#nev's masterlist | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

svt-luna · 3 months ago

Text

𝜗℘ TALKING TO THE MOON

❛ 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘪 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧— 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘯𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘮 𝘪 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯? ❜

timeline: 2018

synopsis: After months of avoidance and awkward interactions, two hearts finally break their barriers, sharing confessions under the moonlight and finding the closure they both desperately needed.

warnings: angst, cursing, crying, arguments, mentions of anxiety, yelling, “i hate you!” (lies), closure, confessions, reconciliation, some heart-wrenching shit, simp!Jeonghan, scared!Luna, heart-to-heart talks, explanations, Yoon Jeonghan will be on his knees… begging, heartfelt, hopeful, somewhat a happy and silly ending, ends with fluff

due to popular demand of more angst here is more of the rejection aftermath. this story takes place after If Only & Can I Be Him? and takes place before His English Love Affair. so i highly recommend reading everything in order to understand. every single one-shot in my blog is arranged in chronological order in the writings masterlist which is linked below👇 happy reading, my loves 🤍🩵

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Jeonghan is an island.

Not in the literal sense, but in the way he exists.

To him, being an island means standing steady amidst the tide, a constant presence when the waves threaten to overwhelm those around him.

Jeonghan has always seen himself that way— a safe haven for his loved ones, a place they could come to with their burdens and leave feeling just a little lighter.

He takes pride in this role, knowing that if someone he cares about feels lost, they can always find their way back to him. And when they’re ready to leave, to set sail again, he’ll let them go with a quiet smile, no questions asked. He exists as a constant— a refuge, a quiet place to rest before facing the storm again.

Jeonghan has always been that for the people he loves, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. When the members of SEVENTEEN come to him, seeking advice, a listening ear, or simply someone to sit with in silence, Jeonghan is there.

He listens patiently, his eyes fixed on theirs with a quiet intensity that tells them he is fully present. He doesn’t rush to fill the silence with platitudes or fix their problems for them. Instead, he allows them to speak, unraveling their worries, frustrations, and fears as he holds space for them.

More often than not, the members leave those moments with him feeling lighter. They walk away with the weight of their worries softened, bolstered by his quiet reassurances or the practical wisdom he dispenses so naturally.

In their world of relentless schedules and pressure, Jeonghan is their counselor, their confidant, their steady shore.

But no one seeks him out more than Luna.

For as long as Jeonghan could remember, Luna had always gravitated toward him in times of need.

Out of thirteen members, she could have turned to anyone. Each of them was capable in their own way— each a pillar of strength, kindness, and understanding. And yet, time and time again, Luna came to Jeonghan.

It wasn’t because he was the most understanding or the most overtly comforting. It wasn’t because he had all the answers. It was simply because Jeonghan knew how to listen.

He listened in a way that made you feel seen.

Truly seen.

Luna would come to him during her moments of doubt, her voice cracking under the weight of frustration or pain. Sometimes, she would rant about the pressures of their industry, her words tumbling out in rapid succession as she paced the room with clenched fists. Other times, she would sit quietly, her eyes filled with unshed tears, as she shared her fears, her insecurities, and the thoughts that kept her awake at night.

And Jeonghan— he would just listen.

He never judged. Never interrupted. He let her speak until her voice grew hoarse or until she could no longer hold back her tears.

On some occasions, Luna didn’t want advice; she just needed someone to bear witness to her pain, and Jeonghan respected that.

When she didn’t need solutions, he didn’t offer any. He simply sat there, unwavering, his presence a balm to her raw emotions.

On other occasions, Luna would fall apart completely, her sobs breaking through the walls she worked so hard to build. And Jeonghan would be there, his arms wrapping around her as she cried into his chest, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded. He’d rest his chin on her head, murmuring soft reassurances or nothing at all, letting her release everything she had bottled up inside. He would hold her until her tears subsided and her breathing evened out, and even then, he wouldn’t let go until she was ready.

Sometimes, when the tears had stopped, Luna would stay in his embrace, her head resting on his shoulder as she whispered, “Thank you.”

Those moments would stick with him long after she left, her gratitude settling in his chest like a warm, lingering weight.

Jeonghan never failed her.

Not once.

Whenever Luna needed him— whether it was for advice, for a hug, or simply for a quiet moment of understanding— he was there, always.

And for him, that was enough. To be her constant, her refuge, her island.

It was a privilege Jeonghan remembered to never take for granted.

He also remembered how Luna had been the first person to offer herself to be his island when he needed it most.

It was years ago, back when they were merely trainees, their dreams raw and fragile, and their bodies pushed to the brink of exhaustion day after day. He was seventeen then, and she was just sixteen, both of them barely holding it together under the immense weight of expectations.

Yet somehow, amidst the chaos of it all, they had found each other.

It was late at night, the kind of late where the world was quiet, and even Seoul seemed to pause and take a breath.

The two of them sat by the Han River, tucked away in a secluded corner where no one would find them. The air was cool but not biting, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of water and earth. The river stretched out before them, dark and glimmering under the moonlight, its surface rippling faintly with the movement of the current. Above them, the sky was a deep navy, scattered with stars that peeked through the haze of city lights.

It was peaceful, the kind of peace that allowed them to simply exist without pretense.

Jeonghan had leaned back on his elbows, his legs stretched out in front of him, watching the water shimmer. Luna sat cross-legged beside him, her chin resting on her knees, her face illuminated by the soft silver glow of the moon. She looked so serene, as if the weight she carried every day had been momentarily lifted, and Jeonghan couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride that maybe, just maybe, he had helped with that.

They had been talking for hours, their conversation meandering between dreams and struggles, fears and hopes. Luna had shared her frustrations— the grueling hours of practice, the aching muscles that never seemed to heal, the pressure to prove herself in a room full of talent. She had spoken about her fear of failure, of being left behind, and Jeonghan had listened quietly, nodding when appropriate, offering a few words of comfort when needed.

And then, when she had finally fallen silent, Jeonghan had spoken softly, his voice carrying the kind of weight that came from someone who understood exactly what she was going through.

“Nana-ya,” he said, his gaze still fixed on the river, “if it ever gets too much… you can come to me, you know? Just like this.”

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes wide and curious.

“I mean it,” he continued, his voice firm but gentle. “If you’re ever feeling overwhelmed, if you just need a break… I’ll be your island. A place to rest.”

Luna blinked at him, her expression softening as his words sank in. “An island?” she repeated, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah,” Jeonghan replied, sitting up now and turning to face her. “An island. Somewhere you can come to when you need to escape. No judgment, no pressure. You can tell me all your worries or you can just… rest. And when you’re ready, you can leave and come back whenever you want.”

Luna looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if she were trying to memorize every detail. Then, she tilted her head slightly, her smile widening.

“But what about you?”

Jeonghan frowned, confused. “What about me?”

Luna’s gaze didn’t waver. “Who’s going to be your island, Hannie?”

The question caught him off guard.

No one had ever asked him that before.

Jeonghan stared at her, his lips parting slightly as he struggled to find an answer. But before he could say anything, Luna leaned closer, her voice soft but certain.

“I can be your island, Hannie.”

Jeonghan froze, his heart skipping a beat as he stared at her.

Luna was looking at him with such earnestness, her smile so warm and genuine that it made his chest ache. The moonlight framed her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her jaw, the faint blush on her cheeks, and the gentle sparkle in her eyes. She looked like a dream, so achingly beautiful that it took everything in him not to reach out and brush a strand of hair from her face. The moonlight softened her features, illuminating her skin with a silver glow, and he found himself thinking that she had never looked more beautiful than she did in this moment of quiet contemplation.

In that moment, seventeen-year-old Jeonghan knew.

He had known since the first time he saw her that he had a crush on her— how could he not? Every trainee did.

But now, as she sat there offering herself to him in a way no one else ever had, he realized it was so much more than a crush. It was something deeper, something that made his heart feel too big for his chest and his thoughts spiral in directions he couldn’t control.

And yet, he shook his head mentally, pushing the thought away before it could consume him. Instead, he let a teasing smile curl on his lips.

“Island, huh?” he said, his tone light and playful. “You’re going to have to come up with a new term, Nana-ya. Island is mine. I’m trademarking it.”

Luna rolled her eyes, her laugh soft but genuine. “Alright, fine,” she replied, her voice tinged with amusement. “I’ll think of something else.”

They chuckled together, the sound mingling with the gentle lapping of the water against the riverbank. Slowly, their laughter faded, leaving behind a comfortable silence that felt as natural as breathing.

Luna tilted her head back, her gaze fixed on the moon hanging high above them, its pale light casting a soft glow over the world.

Jeonghan, however, didn’t look at the moon.

He couldn’t.

Because the moon was sitting right next to him.

Jeonghan let the comfortable silence stretch between them.

The sound of the river’s quiet ripples filled the air, mingling with the distant hum of the city. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Han?”

Her voice broke the silence, soft but deliberate.

Jeonghan hummed in acknowledgment, his head tilting slightly toward her.

“You know what I’m named after, right?” she asked, finally turning to face him.

Jeonghan nodded without hesitation, his lips curving into a faint smile. “The moon.”

Luna’s grin widened as she nodded in return, impressed by his certainty. Of course, he remembered— she had told him once, during one of their late-night conversations in the practice room, how her mother had chosen her name because of her fascination with the moon.

“My mom is weirdly obsessed with the moon,” Luna chuckled, turning back to gaze at it. Her voice was light, but there was a warmth to it, a fondness that Jeonghan could hear clearly.

Jeonghan stayed quiet, watching her from behind. He didn’t interrupt; he knew she was building toward something.

“She used to tell me that when she was younger, she’d talk to the moon about her worries and her problems.

“Talk to it?” Jeonghan asked, his tone laced with curiosity but devoid of judgment.

“Not out loud,” Luna explained, gesturing with her hands as if trying to clarify. “More like… mentally, you know? Just looking up at it and mentally speaking to it. Does that make sense?”

Jeonghan’s lips twitched upward, his gaze never leaving her animated expression as she spoke. “It does,” he said simply, his voice carrying a hint of admiration. “Her heart speaks to it.”

Luna paused, her hands falling to her lap as she turned to look at him. Her wide eyes shimmered with surprise, as if she hadn’t expected him to understand so easily.

Most people laughed or dismissed the story as strange, but not Jeonghan.

Never Jeonghan. He always understood.

“Yes,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. She smiled, small and appreciative, and for a moment, she felt her heart skip a beat. Then, as if shaking herself out of her thoughts, she laughed lightly. “Anyway, sometimes I like to do that too. Just stare at the moon and… mentally talk to it. It’s comforting. So maybe you can do that too.”

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering as he watched her. “Talk to the moon?” he mused, his tone teasing but thoughtful.

“Yeah,” Luna nodded, her smile growing.

They fell into silence again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Jeonghan continued to admire her in quiet fascination, while Luna seemed lost in her own world, her gaze fixed on the moon above.

Then she giggled, her laughter light and airy, breaking the stillness. “There are even stories and myths about the man in the moon,” she said with a smirk, turning to face him.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “The man in the moon? You mean the little boy fishing?”

Luna blinked at him, her brow furrowing in confusion.

It took her a moment before realization dawned, and she burst out laughing. “That’s the ‘DreamWorks’ intro! Not that!”

Jeonghan smirked at her, his expression playful. “No? You and your mom aren’t talking to a little boy fishing in the moon?”

Luna scrunched her nose at him, pretending to pout as she glared. But her mock annoyance quickly melted into giggles. “No, silly,” she said, rolling her eyes as she shifted closer, lying down beside him. She rested her head against his outstretched arm, her body relaxing into his warmth.

She pointed toward the moon, her finger tracing invisible patterns in the sky. “They call it ‘the man in the moon’ because sometimes, if you look closely, it looks like it has a face. See?”

Jeonghan followed the direction of her finger, his eyes narrowing slightly as he focused on the craters. “Hmm,” he said after a moment. “It does.”

“See?” Luna said again, her voice tinged with pride. She turned to him with a triumphant smile. “So instead of an island, you can talk to the moon.”

Jeonghan’s eyes softened as they met hers, a small smile playing on his lips. “I already do talk to my moon.”

Luna’s brows furrowed, her head tilting in confusion. “Your moon?” she echoed. “You do? What do you tell it?”

“You tell me,” Jeonghan said, his voice lowering ever so slightly. He finally looked down at her, their faces inches apart, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You’re the only moon I talk to.”

Luna’s breath hitched. Her cheeks flushed a deep red as his words settled in, her heart thudding against her ribcage. But she didn’t say anything, her lips curving into a soft smile instead.

That moment of silence carried a weight to it, one filled with unspoken understanding.

And from then on, Jeonghan’s favorite nickname for her was born.

His moon.

His pretty moon.

From the moment under the moonlight at Han River, Jeonghan and Luna had unknowingly started a tradition— one that became their sanctuary amidst the chaos of their lives.

It began innocently, born from that night when a seventeen-year-old Jeonghan and a sixteen-year-old Luna shared their hearts under the stars.

Whenever the weight of their training bore down on them, they’d find themselves wandering back to that secluded spot by the Han River. It became their unspoken agreement: no matter how tired, how frustrated, or how uncertain they felt about their futures, they’d sit side by side and talk.

They’d talk about everything and nothing.

The worries that festered in their minds, the dreams that seemed just out of reach, the frustrations of not being good enough in their own eyes. Sometimes they’d rant, voices loud and passionate, the river carrying their words away like an invisible confidant. Other times, they’d fall into contemplative silences, punctuated only by the sounds of water lapping at the shore or the rustling of trees in the night breeze.

Even after debuting and becoming idols, Jeonghan and Luna fought to keep this tradition alive.

Their once-frequent visits to Han River dwindled as schedules filled with practices, performances, and public appearances.

But they found ways to adapt.

Instead of sitting by the river, they’d sit on the floor of one of their apartments, cups of tea— or sometimes wine— cradled in their hands as they leaned against the sofa, talking until the early hours of the morning.

When their schedules took them abroad, hotel rooms became their new haven. No matter where they were, Jeonghan and Luna made time for each other when they needed it most.

But everything changed almost a year ago.

Jeonghan hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on those late-night talks until they were gone. He hadn’t understood how much Luna’s quiet wisdom and steady presence meant to him until he lost it.

The last time they had one of their late-night conversations was a night that Jeonghan replayed in his mind more often than he cared to admit.

It had started like all the others— a quiet moment after a long day, a bottle of wine between them, and an unspoken understanding that they were each other’s safe space. But that night had taken an unexpected turn when Luna, cheeks flushed and words slightly slurred, had confessed her feelings for him.

“You make me feel things,” she had said, her voice barely above a whisper but heavy with emotion. “And I hate it.”

Jeonghan had been stunned, caught completely off guard. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. But the sincerity in her eyes, the vulnerability in her expression, made him painfully aware of the weight of his next words.

He had declined her feelings a few days after— not out of malice, but because he was scared, it was risky. Also because he wasn’t sure he could be what she deserved at that moment. Before he had the opportunity to tell her as much, Luna brushed it off and dashed out the elevator, his heart aching at the way her face fell.

Since then, everything between them had changed.

The awkwardness was subtle at first, but it grew with time. Their once-effortless conversations became stilted, filled with polite exchanges that lacked their usual warmth. When they were alone, the silences between them were no longer comfortable but heavy with unspoken words.

Even in group settings, Jeonghan felt the shift. Luna would exchange a few words with him here and there, but she gravitated toward Mingyu more and more.

It hadn’t taken Jeonghan long to notice the way Mingyu had become Luna’s confidant. He saw how Mingyu stayed by her side, offering her the support that Jeonghan no longer could. And while a part of him was relieved that she had someone to lean on, another part of him couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy that crept into his chest whenever he saw them together.

So, Jeonghan gave her the space she seemed to want. He told himself it was for the best, that she deserved to heal in her own way and in her own time. He respected her boundaries, even though it meant losing the one person who had always been his island… his moon.

Now, as he sat alone in his apartment, the memories of those late-night talks played in his mind like scenes from a movie. He could still hear the sound of her laughter, see the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about something she was passionate about.

He could still feel the comfort of her presence, the way she always knew what to say to ease his mind.

And Jeonghan missed her.

He missed his moon.

Jeonghan sat on his couch, the glow from the city lights spilling through the window casting faint patterns across his living room. His mind churned endlessly, cycling through the same thoughts that had been haunting him for months now.

No matter how much he tried to shake them off, they persisted. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and sighed deeply, raking a hand through his hair.

His gaze drifted to the moonlit sky outside, and without realizing it, his mind wandered back to that first late-night talk at the Han River with Luna.

It was so many years ago, yet the memory was so vivid it felt like it had happened yesterday. He remembered the way the moonlight reflected on the water, how their quiet voices had melded with the soft sound of the current. He could almost hear her voice again, playful yet serious, telling him to talk to the moon when he’s struggling.

Jeonghan leaned back against the couch, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. If he was honest, he’d never taken her advice— not because he thought it was foolish, but because he never needed to.

Why talk to the moon when he’d always had her?

Whenever he was drowning in worries or self-doubt, Luna had been his island. His anchor. His moon. The one person who understood him without him having to explain.

But now, with a gulf between them that felt impossible to cross, her advice suddenly didn’t seem so silly.

So for the past few months Jeonghan has been looking up at the moon, watching it as he mentally cried his heart out.

Tonight was no different. But tonight something was pulling him to talk to the moon somewhere else.

With that, Jeonghan stood up. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and reached for his car keys on the counter. His decision felt impulsive but right, like this was exactly what he needed to do.

Han River, the sanctuary they had shared so many times. But this time, he’d be going alone.

As he stepped into the hallway, the familiar sound of a door closing echoed from just beside his own. He froze, the keys in his hand jangling softly, and turned his head toward the apartment next to his. His breath hitched as Luna emerged, bundled in an oversized jacket, her own car keys clutched in her hand. She was locking her door, her movements deliberate yet distracted.

When Luna finally looked up, her gaze met his, and they both froze.

For a moment, neither of them said a word. It was as if time had slowed, the hallway shrinking to just the two of them.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other earlier that day— they’d been side by side for a team photoshoot, exchanging polite but distant words.

Yet, this moment felt different.

Charged.

Jeonghan’s first thought was that the universe must have grown tired of watching them avoid each other.

As cliché as it was— there was no other explanation.

This had to be fate’s way of giving them a nudge— a forceful push, really.

Luna blinked, breaking the spell, but her surprise was evident. Jeonghan noticed the way her fingers tightened briefly on her keys, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Instead, they just stared at each other, a strange understanding passing between them.

Because in that instant, they both knew.

They didn’t need to ask where the other was going. They already knew the answer.

Han River.

Luna was the first to glance away, her cheeks faintly pink under the hallway’s dim lighting. She shifted her weight awkwardly, clutching her keys tighter as if that would ground her.

Jeonghan, however, stayed rooted, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. After a beat of silence, he extended his hand toward her.

“Come on,” he said softly, his voice low but steady.

Luna’s eyes flicked to his hand, then back to his face, searching for something in his expression. His gaze was calm, open, almost expectant. After a pause that felt much longer than it really was, she reached out and slid her hand into his. Her fingers were cold against his warmth, and something unspoken passed between them as Jeonghan gently guided her toward the elevator.

The ride down was quiet. Not awkward, but not entirely comfortable either. It was a silence that carried acceptance— an understanding that neither of them could put into words just yet.

The elevator’s soft hum filled the space as they stood side by side, their hands still loosely linked. Jeonghan glanced at their joined hands briefly before looking ahead, lost in thought.

It was ironic, he thought, how the last time they were in this elevator alone, everything had changed.

Almost a year ago, Luna had laid her heart bare, only for him to gently decline.

That night had been a turning point, one that neither of them could ignore, no matter how much they tried to move on. And now, here they were again, in the same space but under entirely different circumstances.

Jeonghan didn’t miss the symmetry of it, nor the weight of what tonight could mean.

For both of them, this was the night to finally talk. To lay everything out in the open. It was either the start of mending what had been broken or the final thread that would unravel everything completely.

Jeonghan silently hoped— prayed— it would be the former.

He didn’t look at Luna, but he could feel her presence beside him, her quiet breathing grounding him.

And though neither of them spoke, he knew she was thinking the same thing.

Soon Jeonghan was driving them to Han River.

The car ride was steeped in silence, the kind that carried its own weight yet wasn’t entirely unbearable. Jeonghan kept his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead, while Luna sat in the passenger seat, her head resting lightly against the window.

The hum of the engine filled the space, accompanied by the soft tunes of the radio playing in the background. The music— a blend of mellow piano and soft vocals— felt like a balm, easing the tension between them, though neither of them acknowledged it.

The thirty-minute drive stretched on, both of them lost in their thoughts.

Jeonghan occasionally glanced at Luna from the corner of his eye, noting how her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. He wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, but every time he opened his mouth, the words seemed to falter before they could form. So instead, he let the music fill the gaps, hoping it was enough to make the quiet less suffocating.

When they finally arrived at the Han River, Jeonghan pulled into their usual spot. It was secluded, a little pocket of peace away from the bustling city— a place that had become theirs over the years. He turned off the car and stepped out, the crisp night air biting at his skin.

Without a word, he walked to the passenger side and opened her door. Luna blinked up at him, momentarily startled, but she accepted his silent gesture, stepping out into the cool night.

From then on it was like clockwork.

Jeonghan made his way to the trunk, where he pulled out a blanket. It was old and slightly worn but soft, and it had lived in his car for years —just for nights like this. Draping it over one arm, he turned back to Luna, intertwining his fingers with hers without hesitation. Her hand felt cold in his, but she didn’t pull away. Gently, he guided her down the familiar path to their secluded spot by the riverbank.

Once they reached the spot, Jeonghan spread the blanket out on the grass, smoothing it down with deliberate care.

They both sat down, the sound of the river lapping softly against the shore filling the space between them. Overhead, the sky was clear, stars scattered like tiny diamonds, and the moon hung low and luminous, casting its glow over the water.

For a while, neither of them spoke. They just sat there, side by side, watching the river and the sky in a silence that felt heavier than the one in the car.

Finally, Jeonghan broke it.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been here together,” he said, his voice low but carrying over the stillness of the night. He glanced sideways at her. “You still come here often?”

Luna turned to him, slightly taken aback by his casual tone. She studied his profile for a moment before answering. “Not as much lately,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “It hasn’t felt… the same.”

Jeonghan nodded in understanding, his gaze fixed on the river. “Yeah. I know.” He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips as a memory surfaced. He chuckled lightly, the sound breaking through the somber air. “Remember the last time? You were mad at me because I forgot your coffee order, and you swore you’d never trust me with your drinks again.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. That smile sent a jolt straight to Jeonghan’s heart. She hadn’t smiled at him like that in so long. And he had made it happen. He had.

“You brought me iced coffee in the middle of winter, Han,” she replied dryly, her tone tinged with amusement. “You’re lucky I didn’t throw it at you.”

Jeonghan chuckled, his smile widening as he looked at her. “Right. And then you made me drink it as punishment.”

“I did,” she said with a small nod, her gaze drifting back to the moon.

A brief silence fell over them again, but this one felt different. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, but it carried the weight of all the things left unsaid.

Jeonghan shifted slightly, the grass crunching softly beneath him, and his tone grew quieter when he spoke again.

“I didn’t think you’d agree to come with me,” he admitted, his eyes trained on her face now.

Luna sighed softly, her shoulders rising and falling. “I almost didn’t.”

Her words made his chest tighten, but he turned to face her fully. “I’ve missed this,” he said, his voice earnest. “I’ve missed you. I missed us… Jiyeon-ah, I—”

“Please,” Luna interrupted with a soft sigh, shaking her head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Jeonghan frowned slightly, his brows drawing together. “No, you’re right,” he said after a moment, his tone steady. “I don’t have to apologize… I need to apologize.”

He met her gaze, his eyes searching hers. “I’m sorry. For everything. For hurting you. For that night… for lying that night.”

Luna looked away before he could continue, her voice low as she said, “Are you sorry because you hurt me, or is it because you don’t feel the same about me?” Her voice softened even further, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she continued. “Han, I forgave you already that night in the elevator. I was hurt, yes, but I understood. I just needed space. I never blamed you for not liking—”

“Ya… Bae Jiyeon, stop. Just stop.” Jeonghan’s voice was firm now, his tone cutting her off sharply. He turned to her fully, his eyes blazing with frustration and something else—something deeper. “First of all, stop saying I don’t like you. That’s not true. Not even in the slightest. And stop it with the calm, good girl act you force yourself to be. I know you more than anyone. I need you to be angry. Be angry at me. Yell at me. Fuck, slap me in the face for hurting you and making you cry! Don’t pretend you’re okay, because I know damn well you’re not!”

Luna’s head snapped up, her eyes locking with his for more than a few seconds, truly and deeply looking at him for the first time since they had caught each other outside their apartments earlier. Her eyes were red, tears welling up and threatening to spill over.

Jeonghan read her like an open book, every emotion she had tried so desperately to hide laid bare before him. And he knew— he knew— that she was lying to herself, trying to shove everything under the rug and pretend it didn’t matter.

But it did.

And it was hurting her.

Jeonghan’s heart clenched as he watched her, knowing this moment was long overdue.

Luna had been bottling up her pain for far too long.

She needed to let it out— now.

Luna’s hands trembled as she clenched them into fists at her sides, her entire body taut with the emotions she had suppressed for so long. For a brief moment, Jeonghan thought she might hold it in again, that she’d swallow the words she desperately needed to say and give him the same composed facade she always wore.

But then, her lips parted, and the dam broke.

“You want me mad?” Luna’s voice came out sharp, her tone cutting through the stillness like a blade. “You want me to scream and cry? You want me to tell you the truth? Fine!” Her voice rose, trembling slightly as her emotions began spilling out. “What do you want me to say, huh, Jeonghan? Do you want me to tell you how you’ve had me wrapped around your stupid finger since the fucking beginning?”

Jeonghan’s breath caught, but he stayed silent, letting her continue.

“Do you want me to tell you how the second you introduced yourself to me, I knew— I knew— that I needed you in my life? How every single night, I beat myself up trying to forget about my feelings for you because I couldn’t risk it? I couldn’t risk our friendship, the group, our careers, the guys’ careers! Do you want me to tell you how my heart hurts— no, how it shatters— every time you get linked with someone else, rumored with women you barely even know? And do you know what’s worse? I have no right to feel that way! None! Yet… fuck! I still do!”

Her voice cracked, but she pushed forward, her words gaining momentum as tears began to glisten in her eyes.

“Do you want to know how I cried to my mom on the phone, begging her to help me like I was a child because my heart wouldn’t stop pounding after you kissed me on the cheek for the first time when we were trainees? A stupid, innocent kiss! It was nothing to you, but it meant everything to me!”

Jeonghan’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest, guilt twisting like a knife as her voice started to tremble.

“Do you want me to tell you how much you make me feel? How much I love the way you make me feel so special, so loved, so pretty? And how much I hate it? How much I hate how I love it, because it’s you! It you, Yoon Jeonghan! It’s you who makes me feel like that, and it’s you who made me feel like I was nothing that night!”

Her voice broke, and the tears finally spilled over, streaming down her cheeks. She wiped at them furiously, but it was no use— they just kept coming.

“I cried myself to sleep on the floor of my apartment after you rejected me,” she admitted, her voice now raw and unsteady, her breath hitching between words. “The floor, Jeonghan. I couldn’t even make it to my bed because I thought I’d suffocate under the weight of it all.”

Jeonghan’s throat tightened, his hands curling into fists in his lap as he fought the urge to reach out to her, to stop the flood of her pain even though he knew she needed this.

“And do you want to know the worst part?” Luna’s voice dropped to a whisper, trembling with the weight of her confession. She lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes glistening with tears that reflected the moonlight.

“I hate how much I love you.” Her voice broke completely, and she sobbed openly now, the sound raw and anguished. “I hate it, Jeonghan. I hate how much I love you, and I hate how much it hurts to love you.”

Jeonghan couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Jiyeon—”

“No!” she cut him off, her voice rising again despite her tears. “You wanted this, right? You told me to let it out, so here it is! Here’s the truth, Yoon Jeonghan! I love you, and I hate you for making me love you this much! So much that it physically hurts me! Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what you—”

Before she could finish, Jeonghan surged forward, wrapping his arms around her trembling frame and pulling her tightly into his chest.

Luna struggled against him, her fists pounding weakly against his chest as she sobbed, her frustration spilling over in the form of muffled cries and anger. “Let go of me! Let me go, Jeonghan!” she cried, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I don’t want— just let me—”

“No,” Jeonghan said firmly, his voice low but steady. He held her tighter, refusing to let her go no matter how much she fought him. “I’m not letting you go, Bae Jiyeon. Not now. Not ever.”

Luna’s struggles slowed, her fists unclenching as she slumped against him, her sobs shaking her entire body. “I hate you. I hate how much I love you,” she whispered brokenly, her words muffled against his chest.

Jeonghan squeezed his eyes shut, his chin resting lightly atop her head as he struggled to keep his composure. His own voice trembled when he spoke, filled with the weight of everything he’d been holding back. “I’m sorry, my moon. I’m so sorry.”

Luna’s cries quieted into broken hiccups as her face remained buried in Jeonghan’s chest, her tears soaking into his shirt as the weight of her pain finally found its release. Her fists, now slack against his shirt, clutched weakly at the fabric as her shoulders trembled. She mumbled against him, her voice muffled yet still laden with hurt.

