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everythingisromant1c · 1 month

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It's Always Been You - Chapter 12

james potter x fem!reader

summary - Things hadn't gotten much better with James, and you knew you could only go so long without talking to him—after all, he was still your best friend. But, considering all that'd happened, along with some encouragement from your friends, you knew the time had come to finally admit you wanted more than that.

wc [6.2k]

a/n: alr guys ... very happy and also sad to say this is the last chapter of it's always been you!! :( i've loved every minute of writing this series as well as sharing it (its become my baby atp), and it is definitely because of all the love and support everyone reading has given it. thank u to everyone stuck around to this point, & i hope u guys enjoy this last chapter!! i send all my hugs and kisses <3 - e

all chapters | <- Chapter 11

It'd been another hour or two until everyone had fully returned from Hogsmeade and dinner was being served in the Great Hall. You finally changed out of your dress and into your everyday clothing again, already feeling better, but that didn't mean you felt good. You didn't think you could feel good when both your brain and heart were hurting like they were. And worst of all, the one person you'd go to in times like these for comfort was the same person you couldn't go to. Not now.

The girls had been doing their best to get your mind off of everything that had happened that day, aside from when Marlene profusely apologized to you for letting Potter hear her outburst in the common room.

"Although, I have to say," she admitted afterward. "I'm not completely sorry for him that he had to hear it. I may be brutal but I never tell a lie."

That fact didn't leave you as you sat with her and Lily in the Great Hall for dinner, a number of seats away from the other Marauders. You recognized with a skip in your heartbeat that James was with them, surprisingly enough since you knew how he was accustomed to skipping meals in the dining hall when he wanted to be alone, a habit you both unfortunately shared. But that didn't mean he was enjoying himself either.

You could see even from your seat down the table that he wasn't saying much, mostly keeping to himself quietly, something so out of character for him yet you'd seen him do it constantly the entire week. You wanted to yell at him and shake him silly, but you also wanted to hug him. When you caught yourself in the midst of those thoughts you turned back to your own spot at the table shamefully.

You tried to force yourself to eat, catching your friends' concerned looks at your full plate, but you didn't feel much like it. Especially not when you still felt maybe a dozen pairs of eyes on you from every corner of the Great Hall.

Even with all that'd happened since just that morning, the rumors and whatever else people had come up with to talk about had not yet been forgotten about by the school like your friends said it would be. Then you thought about whether news had spread of your disastrous date in Hogsmeade, and prayed that nobody had caught wind of that incident either. You didn't think you could handle any more of the staring.

Immediately after you had that thought, you spotted a fifth-year in Ravenclaw robes walking past your table, watching as he blatantly pointed at you as he spoke to his friend, and you looked down at your plate with hardened eyes.

You heard Marlene scoff from next to you. "Hey!" she called to the boy. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to point?"

The fifth-year didn't respond to her but looked to his friend, hurriedly taking a seat at his own table, his whispers being drowned out in the loudness of the dining hall.

Marlene fumed from next to you. "I can't believe these people. Are they really that bored with their own lives that they're so obsessed with a bloody rumor?"

You shook your head toying with your fork. "Just ignore them. That's what I've settled on doing."

She sighed from beside you and you thought that'd be the end of everything, until you heard gasps from down the table. You looked up and followed the sounds and were met with a sight not even the magic of Hogwarts could've prepared you for.

James—your James—had stood up on the bench he'd once been sitting in, and you thanked Merlin he wasn't standing fully on the table; though you had absolutely no idea what he could possibly be up to, you knew it couldn't be anything good. He cupped a hand to his mouth as your heartrate picked up.

"Can I have everyone's attention?"

He didn't have to ask twice for it. His voice boomed out loudly, something that seemed to come naturally to him, and the noise in the Great Hall had died out in a mere second until it was almost completely silent—quiet enough for you to hear the beating of your heart in your chest as you looked up at him. Your throat went dry.

"Not that it's any of anyone's business," he started confidently to the hundreds of eyes now looking at him, tone nothing but sober. "But nothing happened in the broom closet. Or in the locker room."

