forest. Its crumbling skeleton had merged with creeping moss. Vines twisted round it like the lithe bodies of a hundred snakes, gripping and squeezing out any remaining life, pushing their way through the stone work until it was prised apart to fall to the forest floor. It once would have been grand, but now looked hollow and haunted. Elltavia grabbed Gale’s arm before he got any closer.

“Wait.” she murmured, crouching slightly. She drew out the sinuous bow from her back and notched an arrow. Her ears flicked like that of a cat surrounded by too much silence. There was something stirring, she could almost hear motes of threatening magic slinking together through the blighted air. Like heat gathering to form a storm. She could practically taste the thunder that had yet to crack.

“Expecting trouble?” Gale asked, hand now hovering over the whip at his belt. 

She did not have time to answer before a skeletal figure, clad in tattered monks robes lunged at them from the shadows. His hollowed out eye sockets glowed with an eerie blue light, and his bony fingers clutched an ancient staff, carved with runes that pulsed faintly with dark energy. As it moved, the sound of creaking bones and whispers of necromantic incantation surrounded it like diseased air. 

With a raise of its staff, a surge of necrotic magic crackled towards them. Gale dove to the side, rolling behind a fallen log, while Elltavia nimbly leaped into a nearby tree, her bow in hand.

She released an arrow in one swift motion. It whistled through the air and struck the skeleton in the chest. For a moment, the blue light in its eyes flickered, but it remained standing -  unbroken and unfazed.

The guardian turned its hollow gaze towards her and began chanting in an ancient, guttural language. The ground beneath the tree where she perched started to rot and decay. With cat-like agility, she jumped to another tree just as the first began to crumble.

Gale seized the moment, sprinting forward and pulling his whip from his belt. With a flick of his wrist, the whip wrapped around the monk's legs, pulling it off balance. The skeleton crashed to the ground, the blue light in its eyes dimming as it struggled to free itself.

The ranger leaped into action, her bow discarded in favour of a pair of daggers. With feline grace, she landed above the guardian and plunged her daggers into its eye sockets, and the dimming light was finally extinguished. 

“Nice whip work.  You get much practice with that thing?” Elltavia approached him, breathless and sweating, and blew away some dust which had settled against his neck. 

“Not as much as i’d like, Kidd.” He said, brushing away some blood from her lip with his thumb. “I’m just making this up as I go along.” There was a moment where their ragged breaths mingled, and their eyes held each other before she turned with a smirk, and headed towards the entrance the skeleton had been guarding. Gale realised, watching her sheath her daggers and count her arrows, that he was in more trouble than anticipated. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he wasn’t sure the fight was the cause of it.

They made their way down ancient, crumbling stairs flooded by spectral light from an imperceptible source, and Gale started to feel queasy and breathless. It was as though something beneath his skin, in his bones, was being sapped from him. It was a feeling he recognised. 

“Sussur” he murmured, and he noticed vein-like ridges running along the walls, thin and faintly pulsing with a moonlight-blue glow. He ran the pads of his fingers over them, and felt a dull burning sensation on his fingertips.

“it’s in the walls. Incredible. It is no ordinary magic emanating from this place.” He held his hand out flat and attempted to conjure a small flame in his palm. There was a crackle, but nothing more. “My magic won’t work here.” For the first time since meeting Elltavia, he felt unsure of himself. It had taken time, patience, an orb of devastation and a mind flayer tadpole for him to even consider that he was of any use to anyone with his spellcasting ability. It had taken his friends to talk him down from martyrdom, and then Godhood. They had  prised his own destruction away from him and cast it into the Chionthar. They had saved him, but some damage is irreparable, and some wounds will always scar.

“I didn’t come to you for your magic.” Elltavia offered behind him. “I sought you out for your knowledge, and bravery. I wanted the professor, not the wizard.”