“You made me feel like I was stupid for even trying,” she whispered, her words cracking under the weight of her emotions. Her chest heaved as she struggled to steady her breath, but her next words came out shakier, weaker. “Like I was crazy for thinking… for hoping…”

A sharp hiccup cut her off, and she dissolved into tears again. Jeonghan’s hand instinctively cradled the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair in an attempt to soothe her. He sighed deeply, the sound heavy with guilt and sorrow, before murmuring gently, “I know. I know, angel. And I hate myself for it.”

His voice wavered, but he kept his tone steady for her. “I was scared. I didn’t know what to do with how I felt—”

Before he could finish, Luna abruptly pushed herself out of his grip, her hands pressing against his chest until she could create enough distance between them. Her eyes met his, wide and glistening with tears, her cheeks flushed from crying. The vulnerability in her gaze was quickly overtaken by anger, sharp and raw.

“How you felt?” she snapped, her voice rising. “Han, this wasn’t just about you. It’s about me too—about us. Do you even know what it’s like to pour your heart out to someone you’ve loved for years only to have them look at you like it’s all a mistake?”

Her words hit Jeonghan like a slap, and he instinctively shook his head, the motion frantic as if it could erase the idea entirely. “No,” he said quickly, his voice firm yet pleading. “No, Jiyeon. You were never a mistake. I need you to believe that. Please.”

Luna’s lips quivered, her glare unwavering despite the fresh wave of tears brimming in her eyes.

Jeonghan took a deep breath, his own voice trembling as he continued. “I was an idiot. I am an idiot,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging as the truth spilled out of him like a confession. “I… I was scared because you mean so much to me. I told myself it would ruin everything if we tried and failed. I kept convincing myself it was better this way, safer, for both of us. I told myself all these excuses why it wouldn’t work— why I shouldn’t feel the way I feel. But they were just that… excuses. I was a coward, okay? I let my fear control me. And because of that, I hurt you. I hurt us.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he looked at her with desperate, searching eyes, as if silently begging her to understand.

Luna stared at him for a long moment, her expression etched with a mixture of disbelief and pain. Finally, she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you think it didn’t terrify me too?”

Jeonghan froze, his breath hitching as she spoke, her voice growing stronger with each word.

“But I still chose to try. Yes I was drunk when i confessed but I never denied it afterwards. I could’ve acted like I didn’t remember what I said but I didn’t,” she continued, her voice breaking again as tears spilled over her lashes. “Because… because loving you felt worth the risk.”

Jeonghan felt his heart shatter at her words, the weight of her pain crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Without thinking, he cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against her wet cheeks as he tried to catch the tears that kept falling.

“You’re braver than me,” he said softly, his voice full of admiration and regret. “You always have been.”

Luna shook her head furiously, her chest heaving with shallow, uneven breaths. Her hands came up to grip his wrists as if to push him away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “I don’t feel brave, Hannie,” she hiccuped, her voice barely audible. “I feel broken.”

Her words tore through Jeonghan like a knife, and he could feel his composure slipping as she finished, her voice raw and trembling.

“You broke me,” she said, her lips quivering as another tear slid down her cheek. “And it hurts.”

Jeonghan froze as her trembling words struck him like a blow. Her tear-streaked face, her voice breaking with pain— every part of her screamed of the hurt he’d caused, and it was unbearable.

Jeonghan shook his head, his voice low but steady, desperate to reach her. “I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to fix it if you’ll let me,” he said, his hands firm yet gentle on her arms. “I’ll undo all the words that hurt you. Just tell me how.”

Luna’s breath hitched, her voice sharp and trembling as she shot back, “What good are words when they always just get in our way, Han?”

Her challenge hung in the air, raw and heavy, but Jeonghan didn’t falter. His brows furrowed as his dark eyes bore into hers, soft yet resolute.

“Because words matter,” he countered firmly, his voice calm and measured. “Words are what brought us to this moment. I said the wrong ones before, but I won’t stop trying until I say the right ones. I can’t give up, Bae Jiyeon. Not on you.”

Her tears continued to fall, and Jeonghan reached forward, brushing the strands of hair that clung to her damp cheeks. His fingers moved slowly, tenderly, as though she were something fragile and sacred. His hands found her face, cradling it, urging her to look up at him even as her gaze flickered uncertainly.

“Show me, my moon,” he whispered, his voice quiet yet pleading, the nickname like a soft caress. “Show me where I hurt you so that I can love you there the most.”

The words were spoken with such raw sincerity, such desperation, that they seemed to wrap around Luna’s heart and squeeze. She released a shaky breath, her eyes fluttering closed as a tear slipped free and traced a path down her cheek.

Her heart— shattered as it was— still managed to beat for him.

It always had.

It always would.

And that scared her more than anything.

“You don’t get to just say that now,” Luna said shakily, her voice cracking as she shook her head, trying to pull away but finding herself unable to. “You don’t get to show up and say everything I’ve been dying to hear after you crushed me.”

Her walls were still up, fragile but standing, and Jeonghan could see her fear, her need to protect herself. But he wasn’t going to let her go. Not this time.

“I told the moon about you, Jiyeonie,” he murmured softly, and the words made her freeze.

Luna let out a broken sob as her head dropped onto his shoulder, her tears soaking into his shirt. Jeonghan didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her, holding her close as she cried, his hand stroking her back in soothing circles.

“I told the moon about how I wanted to dedicate a song to you after I met you for the first time,” he continued, his voice trembling but unwavering. “I told the moon about how your laugh feels like the answer to every question I didn’t know I was asking. About how you hum to yourself when you think no one is listening, and it’s my favorite sound in the world.”

He gently pulled her head off his shoulder, his hands finding their way to her face again, cupping it as he cradled her, his thumbs brushing away her tears. Her red-rimmed eyes stared into his, her lips trembling as he spoke.

“I told the moon about the way your nose scrunches up when you’re concentrating. About how you never finish a cup of tea but insist on making it anyway because the ritual calms you. I told the moon how you bite your lip when you’re nervous and how it drives me crazy because I want to kiss you every time you do it.”

Luna’s breath hitched, her tears spilling over again as she listened, her heart simultaneously breaking and healing with every word.

“I told the moon about my regrets,” Jeonghan admitted, his voice cracking. “About every time I hurt you, every time I held back because I was too scared to face what I was feeling. I told the moon about how it’s just the hardest thing to love you but not know how. So I spent all my nights in the dark, afraid. Afraid because I tried to forget you, but these things— you— just don’t go away.”

His voice grew softer, more vulnerable. “I hate that you’re so perfect,” he said, his lips curving into the faintest, saddest smile. “So perfect for me… made for me.”

Luna closed her eyes as a fresh wave of tears escaped, her hands coming up to grip his wrists, holding onto him as though she might crumble without the contact.

“The excuses I gave you… none of them mattered,” Jeonghan continued, his voice steadying as he poured his heart out. “Because the truth is, Nana-ya, I love you. I’ve loved you for longer than I can even admit to myself.”

His hands slipped from her face to rest on her shoulders as he leaned closer, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I love you,” he said again, his voice filled with a depth of emotion that made her chest tighten. “I love the way you brighten every room you walk into. I love the way you care for the people around you, how you give so much of yourself even when you have nothing left to give. I love the way you see the world, how you find beauty in places no one else would even think to look.”

He paused, his gaze softening as he added, “I love you, Bae Jiyeon. All of you. The good, the bad, the messy, the beautiful. I love you more than words can ever say, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to show you, if you’ll let me.”

Luna’s tears fell freely now, her breath hitching as her hands clutched at his shirt, grounding herself in him. Her walls, the ones she’d fought so hard to keep up, began to crumble, piece by piece, under the weight of his love.

Jeonghan’s voice broke as he continued, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone like he was trying to erase the pain he had caused. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know the truth. I pushed you away because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I thought you deserved someone who wasn’t going to mess up. But the truth is… the thought of losing you terrified me more than anything else.”

Luna’s breath hitched, her voice trembling as she whispered, “And yet, you still let me go.”

Her eyes opened, glistening with unshed tears as she searched his face, her expression filled with a mixture of heartbreak and disbelief.

Jeonghan swallowed hard, shaking his head almost frantically. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, okay? I thought I was protecting us, but all I did was hurt you. I can’t take that back, but I can promise you that I’ll never make that mistake again.”

She closed her eyes briefly, her shoulders sagging as though the weight of the past months bore down on her all at once. “I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “I spent so much time these past couple of months convincing myself that maybe… maybe we just weren’t meant to be.”

Jeonghan’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, and he stared at her, shaking his head with conviction. His voice was firm, urgent, as if he could will her to believe him. “No. Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that, Jiyeon-ah. You’re it for me. You’ve always been it for me. I was just too blind to see it in time.”

He reached for her hands, holding them tightly between his own as his voice softened but lost none of its determination. “Please… please don’t give up on us. Let me prove it to you. Let me prove that I’m not going to hurt you again. I’ll do whatever it takes, Jiyeonie. I’ll wait as long as you need. I’ll fight for us, for you, for our friendship. Just… just don’t shut me out.”

Luna’s fingers trembled as they wrapped around his wrist, her grip weak but steadying as she brought his hand down from her face and held it in her lap. Her voice was soft but resolute, her gaze piercing as she finally met his eyes. “You can’t just fix this overnight, Han. We can’t go back to how things were. If we’re going to try again… we need to fix our friendship first. We were friends first. We need to rebuild what broke before anything else.”

Her words hung in the air between them, weighted with truth and the hope of something new. Jeonghan nodded slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line as he absorbed her words.

Despite the desperation in his heart to hold her close and never let go, he knew she was right.

“I know we can’t go back to the way we were,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with emotion. “And I don’t want to go back. I want to move forward— with you. I’ll be better. We’ll be better. I’ll start wherever you need me to. As friends, as strangers— just tell me how to fix this. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything. I’ll earn your trust back, your love, everything. Just… don’t give up on me.”

Luna exhaled a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around his wrist as her gaze softened. “I’m not giving up on you. I never gave up on you. But this time, it’s going to be on my terms.”

Jeonghan’s lips parted, and he nodded without hesitation, his sincerity clear in every word he spoke. “Your terms, always. I’ll wait. I’ll work for it. Just… thank you for giving me the chance to make this right.”

Luna’s lips curved into a faint, tired smile, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as she spoke, her voice lighter than before, though still tinged with lingering sadness. “Well, the heart wants what it wants.”

Jeonghan’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at her, his expression one of reverence, like she was the moon and the stars shining down on them, lighting his path. “It does. And mine wants you. Always has, always will.”

He spoke the words with such quiet certainty, his gaze never wavering from hers.

In that moment, the air around them felt still, as though the universe itself had paused to bear witness to the weight of their emotions, the unspoken promises lingering in the space between their hearts.

Jeonghan gently pulled away from Luna, the warmth of his touch lingering on her skin. His lips curved into a teasing smile, the kind that used to infuriate her and had always held the power to disarm her. “I can’t wait to tell the little boy,” he said, his tone light and mischievous.

Luna blinked at him, her brows furrowing in confusion. “What little boy?” she asked, her voice laced with equal parts exasperation and bewilderment.

“The little boy fishing on the moon. The man in the moon, remember?” Jeonghan replied, his grin widening as he referenced the conversation they’d had years ago at the Han River during one of their first late-night talks as trainees.

Luna’s jaw slackened slightly before she snapped it shut, shaking her head. “That’s not– He’s not–” She let out a breath, her shoulders sagging in mock defeat. “You’re an idiot.”

Jeonghan laughed softly, the sound rich and familiar, like a song she hadn’t realized she missed. “I know. We’ve been through this,” he said, the humor in his tone softening into affection as he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

She didn’t move away, didn’t flinch. Instead, her eyes fluttered shut, savoring the moment before she opened them again and met his gaze.

Despite the magnetic pull between them, the kind that had always existed and only seemed stronger now, they both knew the truth.

They couldn’t rush this, not yet.

The more mature parts of themselves— the ones hardened by heartbreak and regret— understood the importance of rebuilding the foundation of their relationship.

Their friendship was the cornerstone of everything they were to each other, and if they wanted to build something lasting, something unshakable, they had to fix what had been broken first.

Neither of them wanted to wait.

They wanted to dive into each other’s arms, to silence the ache with whispered promises and stolen kisses. But they respected the process, respected each other too much to risk repeating their mistakes.

They had taken the first step tonight, had opened the door to healing by airing their frustrations, their fears, and their truths.

Luna had cried until her chest ached, and Jeonghan had been there to hold her. Jeonghan had confessed his regrets, his love, his hopes, and Luna had listened, her presence steady even as her tears fell. They had yelled, voices raised as years of pent-up emotions spilled out, but even in their anger, there had been a yearning to understand.

They were in love.

That much was clear to both of them now.

But love alone wouldn’t be enough if they didn’t have a solid foundation to stand on.

So, Jeonghan promised to work for it, to make it worth it.

Luna promised to trust the process and let him prove himself.

Even so, in the quiet recesses of their hearts, they both knew that it was only a matter of time before the fire between them ignited even more, before the spark that had always been there became impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t a question of if they would cross that line, but when.

And they both felt, deep down, that the moment would come soon.

The universe, it seemed, had been on their side all along.

The anxiety that had drowned Luna earlier in suffocating waves, the restlessness that had driven her to the Han River in search of solace, had carried her back to her island— Jeonghan.

And Jeonghan, who had sought to talk to the moon to share his frustrations and to make sense of the ache in his chest, had found himself drawn by gravity to his moon— Luna.

As they sat there in the stillness of the night, the city lights twinkling like distant stars, Jeonghan reached for her hand once more, and this time, she didn’t hesitate to take it. Their fingers intertwined, and though the path ahead was uncertain, the warmth in their joined hands was a promise.

Together, they would find their way.

They always do.

For the tides, ruled by the moon, carried Luna from the depths to the island of Jeonghan’s soul.

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe @coralbatlampzonk @sof1eya @lyraea @jihoonsbbygirl @cocopuff2424 @okoknotco @minvxq @soulphoenix1618 @whineywheeiny @rairaine @toplinehyunjin @ateez-atiny380 @cherrylovescheol @jiimtaee @blurr3db3rry @seomisaho @amanda08319 @peanutbutterslothsstuff @cheolsboo @allthings-fandoms @mystic-megumi @sherlockbye @tastyluvr @luperque @reignofraine

337 notes · View notes

atzloverr · 7 months ago

Text

Ateez as yanderes - how they fell for you

!!!TW: Yandere!!!

warnings: includes yandere themes, kidnapping, non-consensual touching, drugging, stalking, female reader, (more warnings for the individual scenarios)

yes they do vary in length but I kinda just write them as i go, it has nothing to do with how much i “like” them

and also, I could write any other scenario where they’re completely different from this, I just thought this would be fun

masterlist

Hongjoong

cw: kidnapping, jealousy, non-con touching, college/school au

The most jealous of them all

Can’t even stand the thought of you talking to let alone looking at anyone other than him

Gets really scary when he’s angry, but tried his best to be patient when you don’t listen

Makes sure you only see him. Only touch him. Only love him. And if you refuse to do so, expect to be taught a lesson you will never even dare to forget.

Don’t worry though, he’ll gently kiss your tears away and carefully treat your wounds afterwards.

It all started when he saw you in class one day, not having really thought about you before, but he noticed how pretty you really were.

When he was grouped up with you for a project, he noticed just how kind and thoughtful you were, his little interest in you blooming into something stronger.

He didn’t know why yet, but seeing other guys at school approach you made his blood boil.

You were too good for those unworthy scum bags. Too pure. Too perfect. (He made sure to take care of them later)

Hongjoong felt himself becoming more and more obsessed with you, not a single day passing without the thought of you invading his mind.

What made Hongjoong snap was when a guy came up to you, touching you so familiarly and with such carelessness.

Seeing you laugh at this guy’s jokes, lightly touch his arm or even just bless him with your presence, made Hongjoong realize something

You needed to be protected. Your beauty needed to be savored, your skin never touched by other guys.

The only one worthy of you, was Hongjoong.

He knew what you really needed, who you really were.

He had made sure to learn all about you before finally making you his once and for all.

The two of you were meant to be together forever, and Hongjoong would never let anyone else come in between the two of you.

Seonghwa

cw: kidnapping, bondage, stalking, blackmailing, masturbation, Seonghwa is a creep in this lol, they work at the same workplace

Seonghwa is a quiet and attentive type of yandere

Would secretly admire you from a distance for years, before even gaining the courage to speak to you

He couldn’t help but think of you whenever he sees something cute or couple-like, secretly dreaming of a future shared with you.

As much as he wishes he could just approach you, he’s so scared of you disliking him in any way

And even though he seems like a sweetheart, you wouldn’t think the same if you caught him digging in your drawers, trying to find a new clothing item to bring home with him

One day, he finally approached you at work, even though you worked in completely different departments of the company.

Your eyes widened when he informed you that one of your coworkers had been fired, for acting inappropriately in the workplace.

You were really shocked, remembering how friendly he was, always telling you good morning and good bye.

Of course, he hadn’t actually done anything wrong, but Seonghwa figured the man was being way too friendly with you, almost flirting with you.

No, Seonghwa couldn’t have that, so he took matters into his own hands, blackmailing his way into getting the douchebag fired.

That man wouldn’t go near you again, Seonghwa made sure of it.

You thanked Seonghwa for the information, and got back to your own work.

You didn’t notice the way the dark haired male practically ran to the bathroom after you brief encounter, needing some type of release after finally doing what he had been wanted to do for years.

He pumped his hard cock, thinking about the way you looked at him. He had never been that close to you, he had never seen you look up into his eyes like that.

He realized that this couldn’t be it. He had to interact with you again. He couldn’t have it any other way.

After a few months had passed, you found yourself growing fond of your coworker, talking to him at work almost every day, going out to have lunch or simply meeting up to discuss work.

You didn’t think much of it, but Seonghwa sure did.

He had to admit he was proud of himself, having gotten so close to you in such a short time. He had to face his fear of approaching you, and when he did, it was the best decision of his life.

He was happy with his accomplishments, but couldn’t help but crave for more. It was so frustrating, having to act as if he barely knew you, when he in fact knew next to everything about you and your life

He knew exactly what your underwear smelled like that day when he first talked to you, and what you watched on your TV that same night.

As he got closer to you, he also got more bold with his stalking.

He started spending nights in your room, watching you closely as your chest rose and fell. He even got so far as to cuddling up to you when you were asleep, making sure you wouldn’t wake up.

But one night, you did.

Seonghwa got a little caught up in the moment as he cuddled you, moving a tad bit too much for it to go unnoticed. He didn’t notice when you slowly stirred awake, but suddenly, you let out a scream of terror at the feeling of someone in your bed.

Your wide eyes met each others, and just as you were about to question him, he put a hand over your mouth, making you squirm in panic

Seonghwa didn’t know what to do. Would this ruin everything? He couldn’t even think, but he was soon on top of you, his panicked voice trying to get you to calm down.

He could only think of one solution, that wouldn’t get him in any sort of trouble.

So here you were now, tied up in Seonghwa’s bed, a gag in your mouth, choking down all your desperate screams.

The man you once thought of as a sweet coworker, just laid next to you, hands grazing your arm in an attempt to comfort you in your time of horror.

Tomorrow, he knew what he would do.

He just hoped that your boss wouldn’t be too sad about the news of your… accident.

Yunho

cw: possessive behavior, slut shaming, ripping clothes, I’m sorry Yunho

Yunho can still find himself reminiscing about the old times, back when you first met.

Oh, he remembers it like it was yesterday, when he saw that beautiful smile of yours for the first time.

Yunho’s friend had a birthday dinner, and when they were going over the invitations, Yunho heard a foreign name pop up.

“Y/n? Who’s that?” Yunho asked curiously, trying to search for your name in his mind, but finding nothing.

“Oh, she’s a new friend from work! I’m sure you’ll like her! She’s super friendly!” his friend explained.

Yunho never expected to feel this way when he saw you.

Unfortunately for him, he showed up a little late to the dinner due to traffic, but when he arrived his eyes immediately found yours.

He didn’t believe in ‘love at first sight’, but if there was something like it, he was sure this was how it felt.

Throughout the night, he found himself drawn to you in some special way, your personalities seeming to go hand in hand. You laughed at his jokes, he laughed at yours.

After the dinner, Yunho had made one thing clear to himself.

You needed to become his. As soon as possible. So when you messaged his number that he had given you at the dinner, he found himself lighting up in joy and excitement.

You were going on a date with him.

Oh, he just couldn’t wait, to see you again, and just get to know you! He hadn’t been this interested in someone so quickly for a long time.

It didn’t take long before you and Yunho were dating. He made sure to take you out again only a few days after your first date, feeling eager to know more about you.

Everything felt perfect in your newly announced relationship.

But not for Yunho.

He couldn’t suppress it anymore. He felt so incredibly protective over you, it physically irked him to let you leave him for just a second.

As much as he tried to let you go out and have fun, it just felt so wrong. He didn’t want to be an overprotective boyfriend, but he didn’t view this as being overprotective. This felt like the bare minimum.

One night, when you got dressed to go to a friend’s party, Yunho couldn’t stop himself.

“Are you really going to dress like that?” he spat at you, almost sounding offended.

You gasped at his comment. “What is that supposed to mean?” you questioned, feeling your blood already boiling at his question. Oh, how you hated when guys acted like this.

“I mean, are you going to try to impress someone else?” he asked, still wearing that scowl on his face. You scoffed.

“I’m not having this conversation—“

“Yes you are,” Yunho raised his voice. Your eyes widened in surprise. He had seemed so sweet until now. This was a whole new version of him. One that you didn’t enjoy.

He stepped his large body in front of yours in the hallway of your apartment, pinning you against the wall.

“You have to understand,” he started, his eyes looking dark and scary. “That you’re my girlfriend now, and you can’t go around dressed like a slut anymore.”

You fought the urge to slap him across the face, and instead just barked back at him, “Excuse me!? Do you think you own me or something?”

Yunho squinted slightly.

“You know what, yes, I do.”

You were about to laugh at him, thinking that this was some sort of joke, but when he suddenly picked you up bridal style and harshly threw you down on the bed, you couldn’t mutter a single sound.

“Do you know what types of men will be there?” he asked, his hands moving down to the hem of your dress.

“How do you know that they won’t just,” he started, his hands ripping the fabric of the dress. “Touch your skin? This dress is so short, it won’t exactly be hard for them!” he argued.

You yelled at him to stop, but his hands continued tearing your dress into shreds.

You felt tears spilling out of your eyes, sobs escaping you as he exposed you in your underwear.

“You’re mine, do you understand!?” he asked, almost screaming at you.

You flinched at his anger, but forced a nod. Something changed in his gaze, making it softer once again.

“Good,” he said, his head resting on your bare stomach.

“I think you’ll stay home for tonight, hm?” he almost whispered, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

You had a rough few days ahead of you.

Yeosang

cw: school/college au, kidnapping, non-con touching, yeosang is delusional

His love for you started as a harmless crush.

Seeing you in the corridor and finding you pretty, or just hearing your voice as you raised your hand in class made him feel shy and giggly.

It went by so quickly, and suddenly this little crush had turned into something much stronger.

He soon noticed how big of an impact you had on his life

You were the only thing on his mind every single day, and it came to a point where he couldn’t stand not seeing you, even for just a day.

He wanted to spend every waking moment with you, making sure you and him can get to know each other better, and become closer to each other.

He even started envisioning a future with you, kids and all.

Even though you had only had some brief interactions with the man, he sure valued those moments, still thinking about your sweet laugh and beautiful smile.

He knew what he had to do, scared he would go crazy if he didn’t.

One day after school, he innocently invited you over for tea, making sure you felt comfortable in his home, before drugging you and keeping you there for as long as he sees fit (probably forever)

You couldn’t understand any of it, barely even remembering speaking to the boy, but when you acted confused by his actions, he only grew angrier

“Don’t you remember that time? When you dropped your book and- and I helped you pick it up!?” he asked furiously. Your eyes widened at his words.

He was surely crazy.

Although he kidnapped you, he still felt shy around you at times, biting his lip and blushing slightly when even being in your presence

He’ll shyly cuddle up to you when you fall asleep, finally seeing you so peaceful and quiet, just how he likes you

When you scream at him, begging him to let you out, he’ll just treat it like a tantrum, putting you in ‘timeout’

He really tries to explain his feelings to you, only thinking that it’s rational for him to protect you

He “only does it out of love” and gets so frustrated when you can’t understand that.

San

cw: reader likes to party, reader gets drunk, kidnapping, stalking, jealousy, possessive behavior

You caught his eye in a bar one night, wearing a tight dress, showing off your body in a way that turned everyone’s eyes towards you

San was no exception, his gaze plastered on you the entire night, as you got more and more drunk

He had to keep an eye on you, making sure that no creep would try to make a move on you or hand you a spiked drink

When the end of the night came, none of your friends were with you anymore, so you were far from safe on your own

San approached you, steadying you with his strong arms, causing you to lean on his frame

He could tell you were confused, and decided to introduce himslef

“My name is San, what’s your name?” he asked, trying to find your unfocused gaze

You muttered out your name, your breath reeking of alcohol.

San smiled kindly, and sat you down on a barstool, still keeping his steady arms around you

“You want me to help you get home?” he asked, his kind eyes making you feel an immediate sense of comfort.

“Yes please,” you muttered out.

As he gave you a piggyback ride home, you slurred out a small ‘thank you’.

San couldn’t hold his smile at your cute behavior, looking at your face as you almost fell asleep at his shoulder

Oh how things were changed now.

Ever since that night, San had found himself missing you, even though you only met when you were drunk

He made sure to give you his number, telling you to call him if you needed anything, however, you hadn’t reached out again.

San felt himself getting angrier by every moment. Didn’t you value that night you had together? I mean, he took you home and took care of you when you literally couldn’t even walk.

He knew you meant no harm though, no, his little sweetheart would never try to hurt his feelings.

San decided that he couldn’t handle thinking about you like this anymore, so one night, he decided to find where you were, using different means to find out what you were going to be doing this weekend.

He wasn’t surprised that you were going to another party, so he decided to get himself invited as well.

What he never expected, was to see you with some dude, making out in the corner of a room as if you had no shame

His eye twitched in rage, but he knew he had to be patient.

When the party was finally over, you were of course, drunk again, and he decided that this was the perfect time to make his move.

“H-hey, have we met?” you laughed, almost falling into his arms as you approached him.

San only smirked.

“Come with me and I’ll tell you,” he smiled. If this had been anyone else, you would never had agreed to it, but something in you told you to trust this man.

You found yourself leaning against a tree, no other people in sight, except for the handsome man standing before you.

“Tell me,” you commanded, your words still slurring together.

“Oh don’t worry, I will,” he said, before you felt a harsh pain in your head, and you fell down to the ground.

You couldn’t scream, you could only slowly fade away into unconsciousness as the man slowly picked you up.

Plastering a few kisses to your head, he smiled, way to innocently for what he was doing.

“Finally I can take you home, my little bunny.”

Mingi

cw: implied kidnapping, best friends to (lovers), possessive behavior, drugging, jealousy

Mingi had been your best friend ever since back in high school

You still remember how he would beg you to hang out after school, telling you that you were going to ‘study’, just to lure you in to a mario kart tournament

You were so thankful to have such a sweet friend by your side, always supporting you when you needed it the most, and serving as a pillar in your life when everything else seemed to go downhill

Mingi had made sure that’s what you viewed him as. The reliable friend who would never fail you.

He had to make sure you loved and trusted him more than anyone else

At first, he thought it was just a friendly affection he held towards you. When he felt his fists clench in anger when you talked to others, he just thought of it as a will to protect you, his friend

But now he was sure it was more than that.

During all of these years, he watched as boy after boy failed you. He couldn’t help but feel a small wave of excitement when you came crying in his arms, telling him that you got failed again.

As much as he hated seeing you so sad, he just loved that you always seemed to come crawling back to him.

Well, that was, until now.

Mingi watched carefully through your window, making sure his loud breaths of anger weren’t heard by you and your new ‘boyfriend’.

As much as he loved hearing your moans, he couldn’t stand them when it was because of some other dude.

The only ones valuable enough to touch your sweet body, were you and him. Anyone else pleasuring you deserved hell.

So when Mingi heard you moan out this new guy’s name in ecstasy, he felt sick to his stomach.

He waited and waited for this guy to show his true colors, and break up with you.

Mingi hadn’t seen it yet, but he was sure this guy had a bad side too. Even if he was kind to you, Mingi knew that this guy wasn’t the one.

Because Mingi was the one.

He had to make sure he was, even if it would take time for you to realize it.

Seriously, how dense were you? Mingi thought. How couldn’t you notice his love towards you? Did all those tender moments of affection mean nothing to you?

One night, Mingi decided that you had spent enough time with your boyfriend. This had to end, before it escalated into something bigger. He didn’t even want to think about you two moving in together, getting a dog, having kids…

No! He had to do something about it. He wanted to try talking about it with you first, so when you came over to spend the night, Mingi decided to ask you about it.

“Y/n, this new guy, he…” Mingi started, avoiding your gaze. “New? We’ve been dating for months!” you laughed. “But yeah, what about him?”

Mingi felt so tingly when you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes, so he couldn’t even meet them, scared that he might let out some inappropriate noise.

“Well, is he really the one?” he asked, looking down to the floor.

You stared dumbfounded at him, but continued to play it off as mere curiosity from your friend.

“Yeah, I think he might be.”

You had to admit Mingi was acting strange. His gaze was unfocused, as he grumbled something incoherent.

You dismissed the conversation, and swiftly changed the subject.

“So, how’s it going for Yunho? I heard he got a new job?…”

Mingi couldn’t focus on your words right now, as much as he wanted to hear your beautiful voice.