You felt the churning in your stomach claw up into your throat, then felt it drop back down, keeping you stationed in your seat. He didn't give much context to his declaration, but with the popularity of the topic amongst the school, it didn't seem like he needed to. His voice almost seemed to echo, all other noises drowning out as everyone stared up at him. James looked around the entire room appearing completely unafraid and you didn't know how the hell he did it; you probably looked more fearful than him.

"So," he began again, "I don't want to see or hear anyone talking about those rumors any longer. And if anyone has a problem with that, they can answer to me. Alright?"

Of course, nobody said anything then, but you could see in their eyes that they were going to listen to him. Or at least, they'd make sure they didn't get caught going against him. Maybe it was from his impenetrably confident voice or his respected status around the school, you weren't sure, but he had that unique effect on people in an almost effortless way.

When it was clear he'd gotten his point across, he scanned his eyes over the sea of students until they found yours. In a dizzying way, it felt like you were the only two in the room for a moment, as cliché as the thought sounded in your head.

You didn't know what had motivated him to do what he did, but you could see in his eyes something fragile that juxtaposed the self-assured look they'd had only seconds ago. He looked away again and stepped back down to floor level once more, not taking a moment before striding out of the Great Hall, his form disappearing seconds after.

Even without his physical presence, his action seemed to linger over the room for a moment more before chatter broke out once again. You were still frozen in place, not knowing if moving would finalize the idea that whatever just happened was real and not just part of some wild dream.

Marlene had confirmed that it definitely had happened, however, when she turned to you with her jaw dropped, an amazed but delighted sparkle in her eye. "Someone tell me you saw that too."

"Oh we saw it," rang Lily, who also looked much too happy about that fact, probably just relieved James's antics weren't centered on her for once. You could see them both staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to react. You could also see the boys in your peripheral, the three of them remaining at the table searching your face for a reaction.

Yet, all you could do was stand up and walk hurriedly towards the exit. Dozens of conversations rushed past your ears as you did, a blur of remarks ranging from "Potter's lost it" to "He's so bloody fit." Whatever they were saying, you noted with gratefulness in the back of your mind that none of the conversations were about you.

You reached the doorway and stopped once you were a safe distance away in the hallway, heaving breaths in for a moment to yourself before finding that you weren't alone. All of your friends had followed you without blinking an eye, and you didn't know whether you found it endearing or inconvenient. Though, to be fair, you didn't know where you were going. You just knew you couldn't sit there and pretend as if nothing had happened.

You blinked at the three boys who neared you with puzzled looks on each of their faces. "Did you guys know anything about this?"

"No," promised Sirius. "In fact, James has hardly said anything to us since this morning."

You shook your head to yourself, feeling breathless. "I can't ... believe he would do that."

"Really?" Lily stared at you. "I mean, it's Potter we're talking about. It's exactly something he would do."

You couldn't fight the smile that tugged on the corners of your lips even as you shook your head. You ran a hand over your hair as the blonde from next to you hit you in the shoulder.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" You frowned over at her as she stared at you expectantly. "Go to him."

You stilled, gaping at her. "What?"

"Go to him. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

You tipped your head at her like it would help you understand her better, parting your drying lips. "I thought you said he was a selfish git." You heard Remus snort from beside you.

"I did, sure," reasoned Marlene, not without a hint of pride. "But only because I thought he was ruining your chances of moving on now that you were over him. But seriously, I can see your face when you look at him." She shook her head. "That's not the look of someone who wants to move on."

Your eyes flickered over her face as she spoke, an infinite number of thoughts overtaking you. In the silence of your thinking, a Hufflepuff boy walked past the six of you in the hallway, staring all the while.

"What are you looking at?" snapped Marlene, turning to him without missing a beat. "Did you not just hear Potter?"

Like he'd heard him loud and clear, and also like he was scared of Marlene, he hurried away with his head bent forward. Satisfied, the blonde turned back to you. At your conflicted expression, she asked, "Well?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. "It's just that," you began, not even knowing where you were going with your rambling. "I've spent so long trying to get over him. It's not fair to myself to just forget all of that, and it definitely wasn't fair to Sebastian-"

"For Merlin's sake," cut in Lily, to your surprise. "You keep talking about what's fair and what's unfair, but what about you? What do you want?"