He didn’t turn to meet her eyes, but his heart fluttered slightly at her words. He steeled himself, thought of the bravery of the Ranger who was fighting for her home, and pushed open the stone door at the foot of the staircase to reveal a giant, circular chamber. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and aged stone. The walls were smooth, carved with meticulous precision by hands long gone. Covering every inch of the surface were runes and writing, each symbol etched deeply and filled with a faint pulsing luminescence that danced over their skin. 

“Amazing”

As Gale worked his way around the room, he took out a pair of glasses to help study the variety of texts carved about the place. "I’ve read about this before. A long time ago. An order of ancient monks, secretive and nomadic in nature," he mused, and Elltavia observed the delicate dance of his fingers tracing the inscriptions, as though seeking enlightenment through tactile communion. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow, causing his spectacles to slip, and the subtle readjustment sent a shiver down her spine.

“Like the one outside?” She tried to draw on what little knowledge she had. She had limited experience with monks in her many years. Certainly she had never come across any in the forest before. 

“Not like that one.” He said frowning in concentration. “That one was dead. Re-animated, as a trap.”

He explored the ruins with an elegance befitting a sage, a paradox of scholar and adventurer, warrior and pacifist, man and mage. She found him fascinating. Turning, he caught her in the act of studying him, her curiosity laid bare.

“Something caught your attention?” His gaze was burning, and his mouth was a cocky smile.

She did not blush, Elltavia never blushed, but she did pause long enough for him to move on without hearing her sharp answer.

"They are custodians, seekers of wisdom, guardians of ancient lore, and protector of magic" His voice was low with reverent contemplation. “There are very few of them, and legend has it the ones left are immortals. Chosen by the Gods to protect and serve the precious arcane knowledge which so often gets corrupted or destroyed.” 

For a brief second, his hand instinctively moves to his chest, to rest on the faded scar. He suddenly felt like a heretic defiling a sacred temple.

“You seem to know a lot about it.” She folded her arms with suspicion.

“Well.. I didn’t get tenure for nothing, Kidd.” His eyes flash at her with confident assurance. “These texts imply that they dedicated themselves so completely to their cause, to their life of protection, that they completely cast out all other distractions. They undergo a Rite, to prove their single-minded dedication. Apparently very few passed it.” He tried not to let creeping agitation wrap itself into his voice, if there was a test or a challenge to be taken for proving worth - he felt as though he was the wrong man for the job. He had cast aside the most luring and precious of temptations mortals could ever dream of. It was a test he’d taken twice, and only passed once. He didn’t want his weaknesses laid bare in front of him again. 

“What happens if they failed?”

 His answer was simple, but he feared what would come next would be less so.

“They died.”

[dracopias-bloodbag]

Bewitched By Bloodlust | Dracopia x F! Reader | VI

Chapter VI: The Aftermath

You find yourself dealing with the aftermath of the night's events. You know your relationship with Copia will never be the same after tonight; and now that both of your passions have been laid bare, you find yourself face to face with a much gentler side of him. But even in the newfound warmth of his embrace, you find yourself overthinking, and all your fears come to light.

chapter content: 3.7k words. MDNI 18+ ONLY, enemies to lovers, slow(ish) burn, canon divergent (see masterlist for details), aftercare, soft!copia, insecurities, post coital overthinking, reader character' brain won't shut off, hurt/comfort

Recommended Listening:

Delicate – Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter ☽𖤐☾ Next Chapter (Coming Soon)

Masterlist ☽𖤐☾ Read on Ao3

Did that really just happen?

The two of you stare at each other, both in a state of perpetual bliss. His gloved hands are still trailing over your hips and thighs as his eyes scan over the length of your body. He has to clench his jaw to hold back the growl that threatens to worm its way out of his throat as he stares at you. You were so fucking gorgeous like this, all laid out for him, and his bicolored eyes flit over your form as he tries desperately to memorize everything about you.

He’s the first to break the silence. “I’m sorry. For everything. I… I realize there is no excuse for keeping you locked away all this time. I was selfish and crass and cruel but… I meant what I said: I’ve wanted to do this for a while.” His demeanor has changed slightly, and he looks damn near sheepish.

You bite your lip, trying to keep the smile off your face, as you reach down and capture his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers in his.