You were clearly serious about this guy, so talking you out of it wouldn’t work. You trusted your boyfriend way too much, and raising your suspicions would take way too long.

He had to go through with plan B, as much as he hated it.

You lay down next to Mingi on the couch, carelessly sipping your drink. You had decided to put on a movie, and as much as you loved this movie, you couldn’t help but feel sleepy already.

You found yourself slowly dozing off on Mingi’s shoulder, your body feeling weak suddenly.

You tried to form words, but felt too tired to even speak. You barely even noticed as Mingi’s strong arms swiftly picked you up.

He finally met your gaze, after what had felt like an eternity. To your surprise, his expression showed nothing but sadness.

“I’m sorry Y/n,” he said, walking into his bedroom. “But it’s for the best.”

After hearing the distinct sound of the door closing and locking, you found yourself lulled into a deep slumber, tucked under Mingi’s soft sheets, his arms cradling your body.

When you were finally fast asleep, Mingi took the opportunity, and told you the three sacred words he had been holding back from you for all these years.

“I love you.”

Wooyoung

cw: cheating, stalking, taking photos without consent, implied kidnapping, manipulation, masturbation

Wooyoung will get what he wants, no matter the cost

Even if that means ruining years of friendship, and breaking your heart in the process, he had to do the necessary things to get you

Breaking your heart wouldn’t even be the hardest part, after all, he wouldn’t mind breaking you completely, just so he could build you anew.

Wooyoung and his best friend were inseparable, it was well known for everyone they knew

Being childhood best friends, Wooyoung was sure nothing could ever come in between their bond

That was, until you entered the picture

Wooyoung was more than excited to hear that his friend had gotten a new girlfriend, and he couldn’t wait to meet the girl, having heard such good things about her

His jaw dropped when his gaze met your form

You were stunning

He had to raise his eyebrows at his best friend, as if saying ‘damn, how did you manage to get that?’

As you politely shook his hand and introduced yourself, Wooyoung couldn’t help but notice something

You were way too good for his best friend

Even though they were good friends, he couldn’t deny that this guy wasn’t the nicest to girls, looking back at his past girlfriends, who basically all ended up cheated on by him.

Although his relationships usually ended within the first few weeks, two months had now passed since Wooyoung’s friend met you.

It had gone unnoticed by you, but for these two months, Wooyoung had gotten incredibly smitten by you

He found himself looking forward to seeing you, and would use any excuse possible to get you alone with him

You were just so much better off without his friend.

Without that guy, you could be your interesting and authentic self without being held back.

As smart as you were, Wooyoung knew you weren’t that bright. You didn’t even notice when he snuck his phone under the table to take a quick snap into your skirt, or when he always managed to end up in weird positions with you when he “fell asleep.”

At night, Wooyoung would desperately hump into a pillow while listening to an audio of your voice, imagining you laying right beneath him.

He couldn’t take it anymore, he had waited long enough.

Luckily, he knew exactly how he would manage to pull this off.

He happened to know his best friend a little too well.

One night, Wooyoung invited you two to a party as plus twos, begging you to go, telling you just how fun it was going to be.

You fell for his cute little smile as he blinked at you, asking you to pleeease come with him.

He smirked when you finally said yes, slowly making his way to his end goal.

He had to execute this perfectly, making sure he would be portrayed as the hero, and your boyfriend as the villain.

Well at the party, you found yourself sitting in a corner of the room, laughing and dancing to the music. Wooyoung had for some reason insisted you were going to hang out at that specific spot for a while.

After a little while, Wooyoung snaked a hand around your waist, telling you to go have a drink with him.

He gave you and your boyfriend that classic innocent smile, feeding onto the illusion that he was someone with no ill intent whatsoever.

When you took off, Wooyoung quickly fished out his phone from his pocket, sending a message.

Wooyoung made it so that he could still keep an eye on your boyfriend, while you stood opposite from him, not having any idea of what was happening behind you.

While you two chatted away, your tipsy state making you talkative, Wooyoung watched as the girl slowly approached your boyfriend

He studied the way she slowly sat down on your boyfriend’s lap, who had already managed to get way too drunk

Right when he could tell she was about to make her move, he smiled at you.

“Let’s go back to your boyfriend, shall we?”

As you turned around, Wooyoung’s arm still holding your waist, you couldn’t help but gasp in surprise

Were you really seeing things clearly?

As you slowly walked closer to them, you realized that this was no illusion

There your boyfriend sat, some girl on top of him, making out with him passionately, his hands roaming her barely dressed body

Your legs suddenly felt weak, but Wooyoung kept you on your feet

“Oh my god, Y/n,” Wooyoung breathed out sadly, holding you closer. “I’m so sorry…”

You felt tears stream down your cheeks as you stepped even closer to the two, seeing the way her hands guided his as she practically grind on his lap.

You didn’t want to believe your eyes, but you had to.

Suddenly, your body was turned around, and you were dragged out of the room. In what felt like a matter of seconds, you were outside, Wooyoung’s arms wrapped tightly around your shivering body

You sobbed quietly into the fabric of his jacket, as his hand found your hair.

“Shh it’s okay Y/n,” he comforted, slowly rocking you back and forth. “How about you sleep at my place tonight, hm?”

You nodded violently into his shoulder, tears continuing to stream down your cheeks.

What you never saw, was the way Wooyoung smiled in satisfaction, sending the girl a last message.

“You can back off from him now, I’ll pay you tomorrow.”

Jongho

cw: implied kidnapping, stalking, non-con kissing, mentions of weight loss, obsessive behavior

The first time Jonho saw you was at an art gallery, slowly inspecting the art pieces as you walked by them

As much as he wanted to keep his eyes on the art, you were the only thing he could keep his attention on

You stood there in your long dress, modest but oh so tempting, staring at the painting before you in a lonesome awe

He found himself being drawn to you. It was something about your energy.

“What do you think?” he asked in a low voice, walking up to you, still keeping you at a respectful distance, but close enough to make the conversation private.

“It’s interesting. The artist has done a really great job at portraying the beauty in the horror of her expression,” you said, eyes not wavering from the painting in front of you.

The unknown man next to you just hummed in agreement, but in reality, he wasn’t even looking at the painting. He had seen it earlier, so he knew exactly what you meant.

The painting depicted a woman, watching in terror as an unknown creature tries to attack her. Amidst of the scenery, there is a beauty, that not everyone could understand.

You understood exactly what was intended in the piece, making Jongho feel nothing but excitement bubble up inside of him.

“What’s your name?” you asked, averting your gaze towards the man. His eyes widened slightly before he answered.

“Choi Jongho,” he answered, smiling warmly at you.

You introduced yourself as well, bowing slightly.

After about an hour, you and Jongho had been chatting away about the various art pieces in the gallery, discussing your interpretations.

You were impressed at Jongho’s open minded approach, making you feel comfortable when you didn’t even know the man.

Having to say goodbye felt sad to you, and as much as you wanted to ask him for his number, you just couldn’t find the courage.

Ever since you parted that day, you had been the only thing on the man’s mind. He tried to recall every single word you said about each peace, wanting to imagine your voice uttering the words of pure intellect and interest.

When going to other galleries, Jongho always hoped to see you once again, but he never found you.

He knew it was wrong, but he wanted to know what you were up to. Were you avoiding him? Or did you simple lose interest in art? No, that couldn’t be. The way you spoke so fondly about it showed that art meant a lot to you.

Jongho had to find out. So he did the necessary thing to do so.

He simply used his computer skills to find out more about you. He had your name, so with enough time and effort, he would surely find you.

And indeed, he did find you.

When he saw your picture pop up on his computer screen, he felt a jolt of joy.

He found out everything he needed to know, and the next day, he was making a phone call to have flowers delivered to your door.

He couldn’t wait to see your reaction to them, waiting patiently at his hiding spot.

When your form finally came into view, Jongho felt himself stiffen up.

You didn’t look like yourself.

You had clearly lost weight, looking pale and tired. Your eyes were barely even opened as you inspected the bouquet of flowers.

You picked them up, and then quickly entered your apartment again, quickly closing the door

Jongho was at a loss for words.

This wasn’t how he remembered you. You weren’t this lifeless last time. You hadn’t looked so empty of emotion, so distant.

With your recent appearance, you now invaded Jongho’s mind more than ever before.

What had happened to you since last time? Jongho had to find out.

After hours of digging, he still couldn’t find anything. No traumatic past events. No dead family member. Nothing.

After sending you another bouquet, once again watching you from his hiding spot, he couldn’t bare it anymore.

Seeing you like this physically hurt him. He felt his heart clench at the mere sight of your weak self, and he needed to take care of things.

So the third time he sent you flowers, he decided to give them to you personally.

He breathed in and out heavily, waiting for you to appear at the door. It took you way too long for his liking to finally open the door, revealing your even more malnourished self, dressed in pajamas even though it was midday.

“Jongho?” your voice sounded out, your eyes widened slightly.

He smiled fondly at your memory of his name. So you did remember the meeting you had.

“Hello, Y/n,” he greeted, handing you the flowers. You blinked at the gesture.

“Are you the one who—“ you started, but Jongho had other plans.

“Let’s go inside, shall we?” he asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed when he invited himself in, stepping past you, and into your chaos of a home.

You tried to protest, but he just gave you a stern look. You were so confused at his attitude. What happened to that respectful man you had met at the gallery?

“What’s going on? You look tired, Y/n,” Jongho asked, voice laced with concern.

You gasped slightly at his familiarity, almost feeling insulted by the sudden question.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you what’s going on? How did you find out where i live? And what are you doing here in the first place?” you raised your voice, pointing at him.

The look in his eyes remained unchanged, a small frown on his lips at your questions.

“That’s not what really matters, Y/n. What’s happened to you?” he asked, giving you that pitiful look you hated.

The way he kept repeating your name didn’t fail to make you uncomfortable.

You backed away from him slightly, dropping the bouquet, but was suddenly grabbed by the wrist by an iron-like grip.

“Answer me, Y/n,” he demanded, a stern look in his eye.

You squirmed in his grip, spitting insults at him, but it was like you had no effect on him.

Soon, it just led to him being pinned over you on your couch, his hands on either side of your head.

Your eyes were wide in fear, and you felt forced to answer the question he had been urging you to answer for the past agonizing minutes.

“Okay, okay! I got dumped, okay!?” you yelled at him, tears starting to gather in your eyes.

He froze, but soon regained composure. “So what? That’s no reason for you to destroy yourself,” he stated. You blinked at his audacity.

“You have no idea what I’ve had to go through—“

A kiss.

That’s what interrupted your answer of rage. A slow, but firm kiss on your lips. You couldn’t even find the energy to fight him off, already being weak as it was.

When he finally disconnected from you, tears had started streaming down your face.

His hands found your cheeks, wiping the warm tears away.

“Don’t worry Y/n,” he tried to comfort you. “I’ll never make you go through something like that again.”

You shook your head in confusion.

“With me, you’ll be happy. I’ll make sure everything gets back to normal again,” he cooed, eyes inspecting your face.

“Now, let’s go home, shall we? This place probably just reminds you of him.”

Hope you enjoyed!!! Requests are open

masterlist

534 notes · View notes

daddyhausen · 14 days ago

Note

hello, I love your writing so much!! I wanted to ask you, would you be down to write nosferatu!sleep token? You can do iii or vessel x reader (very possessive, protective, almost stalker-ish, monster style), whichever you want. I just love the new nosferatu movie so much and was curious if would write something like that. Thank you in advance, love you🤍

honestly could not choose between them so you’re getting both xx

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡「 OUR AFFLICTION 」｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 MUSICIAN/BAND MASTERLIST 」 | 「 VESSEL MASTERLIST 」 | 「 III MASTERLIST 」

「 COMMISSION INFO 」 | 「 LIKE MY WORK? BUY ME A COFFEE — KOFI — DXDDYHXUSEN 」

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 SUMMARY 」 — a secluded getaway was just what you and your new husband needed. the catch is, the two of you were not completely alone

「 WARNINGS 」 — 18+ 「 MINORS DNI 」, DD: DNE,

「 TAGS 」 — [ nsfw ] [ smut ] [ threesome ] [ cnc ] [ noncon to dubcon ] [ vampires ] [ nosferatu inspired ] [ biting ] [ monsterfucking ] [ blood drinking ] [ blood play ] [ pussy eating ] [ double penetration ] [ double vaginal penetration ] [ blowjob ] [ face fucking ] [ throat fucking ] [ throatpie ] [ hair pulling ] [ degradation ] [ cuckolding ] [ phantom sex ] [ multiple orgasms ] [ sleep paralysis ] [ male + female orgasms ] [ squirting ] [ internal cumshots ] [ vaginal creampie ]

「 WORD COUNT 」 — 7.5k

「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x vamp!vessel + vamp!iii

「 GENRE 」 — smut

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 TAGLIST 」 — @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @mjfass @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @janetreader @bonehead-playz @legit9thlunaticwarrior @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @harmshake @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @selena-tyler-564 @nev-danielgarciawife @teenagedramaqueenlisa @miss-whiddlesmort @dykekota @summertimefun1982 @thebettergothgirl @inv3ga-sust3nna

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

the carriage ride is more mundane than you expected, three hours traversing on a horse-drawn carriage over rocky slopes and muddy roads is enough to bore any woman out of her mind especially when your husband rambles on about business, real estate mostly. not that you pay much attention to detail so on and so forth. this is not what you were anticipating for your honeymoon. you were expecting a romantic getaway, someplace where your newfound husband would for once not go on about his business. now you are sitting in a carriage, on your way to spend your honeymoon in some drab castle your husband has listed to sell. you glance outside the carriage window, rolling hills of splendorous greenery for miles to come, the sunset melting into it, a mix of warm oranges and yellows of a traditional sunset, but the clouds hang low, grey, and heavy, brewing with an incoming storm. your view is interrupted by the swish of the driver’s whip, a flash of leather obscuring your vision of the wildflowers.

“awful weather, this time of year isn’t it?” you mention, still keeping your gaze out of the window, the clouds ominous as they loom over the mountains.

your husband’s ears perk up at the comment, almost confused by your sudden will of voice, since you’d been as silent as a field mouse the entire carriage ride.

“that is because it’s the beginning of springtime here, my darling. the weather isn’t as warm as it is back home”

“don’t patronize me, love.” you retort, a hint of amusement on your tongue, shuffling closer to the door of the carriage to gain a better view of the wildflowers, a mixture of rich blues and purples from native lilacs, their powdery scent, reflective of almonds as they seemed to flutter through the breeze, you inhale deeply, reminiscent of your wedding day, your husband had a large bouquet imported from these romanian fields, the scent – although not as crisp as the natives, still conjure up the sweetest of memories, kept locked away in the museum of your mind.

your husband takes your hand, smoothing over the back of your palm with his thumb in ginger circles, a soft smile falling onto his lips. he notices your apprehension, the tired, far-away look your eyes hold, riddled with exhaustion from the gruelling trip.

“not too long now, my love” he reassures.

you give an acknowledging nod, your eyes finally meet the two of your clasped hands. in truth, you had no idea what your husband had mentioned or what place he had acquired for the month. he already had your bags packed for this trip before you had the chance to consummate the marriage.

“i just wish you would consult me before making such decisions.”

he releases your hand, not before placing a chaste kiss on the back of your palm

“what consulting would there need to be? you're my wife now, i don’t want you to worry about such things.”

“this is not exactly how i planned on spending my honeymoon, is all”

“darling, have a little bit of optimism for once. trust me, you’ll love the place”

you chew the inside of your cheek, holding your tongue from spitting any incredulous words in his direction, even if it were to take the remainder of the carriage ride. your husband’s voice fades into the background amongst the scuff of carriage wheels against rock and the whinnies of horses. don’t kid yourself you love your husband, dearly. you wish sometimes he would consider things with you in mind, the wedding venue for example, a lush vineyard in the south of italy, sicily to be exact and while the scenery itself was gorgeous no doubt, you had implored for emilia-romania, finding the cooler climate better suited to your taste, you were never one for dry climates. even then a destination wedding was not the first recommendation on your list, what with elderly grandparents, an ailing father, and an aunt, getting them to the wedding proved more of a chore than anything else.

you let out a sigh, a short bitter one though your teeth. fingers idly twisting loose strands of lace from your dress sleeve, providing some form of distraction to your husbands incessant ramblings, you did admire his…his conviction, yes…how passionate he was about his business, it all he ever talks about it seems, even before the two of you were wed.

he’d buy you a house fit for a queen, yet a queen you did not need to be. luxuries did not mean a thing to you, you’d rather have a simple, modest home, with enough room to house yourself, your husband and a couple of children, maybe a pet – a cat perhaps, not a dog…far too excitable. and you’d rather not hear your thoughts echo off empty walls in a cacophonous mockery.

“stunning isn’t it?” your husband’s voice perked you out of your thoughts.

“hmm?” you blink, humming absentmindedly.

your husband points outside the window, your eyes follow up his arm to where his finger is pointing. beyond the horizon, just peeking out from behind the hillscape, lays a gargantuan castle, standing tall and proud within a mountain slope, a stone bridge connecting the two paths. the sky darkens upon arrival, clouds almost black, and a ravenous grumble of thunder seems to wash over the landscape, despite neither you nor your husband hearing anything.

it is surely a beautiful sight, the basalt and calcite pillars seem rooted into the earth, holding up the monstrosity of dark brick and stone.

“y-yes..it is…” you clear your throat, the castle seems far more imposing now the two of you are sitting in front of it.

you could see the vines of ivy scattered along the pillars, climbing desperately to reach even the faintest bit of sunlight. oddly…you could relate.

your husband thanks the driver, tipping him a handsome sum for his troubles, retrieving your baggage from the back of the carriage, you watch him converse with the doorman so effortlessly, confidence comes naturally to him which you can applaud. you’d surely be burning up in anxiety even at the thought.

taking slow steps outside of the carriage, you peer upward to glance at the towering door before you, sturdy and made of spruce, metal carvings of gargoyles and serpents, encircling a steel door knob. the door itself is held open by the doorman, a warm yet distant smile greeting you, a smile that seems to look past you, not quite fully meeting his eyes.

you offer him a nod in passing, entering the castle. darkness surrounds you, quite literally, the room encased in blackstone and the basalt leaking in from the external walls. ceiling high and revered, candelabra chandeliers hung by rusting chains with unlit and freshly snuffled candles, that creak every time they swing, so ominously as you walk underneath them as if they planned to drop on you any minute. the entrance remains the same for what seems like miles, a repetition of chandelier and pillar, chandelier and pillar with a suit of armour or decorative painting in between said pillars.

there is a stench of dust in the air, one that makes your nose itch and your eyes water. you scrunch your nose to be rid of the sensation.

“well it…” you pause following your husband up the staircase, a hand running over the spiral knob of a dark oak banister, a handprint left in the wake of where the dust used to be. you clear your throat.

“it's surely been lived in,” you mention, lamenting almost, noticing the spiderwebs glistening under sunlight, almost pearlescent in their colour through the windows.

“it is an old castle, you can not expect it to be pristine all of the time” he remarks, almost giddy as he examines the intricate spirals and swirls carved into the banister with such expert craftsmanship, it must have taken the carpenter months to complete.

“but not to worry, darling. i made sure the bedroom is up to your standards”

the bedroom, in truth, is glorious despite how much you want to disagree, the ceilings remain high like the rest of the house, the candelabra chandelier is now lit with warm, glowing wax candles, the bed, a giant thing it is, a bed frame made from mahogany, with the same spiral signature of the unknown carpenter that had done the banisters, splayed with a deep maroon bedspread and black velvet throw cushions with lace trimmings to match. you take a seat at the foot of your bed with a sigh, spreading down the sheets with your palm, more so to check if it too is coated in dust.

“are you tired, darling? perhaps you should rest before dinner”

“i am quite refreshed from the carriage ride, i might have a stroll around the garden if that's all right”

any excuse to stretch your legs i suppose, and to escape from the dust-ridden closet that was this castle, even for a few moments.

you trudge down the stairs, fists full of your skirts to not dirty them on the dusty wood. you kept a vigilant eye, on the watch for any servants that lurked about, offering you directions to the nearest exit. at the foot of the staircase, you spotted one, an elderly woman, skin pallor and hair white as chalk, matted into some sort of bird's nest, unkempt. her attire is tattered, the skirts of her dress filled with holes, chewed through by moths covered in grime and dirt, yet no stench possessed her, if anything, she smelt…clean.

“excuse me?” you ask, flagging her down. “could you perhaps direct me to the garden?”

the servant woman turns to you, pallor skin wrinkled and aged, eyes glassy, cataracts cloud her vision all milky and white, despite this she stares directly at you. she opens her mouth to reveal a toothy grin, a rotten missing-teeth grin to be exact. the sight makes your stomach churn. she hums an unfamiliar tune as she feather dusts a candelabra, revealing the brassy exterior beneath the cloud of dust particles, the candle themselves freshly snuffed, and warm wax melts down the candlestick like cascading rivers, dripping onto her hand, she does not flinch.

“past the dining area to the hall” she points towards the south with a bony, decrepit finger, long witch-like nails all chipped and broken.

“thank you.” you respond quickly with a small bow of your head. not wanting to stay engaged in conversation any longer than you needed to. you pass the elderly woman, her eyes seeming to linger on you for longer than you were comfortable, seering through your skull as if she was sizing you up.

“a pretty thing you are. tell me, have you had children yet? your hips are wide, good for birthing” she taps your hips with the wooden stick of the feather duster.

you are taken aback by the intrusive question, your throat running dry as you are stumped for words.

“uhh…well no. i’ve only just married you see” despite the awkwardness you try to remain as polite as possible, despite the embarrassment burning on your cheeks and the uneasy sway in your step from foot to foot trying to distract yourself. the old woman simply hums with a nod of her head.

“the young masters will be satisfied with you” she murmurs.

you freeze.

“what?”

she turns away ignoring you, walking away with maid’s basket in hand, humming that same unfamiliar tune. you are overcome with a strange sense, possible paranoia perhaps? your husband made no mention of any residents living within the castle besides the servants who barely maintained it and why on god’s green earth would your husband even attempt to sell an occupied residential property? no… like you said before, just paranoia, and a strange old, possibly demented woman who still believes the old residents still roam amongst the halls. still, even as the woman walks away with her back towards you, you can feel those milky white irises piercing through you.

you shake your head to rid yourself of the thought and continue onward to the garden.

through the dining hall she said, an extravagant room it is, mahogany table that of the bed frame stretching as far as the room is wide, matching chairs with high back, velvet red and embroidered with decaying florals, the table has been left set, cutlery rusted, ceramic plates chipped and broken he cracks repaired with liquid gold despite their fragility. goblets encrusted with rubies and sapphires and emeralds galore, seemed rather strenuous to drink from. they still held stains of red wine around the rims.

you did not think the house would feel so occupied yet empty.

a painting caught your attention, plastered above the mantle of the fireplace, it glimmered with an alluring presence, even under drab candlelight. it draws you in, and on bated breath, you admire the two figures within it. both of them are tall, well above six feet. masculine, it was very evident. the taller of the two is lankier and thinner, his body shrouded in a grey suit, seemingly stitched to his body, a bushel of deep purple lilacs held in an inky black hand. just like the lilacs present in the field on the carriage ride over. he stands almost as if observing you, proud and cocky.

the second figure is draped in furs of presumably a wolf, his chest bare, specks of it covered with necklaces of silver and white gold. surely that would be a hindrance in the colder months, but then again you assume this was not their usual attire. his body is more defined than the first, and you could help the blush that spread to your cheeks. good god get a hold of yourself, you're a married woman for christ’s sake. you should not be fawning over a painting of two dead men. you shudder at the thought.

you continue to observe the painting, only to notice that their faces had been painted over with a maroon paint, still fresh as it trickled down the canvas, over their oil painted necks and chest. the paint was very fresh indeed, a metallic stench still lingered in the air as you covered your nose to hopefully mask the smell of it.

you recall the elderly women mentioning something about young masters, perhaps this painting was of them? you could only assume since it was definitely the most regal looking of all the paintings you’d encountered. how odd, why would their faces be painted out if that was the case? maybe they had done something in their lifetime that warranted the expulsion of their identity? god only knows.

the wind flutters against your skin as you step into the garden, it seems like the only well-kept thing on the entire property, wildflowers grow between your toes, and white hydrangeas and peonies line the garden beds for miles, mixed in with once again, those purple lilacs. hedges carved into shapes of angels and devils, separated on either side, in a constant yet stagnant battle, frozen in time. you pursue forward, feeling the lushness of the shrubbery against your fingertips, how green and alive it felt despite the decay and dreariness of the castle.

in the centre stands a statue made of marble, a fountain beneath it spraying out spurts of crystal clear water, and stone benches surrounding its diameter. the statue is of a woman, cloaks obscuring her features, much like the two figures from the painting, her identity erased. she seems more objectified. her stance is powerful, a scythe in her right hand, a reaper she may have been. from her back sprouted wings, defiant of the air around her as they stretched proud and wide. she is utterly beautiful. you sit on the stone bench across from her, simply admiring. had she been a real woman whose image was forever immortalised in the stone? maybe she was a lover of one of the masters? the marble around her feet began to decay as if she had made attempts to walk free from the stand she had been put on and for a brief moment, you connect with that. that yearning for escape despite in your right mind knowing there was nothing for you to escape from. you have a wonderful husband who adores you, a modest amount of wealth, not to mention your health.

there is no need for escape, no need for respite. your life is wondrous, perfect even. still, a sense of dread overcomes you, a coldness that freezes your bones and chills your skin. like ice over a pristine lake. the sensation is eerily similar to the way the woman had made you feel, those eyes boring into your soul, trying to pry the thoughts from your inner psyche. this is…far more intense, those eyes instead burrowing into your mind making a home inside your skull. your skin ripples with goosebumps as your gaze drifts away from the statue, it is not her gaze penetrating you, no. for her eyes are shielded. this gaze was far more sinister, more lustful. your eyebrows knot together trying to decipher whatever this feeling is.

you look around, surely you were alone, no other occupants seem to inhabit the garden, aside from the bumblebees that pollinate the surrounding flowers. gazing past the statue and the shrubbery you still see no one, how strange…maybe a solitary gardener had just finished pruning the hedges? yet that sensation still fills so…so…ominous…

rising to your feet you smooth down the skirts of your dress, taking a deep inhale to calm yourself. it’s nothing…surely nothing at all. your eyes linger on the hedge line for a moment, a shadowy figure silhouetted in the distance, it blurred by the leaves, standing ever so still amongst the greenery, blinking your eyes a couple of times and then fixating on it again, it was gone, just like that. you shook your head to once again rid yourself of the thought, your mind just filtered with exhaustion, paying it no mind as you enter back into the castle, feeling the brew of a storm rising, as the clouds lowered and the wind whistled like a sinister threat.

dinner could not have come soon enough, you were simply famished yet, your stomach had rescinded the offer to eat. a wild spread of pheasant and seasonal vegetables towered on your plate, the table scattered with white grapes, and red cherries so sweet the taste dances on your tongue, or so you’ve been told. you haven't had the stomach to try one just yet. crystal goblets carved with the most intricate of patterns, half full of merlot, not to your standards by any means but the taste allowed you some resolve from the swirl of emptiness in your stomach.

your husband sits across the table from you, so far across the dining hall that you might as well have been eating dinner alone. you watch him shovel food into his mouth, like a man starved, simply unbothered, fixated on it like a wolf on a deer. he paid you no mind in the hours leading up to dinner, he had been busy of course, writing correspondents to back and forth between realtors and clients, a strenuous task. but dear god it’s your honeymoon for christ’s sake, you wished he would pay you a smidge of affection aside from a chaste kiss or a parting waist grab. the silence seems to fill the room, servants wait on hand for the meal to be over and in truth, you did too. you never did cope well with the silence, it allows your mind to fill with things you’d rather forget, like those eyes of the elderly servant, or the invisible ones that preyed on you in the garden earlier, still feeling their coldness burn into your flesh. you shudder in your seat clearing your throat, pushing around the potatoes on your plate with your fork still not eating them.

“darling whatever is the matter, you’ve barely touched your plate” he speaks still with a mouthful of food, a half-eaten bread roll in one hand and a goblet of wine in the other.

“are you feeling unwell?”

you place your fork down, staring down at your full plate. your stomach grumbles with desperation, ravenous with hunger, yet the thought of bringing food to your lips, makes it churn in discomfort. especially with how paranoid you seem to feel right now. every so often your eyes dart up, seeing if you could catch a glimpse of that servant, or if the painting of the two young masters would have miraculously moved.

“i am alright. i just don’t have an appetite this evening” it is the half truth. in reality you did have an appetite for something and it certainly was not food. your mind wanders back to the sensation from the garden, even under the invisible gaze you shied away, cheeks blushed with an incredible heat, you felt…insatiable.

“oh, i'm sorry to hear that my love. whatever is the cause?”

you debate on telling him about the garden, the elderly woman’s words, the painting of the young masters and the way it almost made you melt into a puddle upon inspection. you bit the inside of your cheek, hard enough to break your concentration from such thoughts. you inhale shakily through your nose, an almost silent confirmation to continue.

“does this castle not seem strange to you?” you ask, picking up your fork again to prod now at the carrots in an attempt to distract yourself.

“whatever do you mean?” your husband asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“i met an elderly servant today, she mentioned something about her young masters–the ones in that painting behind you i assume..”

your husband nods his head as if he were listening, confusion is still evident on his features.

“the way she said it made it sound that they were still alive. now i must have misheard it surely” you continue, prodding at the carrot until the fork spears it.

“but when i was in the garden earlier, i felt…i felt like i was being watched. this intense sensation washed over me, i could not see anyone yet i felt their presence…”

your husband nods again, putting down his napkin on his plate after cleaning his mouth.