You stared at her, beginning to feel breathless under the eyes of all your friends. "It's not just about what I want. It's not that simple."

"But what if it is?" she questioned. "I know how difficult this has all been for you. And I know you said Potter doesn't just get to realize his feelings for you and suddenly be with you, that it doesn't work like that. But what if it does?" She raised her hands at her sides. "Not everything is a perfect story to tell. Especially not when it comes to you two. It's not every day you fall in love with your best friend and he finally sees that he's fallen for you too. Are you seriously going to let him go because of some made-up system of rules?"

Your breath was becoming staggering now, and you didn't know what to think, because everything they were telling you sounded so right.

"I don't know," you began unsurely. "Of course, I don't want to lose him. Not talking to him for the past week has been harder than I ever could've imagined. I don't even know what it would feel like to have to do it for longer than I already have been." You blinked down at your shoes, truly realizing those things at the same rate you said them. "I think I just ... miss him."

"Of course you miss him." Marlene looked at you sympathetically. "That's why I think you should go tell all this to him."

You felt bile rising in your throat. "I don't even know if he'd want to see me after all we've said to each other."

"Are you joking?" Remus butted in exasperatedly. "Prongs is bloody in love with you. Can't you see that?"

"Remus," you warned softly because you didn't know how much more of this hope you could take before you did something you'd regret.

"I'm telling the truth." His voice was heavy with meaning. "Maybe it took him a while to realize it himself, but the rest of us have had to sit back and watch you both act like you don't have feelings for each other for years. Believe me, the only reason he's in his room right now and not with you is because he thinks that's what you want."

Your brows pinched. "You can't truly know that."

"Really?" he laughed. "What do you think we talked about that night Vance asked you out?"

Your expression faltered and you forced yourself to think back to the night James had begun acting distant from you, though it wasn't difficult to, the storyline of it all clicking into place in your head.

"You," breathed Remus. "We talked about you."

"Not to mention," Sirius added, "we're the ones who've had to spend every night in our dorm listening to him bitch and moan about Vance this and Vance that." You swallowed at your friends' words, but they didn't quit.

"And we know James was being a right idiot today," Sirius insisted honestly. "But you should've seen him this morning right after you two argued. He was heartbroken. More than he'd ever been over Evans." He turned to the redhead in question. "No offense, Evans."

Lily rolled her eyes lightheartedly. "Trust me, Black, none taken."

He nodded and turned back to you swiftly. "So for you to think that James would want anything other than to fix things with you and just be with you is bloody mental."

You stared at all of your friends who were looking so determinedly back at you that you didn't think you could tell them 'no' now. But still, your feet didn't budge.

"It's not just that," you almost whispered. "I guess I'm just ... scared. What if it goes wrong and we get into some ridiculous fight again? What then?"

Marlene took a hold of your shoulders, slightly scaring you in her resoluteness. "Potter just stood up and yelled at the entire bloody school and you're trying to tell us you'rescared?" She shook you a little, and your friends smirked from behind her. "Be a Gryffindor for Godric's sake! Go to him!"

Before you could say anything more, she was turning you around and shoving you a little until you had the momentum you needed to take steps toward the Gryffindor common room. You made it all the way up the nearest set of steps before you paused, turning back to your friends with a grateful smile.

"Thank you, you guys." You expected them to share the sweet moment with you, but they only rolled their eyes.

"Go, woman!" Sirius groaned, and you rolled your eyes back at them, but it lacked any real annoyance.

You didn't know exactly what you were planning on doing, but you didn't have time to think about it because your legs were carrying you speedily through the halls in your anxious state and wouldn't let you stop until you reached the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Taking a steadying breath in, you said the password and entered the room.