“Me too.”

His eyes seem to soften as he looks at you, really looks at you then, seemingly for the first time as his thumb absentmindedly strokes over your knuckles.

“Come, you deserve better than this.” He waves his hand as he gestures to the dungeon around you.

He helps you to your feet, your legs wobbling slightly as he leads you out of the cell and into the main hall of the dungeon.

One second you’re alone, and the next one of his ghouls is standing outside the door and he hands Copia something. He takes it and swoops it around you, and you realize he’s securing your cloak around you, pulling the hood over your head. And something about the fact that he kept your personal possessions instead of just throwing them out makes your stomach flutter.

“I also meant what I said about keeping you hidden, no one in The Ministry knows that I kept you alive. If they find out before I have a plan for how to tell them in place, well... I fear they’ll have both of our heads, capisci?”

You nod, and he takes your hand. 

“Can you, eh, walk?”

Your face flushes as your eyes glance over to the ghoul who is now standing guard just behind Copia, before looking back at him. “Not well but–”

Without another word he scoops you up, one arm hooked under your knees and the other supporting your back. 

“Phantom, I need you and the others to stand guard while I move her to my quarters.” He says to the ghoul, who nods before scurrying up the stairs. 

Copia instructs you to keep your head down, and you curl into his chest as he follows after Phantom, walking up dimly lit steps that lead out of the dungeon and back to the rest of The Ministry. 

You’re not sure when you fall asleep, but the next time you open your eyes you find yourself on a bed.

You sit up, your eyes scanning the room around you as you take in your surroundings. The room is exactly what you expected: large and luxurious. The bed you’re laying on is massive, adorned with soft velvet bedding and silken sheets. There’s a large stained glass window to your right and another in front of the bed, giving you a view of the moonlit grounds outside. Next to the window there’s a large fireplace that faces an ornate couch. Even from your place on the bed you can feel the warmth emanating from the crackling fire, and it's a welcome change from the cold, muggy dungeon.

Your attention is then drawn to the open door off to your left, as you realize you can hear the sound of water running as the warm light from the door cascades into the bedroom.

Before you can call out or stand to investigate, Copia steps out and your breath catches in your throat as your eyes meet his. His hair is still disheveled, his coat now discarded, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, exposing his forearms as he dries his bare hands on a towel; you can’t help the way your eyes focus in on the exposed skin there. He pulls his gloves out of his back pocket and slips them back on.

You’re unsure why but you feel a pang of disappointment at that.

“You’re awake,” He says, the corners of his half painted lips pulling up in a small smile. “I ran you a bath, I figured you may need it after, well eh… everything.”

Your lips quirk up into a shy smile, and suddenly you find yourself very aware of the fact that he had just seen you in your most vulnerable state and yet here he was treating you like you were an honored guest in his home.

Without a word, he helps you up and leads you into the ensuite. The room itself is huge, nothing like the washrooms in the dungeon you had grown accustomed to. Marble tile flooring reflects the gentle candlelight from the candelabras he has lit around the room. The bathtub is filled with steaming hot water, fragrant with various oils and salts, and frothing with bubbles. There’s a stained glass window behind it, and the way the brightly colored panels seem to glow in the moonlight catches your eye. 

“Feel free to use any of the soaps next to the tub, and I put out a clean towel for you, just let me know if there’s anything else you need.” His voice is soft, almost as if he’s afraid to spook you.

You murmur a thank you, before he shuts the door and leaves you alone.

The bathwater feels absolutely divine on your aching muscles, and you can practically feel the days of sleeping on that cursed cot melting away. Your eyes are closed as you rest your head against the edge of the tub. You can feel sleep tugging at the edge of your subconscious but your mind won’t shut off.

His hands– that was the first thing you thought of. The way he had held you, grabbed you, pushed you down and steadied you as he dragged his–

You shiver and quickly shake off the thought before sinking down as low as you could in the water.

Unholy fuck.