“darling like i said before it is an old castle, it was most likely a gardener.” he stands up, straightening his waistcoat. he strides over you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder as a form of reassurance.

“you look exhausted, why don't you head up to bed, i’ll be with you shortly” he offers yet another chaste kiss to your cheek. one that seems to dim the spark of your love for him. it was not enough, and your words weren’t exactly heard. maybe he is right, it is just the exhaustion from two days of long travel. the rest is what you need.

“alright…”

he smiles down at you softly. before retreating to the study down the hall, the servants begin hastily clearing the table in silence all before you had even risen from your seat. you stare up at the painting one last time, how their eyes seemed to bore into your soul while being obscured. good god you really needed sleep.

“thoughts still troubling you darling?”

your husband shuffles into bed beside you, fingers stained with ink from his quill as he pulls back the sheets. your body curled up in the blankets trying to retain the warmth of your body heat that seems to be sucked out by the cold brick of the bedroom.

“is is odd isn’t it? i felt someone’s eyes on me…”

“i’m sure it was nothing, just… try and get some sleep.”

he kisses your cheek turning off the oil lamp on his bedside. despite his presence the bed still felt empty. your husband is a busy man, pleasures of the flesh held no time in his schedule.

hours pass and the moon high in the sky. your husband's sound asleep beside you, back pressed against yours only heightened the emotional distance you felt, so much for a honeymoon. you only desire, even for one night on this cursed trip to be ravaged by him, taken apart and put back together again in exquisite pleasure. yet he remains asleep, snoring softly into the pillows.

you try to close your eyes, try to lull yourselves into the depths of sleep. counting backwards in your head, counting bloody sheep yet nothing prevails. the air in the bedroom grew still, a chill present in the air, eerily similar to what it was in the garden. your skin rose in goosebumps, unknowing yet anticipating. your head glued to the pillow, body turned on its side to curl further into the blankets, it would be easier if your husband was not hogging the majority of them.

and then…a rush of warmth floods your loins, and an unparalleled bout of arousal forms in between your thighs. feeling ever so similar to fingers yet, the only man present was your husband and heaven forbid he would even attempt such a thing. your eyes shoot open, an attempt to sit up only makes your thighs weak. the blankets now shuffled at your feet, back pressing against the headboard of your bed, nightgown tossed above your thighs, cunt slick and wet and exposed to the midnight air. yet you did not attempt to touch yourself for the strange phantom ministrations provide all the pleasure you desire.

“a pretty dove isn’t she?” a voice calls out from the corner of the room, your head swings around to meet the sound. in the corner, stands two figures familiar yet unknown. immediately, you go to wake your husband, shaking him in an attempt to alert him. yet he remains sound asleep.

“do not bother, he will not disturb us” the other voice calls out, more delicate in comparison to the other. your body froze, arousal still pooling in your loins as the phantoms of his fingertips ravage your insides. they step out from the shadows, their cloaks billowing in the wind from the open window. your eyes widen….them…oh god god not them….

the two young masters the old woman had told you about. the taller of the two, his stance was more aggressive. white hair was kept short and cropped, still donning that grey suit in the painting. long slender fingers twirl in small circles by his side, and you feel every single movement despite the lack of contact. the other one makes slow strides to the foot of the bed, his muscular frame looming over you, yet he does not attempt to touch you. his face is also masked, yet his mouth is exposed, revealing sharp canines. you gulp thickly shuffling higher against the bed frame, he swiped his tongue against his bottom lip and you swore you could feel the sensation of it running against your clit.

“she craves pleasure, iii”

iii, you assume the taller of the two come closer to inspect. dark eyes admire the slickness of your cunt, watching the way you clench around nothing. iii also does not attempt to touch you, his fingers once again make small motions in the air, and you feel your cunt instantly spread, taking in the phantom of him. you stifle a moan, trying to force the intrusion out.

“she’s desperate”, iii chuckles, the other mirrors this sentiment, stalking around your husband’s side of the bed.

“why don’t you take the lead, vessel? i’ll make sure this one doesn't disturb us”

“what…mmm...what have you done to him…?” you mention to your husband who remains in peaceful, unaware slumber.

“he sleeps. he is unharmed…” vessel motions, taking in your features, admiring every inch of your figure, each crevice and curve hidden beneath the cotton shift obscured behind the almost arachnid-like mask, six eye-shaped creases replacing the natural two. canines prod out past his lips, through the open mouth of his mask, sharp and intimidating as his tongue flicks over them with ravenous intent.

your eyes flicker back to your husband, asleep still, in a trance they seem to have put him under while they ravage you with their eyes and phantom fingertips. they still made no attempt to touch you at least not physically, you could not help but let out a moan as vessel stood back, arousal evident beneath his cloaks, ghosts of his hands groping your breasts, a taut feeling rising in your chest, feeling him squeeze the mounds of flesh between his fingertips. iii now decides to inspect, pale eyes accompanying his stare, adoring the way your cunt pulses, dripping with wetness.

“little bird, you're dripping” although you could not see, his tongue juts out shifting his mask ever so slightly, as he licks his lips, and you could feel this. the small, dainty circles he traces against your clit, the full force as he flattens his tongue against you, drinking you in. you try your hardest to fight back you truly did, even as iii crawled onto the bed, stalking you like a predator would its prey, he keeps his hands to himself, fingertips barely grazing the cotton of your shift tracing over your perky nipples through the fabric. you stifle a breath, mouth going dry.

“don’t try to fight it. give yourself to us” vessel chimes in, his breath fanning against your neck, warm and desperate.

it was too overwhelming, the sensation, the overstimulation. your body betrays itself, possessed and giving into the phantom movements of their combined tongues and fingers and other various appendages. this could not be real, it's only a dream, a hideous, frightful dream. you’ll wake up in the morning, in your husband’s arms, body as untouched as the moment you went to bed.

an intrusion in your throat made itself known, the air rapidly vanishing from your lungs despite the lack of a physical presence piercing the back of your throat with violent thrusts. you could not protest, choking on what could only be described as an invisible battering ram. the intensity rises in your stomach, heightened by their unrelenting persistence, iii swirled his fingers against the bedsheets mirroring the reaction against your clit, vessel hand stroking himself through his cloaks mimicking the ministrations that riddled your throat.

sweetness drips down your shaking thighs, with a mixture of pleasure, uncertainty and regret. although they had not touched you, your body still felt marred by their presence. as your high comes down, they take a step back, eyes stalking, teeth sharp, primed and ready to strike, yet they cease, simply watching you as you drift into peaceful slumber.

their whispers echo throughout your mind.

“your husband is lost to you. dream of us…only us”

the next morning is met with silence, your eyes sunken and hollow from lack of sleep, your appetite still fleeting despite your stomach’s hunger, this time barely taking small nibbles from the strawberry speared on your fork. as much as you tried to disregard the events of the previous evening, thoughts and memories still prevailed in your mind, the way their hands caressed your body despite the physical contact, how their fingers, tongues, teeth and manhood ravaged you in the best of ways. your thighs clench tightly together under the dining table at the thought.

“you were tossing and turning an awful lot last night” your husband’s voice breaks the silence, shaking you from your thoughts. your breath hitches in your chest, skin goes clammy and cold. surely he did not hear, he was asleep like iii said he was, even when you tried to alert him he remained dead to the world. your stomach sinks with regret, no- you should not feel regret, those monsters took advantage of you in your most vulnerable of hours, despite the lack of touch, it made your skin itch and burn with shame.

“just a bad dream is all, do not worry” you respond taking another hesitant bite of the strawberry.

your husband chewed the inside of his cheek, his eyes not holding the same optimism as the day before, maybe he was just overworked, he did come to bed later than expected last night.

“well all right then” he stands up from the dining table.

“oh, by the way, darling, i have been called back into town, something about closing a deal on a mansion in south london, i must leave before noon”

“what?” you are stumped by the sudden revelation. getting up and following him up the staircase as the servants once again began to clean the table with haste.

“and what of our honeymoon-?”

“darling please do not argue with me on this, it is of the utmost importance that i close this deal so that way we can afford that cottage you wanted remember?”

“am i not important to you then? do you just expect me to stay here in this shithole by myself”

“you watch your tone-!” you are taken aback by his sudden outburst, taking a small step back against the bedroom door. his breath heaving in his chest with frustration. “ no darling, you are important to me-”

“then i’m coming with you”

“no, please. i’ll only be a couple of days” he begins to re pack his suitcase, which had conveniently been placed atop of the bed, its weight sinking into the plush velvet bedspread.

“and what do you expect me to do for the time being huh?”

“i don’t know love, find a way to entertain yourself” he places a chaste kiss on your cheek. speeding out the door without a proper goodbye, you're left alone, seated in the silence of the bedroom, lingering thoughts of those two apparitions, monsters of whatever the hell they were in your mind and most definitely in your loins. and their eyes, cold and unloving stare you down, waiting with bated breath in the shadows, marring your skin with lust.

you kept yourself locked in the bedroom for the rest of the day, servants leaving morsels of food left over from lunch and dinner at the foot of the door, plum scented merlot lingers in the air, and your stomach craves it. your body too heavy to lift the covers, to downtrodden in your own anguish to move, even as the moonlight bled through the curtains and their figures appeared through the window left ajar.

their stares as ravenous as ever, vessel’s especially, canines desperate to gnaw on your flesh, consume you from the inside. their cloaks less formal, iii only adorned in a white dress shirt and a simple pair of linen slacks, vessels attire remains more or less the same, less form fitting you'd say.

“you two…” you begin sitting up, feeling the warmth already pool in your loins despite your mind objecting to it in every sense of the word. vessel and iii remain silent, keeping their gaze fixated on you

“i’ve felt the two of you…crawling like serpents in my body…”

iii cocked his head to the side, white locks seems so contract against the black of night. his eyes crinkled into a cocky smirk.

“it is not us” iii begins, taking a step forward towards the bed. “it is your own nature”

“no-! i love my husband-”

“your body says otherwise, little dove” vessel interrupts, pulling the sheets back, your body grows heavy again, locked in place with invisible shackles no matter how much you tried to break yourself free. iii runs his fingers up your exposed thigh, the sensation of him touching one unlike any other, gentle yet dominating. you wonder if vessel felt the same.

“you are villains- monsters!”

iii’s finger traces even higher, drawing shapes into the skin of your upper thigh, so dangerously close to the axis, to your void of warmth. vessel accompanies him, only his fingers mimic iii’s actions down your chest, just at the lace trimmings where your breasts lay beneath.

your breath hitches in your throat, a moan stifled underneath. iii and vessel’s ears perk up eagerly at the sound.

“we are an appetite, nothing more” vessel reminds, fingertips sneaking underneath your shift, gingerly across the valley of your breasts.

“you are deceivers-mmh-!” you moan despite your words of protest due to iii’s fingers finding your clit, taking solace in how swollen the hidden pearl had become under his touch.

“you deceive yourself” iii muses, drawing harsh shapes into your clit. your fingers tightened around the sheets, trying to ground yourself in reality.

this is all a dream it is not real-!

vessel’s hands grope your breasts, palms pressed firmly against your perky nipples. he leans in, tongue whispering against the shell of your ear as he speaks.

“your passion is bound to us” his words are sinful, an unholy choir, his fingers, the conductors of chaos as they work their way around your body.

“you cannot… mhm….you cannot love” your hips roll to the movements of iii’s fingers, now teasing your entrance with slow, intentional strokes.

their cocks throbbing beneath their cloaks, iii grinds against the mattress, desperate for any form of friction. vessel strains in his shrouds, his size almost pressed against your cheek. your breath heightens, the sensation overwhelming as you try to gather your rationale.

“we cannot…” iii mutters his voice slightly sombre. “yet…we cannot be satiated without you, little bird”

vessel’s fingers linger at the straps of your shift, tugging them down with methodical delay. your breasts are now revealed to the midnight air, iii lets out a growl of hunger, ceasing his movements on your clit as he crawls up the bed, inspecting the stiffened buds further. iii begins to untie the ropes of his slacks shuffling them down, his cock slaps against his stomach, warm to the touch, drooling with pre-cum. vessel bares his fangs, canines grazing your skin.

“you are our affliction…” vessel lulls, his tongue jutting out past his lips to lick the skin of your neck.

before you can protest, he bites down hard. blood instantly pools in his mouth and he drinks you in reverently, determined and hungry with lust. a gasp catches in your throat and iii, ever the opportunist decides to silence you with his cock, forcing the lengthy appendage down your throat. your eyes well with tears, from the brutal force of iii’s cock and vessel’s teeth combined. your body retaliated, trying to push back yet the wetness still pools in your loins, iii’s fingers still wet with your slick as he holds your head still, hips pistoning his cock in and out of your throat.

“god…she feels incredible…” iii mentions to vessel who continues to drain your lifeforce, swallowing drop after drop of crimson so much that iii had to remind him to satiate his appetite.

vessel pulls away, licking up the small droplets of blood, trailing like ruby tears down your neck. your vision faded, they were nothing but blurred shapes clouding your senses. you gasp, ii having pulled out of your throat, to allow you some respite while vessel repositions himself between your thighs, your blood still dripping down his chin.

“she tastes divine” vessel shudders with pleasure, swiping his fingers against your cunt, gathering the wetness from between your folds and sampling you. the taste of your essence mixed with your blood was nothing short of incredible, like ambrosia for him. iii only wishes he could indulge in you if it weren’t for the mask obscuring his mouth.

iii’s jealousy spiked at the action, forcing his cock back down your throat, holding his position, adoring the way you gag around him. despite the lack of air, you did not attempt to stop him, the feeling was foreign but oh so wondrous, the air leaving your lungs, dark spots in your vision began to form only to disperse once he started moving again, only faster this time, taking strands of your hair between inky black fingertips, forcing you to take each inch of him.

vessel is more delicate with his actions, his tongue twirling around your clit, drawing shapes and symbols into the swollen nub, gathering your juices on his tongue. your body feels heated, not sure if for the loss of blood, on the venom his fangs poured into you. either way, you felt elated, weightless, pleasure surging through your veins as you allow them to claim you, painting your body with invisible marks of lust, indentations of where their fingers prodded, tongues licked and palms caressed.

“a goddess she is…” vessels words are muffled between your folds, lapping up each drop your body secreted. he kisses your inner thighs offering you some respite from the assault of his tongue.

“i did not think she would take us so easily” iii comments, holding his cock in the back of your throat, almost on the edge of orgasm.

“she is skilled…that bastard is a lucky man indeed”

the two of them continue overworking your body, to the point where your thighs ached, your throat burns with pleasure and your cunt pulses with need. you moan around iii, oddly happy to receive the effort of his labour, pre-cum already mingling with your tastebuds, and you desire more, craved more of him, and of vessel too.

without warning, vessel inserts two fingers inside you, your cunt welcoming the slender digits, his lips curl around your clit, sucking greedily at the sensitive pearl.

“she is close…” vessel remarks, engaged in conversation with iii as if you weren't even there.

“so am i” iii mutters through clenched teeth, his cock throbbing with an unparalleled need for release.

you gush around vessel's fingers, dripping into the sheets below. his eyes darken, shot blood red as he licks your cunt clean. your throat constricting around iii, his cum pumped into the back of your throat, forcing you to swallow every last drop of him.

“fuck..” iii growls, pulling out of your mouth.

your mind so fucked out that you did not even recognise that they were repositioning themselves. a mixture of shapes and colours clouded your vision, sensing iii was now behind you, he tugs you up by the hair, bringing his face to your neck, to where vessel had bitten you, inhaling the sweet scent of your blood deeply, a shuddering breath leaving his lips.

vessel positions himself underneath you, hands groping your waist, juices your dripping cunt down, lower onto his cock.

“let us ravage you, sweetheart. your body craves it”

you could not produce words, syllables falling flat on your tongue as your throat burns from iii’s assault. instead of allowing you to speak, vessel kisses you, and the clash of your lips causes a cacophony of emotions to swirl through your mind. lust, hate, regret, disgust. iii from behind mimics vessel's actions, driving his cock into your already full cunt, your walls tight enough as is having to spread and make room for the both of them. and the pleasure…it is instantaneous, arousal swirling in your stomach, both of their cocks prodding out through your flesh.

vessel breaks the kiss, his movements substantially slower and softer than iii’s. despite his masked features, he gazes into your eyes, drowning you in a sea of emptiness, a void unknown. a hand delicately comes up and cups your cheek, smoothing gentle circles into the skin with his thumb.

“you shall be one with us for all eternity…mmhm…do you swear it?” his voice was like honey in your ears, a far cry from the ravenous, violent grunts of iii behind you.

your mind draws blank, empty and fucked out with pleasure.

“do you swear it, little dove?” vessel repeats.

“i swear it…” you repeat the phrase like a mantra, perhaps in the hopes to actually have it come to fruition. vessel smiles a toothy, vampiric grin, placing another delicate kiss to your lips.

a far cry from the chaste, almost platonic kiss your husband left you with. and it broke your heart to think so. yet as of now, your mind is preoccupied with pleasures of the flesh, the way these hellish creatures worship your body, and crave your presence even for just a moment. the missing piece to their unyielding lust.

iii fills you, unannounced and your body is unprepared for the visceral reaction. his cum leaking out of you like a faucet, dripping down your inner thighs and coating vessel’s hips.

“oh gods…” iii grumbles, his cock softening within you, still keeping you plugged and full of him.

vessel chuckles softly.

“pay him no mind, he just adores you so”

iii hovers over you, nuzzling his face into your sweat-slicked shoulder blades.

“you ours now, pretty bird”

vessel grew closer to release, his cock throbbing inside you warmth. you lean into him, lean into the feeling of him as warmth spreads throughout your body. their cum mingles with yours, filling your womb with their unholy spawn. as vessel softens inside you, the two of them hold your body close, allowing their combined releases to incubate inside of you.

“our angel…” iii begins, breathless pants ravaging his breath.

“you are to remain in this castle, forevermore. your husband is a stranger to you now. the only men who will be able to satisfy your desires will be vessel and i”

vessel smirks into your neck, kissing the place where he had bitten.

“what do you say little dove, care to be ours forever?”

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

#{ my fics : 🤍 }#sleep token x reader #vessel x reader #iii x reader #sleep token smut #vessel smut #iii smut #sleep token #sleep token x nosferatu #sleep token fanfic #sleep token imagine

192 notes · View notes

harryspet · 1 year ago

Text

bambi eyes (3) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

word count: 3.4k

In which you do your best to deal with your Daddy's mood swings.

main masterlist

bambi eyes masterlist

You felt like you were seeing Rafe less and less as the next two weeks went on. He was stressed about what was going on with work. He often paced back and forth in front of you, ranting, although he was never specific about the details of what was going on.

You noticed that he grabbed you tighter, pushed you harder into the mattress, and talked less during sex whenever something outside was affecting him. You were starting to accept it; it never hurt too much, and you’d be more scared if he weren’t interested in you in that way. If he didn’t want to be intimate with you, then there was a chance he wouldn’t want you anymore.

As much as Rafe promised you this was permanent, you couldn’t fully believe him. He had done all of this just for you, so you had to be able to offer him something special in return.

Like Rafe wanted, you established a routine. Every morning the birds would wake you up exactly at eight, and you’d make your bed which kept you from napping all day. Staying in your room was causing your imagination to stretch. You found new ways to entertain yourself, including trying on all the clothes in your wardrobe and throwing elaborate tea parties with all your stuffed animals and dolls.

One night that you thought would be like the last twelve nights, Rafe came to you after Lana had already brought you dinner. He wasn’t dressed in his usual khakis and dress shirt but in sweatpants and a pullover. You were curled up on the window seat, drawing flowers in a notebook, when Rafe came over to join you.

“Hi,” You spoke softly. He placed a warm hand on your knee, and you slowly closed your notebook.

“Hi, baby,” There was an ease and calmness to his voice that made you believe he’d actually had a good day, “What are you working on? Show me.”

You sat up, leaning closer, as you handed him the notebook. You hid slightly behind your knees as Rafe began to flip through the pages. At this point, you’d covered half of the pages in your doodles, “Oh wow, these are really pretty, Bambi,” He smiled with his entire face, including his bright eyes, “We should hang some of these on the fridge.”

You felt a bit of relief, hearing that he liked him, “I have more. Way more. I’ve colored a lot of the coloring books.”

“Go get them, I’ll pick my favorites,” Excitedly, you got up from the window seat. When you set several full coloring books in his lap, Rafe’s lips parted in shock, “Okay, wow, I don’t think I realized how much coloring you’d been doing.”

“I think it’s fun,” You said.

“Good, I want you to have fun,” Rafe nodded, “But have you worn down all your color pencils? How come you haven’t asked for more?”

You shrugged when Rafe gave you an inquisitive look, “I try to take care of the ones I have.”

“Would you even ask Daddy for more coloring books if you ran out of pages to color?”

“Maybe,” You spoke honestly.

The idea of asking for more than what Rafe had already given you did make your heart race. Rafe shook his head at something, “Daddy will get you lots more art supplies. Maybe you could try painting?”

“We could paint together?” You perked up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rafe assured you, “I’m really, really sorry I haven’t been here as much as I’ve wanted to. Needed to, really. It’s just … I’m working on a lot of things right now, you know?”

“I’ve been okay,” You said, “Lana has been kind to me.”

“Good, good, I want you to be happy here, you know? That’s why I want you comfortable asking for things,” You watched Rafe’s eyes wander towards the bookshelf, “Like your books. I never see you reading them. Do you not like them?”

“I do,” You said quickly.

Rafe started to stare deeply at you, “What-what is it?”

“I . . . “

“I can pick some different ones for you? What do you like?”

“I like it when you read to me, Daddy,” Rafe tilted his head and the mentioning of his nickname didn’t light up his features like usual, “It’s hard for me. I never needed to … do that.”

He paused, which made you think you’d done something wrong, “You’ve never needed to read?”

“I can do it,” You said, “It’s hard when they’re all together, and there’s so many… the words. I’m sorry you think I don’t like the books you picked. I really do. I will try harder–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rafe rushed to put the coloring books aside and grab ahold of your face, “I just didn’t know, that’s it. You didn’t do anything wrong. At all.”

It wasn’t something you’d ever felt embarrassed about, but now you couldn’t help but feel stupid. Deep down, you felt a guy like Rafe deserved someone better. He deserved someone smarter than you.

You closed your eyes, wanting to hang your head, but Rafe said, “Look at me, hey,” Weakly, you did, “I’ve been thinking that you should spend more time with Lana instead of being cooped up in here. At least until I can take care of this … one problem I have. She’d be happy to have some company. And, if you want to learn, she could help you with your reading.”

“You don’t care?”

“Not at all, look, don’t worry. I’ve got you, sweet girl,” He said. Rafe leaned in to peck your nose before he brought your lips together. You melted into him, realizing then how much you missed him when he was gone, “You know what I was thinking?”

You stared back at Rafe, who had a mischievous look in his eye.

“We should take the boat out.”

“Now? Where?”

“Just on a short ride to get you some fresh air. It’ll be cold, so let’s find you some warmer clothes, yeah?”

It was a rhetorical question; Rafe was already making his way over to your wardrobe. You looked down at the small silk pajama set you were wearing. You’d seen all the boats out by the dock but hadn’t imagined that Rafe would take you out on one. “Lift your arms,” You did exactly as he said, pulling a light blue sweatshirt over your head. He also chose long pajama bottoms, helping you get into those, too, “You want to bring one of your stuffies?”

Your excitement mixed with your anxiety as you put on your slippers. It was a hard decision to make about which stuffed animal you wanted to bring, but you settled on Fin, your silvery-blue dolphin, “Excellent choice.”

Rafe grabbed your hand, leading you downstairs, “Do you think we’ll see a real dolphin?”

“Well, they tend to be more active during the day, and it’ll be dark soon … but maybe if you wish really, really hard.”

The air was much cooler outside than you expected, and you certainly didn’t expect it to feel so strange being in the fresh air. You turned in a circle just so you could take in the sky, the trees, the house, and everything around you.

You followed a determined Rafe across the yard and towards the deck. He chose one of the smaller boats, although there was room for at least four more people. You yelped when Rafe grabbed you by your waist suddenly and lifted you inside. Another yelp escaped your lips as the boat rocked under the pressure of your weight, “You’re okay, don’t worry,” He didn’t have to tell you to take a seat or be still; you decided you wouldn’t move at all, “One . . . moment.”

You watched through the corner of your eyes as Rafe untied the roaps keeping the boat tethered to the dock. The boat rocked again as Rafe hopped inside, causing you to grip Fin in one hand and grip the side of the boat in the other.

You sat in the seat right across from Rafe as the boat slowly pulled off towards deeper water. As the boat became more steady, you turned your head and watched Tannyhill get smaller and smaller. The orange and blue sky reflected off the water, creating an insanely beautiful view. You sailed towards the horizon, the son looking half submerged in the water, “How do you feel?” Rafe yelled over the sound of the motor, “Wanna go faster?”

You nodded, a smile growing on your face, “My little daredevil, huh?” You sat up on your knees, wanting to see more. You get a better look at Figure 8, seeing lots of huge houses along the beach, although none of them compare to Tannyhill. Rafe pointed out different landmarks for you, including the country club and a huge lighthouse out in the water. In your eyes, this night made every other night where you worried about your place with Rafe worth it.

“Go ahead, you can give it a taste test,” Lana conceded, allowing you to dip your finger into the chocolate cake batter. A few days after your night out with Rafe, Lana was showing you how to make the perfect chocolate cake. You thought she might be exaggerating about how perfect it was until you were licking your finger. An excited moan left your mouth and you bounced on the balls of your feet, “It’s great, isn’t it? Espresso powder is the key.”

“It really is,” You agreed.

“Now, wash your hands. It’s time to pour our batter.”

The entire day Lana had told you exactly what to do and how to do it. You didn’t mind listening or following her directions as she usually spoke to you warmly. Besides that, you wanted to learn exactly how to take care of things around the house, knowing that Rafe would appreciate your help when Lana couldn’t be here. The two of you cleaned the entire downstairs, did several loads of laundry, washed the windows in the glass patio, and even had time for a reading lesson in the early morning. She informed you that she homeschooled her youngest son and that she would try to teach you in a similar way.

As you washed your hands, you glanced out the side window towards the dock. You could see Rafe far out on the dock, standing with the same business associate who came to the house a few weeks ago. They weren’t alone like you were expecting; someone was on their knees a few feet ahead of them, their head slumped over. You squinted your eyes, trying to see more of them, although Rafe and his business associate shouting at each other blocked your view, “What are they doing out there? Who’s that?” Lana came over to where you were standing, peeking out just like you were.

Whatever business Rafe was involved in, Lana didn’t seem to care for it, “Mr. Cameron and Barry, they’re always at each other’s throats,” She shook her head, “Come, dry your hands. The oven is heated.”

You did as she said, turning your head away. There were going to be several layers to your cake, meaning you had three pans to fill, and after that, you and Lana would make the icing. Just as your mind wandered back to Rafe, you heard him coming through the kitchen door.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, pacing for a moment before his dark eyes landed on you, “Bambi, let’s … uhm, go upstairs,” His voice was shaky and deeper than normal, “Come here.”

“We’re-We’re just about to put the cake in the oven. It’s for tonight, and we’re going to make homemade icing too–”

“Now …please,” He said the last word like it was painful, “It’s time for you to go back to your room.”

No, no, no, a voice repeated in your head.

“But Lana was going to teach me how to ice the cake, too and she —”

“Fine,” Rafe snapped, his hand slamming against the counter before he rolled his eyes, “Just stay here.”

As Rafe stomped away, you knew you had something horribly wrong. You’d seen him in a similar mood before but he never directed any of his vitriol towards you before. Whatever had happened on the dock had clearly upset him. You really wanted to finish working with Lana. More than anything, you didn’t want to be locked in your room for another long period of time.

After taking a breath, or attempting to take one, you turned to Lana, “I didn’t mean… I-I should go say sorry.”

“You might want to let him calm down a little bit, sweetheart,” You’d already made up your mind. You reached behind your neck to undo the top of your apron, “Turn around, let me help you. He’s not mad at you.”

“How do you know?”

“I know who he is,” She spoke simply, “Don’t take anything too personally with Mr. Cameron.”

“You can finish without me; I’m sorry, but thank you for today,” You said as you started to walk away. After you saw her nod, a sad smile on her face, you turned away and sped for the stairs.

You approached Rafe’s bedroom moments later, hesitantly turning the knob, “Daddy?” You called, peeking inside. You called him again. He wasn’t in the main room but the shower was running in the bathroom, “Rafe?”

You jumped when he suddenly appeared in the bathroom doorframe, shirtless and his belt undone. This time, you notice his bruised hands and bloody knuckles.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset, Daddy.”

“Get down on your knees,” He stared you down. When you tried to come closer, he said, “No, drop to your knees right there.”

You felt your knees brush against the bedroom rug, “Crawl to me.”

If Rafe wanted you to feel even smaller, then his plan was successful. You did as he said, seeing no other option, and crawled towards him. You watched as he palmed himself over his briefs, and you could already feel him stretching you, pulling your hair, and leaving marks on your bottom. This wouldn’t last, you told yourself; he would be gentle with you another time.

Your sage dress had ridden up your body, exposing your floral patterned white panties.

“You’re gonna suck my cock and swallow all my cum. And then you’re gonna thank Daddy for letting you.”

You’d do exactly as your Daddy wanted, hoping he’d take your sore throat and tears as a sufficient apology.

Once you were soundly asleep in his bed, Rafe slipped out. He had a huge, bloody problem waiting for him in the cabin of his boat. Luckily, JJ Maybank was still the degenerate he used to be, and no one except his Pogue girlfriend would come looking for him anytime, “Son of a bitch isn’t talking,” Barry grunted out, meeting Rafe at the beginning of the dock, “Knocked two of his bottom teeth out and he’s still not motivated.”

Rafe had done everything possible to limit any competition he might face in Kildare. All small-time dealers would be working for someone who worked for Rafe. This was meant to be Rafe’s island yet somehow, Maybank was getting supplies from the mainland and was stealing his customers.

“We could take his girl.”

Rafe contemplated Barry’s question before shaking his head, “If she comes around trying to find him, we might have no choice. I’m sure that will motivate him.”

Rafe could see Barry’s eyes wandering to Kie. Part of him would love to see JJ squirm if they got their hands on her. You were the reason he didn’t think too long about that. Barry, on the other hand, Rafe would let him do whatever he wanted with Kie. In the end, Rafe wanted JJ to talk, to give up his sources, but he’d be just fine killing him.

“I hope,” Barry crossed his arms, “Not exactly looking forward to dealing with the body.”

“We don’t have to deal with that shit anymore; I know who to pay to handle it,” Rafe said, “Speaking of, I think I-uh need some more security here. I want guards all around the perimeter. Because of the amount of merchandise and if we’re going to be taking captives, you know. I want this place to be a fortress.”

“Your merchandise, huh?” Barry flashed Rafe a knowing look, “You got any liquor in that big house?”

Rafe gestured his head toward the house, signaling to Barry to follow behind him.

“If Kie doesn’t come for him and if he still has no information to offer us, we kill him. No more torture, no mess, one gunshot to the temple,” Rafe instructed, his mind racing with what their next moves should be. The more planning beforehand, the better, and the less likely it would come back to them, “That’ll send a message to the rest of the Pogues too. They work for me, or they work for no one.”

“And after you’ve cornered the market?”

“That’s just the start of everything else,” Rafe led Barry through the first floor, towards his office. Ward always used to keep his office stocked with liquor as it came in handy for important meanings. Rafe learned people will often let down their barriers and concede to more under the influence of alcohol. He opened the door for him, allowing him to enter.

“Whoa,” Barry said, walking inside just as Rafe heard a soft gasp from a familiar voice. Eyebrows raised, Rafe entered behind him to find what had shocked him, “Is this the new Mrs. Cameron?”

With wide eyes, Rafe took you in. You were in the same clothes Rafe left you in, one of his white button-ups and your knee-high socks, “What are you doing down here?” You slowly stepped behind Rafe’s desk, and he could tell you were trying to hide yourself.

“I-I couldn’t find you.”

Rafe’s jaw jutted forward, his arms crossed, as he said, “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Your lips parted to say something, but Barry interrupted, “C’mon, man, it’s not even midnight! Introduce me to your girl. We can all have a drink,” He grabbed ahold of Rafe’s shoulder. You would think Barry had one the lottery based on the look in his eyes. By complete accident, Barry had stumbled on Rafe’s biggest treasure, “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“She doesn’t drink.”

Rafe was frustrated, mostly because he should’ve been keeping closer track of you. He’d given you that necklace for a reason. A new idea crossed his mind, one he wasn’t expecting, and some of his anxiety eased. He was far from embarrassed of you, he’d chosen you for a reason, but part of Rafe wanted Barry to envy him at that moment.

Rafe sighed, waving you closer to the two of them, “Bambi, this is Barry. Barry, this is Bambi,” Smoothly, Rafe grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you into him.

“Hi,” You said shyly, “It’s nice to meet you.”

When Barry held his hands out to you, your eyes darted towards Rafe as if to ask permission. Agreement crossed his face, and Rafe watched you shake his hand. Barry was fully taking you in, of course, but Rafe knew a handshake would be the extent of his closeness with you.

“The pleasure is all mine, beautiful.”

“Chill out, dude. Sit down,” Rafe instructed Barry, pulling you along.

Barry made himself comfortable on the leather couch and Rafe motioned you to sit across in one of the leather chairs.

“How you liking Kildare?”

“It’s really nice,” Rafe heard you respond as he poured two glasses of whiskey for him and Barry, “There’s so many big houses, and … it’s just really pretty.”

“You ain’t seen much then, have you?” Rafe handed Barry his glass, flashing a warning with his eyes, “All the girls where you’re from, they as pretty as you?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” You laughed nervously.

Rafe placed a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him, “Why don’t you go get Barry a slice of that chocolate cake you made?”

Rafe assumed it would ease your nervousness if you could share what you made. “Okay, Daddy,” You smiled at both men, and both men watched you closely as you walked out of the room, “I’ll be right back.”

“Pretty and obedient,” Barry whistled, “I need to travel more.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support on the first two chapters BUT psa you will not be added to my taglist if you're not reblogging the fic and letting me know your thoughts! It is crazy to me that people will ask me to tag them in the next chapter when they have neither liked nor reblogged the fic. Constructive feedback is more encouraging than just commenting "PART 4" or "tag me in part 4" :)

PART 4

#dark fic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #outer banks smut #barry outer banks #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

simp-ly-writes · 2 months ago

Text

Reborn From Ashes

─────── · · Dreams of Dragons (pt.3)

PAIRING: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen!Reader

SUMMARY: Realities collide when an unknown man calls you his princess and chaos ensues. A great storm has taken over Dragonstone as an equal one starts to brew in your mind. Will you listen to this man that speaks of destiny? Or will you try and fight it?

TAGS: alternate universe, canon divergence, no use of y/n, second person perspective, female pronouns used, coarse language, protective!Daemon, angst, blood and gore, hurt/comfort, soulmates, time travel, targ-cest, engine-translated high valyrian, not beta read. MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 3,468 | PRIOR | NEXT A/N: Happy after work chapter! Sorry for the heavy lore dumping in advance heh...

─────── · ·

WHAT HAS MY LIFE BECOME?, was all you could think when waking up on your cot in Dragonstone. A great fog had taken over the island, your head fuzzy as you stumbled forwards out of your tent- your knees slipping into the mud as you cursed underneath a breath.

A hand extends to you, yet another glimpse of sparkling silver has you squinting thinking it to be the sun as you grab their hand to stand. But you soon come to realize it is the chain they wear that glimmers so brightly and you can do little to conceal your gasp at the three headed-dragon crest as they smile down at your reaction.

"It has been some time since I last saw a silver sister," the bald man notes, head tilting towards the fortress where many teams were already at work underneath canopies and tarps within the courtyard, you nod and follow behind his steps in order to take in more of his appearance.

The wind was bitter cold, your cheeks hurting from being pelting of rain and your outer shell of a raincoat was already soaked through, it was as if the sea was down from the skies as much as its waves roared up the cliff face- and the man in front of you practically skipped through the onslaught- as if in his own element.

Feeling your gaze, he looks back and bows his head, "having troubles, silver-haired?" You take his words as an insult, "I can assure you the hair has nothing to do with my age," you fire back watching as his eyes sparkle with humour that he soon stifles before he holds open a heavy oak door, allowing you to walk in first before it slams behind you both, the wind also trying to find peace indoors from the rain.

The entrance hall is empty of people yet the space is filled with the echoes of every sound you make from the vaulted ceilings. Large and imposing trusses hold dark metal chandeliers forgotten to time as artificial lamps brighten up the space. Everything appeared too bright and sterile under the cold lighting, you missed the warmth of open flames and candles alike warming your skin... among other things, you shake your head of the nonsense and turn back to the bald man to find him already looking at you whilst leaning against a carved stone pillar that depicts dragons and native fauna.

"Have we met before?" you question, walking closer whilst trying not to shiver as the cold water had made its way down to your bones. "Have we?" he echoes back, standing up straight- his stance appearing confident yet his eyes are cast to the floor and on your muddied boots.

"Why speak in riddles when we can speak in plain truth?" you counter before shaking your head, why do I even bother?, "who is your superior? Look at me and tell me," you demand, feeling around your pockets for your phone to call whatever manager misplaced their rogue trainee.

"I am meant to be here just as much as you are," he ignores your demands, looking over your shoulder and up the grand stone staircase, "and that means more than you think."

"More than I think? Well, I spent my life studying my ancestors in order to be here and you dare ask- no, tell me my position? I belong here," you cross your arms, partially to warm yourself, the other to guard your heart that feels attacked.

"You are right, you do belong here, I never said otherwise-" you shake your head, turning around to walk upstairs, hand moving to the radio on your hip to page your team. You listen as the man follows behind you, eyes curiously looking over your frame before you stop feeling as they slam into your back before apologizing, "my princess, you must forgive me." And you swear that by sheer force alone your radio crackles- threatening to snap in your hand, "I'm sorry?"

And you receive no response, turning on your step to stare down as he does his best to kneel before you on the uneven steps, "It was never my thought nor intention to offend you, my princess. I ask of your good heart to forgive my transgressions."

You begin to look around panicked, phone, radio, watch, lights... I cannot be back in the past.... can I? You slowly lower yourself to sit on the steps, any rage you once felt had succumbed to the overwhelming fear you felt, am I losing my mind? And so you whisper softly enough for only you both to hear, "but I am not a princess?"

The silence that follows is heavy, you watch as they stiffen, hands gripping the stone steps as do your hands as if competing who would be first to draw blood in their anxieties. "May I speak freely, your highness?" Their tone equally soft as you nod, unsure of your own voice.

"I am an Elder of the Dragonkeepers. I have devoted myself to the old gods and to my kings and their dragons alike. I have been tasked by those above us in a test of my devotion to guide you back on your path..." the man takes a long pause, hesitantly meeting their eyes with yours, "...if you will allow me to?"

And without a second thought you answer, "I think you have the wrong person." You stand, taking two steps at a time, moving past the second level and up to the third and then the fourth.

The man follows like a shadow, "You have dreams, do you not?" You trip, hissing as you slam your face into the uncut stone edge of the stair. A gasp begins to form at your temple, blood seeps down your cheek like a tear.

You hiss at the pain, standing you wobble, gripping the bannister for strength before continuing upwards the seemingly never-ending staircase as tears begin to form in your eyes. "You have read the tapestry, have you not?"

You grab the bannister this time, pulling yourself up as you stagger up the remaining steps and walk through an arched door frame and into a dark hall seemingly yet to be explored. Cobwebs act as barriers that you step through and walk over, you swear to hear the scurrying of rats near your feet yet nothing will keep you from getting away from this dragonkeeper.

"The Rogue Prince has threatened his brother, your father for-"

"He is not my father!" you whip around and yell, "I am not a princess, I am a scholar, I am no one's niece, guide, nor bride!" Your hands curl up into fists, you swear to look manic, dressed in blood and split skin, soaking wet down to the bone.

The Dragonkeeper stands still at the end of the hall, his back basked in sunlight, "please, let me help you understand-"

"You don't understand! I was never meant for this... this insanity! You are only a figment of my imagination, this whole thing is just some large prank, right?" You reach for your radio to speak yet find it dead in your hand, dropping it to the floor, kicking it away in your frustration.

The Dragonkeeper takes slow steps forwards, joining you in the darkness as you fall to your knees, shivering. They offer the cloak off their back, wrapping it around your shoulders as you clench the cloth tightly, knuckles turning white. "The eldest princess was beloved by not only her parents but by the people. It was a great travesty thought to be punishment of the gods when she died unexpectedly in her early years."

You look towards the floorboards, counting every nail you see as the Dragonkeeper takes a seat in front of you, their palms sat in their lap, a silent ask for you to take them as they close their eyes, recounting the tale as is they were reliving through it in their thoughts. "Her body was never found in time for the burial. Some said that she was fed to the dragons for her weak blood, others that witches kidnapped her... but it was us, the Dragonkeepers, that took the child and presented her to the old gods on behalf of King Viserys."

You too, close your eyes, hesitantly reaching forwards for their palms, warm and weathered skin greet you with a soft squeeze of reassurance. "The King knew of a prophecy that had been passed down generations of Targaryens, knew that his daughter he found asleep more than out playing with the rest of the children, who spoke of events way before her time who could see the future in many instances, had to be part of this prophecy, and so he begged and pleaded for your safety and for many years it was unknown if our pleas were heard..."

─────── · ·

Soon the blackness of your eyelids became painted with a vivid scene. Encompassed by black stone walls that formed a colosseum was a fiery red dragon, Caraxes! you yell in a voice unlike your own. You look down to see your long black garbs on fire, you hastily pat the flames out with your hand as your other grips a quarterstaff.

The Dragon cries, its neck swings side to side, trying to be rid itself of its chains. "lykiri Caraxes! lykiri! (calm! calm!)," you shout, trying to walk towards the dragon only to find a wing coming down like a wall that sends you crashing back against the black stone.

You watch as many other Dragonkeepers come forwards, shouting commands, other throwing food, treats and toys towards the creature yet nothing seems to calm down the beast as it roars that soon fall to whimpers as a figure emerges in dark armour that blends into the walls.

Their helmet is held underneath their arm as they confidently stride towards the enraged dragon without second thought, their hand outstretched as it touches the scaled muzzle, closing their eyes with a heavy sigh as smoke exhales from the dragon's nostrils. It is then you notice their face to be covered in blood and that their red hair was unnatural, silver stained by blood.

"Nyke rȳbagon aōha ōdres keskydoso ñuhoso ziry feels kempa isse ñuha prūmia, nyke miss zirȳla tolī, (I hear your pain the same way it feels heavy in my heart, I miss her too)," the man you now know to the Prince Daemon speaks to his dragon, consoling it. The rest of the Dragonkeepers bow their head yet you hide behind a pillar to hear the rest of the conversation.

"Kessa māzigon arlī naejot nyke, naejot īlva, kesi mazverdagon sure hen ziry iā se vys kessa addemmagon syt taking ñuha soul hen nyke (She will come back to me, to us, we will make sure of it or the world shall pay for taking my soul from me)." The Dragon roars in agreement before outstretching a leg allowing for the prince to climb up into their saddle and the pair fly away as you remerge into the pit.

─────── · ·

You gasp, retracting your hands as the Dragonkeeper keeps their eyes closed, smiling softly, "the prince has always cared deeply for the princess... and is but an instance of the madness that ensued after your untimely passing. Yet little did everyone know, even yourself, you were being raised and protected for your mission-"

"But how do I keep crossing between worlds?" you question, cutting the man off as your heart aches in seeing your uncle's pain, "If I am safe here in this time, why do I leave?"

"Allow me to finish the tale, princess." You bite your cheek, closing your eyes and grabbing their hands once more. Memories of your childhood bedroom walls coated in sigils and ripped maps, of your parents, the Dragonkeepers that raised you sitting by your bedside, silver dragons dangling from their necks. Your thought-to-be father appears to be speaking the words of the man before you, their eyes are filled with unshed tears.

"Have you ever questioned how they knew so much about your family's history that has been forgotten to time? Have you not worried over their lack of care for your condition as if it is something normal?" A smaller you sits in their bed, gripping their bed sheets tightly. You cry softly upon realizing my life was nothing but a lie.

"The magic that keeps you here has been dwindling and will continue to do so, the only thing that keeps you here now is your fear," the Dragonkeeper whispers, dimming the lamp beside your bed.

"But what of my life, the people I have met? What about my career and aspirations, everything I have worked so hard towards?" you reach out for their hand to stop their movements, "I do not want to lose it all to be a mere princess."

"You are not only a princess, you are a protector of realities, your highness. Everything you have learned will be worth twice its weight in gold back where you are meant to be, you must allow yourself to let go-" his voice echoes in your mind.

"But I can't!" you stand up and shout as the room becomes darker as you stand alone in the shadows.

"You can, you will. You cannot stomach the world's end due to your own stubbornness. The world you reside in now is not possible if you do not go back... so I ask you to do what you do best, and think," the Dragonkeeper's voice fades, you feel their hands slide out from under yours yet you are unable to open your eyes.

Spinning around, you cannot see your hands or feet in the blackness that surrounds you- nor can you scream or shout- your voice drowned out by a constant hum. Soon fire ignites around you in a circle, the roar of a dragon has you shuttering and hunched forwards by the power of its breath.

Figures emerge standing around the flaming circle, you see the ghost of Prince Daemon's hands shake, his eyes a mixture of grief and pain before turning around and storming away. You then see the Princess, Rhaenyra step forwards, she throws a picture of a grey dragon, the first you ever saw into the circle before she too is dragged away into the darkness.

You meet King Viserys eyes as he nods at you, head held high to support the weight of the crown yet silent tears stream down his weathered cheeks. You hold his stare, watching as he slowly extends his hand through the flames, "be reborn through the dragon's flames," he chants. You look over his shoulder to see the Dragonkeeper standing behind him, he nods his head, silently asking for you to take his hand.

The fire feels warm yet you do feel a burn, you smell as your clothes burn away. The uneven rocks you step upon with bare feet are jagged, threatening to push into your skin yet you persevere. You reach your hand out to grasp the outstretched one of the king and your eyes are met by white light that blinds you and the cold touch of a breeze.

─────── · ·

You find yourself to be in a vast forest of pine trees frozen to time, standing tall in an effort to thaw by reaching the sun. Another breeze casts a light layer of snow over your body, you shiver as the cold bites at your skin, finding its way into your wounds that ache.

Your dress is in shambles- holding on by a mere thread. You reach down, ripping a part of your skirt and wrap it around your waist in an effort to keep the garb up before following the sun in hopes of finding your way out.

Passing by a frozen over creek you kneel down and do your best to analyze your face and wipe the blood that nears your eye. I look like death, is all you can think to yourself, and you feel close to it too if you did not find better clothes or shelter soon. The frozen water cracks, the ground shakes below your knees, you dogs barking and howling in the distance followed by a dozen horses galloping- and you chase after the sound.

Tree branches blur in the background, your feet ache, torn up by the uneven ground below you yet you know you would not survive once the warmth of the sun had vanished, not with the injuries that still sting upon your hands and face. You run as fast as you can before tripping over a fallen branch, scraping your knees on your way to the forest floor.

You shout in pain, trying but failing to pick yourself up and suddenly a stag rushes past you, eyes wide in panic as it belts out in pain. You see an arrowhead sticking out of its neck, a hunt, you raise your head, eyes beginning to freeze over as the high sun reflects off of the snow, blinding you from seeing further.

"HELP!" you shout, "PLEASE!" you beg as the howls become louder. "Please," you whisper, shaking as another gust of snow drapes over your fallen form. You reach out your hand in desperation, waving it in the air, your voice lost as the winds sing and your heart stops at the sound of a low growl.

The snow had suddenly formed yellow eyes that peer deeply into your own. You shake your head, reaching out with your palm, "I mean you no harm," you beg the animal yet know that it has no chance of understanding you, so curl into yourself in an effort to appear smaller.

You startle in your actions feeling as a wet nose touches your cheek, your eyes peek open to see the large muzzle of a wolf staring down at you. Its eyes appear human-almost as they widen, looking over your features carefully before howling loudly. You wince, tucking into yourself again yet the animal stops you part way as it lays beside you, head resting beside your own.

You all but whimper as the warmth of their fur helps to ease your blue fingertips and you await the footsteps that crunch in the snow. Metal clammers, leather boots squeak as they approach your form. The wolf stands tall to attention, you watch as a hand pats the space between the large wolf's ears. You cannot hear the praise or command over the singing of the wind yet the wolf darts off, disappearing into the snow.

A young man now kneels beside you, their long brown hair flowing in their face. His gloved hand picks up your head, his other tries to shake the snow off your hair. You watch as they still- realizing it is not the snow that makes your hair brilliant silver but your natural tone. "A Targaryen?'" a deep voice questions to themselves, "how did you end up here?"

You silently watch as they unsnap the heavy cloak from their shoulders and place it over yours. "Thank you," you breathe out. Their hand swipes away the blood from your cheek, eyebrows furrowing, "were you taken?" You nod knowing it to be the easiest answer.

He bares his teeth, "by who?" The man helps you upright yet you fail to stand on your own, body weak from the cold as you rest upon their broad chest, "I am sorry-" you try yet fail to move away.

The man holds you upright with ease, their grey eyes flooded with concern to match their frown. "Why apologize when it was against your will... unless you wanted to be kidnapped?"

You shake your head rapidly and notice the metal wolf sigil on their armour, a Stark. "I-I do not remember, it was at night and I just managed to escape," you explain, "you must believe me," you grip their leathers tightly with your plea.

"As a lord, it would be treason for me to speak otherwise, and as a man, I would be stupid," Cregan Stark jokes yet his tone lacks humour. You twitch in his hold as he picks you up in his arms, setting you on the saddle of his horse.

You open your mouth to protest before watching as he sits behind you, reaching forwards to grab the reins, "Rest" he commands. You tip your head in confusion before realizing the words were directed at you. "Rest," he says again in a softer tone, "I will ensure no more harm comes your way, consider it a promise from my house to yours."

And with his words you allow your head to rest against his chest, listening to his heart as sleep finds you.

─────── · ·

PRIOR | NEXT

A/N: warming up with the Starks huh? 🤭 wonder what your family might think of that...

─ · · DREAMS OF DRAGONS TAGLIST: @blkmystery @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @themoonlitquill

152 notes · View notes

megwritesriddles · 3 months ago

Note

hiii girlyfriend! i saw you were taking requests and was waiting if you’d consider doing a little drabble where it’s both your and neville’s first time and he’s way more nervous than you so you start to praise him to make him more comfortable and be ends up surprising both of you by being really into it

a nsfw alphabet for neville

thanks and ily! i reread both your neville fics like all the time they’re sooo good!

MDNI 18+

thank you sm for this request and for your comments about my work :')!!! I chose to do the NSFW alphabet because I've always kind of wanted to do one. I did incorporate the praise a little (because Nev is definitely a praise kink kind of guy). I hope you like it!!

word count: 2.2k (i told you i might get carried away)

warning: smut obviously, brief mentions of periods

all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Neville is the biggest sweetie ofc. He makes sure to wipe you clean with a warm damp cloth, being extra gentle around where you’re sensitive. He’ll make sure you have water to drink and fetch you some food if you say you’re hungry (I can just imagine him humming to himself as he slices up an apple for you). And ofc loads of cuddles, which is just as much for him as it is for you, he tucks you against his chest and breathes you in, making sure to whisper all sorts of sweet words.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His - I honestly don’t know, I think whatever part of his body you say you like best, he will like best because you like it. I might say hands if he had to choose, I think he loves to touch you and hold hands with you and also gardening which requires a lot of steady hand work. But if you say you like something else best, then he’s highly suggestible to it.

Yours - Your eyes. He’s a romantic, he loves the way you look at him, the way they light up when you spot him across the room. And of course, the way they darken seductively when you want him, the way they flutter closed when he hits just that right spot deep inside you. He could stare into your eyes forever, picking out all the flecks of colour, the way your pupils shrink and dilate.

Ass or boobs? - I want to say ass (because I have way more ass than boobs lol) but something tells me deep down it’s boobs. But he doesn’t care what size they are, huge or barely there; he loves them. He also definitely does admire your ass too, he’s a big fan of both, but leans toward tits. I can see him loving thighs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I think he’s pretty tidy with his cum, he likes to cum inside (condom or not). I don’t see him as the type to splatter your face or tits or anything. If he doesn’t come inside you, it’s either on his own belly or in his pants (when you’re being particularly teasing or he gets too into eating you out).

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He just wants to be your good boy. He comes instantly when you first say it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

…. It’s Neville, let’s be real here. I mean, depending on when you meet him, I don’t think he’d be a virgin until like 40 but he’s definitely a super late bloomer in terms of sex, so probably a virgin or only has a body count of 1 when you meet him. He isn’t the type to sleep around, he has to really trust someone he sleeps with. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he’s a super eager learner, not afraid to ask for guidance until he’s a god at pleasing you. Memorises your body which makes him better at it than someone who has lots of experience with various people, it’s a personalised experience.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He’s a classic romantic and loves to look into your eyes as you have sex, so missionary is a fave. Cowgirl with you facing him is his ultimate favourite, he loves looking up into your eyes, embracing as you give into pleasure together, you being able to set the pace.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s serious but in a sweet way. If you make a joke he’ll laugh, but he’s unlikely to crack his own. He likes to whisper sweet loving confessions, so he stays serious, but once it’s over, he might be a little more goofy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He probably didn’t see any reason to shave or anything before the two of you started having regular sex. I can see him trimming intermittently, not for aesthetics but practicality. He’s a real man and doesn’t care about you having a bush, he prefers if you trim a little bit but it won’t stop him going down on you. I think he’d find it odd if you were completely hairless tbh. As long as you keep mostly clean he’s happy to brave the bush. (I feel like there’s a funnier expression for this but it’s not coming to me)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s a romantic sweetheart. He’s constantly praising and complimenting you, his arms wrapped around you in an affectionate embrace or his fingers intertwined with yours. He loves kissing from your forehead, down your temple and cheek and finally to your mouth as he slowly presses in and out of you. I think he’s quite slow and gentle as a general rule, liking to take his time with you, only getting a little frantic right before he comes. Kisses literally everywhere, all over your body, gentle and lingering. Eye contact is big for him as I said before, foreheads pressed together and noses brushing.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I can’t see him masturbating all that much, even before he met you. That’s not to say he wasn’t experiencing attraction or arousal, I think he’s just more horny for the emotional element (??? if that makes sense). I don’t think he’ll masturbate when you’re apart, just leaving it so he can feel even better when he finally sees you again. Before he met you I would say he got off once a week, letting most of his boners die in a cold shower or just with time (again it made it better when he finally gave in), especially during his Hogwarts years when he was sharing a dorm. He was more considerate than any of his dormmates.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Edging, praise (both of you receiving), a teeny bit of degradation (calling him pathetic or needy, nothing too harsh), being called a good boy, lowkey being bound by the vines of some magical plant as you use him to your liking (you didn’t hear this from me, this is only when he’s feeling particularly dirty, it isn’t on his mind most days)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s not one for exhibitionism so almost definitely just the bed, he quite likes using the sofa when he gets his own place but other than that he might occasionally do it in the shower, but he’s not a huge fan of it. He’s all about comfort so a plush surface in private is ideal.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You, plain and simple. When you give him a seductive look, when you praise him (even for something innocuous and unsexy), when you lean over and accidentally push your tits together or your ass out, they way you play with your hair, the way you bite your lip when you focus, when you use that soft sighing voice.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I can never see him being mean or rough. That’s not to say he’s always 100% slow and careful, he loses himself to the feeling sometimes, but generally he’s a gentle guy and it would break his heart to insult you (eg. whore or slut). He’s also not one for slapping or spanking I don’t think, maybe a soft swat on your ass, but nothing harsh enough to leave a bruise. Sorry to some of y’all, I don’t make the rules, he’s a sweetie.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ooooh he’s a munch I just know it. He loves to pleasure you and he loves the taste of you. He could go down on you for hours (if only his jaw would cooperate). He adores the praise he gets, your hand in his hair, your beautiful moans, eyes squeezing shut, thighs around his head.

He quite enjoys receiving as well, it feels really good to be at your mercy. He’s quite whiney and sensitive, his hand gently tangling in your hair, but never pushing or pulling. The sinful way you look up at him as your lips are wrapped around him, it drives him crazy.

As I said before, at first he barely knows what he’s doing but he’s constantly asking for guidance until he can get it right. It’s second nature to him now, he could make you cum from it in under two minutes if he liked, but he enjoys drawing it out for both of your pleasure.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He really likes to take his time so he isn’t the biggest fan but he’s more than down if it’s the only option. Not that often as he would only do it if there was no other choice, often what starts meaning to be quick gets significantly stretched out. You’ve learned the hard way not to proposition him in the morning on working days, but for lazy Sunday mornings, he’s absolutely perfect.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Experiment a little, sure. He’s down to try most things if you’re into them (other than what I specified in No) but his preferences are reasonably vanilla. As long as he’s with you, he can enjoy it either way. You would probably have sex in a risky location once or twice and he would be so anxious about being caught that you wouldn’t do it again. However, if the danger is only being overheard, he doesn’t mind so much, happy to kiss you to keep the both of you quiet. It’s being seen that worries him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can probably come twice in a night with a reasonable cool down period, however, since he’s good at pacing himself and pleasuring you with other means, he can give you many rounds. Your sex usually lasts a long time. The first few times though, he absolutely comes prematurely.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I can’t see him being a toy person, but I think he’d be completely cool if you had a vibrator for when he’s away. Some guys get weird and jealous about toys, but he just wants you to be happy while he’s not there to take care of it. If you want him to use the vibrator on you while you have sex, he will.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t tease much, but when he does, he’s surprisingly suave and smug. It always makes you fold as it’s so rare. He loves being teased by you, having you flirting brazenly, sitting in his lap, brushing your hands up his arms, whispering dirty things, showing off your body, giving sultry looks. He adores it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This man whimpers as I’m sure we all know by now. I don’t think he’s too loud, but it almost makes the little groans and whimpers he makes hotter as they’re all low and quiet, private just for you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I think he’d be quite willing to have period sex. He likes to help relieve your cramps by helping you orgasm and doesn’t see why he should be disgusted by something your body naturally does, so long as he washes up well afterwards. I don’t think he’d go down on you, but sex and maybe some fingering is still on the table. Of course, he only does this if you ask, he never approaches you for sex on your period, letting you come to him if you need him. He doesn’t want to make you feel pressured or uncomfortable, even if the way he usually approaches you for sex is already very sweet and without pressure.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

We all know that he’s hung, this is just an accepted truth in the fandom. He’s a little longer than average and definitely thicker, he probably has a slight curve. He’s also more buff than you’d think under his sweaters and cardigans.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I think he’s highly suggestible with his sex drive. On his own it’s fairly low (once a week as I said before), but with you it’s a lot higher. He’s quite in tune with your moods, and is easily seduced if you’re in the mood, so when you’re ovulating, his drive is higher too because you’re glowing and you keep giving him these damn looks. When you’re less aroused, so is he, but he barely ever says no when you offer. He approaches you first about sex maybe once to three times a week, the rest of it is up to you to initiate.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I think he definitely does get sleepy, but fights it off to be able to take care of you. The second you say you’re fine and don’t need anything else, he’s embracing you and dozing off. It’s another reason he dislikes public stuff or doing things on uncomfy surfaces, he gets very dozy afterwards.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

162 notes · View notes

asterafroditis · 1 month ago

Note

Hello! Would you mind writing a platonic India & reader fic in which idia and gn!reader were childhood friends, like practically attatched to the hip. But after ortho's incident, idia started shutting himself in his room, never getting out, and once reader found out what he was up to, they decided to help, so they worked on Ortho in his room daily but never really spoke if not for the basic necessities. And once Ortho was fully built and coded, they didn't really have a reason to be together anymore, and their relationship was awkward, so they stopped seeing each other. And once they're in night raven college in the same dorm, they have the first concrete conversation after years? Please?? I hope you're having a great day btw

𐔌 . ⋮ lost connection .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Platonic Idia Shroud x gn! reader

𓏵 1000 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 2nd Person POV, no pronouns used, angst, neutral ending

idk if you wanted hurt/no comfort or hurt/comfort so I kept it neutral, hope that's okay TT feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

You and Idia had been inseparable once.