The bubbly water surrounds you as you stare out the window, glancing up at the moon. Even through the colored stained glass panels, you could see it was a waning crescent. You close your eyes, trying to hone in on the energy of the moon as the bath water gently sloshes around you.

Prepare for the next cycle ahead of you.

Remembering the cycles of the moon and their meanings comes as easy as breathing to you, but something gnaws at you, and you can’t quite push away the anxiety that fills you.

Of course you had longed for him for some time. Even before meeting him it felt like you were always missing something – like something or someone was always watching you, waiting for you. But now that he has fulfilled all of both yours and his desires, you can’t help but feel on edge. 

What if this was all he had wanted the entire time? What if he discards me after this, just as easily as anyone else?

But a worst thought enters your mind: What if your coven was right? What if he is ruthless and careless and was just waiting for the right moment to drain you and forget about you? What if that’s what’s next?

You sink into the tub further, the warm water kissing the bottoms of your earlobes as you try to steady your breaths. You stare outside, watching the way the trees sway in the cool night air. Their dark silhouettes are the only thing visible to you. But otherwise the world outside is quiet, dark under the waning moonlight, and for a moment it feels like you and him are the only two souls in the world.

The urge to confront him gnaws at you, you want to ask him if this was all he wanted from you, if that’s why he asked you to stay – but you’re afraid of the answer, afraid that he’ll cast you out as everyone else in your life had. 

It feels stupid; you had only known him a couple of weeks and had spent most of that time hating him, and yet for some reason you know that the rejection would hurt too much. You can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as the thoughts become incessant, plaguing your exhausted mind until you’re silently crying.

It’s not until his voice cuts through your air that you’re pulled from your spiraling thoughts.

“Eh… piccolina? Is everything alright in there?”

The smell of your saltwater tears in tandem with the sound of your racing heart had drawn him to the other side of the door. He wanted to come in, to ask what was wrong and provide whatever comfort he could– but he held himself back, waiting with bated breath for your response.

You sniffle and hurriedly wipe away your tears, clearing your throat as you splash some bath water on your face.

“Yes, I’ll be out in a minute!” You call out as you stand up and get out of the tub, shivering slightly as your feet touch the cool tile before you hurry to dry yourself off. You pat your face dry and give yourself one last look in the mirror, hoping he won’t notice your slightly reddened eyes. 

But of course he does.

As you step into the bedroom, he’s already right next to you, you practically jump out of your skin as he cups your jaw, making you look at him.

“You’ve been crying.” It’s a statement, his mismatched eyes scanning your face, there’s an intensity there that you hadn’t expected.

“I– no, I just…” Panic fills you then, your heart racing and breathing becoming more rapid as you take a step back. Tears begin filling your eyes again despite your effort to stay calm, and his heart practically breaks at your reaction. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Talk to me, streghetta.” He coos as he reaches out to grab your wrist.

You practically bristle at his touch and yank your arm out of his grasp, holding it against your chest.

“Why did you ask me to stay? Was this the only reason?” You wave your hand, gesturing between the two of you. "So you would have someone to fuck and blood to drink?”

He opens his mouth, slack jawed in shock at your words as he sees that familiar fire in your eyes he had grown used to, only this time there’s pain that wasn’t there before.

“What? No, of course not.” He watches as you turn your head away from him, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Why are you saying these things, piccolina? Did you…” His voice falters for a moment. “Did you not want it?”

“No! I mean– yes, of course I did, more than anything.” You swallow thickly. “But I’m afraid...”

His cold, unmoving heart practically breaks at your words, the desperation and fear in your eyes so crystal clear.

“Afraid of what, piccolina?”

Your eyes move about the opulent room as you struggle to find the right words. “Of this, of what this means for us.”

He reaches out tentatively, and when you don’t try to pull away again he takes your hand in his. The leather of his gloves is soft under your fingertips, and you take a shaky sigh as your gaze focuses in on the way your hand fits so perfectly in his. 

“This doesn’t have to… mean anything.” His voice is thick, and he winces at what a shit job he’s doing at hiding his disappointment. “This doesn’t have to go anywhere if you don’t want it to.”