Back then, he was a little awkward, a little quiet, but never distant. He’d talk your ear off about games, anime, or whatever niche interest had caught his attention that month, all with that rare excitement that made his eyes burn like embers. He never liked going outside, but with enough convincing, he’d do it—for you. And in return, you learned to love the things he loved, spending long hours at his side, backs pressed together as you battled through co-op campaigns or designed your own game concepts just for fun.

It had been easy. Comfortable.

Then, Ortho died.

And suddenly, Idia wasn’t there anymore.

At first, it was just messages left on ‘read,’ then excuses—sorry, not today, I’m busy, maybe later. Then nothing at all. You hadn’t even seen him at the funeral. It was like he had disappeared entirely.

You should’ve expected it. Idia had always been a shut-in at heart, but this was different. It wasn’t just him retreating into his room—it was him shutting the world out, locking himself behind doors no one else could open. He wasn’t even playing the games you used to play together. His account had been inactive for months.

So you went to him.

When you finally stepped into his room, the first thing you noticed was the smell—burnt wires, solder, metal shavings, something synthetic humming in the air. It was a mess, scattered with blueprints, disassembled parts, unfinished code flickering on multiple monitors. And in the center of it all, hunched over his desk with dark circles so deep they could’ve been bruises, was Idia.

He didn’t even look at you.

“You’re building him,” you had said. It wasn’t a question.

His fingers froze over his keyboard. Then, barely above a whisper:

“I have to.”

And that was that.

You could’ve said something then. You should have. You should have told him that this wasn’t healthy, that bringing Ortho back like this wouldn’t fix anything, that no matter how perfect he made him, it wouldn’t change the fact that Ortho had died. That Idia shouldn’t have to cope like this—isolated, barely eating, drowning himself in lines of code and artificial skin.

But you didn’t.

Because what else did he have?

So instead, you sat down beside him, grabbed a spare wrench, and started helping.

It became routine.

You spent nearly every day in his room, working with him in silence. It was strange, at first. You had never gone this long without actually talking to him, without hearing him ramble about stats or lore or how some company completely butchered an adaptation. Now, the only words you exchanged were functional—pass that to me, check the output, hand me the screwdriver. It was all just work.

And yet, you kept coming back.

Because someone had to make sure he was eating, that he was still sleeping (however little), that he didn’t completely disappear into this project and forget he was still alive. You could barely recognize him anymore—he never smiled, never laughed, never looked at anything but the machine in front of him.

Sometimes, you wanted to shake him, to scream this isn’t what Ortho would have wanted—but the words never came.

Because what if this was the only thing keeping him together?

What if, the moment you took it away from him, he shattered completely?

So you stayed.

And then one day, Ortho opened his eyes.

It was eerie, at first. He looked the same, sounded the same, even moved the same—but something was different.

Or maybe, something was missing.

Idia didn’t see it. Or if he did, he never let himself acknowledge it. He only looked at his brother with something you hadn’t seen in him in so long—relief. Like he had been holding his breath all this time and could finally breathe again.

You should have been happy for him.

But all you could feel was something cold sinking in your stomach.

Because your part was done now, wasn’t it? There was nothing left to fix, no more reason for you to be here. Idia had what he wanted.

So you left.

And he didn’t stop you.

Years later, you found yourself at Night Raven College.

You weren’t surprised when Idia ended up in Ignihyde—you knew he would. You had even known you’d be dormmates, though somehow, you never really ran into him. It wasn’t like he ever left his room. If he knew you were here, he never reached out.

And you weren’t sure if you wanted to be the first to break the silence.

So you ignored it.

Until now.

“…Why are you here?”

The voice was hesitant, muffled slightly by the door cracking open just enough for you to see his eyes—still burning, still wary.

You blinked. “I live here.”

A beat. Then, “…Oh.”

For a second, neither of you spoke. You wondered if he’d shut the door in your face, if you were supposed to pretend you hadn’t spent years knee-deep in grief together. If he even saw you the same way he used to.

Then, after what felt like forever, he muttered, “…You look different.”

You almost laughed. “So do you.”

Another pause. You could hear faint game sound effects in the background, the same ones you used to hear through his headphones all the time.

“…Do you want to come in?”

You hesitated.

You weren’t sure if stepping back into that room would pull you into something you had already left behind—if you were ready to face the weight of everything that had been left unsaid between you.

But then again, hadn’t you already been carrying it this whole time?

So you stepped forward.

And the door closed behind you.

129 notes · View notes

violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year ago

Text

Vienna. One.

Everything is the same. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Nothing is the same.

pairing - carmen berzatto x reader

warnings - cursing. references to mikey’s death.

word count - 2k

authors note - strap in, this one’s gonna be a rollercoaster!! can’t wait to get into this a little more. I love this show, and we’re gonna have so much fun getting lost in that world. this series is going to make you laugh, cry, scream, and want to throw your phone at my head. get ready <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

part two. series masterlist. inbox. masterlist.

home (hōm) - the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Everything is the same. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Nothing is the same.

You’ve been staring at the outside of the building for fifteen minutes.

It looks so different that you had to check the street sign, ensuring you are where you thought you were.

The Bear.

It was The Beef, the last time you were here. Stood in this very spot, tears dripping down your face, you bid farewell to the life you once knew.

Now you’re back.

It looks slick, professional, high end. It’s all polished glass and sharp edges, a drastic contrast from what once stood here.

You wonder what Michael would think.

The thought sends a pang of sadness through your heart, which you shake off as quickly as possible. Today should be a happy day, you remind yourself. Emphasis on should.

You take a deep breath and try the door of the restaurant, surprised when you find it unlocked. Walking inside, you have to stop and take in what’s in front of you.

No more sticky floors or peeling paint or arcade machines. No more flickering lights or red pleather booths or plastic cutlery.

The restaurant you’re currently stood in is slick, spotlessly clean, perfectly laid out. It’s like something out of a magazine. You’re in shock, bewildered by the transformation.

“Holy shit.”

The kitchen door has swung open, and across from you stands Richie Jerimovich.

“Am I hallucinating, or what?”

You laugh, and before you know it, he’s striding towards you, throwing his arms out for you to jump into. He wraps you in a bear hug, spinning you in circles like when you were a kid. You’re dizzy when he puts you down, his hand grabbing your shoulder to steady you on your feet.

“You hallucinate often these days, old man?”

“Old man,” he scoffs. “Yeah fuckin’ right. Do I look old to you?”

“You want me to answer that?”

He shoves you playfully, shaking his head.

“Thought I was seeing ghosts when I saw you stood in here.”

“If anyone’s hallucinating, it’s me. How… how did you do this? It’s like a whole new restaurant, Cousin.”

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“Really cool. I think I stood and stared at the sign outside for like twenty minutes. Seriously.”

He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in.

“He’d have liked it, right?”

You can hear the slight waver in his voice, well disguised insecurity peeking through.

“He’d have fucking loved it, Richie.”

He presses a kiss into your hair, bumping your hip with his affectionately.

“So what, you’re like, a big boss here now?”

“I’m in charge of front of house, actually. I’ve been professionally trained and shit. Oh, guess what?”

“What?”

“I wear suits now. Every night.”

“You’re kidding. Bet you wear them well, too,” you tease, laughing when he kicks your foot with his. “You always scrubbed up well.”

“You gotta see it for yourself. We’ll make you up a table tonight, get you to try everything.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay. I’m not gonna put you guys out like that.”

“Vi, you’re not putting us out. And you and I both know Carmen isn’t going to take no for an answer.”

Your heart skips a beat at the very mention of his name.

“I just don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“Babe,” he practically whines, pulling you into him, “you are never an inconvenience. For any of us.”

“Okay, okay,” you relent, resting your head on his arm. “I can’t wait.”

Richie grins, excitement vibrating off him.

“Okay, let me look at you. You look good, Vi!”

You mock a twirl, spinning with a curtsy for good measure.

“I like your hair like this,” he compliments, plucking at a strand. “Suits you.”

“Thanks, Casanova,” you laugh. “How’s Eva?”

“Oh, she’s good. So good. Did you see all the pictures I posted from the Taylor Swift concert? I’m officially the best dad in the world.”

“I did, and they were the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. She’s so big, now. Can’t wait to see her soon.”

“I’m sure she’ll be excited to see you. Cousin tells her stories about you all the time.”

“…he does?”

“Are you kidding? Of course he does. Sugar does too.”

A cool sense of relief washes over you. It’s nice to know that they haven’t forgotten about you, as stupid as it sounds. There’s something comforting about knowing they still talk about you, even when you’re gone.

He plants a kiss on the crown of your head as the kitchen door flies open once again. Marcus, Tina and Ebra file in, along with a girl you’ve never met before. They’re looking at you with curious expressions on their faces when you hear it.

“Does anyone know where the fuck I put my good knife?”

When he doesn’t get an answer, he strides into the restaurant, stopping in his tracks at the sight of you at Richie’s side.

He tries to speak, but he can’t.

Instead, he practically runs across the room, wrapping his arms around you as your feet leave the floor.

You bury your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of home that you’ve missed so much. He’s murmuring into your ear, but you can’t for the life of you work out what he’s saying. It’s all low and slow, careful to not be overheard. You tangle your fingers into the hair at the back of his head, nudging his face back into your shoulder. He presses a gentle kiss to your skin, which sends a shiver down your spine that you’re praying he doesn’t notice.

Eventually, after what feels like hours, he pulls away to look at you. His hands are on your waist as if they belong there, as yours cradle his face.

“You’re home.”

He breathes it, as if he can’t quite catch a lungful of air.

“I’m home,” you say, sweeping your thumbs across his cheekbones. “You’re home.”

“I’m home.”

You’re completely unaware of the group of people watching you. They all know they should tear their eyes away, but they can’t seem to. It’s new, seeing Carmy like this with someone. They’re all wondering what the hell has happened.

“Fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you,” he laughs, pulling you back in for another hug.

Pressing a kiss into your hair, he rocks you slightly, as if you’re both completely thrown off balance by the presence of the other.

You step back, giving him a once over.

“I like your tattoos, Carmen. Very hipster.”

“Shut up,” he chuckles, shoving you lightly. You shove him right back, both of you grinning like idiots.

His eyes flicker up, catching Sydney’s gaze. She looks completely bewildered, and a little uncomfortable. Carmy tugs you into his side, turning to face the crowd.

“Syd, this is Vienna. Vienna, Sydney. The rest of you guys know her.”

They all smile, meeting you in the middle for hugs and hellos. You hold your arms out to Sydney, who steps into them somewhat apprehensively, giving you a quick squeeze.

“My name isn’t actually Vienna, but it’s been a nickname for as long as I can remember. So you can call me Vienna, or Vi, or Enna. I get them all.”

She nods, visibly still a little confused. The door swings open one last time, and out walks Natalie.

“Oh my God!”

You give her a careful hug, on account of the bump she’s sporting.

“Oh, you look so beautiful, Sugar. You’re glowing!”

“It’s sweat from the kitchen babe, I swear.”

The blonde sits down at a table, and you join her, eager to catch up with one of your oldest girl friends. As you do, Sydney and Carmy reconvene a distance away.

“She’s pretty.”

“Yeah, she is.”

Carmen’s watching you as you talk to his sister, as if he’s worried you’ll bolt out the door at any given moment.

“Your… girlfriend?”

“Oh, no,” he’s suddenly a little flustered, hand scratching the back of his neck. “Best friend. We’ve known each other forever. Literally. Our mom’s had us a day apart. We were neighbours, grew up on the same street.”

“Ah. And she’s been away?”

“For a long time. Think it’s about five years, maybe more. I went to culinary school, she went to art school, both ended up living in different places.”

“Did you know she was coming back?”

“Jesus, Syd, is this twenty fuckin’ questions?”

“Sorry,” she says sheepishly, fiddling with the end of her braid. “You just seemed surprised to see her.”

“Yeah. I was. Had no idea she was back in town.”

“Did you guys keep in touch?”

He gives a look that says really?, but answers the question anyway.

“Not as much as we should have. It’s hard, being so far apart. We saw each other a few times, texted and called when we could. But it’s not the same.”

He glances in your direction to find you laughing with Natalie, a delicate hand placed on her growing stomach. Nat looks happy, carefree, like the young girl she once was. You seem to have that effect on people.

Richie pulls out a chair next to the pair, knocking into Carmy’s shoulder as he sits down.

“Told Vi we’d give her a table here tonight, so she can try everything. You should join her, catch up.”

Carmy reacts as if it’s the stupidest idea he’s ever heard, so Richie continues quickly.

“We need to be able to run this shit without you. One evening with you dining instead of cookin’ won’t hurt.”

“We’ve done it before,” Sydney adds, alluding to that fateful opening night. Richie snickers. Carmy doesn’t.

“And you’ll be here, it’s not like you’re a thousand miles away. We’ll come out and get you if we need help, Cousin.”

Carmy’s known his answer since the very first second Richie asked the question, but he’s trying to play it cool. He doesn’t want to give away just quite how excited the thought of an entire evening with you makes him.

“Fine.”

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You and Sugar have ended up practically on each others laps at your table, whispering and giggling like old times. She’s telling you a story about something funny Pete said when you look over at Carmy, to find him already staring at you.

Your heart skips a beat as you catch his eyes, smiling gently at the fact he refuses to look away. He’s so timid with everyone else, so worried about what people think of him. He’s never as bold as when he’s with you.

You wink at him, quick and cheeky, and heat blooms across his cheeks instantly. He winks right back, stifling a grin by biting at his lip.

“You never told him, did you?”

Nat’s watching the two of you intently, gaze flicking back and forth between her brother and his childhood best friend.

You take a deep breath. And then another.

“No.”

“Vienna.”

Her tone is stern, almost scolding, and you suddenly feel sorry for the child who’s going to be on the receiving end of it one day soon.

“I couldn’t do it.”

She grabs your hand, resting them both in her lap.

“Secrets like that eat people alive, Vi.”

You squeeze her hand before dropping it, desperate for the conversation to be over.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll tell him when the time is right.”

“The time is never right when it comes to Carmen. You and I both know this.”

You refuse to admit she’s right, even though deep down, you know she is absolutely is.

“You haven’t told him? Richie hasn’t either?”

“It’s not our place to tell him. You have to be the one to do it.”

You inhale carefully, risking a look over to where Carmy is stood up, pointing at a table in the corner of the restaurant. He’s clearly in Chef Mode, both him and Sydney speaking in a language you can’t even begin to understand.

He catches your eye and smiles, all bright and bashful, before resuming what he was saying.

You don’t want to hurt him.

You think it might be inevitable.

Everything is the same. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Nothing is the same.

@agirlcandream84 @diorrfairy @raging-panda @melancholicmelanin @nolita-fairytale @jacxx2 @huang-the-geek @2guysonascooter @stxxllaaa @an0nym1ss @thereisnoowl @dreamingofleon

490 notes · View notes

beckyninja · 25 days ago

Text

The End... And the Beginning

Pairing: SalamanderOC x FemReader

Warnings: Wedding night spiciness abounds! MDNI

Description: Finally, Nev'ran and his Diamond get their happy ending, and a start to a new life.

This is the end of these two's story for now, though I do plan on returning to them in the future. I've had so much fun writing them and their love story. Find the chapters leading up to this finale on my Masterlist.

(And don't forget to ask if you'd like to be added/removed from the Taglist.)

The brand over your heart still stung. You didn’t mind, running your fingers over the mark as you sat on the edge of the bed. Your eyes travelled around the large room. The intricate wall carvings. The metallic mosaics. The massive floor cushions you could sink into and never find your way out again.

So very different from our quarters aboard the Flamewrought.

A smile flitted across your face as you remembered Nev’ran leading you to his clan house, a dwelling so seamlessly carved from the stone of the city-sized cavern, that it seemed to have grown from the floor. To be honest, you’d first found the structure a tad forbidding.

Nev’ran had sensed your tension.

***

“I have not returned here since the passing of my youngest grand-niece,” he said apologetically. “I am afraid it has lain empty for… longer than I care to remember.”

You smiled up at him. “The Chaplain said it was my duty as your wife to bring light and life. I might as well start here.”

A look of awe came into his fiery eyes. “My wife.”

Then he scooped you into his arms and carried you, giggling, across the threshold.

***

The great door, carved with twining dragons, swung open to reveal your husband. He still wore his wedding robes of deep green and ebony, though now loosened to display the muscled expanse of his chest. They revealed the new brand placed on his chest between his two hearts.

Your heart leapt at the sight.

He carried two bowls of what smelled like stew in his hands, one significantly larger than the other. Nudging the door with his foot, he frowned at the creaking of the hinges.

“One more thing I need to repair.” He rumbled.

“How long is the list now?”

“Too long.”

You laughed and beckoned him closer. He approached, handing you one of the bowls. The spicy scent filled your nostrils and your stomach growled.

“Throne, I haven’t eaten since last night. Did you make this?”

How strange it was to see a fierce Space Marine look bashful. “I did. I hope I was successful, it has been some time since I cooked.”

“It smells wonderful.”

You dug in, using flatbread to shovel meat and sauce into your mouth with reckless abandon. After a moment, you realized he watched you.

You swallowed and blushed. “Not very refined of me, is it?”

“You honor me with your appetite.” A mischievous glint came into his eyes. “I can fetch water if you require it.”

“Nev,” you scoffed, “if I haven’t grown used to spices by now, I never will.” You gestured toward his own bowl. “Now eat!”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled.

You ate in silence. But not the cold, empty silence you’d known before. This felt… comfortable. You snuggled up to his side, basking in his presence. Inhaling, you could still smell the red-hot metal from a few hours ago, when the two of you stood, facing each other across a fiery brazier.

***

The emerald green robe covered you from neck to foot, thick material meant to protect your skin from flying embers. A veil likewise concealed your face and the sweat rolling down it. If not for the priestess assigned to fan you from behind, you felt you might have fainted from the sweltering heat.

The Chaplain’s chanting seemed never-ending. You barely understood the prayers, rumbled in the ancient Nocturnean tongue you’d only recently begun to study, but knew he asked the Emperor to bless your union.

You managed to pick up the words “fruitful” and “womb” and blushed.

Finally, the elder Salamander ceased and approached the brazier. Your heart leapt to your mouth as he lifted a branding iron from the flames and held it out for you to take. Somehow, your fingers remained steady as you grasped the handle with gloved hands.

The Chaplain switched to Gothic. “Repeat after me, child. With this brand….”

You prayed your voice could be heard over the crackling fire. “With this brand, I seal you, Nev’ran, to me. Fire-forged in bonds of duty and love, unbreakable forever more. In the names of Vulkan our father, and his father who sits the Golden Throne eternal, I do this.”

Nev’ran opened his robe, and you pressed the brand to his flesh.

He never broke eye contact, even as his skin seared. The love in his gaze burned away your nerves.

Then he took the iron offered to him and repeated the same vow. The sincerity in his words brought tears to your eyes, and you opened your own robes. He lifted the brand, hesitating as an unspoken question passed between you.

You nodded slightly. You wanted this.

Still, the pain almost caused you to cry out. You squeezed your eyes shut, sucking air through your clenched teeth as the smaller brand pressed into your skin. Almost as quickly as it was there, it was removed, and the priestess behind you stepped forward to smear a numbing salve over the burn.

“Joined in fire!” The Chaplain intoned.

The chapel rang with the cheers of those who’d come to witness your union. But you only had eyes for your husband.

***

Nev’ran swallowed the last few bites of his stew without tasting them. His eyes fixed on you. His Diamond.

My wife.

He still had trouble processing the fact. It seemed only yesterday you kissed him for the first time, as a corrupted colony burned beneath them. The dragon within had demanded he make you his without delay. The man had urged patience. Despite your smile, you had been fragile.

He remembered having to restrain you as you scrubbed your skin raw in the baths that first night. He remembered the many nights that followed, when you had clung to him, seeking refuge from relentless nightmares.

He’d held you as you cried, watched over your battered mind and body as you slowly healed.

Nev’ran thanked the Emperor every day you’d shown no signs of corruption. If you had… if he’d been forced to….

He pushed the unbearable thought away.

“What has you looking so glum?” Your voice roused him from his reverie. “Regretting saddling yourself with me already?”

Shocked, he prepared to refute such a preposterous statement. Then he saw your smirk.

“You are teasing me.”

“I am.” You laughed.

By Vulkan’s burning eyes, I love that sound.

Setting his empty bowl aside, he caught you up in his arms, burying his face in your neck. You squealed as he wiggled his fingers against your sides.

“Dangerous to tease a dragon, my love.”

He continued his assault against your sensitive body until you writhed in his grasp, tears of laughter running down your cheeks. His own deep guffaws mingled with your sounds of mirth. No longer the sad, fearful ice maiden. Freedom from the shackles of your old life had transformed you. You glowed with an inner fire he’d always known burned somewhere deep within.

Finally, he relented. You lay limp and gasping in his arms.

“I… should never have… told you I… was ticklish.”

“A mistake I intend to exploit.”

“Cruel dragon.” You pouted.

He relaxed his grip. He should’ve known better.

With a triumphant cry you lurched upward and poked a finger directly into a neural port on his abdomen. Sensation ripped like wildfire through his nerves, sending sparks through his brain. Vision blurred as his abdominal muscles contracted involuntarily, a deep groan tearing from his throat.

“Throne! Nev, I’m sorry!”

He panted. Soft little hands cupped his cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to press so hard! I-”

Your words died as his eyes snapped open. He saw the light in your eyes, the pulse in your throat. He followed a bead of sweat as it rolled from your neck down between your breasts.

Over your brand. His brand.

“Diamond….” He growled.

That scent… my mate’s scent….

Grasping the back of your head in one hand, he covered your mouth with his own.

***

You couldn’t breathe. You didn’t care. Everything in you surrendered to the man kissing you like he meant to devour you whole.

I’d let him.

You’d been starved for his touch. First there had been the interviews with the Chaplain of the Salamanders’ 4th Company. The man’s grimness intimidated you at first, before you learned of the deep kindness behind his stoic facade. He’d explained to you what it meant to be the wife of an Astartes, the difficulties you would experience, the trials, the expectations.

He’d emphasized the need for discretion when the Company encountered other Chapters or Imperial agencies.

When he found your responses satisfactory, he moved on to Chapter history and customs. The lectures lasted the entire remainder of the trip to Nocturne. In your brief moments of respite, when you took meals with Matia and Lili, you’d joked about feeling like a neophyte.

Matia had recounted tales of her own instruction with the Chaplain, after Hur’reth’s proposal. Though, already being a daughter of Nocturne, you doubted her education had been so exhaustive.

Lili mostly remained quiet, still mourning the loss of her family and home. She’d been taken in by an older serf couple aboard the Flamewrought, and seemed to be adjusting well last you saw her.

With everything, you and Nev’ran had been lucky to snatch a few scant minutes together each day. Though you’d made sure to make the most of them.

You moaned into his mouth, hungry for more. You ran your hands over his hard chest. Even now, his sheer power amazed you. Your fingers traced the bumps and ridges of innumerable scars and brands. Each a testimony to his prowess in battle.

An image of him tearing through a horde of monsters to reach you sent heat rippling through your veins. You trembled. When his tongue pushed past your lips, you welcomed it.

Then he pulled away and you whined, clawing at his chest to pull him back to you. Another growl rumbled through him.

Next you knew, you lay flat on your back on the firm mattress of the bed. He crawled atop you. His movements reminded you of some great predator, and a primitive part of your brain shrilled a warning. But desire overruled all caution.

“Nev’ran….”

His chest heaved like a forge’s bellows. Flame danced in his eyes. Rocking up on his knees, he stretched forth huge hands and grasped the edges of your robe.

Then, all at once, you were no longer in the bedroom. No longer on Nocturne. The mattress beneath you turned to slimy stone. The hands on your body turned cold and hard. Mad eyes leered down at you from a cadaverous face.

“NO!”

***

The cry extinguished Nev’ran’s ardor like cold water. He jerked back, watching in bewildered dismay as you clawed out from under him, curling into a trembling ball.

“Diamond?”

You stared through him. “Nonono…!”

“Diamond, what is wrong?” He pivoted, searching the chamber for any threat that could explain your panic, hands reaching for something to use as a weapon.

A whimper drew him back. You’d covered your face with your hands. Your shoulders shook.

Realization struck him. He’d encountered enough traumatized baselines in his long years of service to know the signs. So he moved slowly, approaching but not touching.

“It is all right. You are safe.”

The salty tang of tears filled his nose. Your whimpers turned to sobs. Everything in him screamed to pull you into his arms, but he forced himself to remain still.

“I am here. Nothing will hurt you.”

He repeated the words over and over again, hearts breaking, until at last you seemed to hear.

“N-Nev’ran?”

“Yes, Diamond. I am here.”

Your hands dropped away and you stared at him with wide, wet eyes. Then you threw yourself into his arms.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“No.” He wrapped himself around you, armoring you with his body.

“I just… when you touched me I saw… him.”

Nev’ran fought the rage threatening to erupt like a volcano within.

I should have taken my time with that abomination. I should have ripped him limb from limb and fed him to the fire like kindling. I should have-

“I ruined everything.”

Your tiny voice shattered him. “No, Diamond. No! Nothing is ruined. I should have realized you were not ready. We will stop.” He tucked your head beneath his chin.

For now, this is enough.

You were silent for a while. “I… I don’t want to stop.”

He loosened his grip as you pulled back to look up at him. The determination in your eyes made him smile. He cupped your face, wiping away the remainder of your tears with his thumb.

“Do not push yourself. We have time, and I desire nothing but your pleasure.”

He watched the color return to your pale face. You settled on your knees, head barely reaching his chest, and reached out to run your fingers over his skin once more. He sucked in a breath, body stirring. Your hands fell to the cloth belt at his waist.

He covered them with his own. “You are sure?”

You nodded. “Yes but… I’ve never… you know I’ve never….”

You’d told him of your inexperience. The thought of possessing what no other man had touched made his dragon purr.

But he would not be selfish. “I should not have lost control before. We will go slowly now. Tell me what you want.”

“... can I see you?”

Throne, she cannot know what she does to me.

He let her untie the belt, and shrugged his robe from her shoulders. As custom dictated, he was bare beneath. She stared. His shoulders tensed.

“I know this old drake is not much to look at.”

***

Your mouth dropped. He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be!

You’d thought the merest glimpse of his chest arousing. And now that he knelt, completely unclothed, before you, heat pooled in your lower stomach. He was an ebon statue come to life. Worn, perhaps, and cracked, with edges softened by time. But these details only made him that much more striking.

“You’re beautiful.” You breathed.

You hadn’t thought it possible for his face to darken even further, but it did.

“That is… not something I have oft been called.”

You barely heard his words, eyes drawn to what bobbed between his thighs. Hard and thick and huge.

“Throne….”

Nev’ran said nothing, but you felt his tension like an animal poised to spring. You knew he wouldn’t, though. Not without your consent.

“Can I touch it?” You blushed at your own words.

“Please.”

His deep growl made the blood rush in your veins. Reaching out, you ran a single finger down its length. He whined.

You jerked back. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes.” He seemed to shake himself. “And no. Forgive me, Diamond. It has been so very long since….”

Pleasure. I’m giving him pleasure.

The thought sent a rush through you. You cupped your hand around his length, your fingers unable to meet, and stroked.

He threw his head back with a gasp. “For the love of the primarch, woman!”

“I’m sorry-”

“Do not be. I am yours to explore, only,” he gave a breathless laugh, “I do not know how much more this old body can take.”

“Stop calling yourself that. You’re in your prime.” Growing bold, you stroked again.

“Ahhh,” he moaned, eyes snapping to yours.

If you didn’t know better, you’d say he looked desperate. “May I see you now, my love?”

You hesitated only a moment before slipping your own robe off your shoulders. Despite the warmth of the room, and the heat radiating from your husband, your skin pebbled. You found you couldn’t look him in the face.

What if he doesn’t like what he sees?

You needn’t have worried.

“Vulkan’s burning eyes,” you shivered at his drawn-out sigh, “you put your namesake to shame, my Diamond.”

“Nev, touch me?”

He groaned. “Tell me where.”

Biting your lip, you motioned to your waist, and gasped when hands encircled it. Calloused skin pressed against yours, thick fingers sank into the flesh of your belly.

“So soft. I’d almost forgotten.” He seemed to speak to himself.

Reaching up, you could barely brush your fingertips over his cheek. “Nev’ran, higher.”

The hands slid up your abdomen, over your ribcage, and paused beneath your chest. “May I?”

“You may.”

You gasped when he caressed your breasts. He squeezed gently, cupped, and lifted. When his rough thumbs brushed over your hardening nipples you gasped out loud.

“Do that again!”

He chuckled and obeyed. Now it was your turn to throw your head back as you basked in pleasure. Your eyes opened to find Nev’ran bent nearly double, face inches from your chest.

His eyes searched yours, and you nodded. Then his lips closed over your nipple and you moaned. You could have spent hours like that, with his mouth alternating between your breasts. But far too soon he pulled back.

***

Nev’ran revelled in the dazed look on your face, a look he’d put there. The memory of your fingers on him spurred him on. His dragon roared to take and claim.

But he would be patient.

“More?” You whispered.

He smiled and released your breasts, sliding his hands back down your body until his thumbs rested on the crease between your hips and thighs. He pressed further. You stiffened, mouth opening. Your scent thickened.

“May I touch you here?”

No sooner had you voiced assent than he cupped your mound. He stroked the soft curls there, drinking in the sounds you sang for him.

“So sensitive, my Diamond. But there is more and better to come. Let me show you.”

When his fingers first encountered your wetness he had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek. He wanted… wanted.

But I will… maintain… control.

And so he slipped his fingers between your folds in measured strokes while your cries drove him to the brink of madness. He found the little nub that gave women such pleasure, proud of himself for remembering correctly. When he rubbed a finger against it….

Your back arched. He had to quickly stabilize you with his other hand to keep you from sprawling back on the bed.

“So sensitive.” He murmured.

And then he continued, his member throbbing in time to your cries.

Your little hands gripped at his wrist, not attempting to push him away, but clinging for support as he pleasured you.

“N-Nev’ran!”

Throne, say it again.

“I know, my love.”

“I feel, I feel-!”

“Let it come. I have you.”

You sobbed, your nectar soaking his fingers as you shook apart in his arms. And then you went limp.

He removed his hand and gathered you against him, feeling the wild fluttering of your pulse.

“Are you all right?”

It took you a minute to answer. “That was… it’s never felt like that before, when I used my own-” you stopped, eyes darting away.

He chuckled and pressed his lips to your forehead. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Diamond.”

He let you rest for a bit, cradling you close. His own body screamed for release. But he would endure.

“Would you like to-?”

“Yes!”

***

You hadn’t thought anything could be better than what you’d already experienced.

“Nev’ran!”

A low grunt came from between your thighs. You’d been placed farther up the huge bed. Your husband stretched out on his stomach before you, head buried between your legs, tongue buried in your core.

“Oh, Throne! Nev’ran!”

You’d blanched when he first told you his intentions. Of course, you’d heard rumors growing up. Like any young girl you’d giggled with friends over stolen novels full of flowery language and ridiculous metaphors. But you’d never quite believed people actually did such things.

Your hips jumped as Nev’ran’s tongue pressed deeper, deeper than your own fingers had ever gone. The unexpected heat of the organ only added to your pleasure. That, and his fingers circling your bud in relentless circuits.

The way he held you down with a single hand spanning the breadth of your waist, the way he devoured you like a beast, growling and snarling…!

And yet the fear did not return. You were prey and you were safe, at the same time.

Another press of his fingers and you felt the coil within wind even tighter.

“Nev’ran, I’m-!”

It snapped.

When you returned to sensibility, your husband leaned over you, stroking your cheek.

“Are you all right? Was that too much?”

Your heart swelled at the concern on his scarred face. Instead of answering, you lifted yourself with all the strength you could muster and pressed your lips to his. He tasted of smoke and spices and something that had to be your own musk.

“I love you, Nev.”

His great arms cradled you. “And I love you.”

You snuggled into his embrace. Your body felt molten and heavy. Liquid cooled between your thighs. And yet….

“Nev?”

“Mmmm?”

“Shall we… continue?”

“You are certain?”

You felt a sudden burst of frustration. “Yes! I am! I want… I want everything, Nev’ran.”

He lowered you back onto the mattress. The look in his eyes almost burned you in its intensity.

“You know what will happen.”

You nodded, eyes travelling down to his swollen member.

Dear Emperor, that has to hurt!

“It will… go inside.”

You didn’t know how. But other women, hundreds of women if Matia and the Chaplain were to be believed, had taken Salamanders before. So there must be a way.

He nodded, almost solemn. “I will use my fingers first, to prepare you. Then I will enter you. There may be pain-”

“I don’t care. I want it.”

“If it becomes too much, tell me, and I will stop.”

“It won’t. I-”

He grasped your chin, making you look him in the eyes. “If it becomes too much, TELL ME, and I will STOP.”

“I… I will.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear.”

Your core clenched in anticipation.

***

Nev’ran rose back up onto his knees and looked at the woman beneath him. Sweat streaked your skin. Your hair cascaded about your head in unruly tangles. Reddish marks covered your breasts and thighs. He winced at one hand-shaped bruise forming over your waist.

I must be more gentle.

Licking the last of your juices from his lips, he reached for the small stone table next to the bed. You hadn’t noticed the jar he’d brought along with the food earlier. Lifting it, he poured its viscous contents over his fingers.

His member throbbed when he spread your thighs once more, revealing your swollen, dripping center.

Just a little longer.

You whimpered when he stroked you.

“Breathe, Diamond.” He murmured, before pressing a single finger inside.

Having his tongue inside you had been hard enough, but the tight, wet sensation of your core around his finger nearly undid him. He found himself having to take his own advice, expanding his third lung to drag as much oxygen into his body as possible.

Your soft cries didn’t help matters.

I want to be inside her. I want to fill her until there is no room for anything else. I want to mold her body to my shape. My precious little mate.

His dragon clawed at his control.

A second finger. You gasped as he scissored them, working you open. Not quite enough yet. The image of you tearing as he took you quieted the beast within.

I will not allow it.

In and out he moved his fingers. A preview of what was to come. To his amazement, he felt your body tightening once more.

“Again, my love?”

Your frantic nodding brought a prideful smile to his lips.

He had done this. Centuries the elder of many of his battle brothers, and he still knew how to drive a woman half-mad with ecstasy. Faster and faster he moved his fingers, curling them within, searching for that spot he remembered.

“Can you take another, my Diamond?”

“Please!”

“Throne.” He groaned and slipped third within.

You took him more easily now. He pushed deeper with each thrust.

Where is it? There!

A patch of spongy flesh. He pressed.

“Nev’ran!”

Liquid gushed around his fingers for the third time, your fragrance nearly overwhelming him. Panting like a beast in rut, he worked his fingers through your climax, finally withdrawing when you lay boneless before him.

And yet, when your eyes opened, he still saw desire. “Nev’ran, more.”

Forget orks or tyranids or any of the other horrors he was bred to fight, you would be the death of him.

He poured more of the viscous liquid over his member. Slipping his hands beneath your knees, he lifted your legs until they pressed against your chest. You winced, and he allowed you time to adjust to the stretch.

“It must be like this, or on your hands and knees.” He growled. “Choose.”

“Like this.” You panted in reply. “I want to see you.”

“Relax your body as much as you are able, and breathe deep.”

He lined himself up with your entrance. Both hearts pounded like hammers on anvils in his chest.

Then he pushed in, his groan mingling with your cry as your body struggled to take him.

“Tight. Throne, so tight.” Nev’ran fought to hold onto rational thought as he sank inside you, inch by inch.

Slowly, Warp damn it! Slowly!

“Is this… all right?”

You didn’t respond. He glanced down to find you with your eyes tightly shut, teeth clenched as you breathed in short gasps.

“Diamond!”

He hadn’t meant it to come out so harsh. But his control frayed more with every passing moment. It had been too long.

Your eyes snapped open. “It… stings.”

“Too much?”

Do not tell me to stop. By the Emperor and all the primarchs, do not tell me to stop!

“No….” The word trailed off into a long moan.

His eyes fixed on the place of your joining. More and more you took, your entrance stretching around him.

So good.

Had it felt this good before? He couldn’t remember. His mind filled with the tight, wet heat of the present. Nothing else mattered.

An eternity seemed to pass before he looked down and found himself fully seated inside you.

The dragon emerged. “Mine.”

***

You couldn’t describe the feeling. The stretch. The fullness. The heat.

Oh, Throne. The heat!

You burned from the inside out. Your brain sparked like a damaged cogitator.

“Nev’ran, Nev’ran, Nev’ran!”

You couldn’t tell if you merely thought the name or spoke it aloud. He was all. Everything around and in you. Only him.

And then he moved. In and out, like a piston. Your body screamed, in pain or pleasure you couldn’t tell. The two sensations melded. You wanted him to stop. You wanted him to never stop.

“Mine.”

Did he say that? Did you think it? It didn’t matter. You agreed.

“My mate.”

You wanted to say something, anything. But only screams and moans passed through your lips. You couldn’t catch your breath.

“Only mine.”

Finally, your brain formed one coherent thought. “Yes! Yours!”

A hand slid under the back of your head, yanking you upward. You had the briefest glimpse of wild red eyes before a mouth slammed into yours. You clutched at the short-cropped hair, digging your nails into the scalp.

All the while the piston within you never faltered.

When you grew faint from lack of air, the mouth moved to your throat. Teeth sank into your skin. You felt claimed. You wanted to claim in return.

A memory flickered and you raked your nails down the impossibly broad chest, searching, searching for….

There!

Fingers sank into neural ports and the dragon roared.

The piston sped up. Whatever coherent thought you’d managed to gather splintered into a million fragments. All you could do was cling to your mate and feel and feel and feel.

The volcano within erupted without warning.

You saw white. You heard the snarling of a feral beast. You felt molten fire pulse into your womb.

Then, everything went dark.

***

You stumbled into the Apothecarion, gasping for breath. “I’m here, Nev’ran! I’m sorry for being late. I was helping Lili and Matia with the children and I-”

Your words halted with a gasp.

The medical center of the Flamewrought, usually so austere, now gleamed with the light of a hundred candles. The surgical tables had all been pushed to one side to make room for a low circle of cushions surrounding-

“Where on Terra did you find flowers?!”

Nev’ran stood to one side of the cushions. He was unarmored, dressed in a simple green tunic. In one hand he held a bottle of wine. In the other, two glasses. They looked comically small in his hands.

His smile almost looked nervous. “Do you like them?”

You approached the bouquet of pale blooms, reaching out to stroke the petals. “It’s been so long.”

“One of my Brother Techmarines’ wives has a small garden on one of the lower decks. It is something of a marvel actually, she uses heat lamps and water condensers-” He seemed to realize he was rambling and cut himself off. “Anyway, she graciously gifted me a few.”

“A techmarine with a wife who likes flowers.” You laughed. “That sounds like an interesting pair.”

“That they are.” Popping the cork on the wine bottle, he filled a glass and offered it to you.

You accepted with a grin. “And where, might I ask, did you acquire this?”

He chuckled. “Apparently there was a particularly grateful planetary governor a few years back who offered almost his entire wine cellar to the Company. The Captain accepted a few bottles just to stop him groveling.”

You raised the liquid to your lips and your eyes widened. “I can’t say I’m an expert, but this is delightful.”

Nev’ran motioned for you to recline on the cushions. He settled next to you with a groan.

“How I will get up again, I do not know.”

You rolled your eyes. “You are not that old, Nev.”

He humphed and you giggled.

For a few minutes you simply drank together in silence, enjoying the way the candle light reflected off the white blossoms. Finally, Nev’ran cleared his throat.

“I have made you something.”

You gasped when he produced a small, ornate box from the folds of his tunic. “Is this where you’ve been this last week? Nev’ran….”

He held it toward you, and you could have sworn you saw his hands tremble. “Please, open it.”

You did. And your heart all but stopped.

There, nestled amidst velvet padding, was a necklace. A single diamond the size of a bird’s egg nestled inside a net of silver mesh, the whole thing hanging from a chain of the same metal.

“Oh…!”

Nev’ran reached out and took your hand. “Among the Salamanders, it is customary for a man to craft a gift for the woman he… that he wishes to marry.”

You couldn’t breathe.

He continued. “I love you, Diamond. From the moment I saw you, I knew I was destined to keep you warm and safe. I have done battle for you, and I would do so a thousand times without hesitation. I cannot offer a life of ease, but I offer all that I am.”

You would never forget the look in his eyes when he asked. “Will you marry-?”

“YES!”

***

Nev’ran lifted the glass of water to your lips. “Easy now, slowly.”

He watched you gulp the liquid down, then gently lowered you back into the pillows he’d piled around you like a nest.

“How are you feeling?”

“Mmmm.” Your eyelids fluttered. “Tired.”

“Sore?”

You shook your head. “Prob’ly tomorrow, though.”

He winced. By the time he’d come back to his senses, you’d been unconscious, his seed pouring from your core. It had been the closest he’d come to panic in long years. But several glasses of water, a nutrient bar, and a change of clothes later, and you smiled at him like he hadn’t ravaged you like a rutting beast a mere hour earlier.

“You are sure you are-”

“Nev’ran,” you sighed, “I’m fine.” Your lips quirked upward even as your eyes closed. “That was wonderful.”

He felt a rush of pure male pride. “Was it now?”

“Mmm-hmm.” One eye opened. “Not bad for an old man.”

He stared at you for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. “Diamond! You really will be the death of me!”

You reached for him, and he lowered himself to his side next to you, pulling you tight against his chest. “Sleep now, my love. We have a week to enjoy ourselves.”

And then it would be back to the Flamewrought, to battle. His duty still remained.

Nev’ran looked down at the precious gift he’d been given in the form of this woman. At least, this time, he would not be alone. You mumbled something, and his hearts skipped a beat.

“What was that, my love?”

Your hand drifted to your stomach. “I hope it took.”

His eyes moistened. “I hope so too.”

“What do you want?”

“Hmm?”

“Son or daughter?”

He laughed, even as a single tear ran down his weathered cheek. “Healthy.”

“Good answer.” You snuggled closer. “Love you, Nev.”

He wrapped his arms around you. “I love you more than my own life, my precious Diamond.”

He watched you, memorizing ever feature, until your breathing deepened. “No matter what comes, I will keep you warm. Always.”

And the Dragon and his Mate rested.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith @noncon-photobomb @sinistermojo @b-rabbitboss @vyzz-undercover

@missmannequin @rivalriotrenegade @iloveoutlinesiswear @jaghatai-khock @hatsubara-8chan

@justanothermemestrider @meervalv0 @grimdark-raccoon @garlickedbreads @riokunova

@ailujsenutna @emiemiemiii @astrohymn @synfiction @soul-of-leya

@n0cturn4 @mgrm99 @seirensou @zamzmak @elita1

@ilovewolvezz @primordialsneeze @summersong2262 @nereidof40k @ahrianee

@sunsetlobster @nekotaetae @toto-the-cactus @thevoidscreams

#warhammer 40k #space marine #space marine x reader #salamander #salamander x reader #i love these two so much #i had to give them a happy ending

130 notes · View notes

midnight-shadow-cafe · 3 months ago

Text

Beneath the Armor

Pairings: König x Reader

Warnings: Mild language, slow-burnish romance, mentions of self-doubt, fluff, coworkers to lovers

Author's Note: This one’s for the hopeless romantics who love a good coworkers-to-lovers dynamic. König deserves softness, and so do you. I’m getting on the König hype train-

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The barracks were always cold, but tonight, the chill seemed harsher. You had wrapped yourself in a thick blanket, legs tucked beneath you as you stared blankly at the wall. Today had been another one of *those* days. Your mistakes during training replayed in your mind on a loop, a cruel reminder that maybe you weren’t cut out for this life.

You weren’t like the others—effortlessly strong, composed, and confident. While they thrived under pressure, you sometimes struggled to keep up, constantly second-guessing your abilities.

A knock broke through your thoughts, sharp and deliberate. Your heart skipped a beat. There was only one person who knocked like that.

“Are you awake?” König’s low voice called through the door, thick with his Austrian accent.

You hesitated, glancing at the mess of your room and yourself. After a beat, you sighed. “Yeah, come in.”

The door creaked open, and there he was, taking up nearly the entire frame with his massive build. He wasn’t wearing his hood, revealing his tousled blond hair and flushed cheeks from the cold. His piercing blue eyes softened when they met yours, the concern in his expression making your heart ache.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He held a small tray in his hands, which he placed on the desk without waiting for an invitation. “So, I brought you something.”

You blinked at the gesture. König wasn’t someone you’d call a social butterfly, and yet he always seemed to notice when you needed help.

“Thanks,” you murmured, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

He crouched down in front of you, his broad frame making the small room feel even smaller. His hand reached out, hesitating for a moment before settling gently on your knee. “Are you okay? You’ve been… quiet today.”

The softness in his voice made your chest tighten. König wasn’t known for being overly talkative, but when it came to you, he always seemed to find the words.

“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a weak smile.

He didn’t buy it. “You don’t look fine.”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “I just… feel like I’m not good enough. I messed up during training, and I could feel everyone watching me. Judging me. It’s like I don’t belong here.”

König’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of hurt crossing his face. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

You shrugged, unable to meet his gaze. “Sometimes, yeah.”

His hand squeezed your knee gently, drawing your attention back to him. “You are one of the strongest people I know,” he said firmly. “And I don’t mean just physically. You have more heart than anyone else on this team. That’s why you *do* belong here.”

His words caught you off guard, leaving you speechless. You’d always admired König from afar—his skill, his strength, and the way he carried himself with quiet confidence. But this was the first time you’d seen him so open, so vulnerable.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied, his voice softer now. “Just… don’t be so hard on yourself. Everyone has bad days.”

The warmth in his gaze made your heart flutter, and for a moment, you wondered if he could hear how fast it was beating.

“I didn’t know you noticed stuff like that,” you said quietly, a hint of teasing in your tone to mask your nervousness.

König’s cheeks turned pink, and he averted his gaze briefly. “I notice a lot of things,” he admitted, almost shyly. “Especially about you.”

Your breath hitched. “What do you mean?”

He looked back at you, his expression unreadable. “I mean… I notice how hard you work. How you never give up, even when things are difficult. And how you always make time to help others, even when you don’t have to.”

You stared at him, stunned by his honesty. “König…”

He shifted, suddenly looking a little nervous. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just… wanted you to know.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, you didn’t make me uncomfortable. It’s just… no one’s ever said those things to me before.”

König’s brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Then they’re blind. Because you’re… incredible.”

Your face felt like it was on fire. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you did something you hadn’t planned.

You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his cheek in a quick, shy kiss. When you pulled back, König was staring at you with wide eyes, his cheeks a deep shade of red.

“I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

Before you could finish, König’s large hand cupped the side of your face, his touch gentle but firm. “Don’t apologize,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

And then he kissed you.

It was soft, tentative, as if he was afraid of breaking you. His other hand rested on your knee, steadying himself as he leaned in. You melted into him, your hands gripping his jacket as you returned the kiss.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” König admitted, his voice low and rough.

You smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “Me too.”

He chuckled softly, resting his forehead against yours. “Then maybe… we can stop pretending we don’t like each other?”

You laughed, the sound breaking the tension in the room. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

König smiled, a rare and beautiful sight, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting!-Midnight💜

104 notes · View notes

her-satanic-wiles · 11 months ago

Text

Dawn Chorus - I

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6.5k.

Reading Time: 26 min.

Warnings: attempted execution, blood, detailed aftermath of war, detailed deaths of children, detailed grief, detailed pain, mentions of sexual abuse within the church, mentions of rape, torture, violence

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976

Author’s note: This part of the story contains the origins of the Zionist argument, claiming that the land of Palestine belongs to Jewish people by will of God. I have written this section of the chapter as close to the Christian Bible as possible in an attempt to avoid Zionist ideology or propaganda - and I want to make one thing abundantly clear: this is a pro-Palestine blog. I will always and forever stand with the people of Palestine, and do my utmost to use my platform to promote the liberation of the Palestinians under Israeli apartheid. Zionism and Zionists have no place at my table. Please continue to boycott companies, platforms and people who send aid and support to the colonial state of Israel. Thank you.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, from the physical exertion or the panic rising in the pit of your stomach, you couldn’t quite tell. Your mind was a contradicting war zone, unsure of which team would win. On the one hand, your brain was buzzing with adrenaline, playing back every event which lead you to this moment: running for your life away from God’s chosen soldiers, avoiding your inevitable demise like a human billionaire and his taxes. You had shown yourself alternate scenarios in which this didn’t happen, in which you’d still be safe in the Humanities Department of Heaven, distributing angels to help God’s children and guide them to the Light. Or enjoying the presence of a fellow guardian angel at the proverbial water cooler. The other side of the battle was autopilot-mode, no thoughts, no feelings, just running to save yourself.

You had a fierce belief in your Leader - almost entirely unwavering and unquestioning. You were His daughter, mirrored in His image and devoted only to Him. You did His bidding as requested, journeyed to realms under His name, played the messenger when He had something important to say to His children. You were there when Gabriel delivered God’s message to the Virgin Mary, hovering in the background and keeping Mary safe from harm in order to protect the coming of Christ. You aided in escaping Peter from prison, making him invisible to the guards as you and some others guided him to freedom by the will of the Almighty.You believed in Him so strongly, that you didn’t need to question Him - because He was always right, and His plan was always just.

You saw how the people of Egypt suffered at the hands of your Lord, and personally watched as the souls of the firstborn children who were slaughtered by Him as an act of protest against Pharaoh and his tyrannic reign. You kept your mouth shut at the livestock, knowing that food could be replenished easily enough. You thought about saying something when you saw the innocence of Egypt battling against the boils that God had given them. By His grace, you could even turn a blind eye to the adult firstborns who were killed as collateral damage. But the children? Some as young as newborns, all the way up to twelve years old. Pure babies without an ounce of hate or sins in their hearts, who didn’t understand the difference between their heathenish beliefs and their Hebrew friends. Who had never whipped a slave, or ordered the execution of God’s children. Who never had the cognitive capacity to think of such a thing, because their brains hadn’t had the chance to learn, to change, to join in God’s favour.

You’d never forget the small boy you watched over in the seconds before he took his last breath, sleeping soundly in his bed after a long day of studying and games. He couldn’t have been older than six. The oldest child to a woman whose husband had passed on mere months before. To a woman who was hanging on by a fragile thread as it was. You watched the boy’s breath rise and fall steadily in his peaceful slumber, until his chest fell for the final time. You watched his soul rise from his body, confused for a moment - painfully unaware that his mortal life had ended. You saw the fear in his eyes when he looked at his lifeless body in his bed, and felt his frustration when his mother ignored his pleas for help, not understanding that she couldn’t see his soul. You observed as Horus came for the child, wrapping His arm around him and offering some comfort to his distress. Horus looked at you as you stood in the doorway of the bedroom, His avian eyes full of the darkest of emotions as He guided yet another soul to the underworld, to have their heart weighed and judged by the guardian at the gates. His loathing poured off of Him as He shot you that look, before disappearing into the night with the child. You didn’t kill the boy, but under the gaze of Horus, you felt as though you had.

Leaving the boy’s home, the streets were full of lost and confused souls, ranging in age and wealth but all sharing the same sorrow and fear. Among the devastation stood your doubts of the Almighty’s plan, and the question of why lingered on your lips even as you were summoned back to Heaven to give a report on the situation - on its success. You felt uncomfortable as you summarised what you saw to the archangel Michael, who looked triumphant in God’s success, knowing he had carried it out perfectly for Him. He thanked you for your hard work - and in that moment, you had never felt so disgusted with yourself.

Of course, your thoughts were never your own, and you were called in to meet with your superiors about your doubts. They seemed to be reasonable, and understanding, especially given that this was your first offense. They promised to set your mind at ease, and reminded you that you were merely a foot-soldier in the Great Plan. You didn’t need to worry, you just needed to do as you were asked. Then they kicked you out of the office with a bad taste in your mouth, and a sense of foreboding of the things to come. Surely His plan couldn’t get any worse?

Then Canaan happened.

After the Israelites escaped slavery in Egypt, they wandered in the wilderness for forty years, led by their leader, Moses. During this time, God promised them a land of their own, a fertile land called Canaan, where they could settle and prosper. When Moses died, a new leader named Joshua arose to lead the Israelites into Canaan. Before entering the land, Joshua received a command from God to conquer it. God promised to be with Joshua and the Israelites, assuring them of victory if they remained faithful. Under the pretext of divine sanction, and God’s name on their lips, the Israelites engaged in systematic warfare, besieging cities, slaughtering men, women, and children, and plundering their possessions. The conquest was marked by bloodshed, devastation, and the utter annihilation of indigenous populations. Then they burned the whole city and everything in it, but they put the silver and gold and the articles of bronze and iron into the treasury of the Lord’s house. Jericho fell to ruin, crumbling in ashes on the ground as fire engulfed the buildings and eating everything it could. You watched as they celebrated over the dead, drank themselves into a stupor in the ruined homes, covered in the blood of the innocent. They didn’t bother themselves to move the corpses until the celebrations were over, days after they declared victory.

Despite the humans being unable to see you, you were still a real being wandering the streets of Canaan, sobering at the sights before you. Your beautiful, white wings dragged on the floor as you walked, gathering the dirt and the blood at the tips of your feathers. God’s children had got the land that they were promised, but what was the cost? From the freeing of the Hebrews to the conquering of Canaan, all you could see were the bodies that had been left behind of the civilians caught up in the fight. Though the blood pooled in puddles no more than 3cm deep, it felt as though you were in it up to your neck. You looked at the conquerors in disgust, and with a rage you’d never felt before - especially when you realised that, for Joshua, peace was never an option worthy of consideration. You were suffocated by the sinners that surrounded you, the murderers and looters, the fornicators who lurked in dark alleyways to celebrate with any passerby willing or otherwise. You watched as indigenous stragglers were dealt with, some more humanely than others and you wondered: was this truly God’s will all along? Did He plan for such brutality? Did He allow Joshua to go as far as he did - and did He give Joshua the strength and the power to do so? Or did He look at His children in disgust and disappointment, ashamed of them for turning to sin and Satan so easily in a moment of pure happiness? Despite claiming to worship a God of love and justice, the Israelites demonstrated cruelty and brutality in their pursuit of land and power - and your faith wavered a second time when you realised that your worst fears were true: God really did give Joshua the power to do as he did, and He felt no remorse for it.

You were pulled into your superior’s office again, this time scolded with much less understanding than before. Gabriel and Michael looked at you with disdain, nothing but anger in their eyes and on their faces as you sat before them in the celestial white room, eyes aching from the brightness.

Gabriel, with his luminous wings unfurled, regarded you with a solemn gaze. “Again, ___? Hast thou not learned from thy previous lapse in faith? Our duty as angels is to serve unquestioningly, to uphold the divine order without falter.”

Michael, his expression stern and unwavering, spoke with commanding authority. “Indeed, ___, the Almighty’s will is not for us to question. It is our sacred duty to carry out His commands with unwavering devotion.”

You bowed your head, feeling the weight of their reproach heavy upon you. “I understand, my lords. But I cannot help but struggle with the suffering and turmoil wrought by our actions. Is it not within our power to seek mercy and compassion, even amidst the fulfilment of divine justice?”

Gabriel’s gaze softened, though his tone remained firm. “Our understanding is limited, ___. We cannot comprehend the intricacies of God’s divine plan. It is not for us to question His wisdom or to challenge His authority.”

Michael nodded in agreement. “Our loyalty to the Creator must remain steadfast, even in the face of uncertainty or doubt. We are His instruments, His messengers, and His will shall be done.”

You sighed, “But His will brings the destruction of cities and the deaths of children. His own children. It is difficult for me to truly follow Him when there is so much devastation.”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed slightly at your words, his expression a mix of compassion and admonition. “___,” he said gently, “we are but conduits of His divine will. Our mortal understanding pales in comparison to the grand tapestry of His design. Though we may not comprehend the reasons behind the trials and tribulations, we must trust in His wisdom and benevolence.”

Michael’s gaze remained steely, but a hint of empathy flickered in his eyes. “Indeed, ___,” he spoke firmly, “the path of righteousness is not always easy to tread. But it is our duty to carry out His commands, no matter the cost. Our faith must endure even in the face of adversity.”

You felt a pang of uncertainty gnaw at your celestial essence, torn between the call of duty and the ache of compassion. “But what of mercy?” you questioned, your voice tinged with desperation. “What of compassion for His creations, even in their moments of waywardness?”

Gabriel’s voice held a note of solemnity as he responded, “Mercy and justice are intertwined in the divine order, ___. Though His judgments may seem harsh, they are tempered by His boundless love. We must trust that His actions serve a higher purpose, even when they are beyond our comprehension.”

Michael’s voice continued in his firmness, his tone sharp and parental. “Let this be the last time we speak of this, ___. There will be consequences to thy actions the next time thou decidest to question the Almighty.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words pressing down upon you like a leaden mantle. The gravity of his warning was unmistakable, a stark reminder of the consequences of defiance in the face of divine authority.

“Yes, my lord,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I understand.”

As Gabriel contemplated the situation, a solemn expression settled upon his countenance. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke, his voice measured and grave. “___,” he began, his tone tinged with a sense of sorrow, “in light of thy transgression and the gravity of thy doubts, it is clear that a lesson must be learned.” He paused, as if searching for the right words to convey his thoughts. Then, with a decisive nod, he continued, “I propose thou be assigned a period of reflection and penance. During this time, thou wilt be tasked with assisting souls in need—those who have lost their way, who suffer in anguish, or who cry out for guidance.”