You finally lift your gaze to meet his, and you note the way his brows are knit together under his smeared face paint. 

“That’s not what I mean, I just… I’ve been with others before. But it was only ever physical.” Your expression dejected as you intertwine your fingers with his, gnawing on your bottom lip. “No one has ever shown me as much care as you have. And it’s strange, all things considered.” 

Copia stays silent, watching you for a moment as he gives you time to collect your thoughts.

“Everyone I’ve ever cared about has pushed me away, and then left me wondering what I did wrong. I trusted them and they used me, and ultimately tossed me aside, even my own coven. And I considered them to be family. I’m afraid this will end the same way.” 

Understanding crosses his features and he pulls you even closer. 

“May I?” He asks, hesitantly raising a hand towards your tear streaked cheek. When you nod, he cups your face, gently stroking his thumb over your cheekbone.

“Please listen to me, I would never, could never, cast you out. The Ministry is home to many, and many of those people were outcasts – people who needed a home, who lacked a sense of belonging.” He pauses, his eyes scanning over your face. “Whether or not you want to spend your time here with me is up to you, I won’t force you into anything. But please know that we would never abandon you, I would never abandon you. You are welcome here at The Ministry as long as you’d like.”

“Am I, though?”

His expression turns sheepish as he realizes what you’re getting at: the secrecy, the fact that the entire Ministry was perfectly content thinking you were dead. He lets out a small chuckle. “It is a… eh, small complication, but I will worry about it, si? I am Papa, and I say you are welcome as long as you’d like.”

He strokes his thumb across your cheek again. Your eyes close almost instinctively, lips parting; the sight alone makes him want to pull you into his embrace and never let you go.

“I meant everything I said before, I’ve wanted this for a while, I spent so long watching you… waiting for you.” A small smile pulls at his lips. “You intrigued me, little witch. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but my heart ached knowing I would be the one to kill you, because something was drawing me to you.” 

“Really, then why did you… you know?”

He sighs, his hand moving from your cheek to your hair, and he gently twirls one of the wet strands around his finger.

“It was selfish… I knew I still had to abide by the clergy, but your blood…” He swallows thickly. “It was too addicting to only taste once.”

Your cheeks flush at that and you begin to turn away but his grip on your jaw tightens, forcing you to keep eye contact. “Maybe I’m a selfish fool for that, but I’m thankful it gave me time with you… to see your true motivations. To see the person beneath the, would be assassin, eh?”

A small smile tugs at your lips, which he returns before continuing: “I want you to feel safe here, I don’t want you to ever feel used again. You don’t deserve that, tesoro.” His thumb traces over your knuckles absentmindedly, and for a second, the feeling of leather over your bare skin seems to be the only thing grounding you.  “And if you don’t trust me yet, that is okay, si? I understand considering how we started off. We will take things one day at a time.”

There is pure sincerity in his tone, and as you search those captivating eyes of his for any trace of deception, you find none.

You breathe a shaky breath, before nodding.

“Okay… Thank you. I’m sorry for overthinking, it’s a horrible habit of mine.”

He pushes a stray lock of your hair behind your ear then, and you don’t miss the way his lips curve up into another gentle smile. “There is no need to apologize to me, piccolina.”

He drops his hand from your face before moving towards the large wooden wardrobe in the corner of the room. “I’ll have one of the ghoulettes dig up some better garments for you tomorrow, but for now you can wear this.”

The shirt he hands to you is soft – made of white linen, resembling a sleep shirt. One of his, and you can’t help the way your cheeks heat up at the realization. You thank him, before letting the towel drop to your feet as you slip it on. He freezes at the sight, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows thickly.  His eyes dart over the shape of your body, captivated by how it’s illuminated by the waning moonlight. When you finally have it on, he practically has to tear his eyes away from you, but the only thought in his mind is how perfect you look wearing his clothes.

“I’ll let you get some rest now.” He says as you move towards the bed. “One of the ghouls will guard the door, I’ll be in my office just down the hall.” 