Gabriel’s suggestion carried the weight of solemn judgment, yet also held the promise of redemption. It was a punishment tempered with compassion, an opportunity for growth and renewal amidst the shadows of doubt.

“Thou wilt walk among mortals,” Gabriel concluded, his gaze unwavering, “bearing witness to their struggles and offering solace in the name of the Almighty. May this experience serve to strengthen thy faith and reaffirm thy devotion to His divine will.”

“Let her spend time in Canaan until her penance is served, as she holds so much sympathy for the dead sinners.” Michael suggested, a smug tone oozing from his voice. He almost lit up at the look of protest you shot him, wanting to argue but Gabriel raising a hand and stopping you from speaking.

“It is decided. Thou may only return to us here when thou no longer holdeth contempt for our Lord. Dost thou have anything thou wishest to say?”

You stood and spread your wings, stretching them out and flapping them sharply in frustration. “There are several things I should like to say.” You retorted fiercely. “I shall restrain the urge, however. The Almighty gave me a tongue to use and a brain to think, after all.”

“And thou would doest well to remember that.” Michael commented, the smirk fading from his face. “Go. Leave us, petulant child. Perform thy duties and know thy place.”

Your time in Canaan was dreary - especially given that you didn’t want to be there in the first place, surrounded by those who used His name to spread evil. But still, you guided His creations as you were told to do, their guardian spirit keeping them from harm and returning them to the Light when their own beliefs had wavered. You felt somewhat like a hypocrite, guiding the wayward souls back to their own beliefs when you, yourself, were questioning yours. And, if you were to be truthful, your faith never completely restored to how it was before Canaan was conquered. You still held even the smallest amount of contempt for the Almighty, and silently questioned everything He did, wondering if His plans would succeed in peace or be laced with blood. But eventually, Heaven forgave you and told you that you were welcome to return, and you did so as though it was the easiest choice you had ever made… because, well, it was.

But all of that lead you to your third strike.

It had been some time since you entered the Mortal Realm, choosing to spend your time in Heaven and directing other angels to their tasks. You hadn’t really paid much attention to God’s creations as a result, almost entirely out of the loop. Since your time in Canaan, according to your fellow angels, much had changed. Great churches were built and devoted to God, while wars waged in His name and His word spread to those who needed it the most. Yet, in those churches, you discovered corruption everywhere you looked. The righteous taking their power and using it to abuse others, in God’s very own home, watched by the Saints and Apostles as they committed the most disgusting of acts to the vulnerable and the needy, as though they condoned such behaviour. You saw people, of all ages, routinely touched against their will, forced into submission and shunned if they dared to say anything - blamed by God’s other children for a crime they didn’t commit, but were the victims of instead. You watched the cycle repeat, families torn apart, and all the while the situation was monitored and allowed. Perhaps, even, ordered by the Lord Himself. You couldn’t bear it - you couldn’t fathom that the Almighty who you’d followed blindly your entire life could hurt another being like that, when He often portrayed Himself to be a kind and benevolent soul, a loving father to those who loved him. You needed to know why. Why must he enact such cruelty on his own creations?

You stormed into Michael’s office, where he, Gabriel, and Raphael met, staring at you in disbelief that you’d have the audacity to do such a thing. “I wish to speak with the Lord.” You demanded, anger coursing through your veins like never before.

Raphael’s brows furrowed. “Directly?”

“Yes.”

He laughed in disbelief. “Child, not even we get a direct audience with the Almighty. Whatever could thou say to Him?”

Gabriel sighed, disappointment oozing from his celestial being. “Thy faith hath wavered yet again, hath it not?”

“Aye, I stand before thee once more, yet again with a heart heavy with doubt.”

Michael’s own anger was bubbling under the surface. “Speak, and let us hear thy grievance.”

“My lords, I cannot remain silent any longer. I have witnessed the depths of depravity within the Church, the desecration of innocence by those who claim to be servants of God.”

“Thy words are bold, ___,” Gabriel said, his tone remaining level. “What troubles thee so?”

Your anger surfaced and manifested as a raised voice and shaking limbs. “‘Tis the scourge of sexual abuse that plagues the holy sanctuaries. Innocent children, robbed of their purity by those who should protect them. How can a just and loving God allow such atrocities to persist within His own house?”

Raphael nodded, unfazed by the spectacle in front of him. “Thy anguish is understandable.” He found this more entertaining than impertinent, clearly unaware of your two strikes before. “Yet thou must remember that God’s ways are beyond our understanding.”

“How can we stand idly by while the innocent suffer? Are we not tasked with defending the weak and the vulnerable?”

Gabriel rested his forehead on his hand. “Thou dost speak with passion,” he was exasperated by you, “but thou must not forget thy place. God’s will is inscrutable, and we are but instruments of His divine plan. How many times must we remind thee?”

“I refuse to be silent any longer! I will not turn a blind eye to the suffering of the innocent, even if it means defying the will of my superiors.”

Michael slammed his fist on the white desk, standing from his seat behind it. “Thou dost tread dangerous ground. Thy defiance borders on heresy!”

You echoed his tone. “So be it! I would rather be branded a heretic than remain complicit in the face of such evil. This smells of the Devil, not of our Lord. I do not understand why He sits by and allows it to happen.”

Gabriel tried to keep the peace between all of you, but he was losing control of the situation quickly. “Thy faith hath faltered, and thy words ring with rebellion. Thou must reconsider thy stance before it is too late.”

“I cannot, in good conscience, remain silent any longer. If God truly exists, then He shall judge me for my actions. But I cannot stand by while His name is used to justify such abominations.”

“Then so be it, ___,” Michael resolved through gritted teeth. “If thou wilt not bend to the will of God, then thou must bear the consequences of thy defiance.”

“So be it.”

“Thou hast been found guilty of heresy and defiance against the will of God for the third time. As Archangel of Judgment, it falls upon me to administer thy punishment.”

“Thou may judge me, but know that my heart is true, and my intentions pure.”

“Thy intentions matter not. Thy actions have brought dishonour upon the celestial host, and thy defiance cannot go unpunished.”

Gabriel stood and walked over to his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder and speaking urgently into his ear. “Michael, perhaps we should consider a less severe punishment. Her heart may yet be turned back to the path of righteousness.”

Michael shook his head. “Nay, Gabriel. The time for leniency hath passed. Ariel’s repeated offences demand a swift and decisive response.” All the while, his wrathful gaze never left your face. “Thy fate is sealed. As Archangel of Judgment, I hereby decree that thou shalt be cast out from the celestial realm and condemned to the Abyss.”

Raphael’s eyes widened with shock, but he said nothing.

Gabriel shook his brother and with sadness, he said, “Michael, art thou certain this is the right course of action? Once the sentence is passed, there can be no turning back.”

Michael replied firmly, “It is done, Gabriel. Justice must be served, even if it breaks thy heart. Let the punishment be carried out.”

Knowing your fate was worse than death, your body reacted for you - even before your brain had decided the best course of action. You turned swiftly on your heels and made your escape, wings flapping and trying to gain enough speed to remove yourself from the Heavens. Your heart was pounding in your chest, from the physical exertion or the panic rising from the pit of your stomach, you couldn’t quite tell. Your mind was a contradicting war zone, unsure of which team would win. On the one hand, your brain was buzzing with adrenaline, playing back every event which lead you to this moment: running for your life away from God’s chosen soldiers, avoiding your inevitable demise.

The portal to the Mortal Realm was just in your grasp, so by only the adrenaline that you were running on, you forced yourself to speed up - making a mad dash for the open world in front of you. You could hear Michael’s calls to, “Close that gate! Do not let her through!”

Someone had listened and had begun closing the portal. The closer you got to it, the smaller the hole became, shrinking and shrinking until all you could see was the tiniest speck of blue peeking out. But you couldn’t let that deter you - if you were caught, your future would hold horrors beyond celestial comprehension. You made a dive, perhaps it was your madness that drove you to do it, the adrenaline, or even your desperation, but you dove nonetheless. Your whole body ripped through the closing portal, feeling the walls shut in on you and grip onto your body with a searing, hot pain you’d never experienced before. Escaping from the Heavens was never a kind task, otherwise more angels would have done it, but now you were caught in Earth’s atmosphere, the planet’s gravity pulling you down to its very core with all the force it could muster.

The warmth was the first thing you noticed, the friction caused by the air resistance generated intense heat, turning your body into a blazing inferno akin to a comet streaking across the sky. Your skin prickled and your hair stood on end as the flames licked at your body, consuming everything in their path. The feathers on the outside of your wings were flying off and burning up in the flames, turning to ash in the atmosphere and disappearing entirely. The rush of wind roared in your ears, drowning out all other sounds as you plummeted towards the ground. The air around you shimmered with heat, distorting your vision and adding to the surreal sensation of falling through space. Tears appeared in your eyes but you couldn’t tell if that was because of the pain you could feel or the wind biting against you.

Despite the intense heat and the overwhelming sense of impending doom, there was also a strange beauty to the experience. The fiery trail you left behind painted a mesmerizing picture against the night sky, a fleeting spectacle that few that resided on this planet would ever witness. The sight of the planet from so far above reminded you just how the Almighty had made it: some land, but mostly water. As you fell, you recalled the horrors of the deep, the mammals with sharp teeth and stomachs bigger than your entire body. In that moment, for the first time in a while, you prayed to Him. You begged Him over and over to guide your body to land. You were an angel, you were likely to survive the fall despite the pain you were about to endure, and your weakened state couldn’t handle a battle with a sea creature that only wanted you for lunch.

Hurtling towards the ground, the last thing you remembered thinking was, this is how hellfire must feel. And that was when the world went dark.

“Clearly … happened … Sister.”

As you slowly regained consciousness, you became painfully aware of the searing agony coursing through every inch of your body. With your eyes tightly shut, you focused on the sensation of pressure and discomfort, trying to piece together what had happened. Your limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, and sharp pains shot through you with every movement. It was as if your body had been battered and broken, the impact of the fall leaving you bruised and battered beyond recognition. All the bones inside were broken, the bridge of your wings included, and your head throbbed beyond belief, as though you had a thousand hammers raging war against your skull.

Despite the overwhelming pain, a sense of relief washed over you as you realized that you were still alive. The thought of having survived such a catastrophic event filled you with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. Despite everything, He had heard your prayers and allowed you to touch ground - or perhaps this was the worst outcome… perhaps He wished for your pain as penance for your disobedience. Regardless, you would heal and be well, and then you could begin to live with the mortals and hide from Michael and his wrath. You were safe here… you were sure of it.

“… working … heard … looking … angel …”

The voice was registering with you now that you were regaining your cognitive abilities after the crash. Your brain was working over time to translate his words, though, leaving you slightly confused as this was phrasing you’d not heard before. You muttered something, your words coming out in Hebrew and silencing the man.

“What … ?” He asked, speaking some more but the rest of his words sounding fuzzy.

You tried again in Hebrew, but when that proved unyielding, you switched to Arabic.

“… know …?”

With great effort, you forced your eyes open, blinking away tears. Taking in your surroundings, you saw that you were lying amidst a pile of rubble, surrounded by the charred remnants of your fiery descent. You sat up a little, beholding the scene around you that was surreal and unsettling. The ground beneath you was scorched and blackened, a stark contrast to the surrounding, luscious, green landscape. The crater itself was a testament to the sheer force of your impact, a deep indentation in the Earth’s surface that stretched out before you in an almost perfect circle. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and charred debris, making it difficult to breathe. The heat radiating from the ground beneath you was intense, searing your skin and making you sweat profusely despite the chill of the night air.

Looking around, you could see the devastation wrought by your fall. Trees lay shattered and splintered, their branches twisted and blackened by the flames. Rocks and debris littered the ground, scattered in all directions by the force of the impact. On the edge of the crater, the man you heard stood, staring at you in disbelief.

He wore robes; a symphony of rich, deep crimson, a colour that seemed to capture the essence of devotion and authority. Crafted from the finest silk, the fabric cascaded in graceful folds, accentuating the dignified stature of the wearer. Each stitch, meticulously placed, whispered of skilled hands that had laboured to create a garment befitting its esteemed purpose.

The robe’s skirt, adorned with intricate gold and black embroidery, depicted sacred symbols and religious motifs that told tales of faith and tradition - resembling the cross that Yeshua died upon, but placed upside-down. The golden threads shimmered in the ambient light, casting a subtle glow that highlighted the reverence with which the garment had been crafted.

A matching red sash, elegantly tied across the man’s chubby waist hid the many buttons that ran the length of the garment. Its edges, crisply pressed and perfectly straight to show his precision and need to look as clean as possible.

The man’s sleeves, were straight, yet too long for him, as was the rest of his attire. As tidy as these lines were, as much care went into keeping it pristine, it was far too big for him like it had been handed to him from someone else that used to wear it perfectly. The cuffs ended midway down his palms, which, themselves, were hidden beneath leather, black gloves.

One hand was up to his ear, holding something to it and speaking in a tongue you couldn’t understand. Your eyes travelled over his face, his white skin dimmed by the light of the moon, but mismatched eyes shining brightly beneath black paint around his eyes. One was the colour of ice, the other was the colour of the trees. You’d never seen such a thing before in all of God’s creations. A moustache of mouse-brown sat above his top lip, which also had been painted black. As he spoke, you looked at his teeth, perfectly white but canines sharper than most mortal’s dental structures. You had heard of such a thing - rumours spreading amongst the Israelites as they told each other stories in the dark of the night - abominations so foul they ate people, consuming the blood from their bodies and ending their lives in a moment’s notice, hiding in the shadows of the night as the sun would kill them. You’d reported back to Gabriel, who’d confirmed these abominations were the work of Lucifer, an archangel who had fallen many eons ago and had renamed himself to Satan. Your eyes had fallen upon a vampyre, and as your eyes roamed over the rest of his body, you saw your halo clutched in his left hand, pressed between his fingers firmly as though you may make a grab for it at any moment.

You made an attempt to back away from the monster, but the bones in your body were still healing - taking longer now that your halo was in the hands of another and not atop your head as it ought to have been. You took in your surroundings a little more, brain power restoring to maximum as you realised he must be of the ancient Romans, the very same people who had killed Yeshua.

“I pray thee, do not harm me,” you said, your tongue switching to Latin. This got the man to stop again and look at you.

“You’ve hurt yourself enough without me getting involved, haven’t you, Angel?” he asked, responding in Latin back to you. His tone was unsettling, confident and dark. The glint in his eyes mimicked this. “… Latin.” The switch in language made you realise he wasn’t talking to you, but an invisible person in your midst.

“What tongue dost thou speak?”

“You’re a servant of the Betrayer and you don’t know my language?” he laughed, then spoke again to the invisible one. His hand moved from his ear and you saw light coming from his hand - expecting pain from Hell, you flinched. When the pain didn’t come, you heard him again. “It’s just a phone,” he explained, making a mockery of you. “I thought everyone up there knew what was going on down here.”

You sighed, “I have not visited in a while.”

“Oh really? When was the last time you were down here, then?”

“I am not compelled to divulge aught to thee, foul creature!” your voice was laced with disdain as you looked at him, fangs exposed as he grinned at you. He took a step towards the crater, and you tried to move back, howling in pain as you did so and earning another laugh from him.

“Then I’m not compelled to help you get your bearings.”

You stopped for a moment and thought - more knowledge would be useful at this stage. And keeping him talking would buy you some healing time and strengthen to get your halo then run again. “I beheld the passing of Yeshua - and that was mine ultimate moment in this earthly realm.”

The vampyre hissed at Yeshua’s name, almost as if he was in pain just hearing the name of the Holy Son. He straightened himself up and then took a seat on the edge of the crater. “That was two-thousand years ago, Angel. A lot’s changed since then.”

“What other tongue didst thou employ just now?”

“It’s called English. A mixture of Latin, Greek and German.”

A Germanic influence - you wondered why you were only picking up the Latin words at first. You were only prepared with the languages spoke around the time of Yeshua, meaning anything new that had been developed since was completely lost to your ears. Now that you knew the main languages, you commanded, “Speaketh once more in the English tongue.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He replied, but he did so in English.

“I comprehend thy words now. I give thee thanks.”

He scoffed. “That was fast.”

“‘Tis a… gift… from the Almighty.”

He looked at you in disgust.

You felt your body had healed enough for the pain to mostly subside, allowing you to fight your way to your feet. Your wings were still shattered, however, making you feel like a broken bird, vulnerable and weak in the eyes of her prey. The vampyre was preying on you, after all. “I express gratitude for the knowledge shared, yet I must make haste on my journey. I shall reclaim my halo and depart henceforth.” You held out your hand, silently praying that he’d be courteous and return your halo to you.

He looked at your hand and then at you. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” He stood from his seat and took a step towards you, watching you flinch as you stepped back. “The son of the Dark One has an angel in his grasp - what makes you think you’re going anywhere, hm?” He was moving towards you at an alarming rate, rendering your body useless against his speed. He gripped hold of your arm, tightly trapping you beneath his gloved fingers. You struggled against him, pulling back as hard as you could but failing, your body still not strong enough. “The way you fell makes me think you came here without permission, right? Which means, we have a lot to talk about.”

“Release me.”

“Or what?”

“I shall slay thee.”

He simply laughed, before turning to a person who was walking towards you, emerging from the darkness. She was a woman, visibly older than the vampyre and a little chunkier, too. She had long, blonde hair and looked more human than monster, though, you came to quickly realise she was a monster like him, and when she spoke, she did so in English. “The Unholy Father blessed us with a gift tonight,” she commented through a smile.

“What do we do with her now, Sister?” the vampyre asked, English rolling off his tongue easier than the Latin he spoke to you in.

The woman entered the crater and grabbed hold of your chin, looking at your body in one, fell swoop before making her decision. “Take her to the basements and strap her up - we have a lot of questions to ask about her home, don’t we, little angel?”

“Unhand me!” you yelled, struggling against both of their grasps.

The woman gripped onto your wrists and tied a metal chain around them - the metal burned against your skin as you fought against her, the pain getting worse and worse until you were forced to still. “Forged with hellfire,” she explained, “you’re not getting out of that easily.”

The vampyre dragged you across the grass and into a building, smelling old and of incense. You could tell that the building techniques were similar to the Babylonian buildings, but with Roman Corinthian architecture thrown in. There were also elements to this structure that you hadn’t seen before, and was only paying attention to because you needed to escape.

The vampyre pulled you down some steps, travelling further and further below ground as though he were walking you to Hell, until you finally stopped at a door. The room he threw you into was cold and dark, and it smelled almost exclusively of damp. In the centre of the room was a table, propped up on wood and resembling a crucifix. You were strapped onto it, similarly to the Messiah, except your device was made exclusively of hellfire-forged metal, making your entire body tingle with pain. You fought against him all the while, trying your best to escape, but all your efforts proved to be in vain. Once the woman entered the room, the torture truly began.

They both asked you things, questions about Heaven and the Almighty’s plan that you couldn’t answer even if you wanted to. When they were met with answers they didn’t like, they would reopen wounds that had healed and damage your body in ways that were unimaginable once upon a time. Feathers were plucked from your wings to start with, following cuts to your skin, slaps, and then short bursts of hellfire that rose from the ground. But you remained silent throughout, save for your screams of agony.

Eventually, they grew tired, and as the vampyre left, he looked at you and smirked. “We all have eternity, Angel. You’ll be here for the rest of it if you don’t cooperate.” He winked at you. “See you tomorrow.”

The door to the room closed behind them, slamming shut with an echo that reverberated throughout your entire being. Your halo sat on the other side of the room, resting on a table and taunting you. You could hear it crying out for you and your body begging for it. If you wore it, you’d heal in no time and regain all of your strength. But just being in its presence meant it would take longer. You were never without your halo and your holy light, but you’d seen what had happened to angels who were. Fearing that this was to be your fate, you wondered if it would have served you better to be caught by Michael and thrown to the void. Or perhaps you should have just continued on in blind faith of the Almighty, doing His bidding despite your heart breaking each time.

Strapped to Hell’s crucifix, all you could do was think of all the regrets you had, and beg into the darkness that He would show you mercy and allow you to come home. Or die quickly.

Prev. ⛧ Next

164 notes · View notes

scoonsalicious · 1 year ago

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 18, Unread - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, betrayal, mentions of sex, mentions of violence, threats.

Word Count: 1.9k

Previously On...: You saw something on Bucky's phone that changed everything.

A/N: Here it is-- the final betrayal. I'm sorry. It can only go up from here, right? LOL no.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

“Care to tell me why we’re meeting in an unused guest suite on a floor that’s mostly under construction?” Nat asked when you opened the door of your borrowed new room to let her in. You didn’t utter a word, just thrust a copy of the text screenshots into her hands and sat down at the edge of the unfamiliar bed, waiting for her to read them.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Just read it,” you told her, voice devoid of any emotion.

Natasha scanned through the messages, her eyes widening in shock and disgust as she made her way through them. “This has got to be some sort of sick trick, right?” she asked you when she’d finished. “Like, Carthage found some program online to make up fake text messages and sent them to mess with you. Barnes would nev–”

“I screenshotted them off of Bucky’s phone, myself, Nat,” you informed her.

There was a knock on the door and Nat opened it to reveal Wanda. “I came as soon as I could,” the other redhead said. “Why are we having a secret meeting?” Nat handed Wanda the screenshots and came to sit next to you on the bed while she read them.

Wanda’s hand flew to her mouth. “No,” she whispered, looking back up at you. “How could he? There must be some kind of mistake.”

“No mistake, Wands,” you said, standing up to take the pages from her. “It’s all right there, typed out by the man himself.” And then, as if to punish yourself further, you began to read out loud the text between Bucky and Jade:

Vix <3: Hey there, handsome xoxo

Vix <3: Bucky?

Vix <3: You just going to ignore me after everything?

>> How are you texting me? You're supposed to be blocked.

Vix <3: You should keep better track of your phone, then ;)

Vix <3: Or, at the very least, choose a better passcode.

>> What do you want?

Vix <3: I want to talk about what happened the other night.

>> Nothing happened.

Vix <3: Come on now, we both know that's not true ;)

>> It was a mistake. I should have never done it.

Vix <3: You don't make a mistake two separate times, Barnes.

>> Well, I did. And I regret it.

Vix <3: You didn't seem to regret it when you were blowing loads of cum inside of me.

>> Jesus Christ, Jade. You don't have to be so fucking crass about it.

Vix <3: I thought you liked girls with dirty mouths.

>> Jade, I have a girlfriend. She’s the only one whose mouth I like dirty. Or at all.

Vix <3: That's right, your Perfect, Precious Pocket.

>> Do not talk about her.

Vix <3: Oh please. Don't pretend you care about her now.

>> I love her.

Vix <3: You have a funny way of showing it, sleeping with me just a day and a half ago.

>> She is EVERYTHING to me.

Vix <3: Obviously not.

>> I thought she slept with Steve.

>> I was a fucking idiot.

>> It was a misunderstanding.

Vix <3: Orly? That how she's going to see it?

>> She's not gonna find out.

Vix <3: You think you can hide the truth from her? Please.

>> The last thing I want to do is hurt her.

Vix <3: Should have thought of that before you fucked me. Twice.

Vix <3: If you don't tell her, I will.

>> She'd never believe you. She fucking hates you.

Vix <3: I don't need her to believe me. I just need her to see these texts.

>> You wouldn't.

Vix <3: Try me. You don't want to fuck with me, Bucky.

Vix <3: Tell her the truth or I will.

>> I swear to god, Carthage, you breathe a word of this to her and I *will* fucking kill you.

>> That is not an idle threat.

>> Ending your life would be as easy for me as breathing.

Vix <3: You wouldn't.

>> Do you want to try me?

>> Because I promise you, she is the most important thing in this world to me, and if you threaten that, I will end you without losing a wink of sleep.

>> You know what I'm capable of. Don't test me.

>> Do you understand me?

>> I said, do you understand me?

Vix <3: Christ, yes, Barnes. I understand.

Vix <3: I'll keep my mouth shut.

Vix <3: But you're a real piece of shit, you know that?

>> You're not telling me anything I don't already know.

Vix <3: I'd be so fucking good to you if you just gave me a chance.

>> Not happening. And if I find out you even insinuate to Pocket, or to anyone, what happened in Russia, it will be the absolute last thing you ever do, and no one will ever find your body.

Vix <3: I already told you, I won't tell your Precious Pocket. I'm not a liar.

>> Good. We're done. I'll speak to Steve about having someone else take over your training.

Vix <3: WHAT?! You don't have to do that!

>> I can't be around you anymore. I don't want to be around you anymore.

Vix <3: Temptation too strong? Afraid you'll make another 'mistake'?

>> Fuck you.

Vix <3: You already did, baby xoxo

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Wanda whispered when you’d finished reading. “Pocket, honey, are you alright?” She looked at you as if she were terrified you were going to break. And maybe the old you would have. This new you, the one that was forged under rage and ice, was made of harder, crueler stuff.

“I’ll live,” you said. Nat and Wanda exchanged a glance that didn’t escape your notice. “What?” you snapped at them.

“Hey,” Nat said, “Don’t get mad at us; we’re just worried about you. The last time he pulled something like this, you were a mess. This,” she indicated the sheets of paper you still held, “is way worse, so forgive us for expecting you to not be okay.”

You sighed and slumped down into a nearby chair. “I’m sorry, guys,” you said. “Obviously I’m not okay, and it’s not fair of me to take out my frustrations on you. But this time is different. Before, I was devastated, I was sad. But now? Now I’m fucking pissed. It’s like every ounce of love I felt for him has been turned into pure, unadulterated hatred, and all I want is for him to fucking suffer. I want him to hurt the way he hurt me.” Wanda opened her mouth to speak, but you interrupted her before she could. “And I know that’s not healthy, Wands. Trust me, I know that. I’ve just never been this angry before in my entire fucking life. God, not even at fucking Darren.”

“Who’s Darren?” Wanda asked, but Nat shook her head at her.

“Not now,” she said.

“I don’t even want him dead,” you continued, voice rising, as though Wanda hadn’t spoken at all. “Death would be too good for him! I want him to feel pain, pain like he has never experienced before in his long, utterly useless life!”

“Pocket,” Nat warned. She knew you were dangerously close to saying something you might eventually come to regret.

You sighed, the rage fleeting and leaving you feeling hollow and broken. “I know,” you said. “I don’t really mean it. I’m just so goddamned hurt!”

“I know it’s difficult to believe this right now,” Wanda said, taking a step closer to put a hand on your shoulder, “but he does still love you– he said he—”

“No,” you interrupted, sounding every bit as defeated as you felt. “You don’t do that to someone you love. You just don’t. This morning, he talked about getting our own place, getting married, starting a fucking family.” You choked back your emotions, but your voice still cracked. “I thought he was ready to take things to the next step, to prove how much I meant to him, but he was just trying to distract me, trying to get me out of the Tower because he couldn’t risk me running into her, couldn’t risk her telling me the fucking truth he was too much of a coward to admit.”

Nat and Wanda looked from you to each other, lost in their sense of helplessness, of not knowing how to care for you in your time of need.

“You know,” you went on, “I probably would have forgiven him, if he had just straight up told me the truth. I mean, we weren’t even technically together, so it wasn’t cheating. If he’d said ‘I’m sorry, Pocket. I saw those articles and I went fucking crazy with jealousy. All I could think about was getting back at you because I thought you betrayed me.’ Yeah, I’d have been pissed, and it might have taken a while, but I could have forgiven him if he had just been fucking honest with me. That’s all I ever asked of him. That he just be fucking honest. But he’s lied to me, again and again and again.

“He took away my right to make an informed choice about my own fucking life,” you said, and this time, the emotions couldn’t be held back. “He of all fucking people should know what that feels like,” you sobbed. “He should know how valuable that choice is! How valuable it is to me!” And there it was, really, the crux of the matter. He knew how much you valued the freedom you now had over your own life, after so many years of not having any choices in what happened to your own body, and he’d stolen your ability to make a choice for yourself. He’d had sex with you, knowing you never would have consented if you knew he’d been with Carthage less than 24 hours prior. He’d violated so much more than your trust this time.

Nat stood up and raced over to you, throwing her arms around you. Wanda looked on for a moment, confused, before joining Nat in embracing you.

The entire time you’d been speaking to your friends, your phone had been silently vibrating. You’d turned the ringer off as soon as you texted Nat and Wanda, asking them to meet you. You didn’t need to look at the screen to know that it was Bucky who was trying to get ahold of you. If you’d been in a better frame of mind, you’d have laughed at the irony– here you had spent all day yesterday waiting on a text or call from him that never came, and now he was blowing up your phone and you couldn’t stand the thought of speaking to or hearing from him. Life was sure funny sometimes.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), Ms. Romanoff, Ms. Maximoff,” FRIDAY’s voice rang through your borrowed room. “Mr. Stark is requesting everyone’s presence in Conference Room C for a mandatory pre-mission briefing to begin in ten minutes.”

“Fucking Tony,” you moaned. A mandatory meeting meant a mandatory encounter with Bucky, and you were so not ready for that yet.

“Don’t worry,” Wanda said, squeezing your hands. “Natasha and I won’t leave your side. He won’t be able to get near you. I’ll put a forcefield up around you if I have to.”

You managed to sniff out a laugh and wiped your nose. “Thanks, Wands. I really appreciate it.” Steeling yourself, you stood up from your chair. “Let’s go see what Tony wants.”

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

188 notes · View notes