“You’re not staying?” The words tumble out of you before you can stop yourself, and you don’t even have time to mask the disappointment in your voice. 

Sathanas. Copia swears his heart nearly leaps to life at that, but he does well to mask his own emotions. “I figured you should have one night without feeling on edge, you deserve some privacy.”

You avert your gaze, and he notes the way your face falls slightly. “Oh. That’s very considerate of you.” 

“Unless, do you want me to stay?”

“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to keep you, I know you must be busy–”

“Piccolina…” His voice is a knowing growl, as he practically pins you in place with his gaze.

You breathe a shaky sigh. “It’s stupid, I know I should want to be left alone, hell I should still be scared of you but I just– I don’t want to be alone.”

That’s all it takes before he’s moving towards you and taking your face in his hands once more. “You have nothing to be scared of when it comes to me, do you understand? If I wanted you dead I would have done it long ago.” It’s a poor attempt at a joke, he knows that; but he’s desperate to make sure you know he has no intention of harming you now.

You can only nod, and he offers a small smile as he settles in next to you on the mattress, awkwardly propping himself up against the pillows. “How do you, eh… want me?”

Your hands reach out, gently grabbing his arm as you guide him to scoot lower on the bed, you settle into the plush mattress next to him. His arm automatically comes around you, tucking you securely against his chest. You breathe a sigh of relief as your sore limbs practically scream in pure joy at the feeling of the plush mattress underneath you.

“Sleep well, piccolina.” He murmurs, brushing his lips against your hairline, pressing a soft kiss there. 

You hum softly in response, laying your head on his chest. In the back of your mind you note the lack of a heartbeat, but it doesn’t bother you as much as you’d expect. Instead the sound of his steady, even breaths under your ear paired with the scent of his cologne you had grown to crave slowly lulls you to sleep.

He watches you late into the night, his arm tightening around you, and his other hand shakily reaches out to brush your hair out of your face. He stares at his hand then, and he suddenly feels the urge to touch your skin, free of his leather gloves. Without a second thought he pulls it off before slowly reaching out to brush the back of his fingers over your cheek. His breath hitches at how warm your skin is under his touch, and he traces his thumb over your cheek like before, savoring how it feels to touch you unencumbered by fabric.

He watches the way your eyelashes flutter, your eyes moving behind closed eyelids, a telltale sign that you’re dreaming. For a second he wonders if you might be dreaming of him. 

So peaceful, he thinks to himself. 

For the first time since your very first encounter in the forest, your features are fully relaxed. Maybe you were having trouble trusting his word, but you trusted him enough to sleep and completely let your guard down in his presence. He can’t help the soft sound that leaves him at the realization. You had gone from this defiant, defensive little thing that wanted him dead, to this vulnerable little creature that now slept contentedly in the arms of the monster she had been sworn to kill.

The thought makes his heart clench. 

You were scared, you had trouble letting him in completely. But subconsciously, you trusted him. 

“I will spend every day trying to earn your trust.” He murmurs quietly against your hair.

He thought to The Clergy, to Sister Imperator’s cynical gaze as he had handed over your dagger and necklace; how the rest of the upper Clergy had hummed approvingly when he showed his fabricated proof of your demise. They wanted you dead, and revealing that you were in fact very much alive would surely prove his undoing – and if not his, it would certainly secure yours.

They would descend on you like a bunch of bloodthirsty animals, and that thought alone made his blood boil. He knew they would waste no time disarming you, and you would pay with your life for attempting to topple his empire. The very thought of it made a low growl rise in his throat as his hand tightens where it now rests on your hip.  No, he would protect you, he swore it. No one will lay a hand on you as long as he’s still alive.

They're idiots your honor. But anyway, sorry for the three month long radio silence, the state of the world and life in general has had me a little down. But there's much more to come in 2025 (like actually finishing this fic). I hope you all had a good New Year's!

Thank you as always for reading, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it!

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! ‪‪❤︎

Translations: capisci? – you understand? piccolina – little one streghetta – little witch tesoro – darling