With everyone else still being at dinner in the Great Hall, it wasn't exactly difficult to find James. He sat in the common room, his brunette head of curls visible to you in the low light. They covered the majority of his face that you could see, his head tipped downwards with his elbows resting on his knees. That changed within the blink of an eye as you entered the room, his head swiftly lifting until he locked eyes with you, and you had to fight a shiver at the feeling it sent shuddering through you.

He seemed to think you were just going to go to your own dorm and ignore him, and he averted his eyes to look somewhere else, maybe the fireplace, until you left—but you didn't. You only walked closer to him until you were separated by only one of the couches, the distance still small enough to make your breathing quicken.

At the soundlessness of your stilled footsteps, James looked back up and met your eyes again, and he swallowed. Clearly, he hadn't expected you to make any move to talk to him that night, even after the scene he'd made in the Great Hall. The problem was that you hadn't expected yourself to either, and now you didn't know what you wanted to say first, because there were certainly a million things you had to make sure he knew.

"Thank you," you said, because you figured it was a good place to start. He nodded up at you, his eyes not revealing much of anything, but you didn't let that sway you. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Of course I did." His voice was stubborn, but too sincere for how little his expression gave away.

You looked down at your feet, letting a moment pass before speaking again. "Well, now it seems like everyone is going to be talking about you from now on."

"That doesn't matter to me." James's voice cut through the air richly, and when you looked back up from the floor he was staring at you meaningfully. "They can say whatever the hell they want. As long as they're not talking about you."

Your shoulders dropped at his words, and the way he held your eyes as he said them made your heart beat faster in your chest. It hadn't even been a full day since you'd last spoken to him, but you already missed him.

"They wouldn't leave you alone," he said concretely, his tone beginning to fill with emotion. "And then, I heard what Marlene said in the common room, about some girl harassing you in the library? I-" he shook his head frustratedly, rubbing at his forehead with one of his hands. "I'm just mad at myself that I've let it go on for this long. Or that I didn't even know that happened."

You already felt too emotional for your liking, the feelings inside of you swirling more aggressively at every word he said to you. "It's not like it's your fault, James."

"Well it's not like I did much to stop it, did I?" He seemed genuinely angry at himself now, and you didn't know what you could do to help. A painful lump was rising in your throat, but you stayed rooted in your spot behind the sofa. "And I'd ask you why you didn't come and tell me, but that'd be a bloody stupid question."

He shook his head, eyes becoming wistful like he was recalling a memory, one that pained him. "Earlier, when Marlene was defending you in the common room, the look on your face was ... I don't know. Crushed. Sad."

You swallowed at the memory, because that had been exactly how you were feeling, amongst thousands of other ways. James looked down at his lap.

"I just wanted to try and help, do anything to make that look on your face go away, but I couldn't. So I just kept replaying how you looked in my head, and the more I thought about it, the more I hated myself because I realized you were only hurting because of me. And that was the worst part. Realizing that it was all my fault."

You felt yourself wanting to take a step towards him, wanting to just reach out to him as the tips of your fingers teemed with the longing you felt in your chest. "James," you began, your voice hushed. "It's not all your fault."

You meant it. To try and say to yourself that you had no part in all the confusion between the two of you would be a blatant lie, one that you couldn't let James go on believing, especially not with the pained look on his face.

He only shook his head at you. "It is," he insisted. "And here you go, being perfect towards me when I don't deserve it." A muscle worked overtime in his jaw. "Marlene was right. I was being selfish, and petty, and a lot of other things, but most importantly, I wasn't being a good friend." He paused, a grieving confliction tugging at his brow. "That's ... that's not what friends do."

You went still then too, the word 'friend' hanging in the air between you with a weight that only made you tired. The truth was that cobwebs had grown in the house where you'd fostered that unforgiving title, and it felt like some intangible force had locked you both inside with it blindly.

"Yeah, well," you began, your voice small, "we've been doing plenty of things that friends don't do, lately.Like you said, we kissed, right?" You let out a breathy sound like a laugh that lacked any joy, and the way James's eyes flickered up at you knocked the rest of the air right out of you.

"About that," he began hesitantly, and you could tell he was thinking about both the night it'd happened and that morning when you'd fought, just like you were. "I know you don't want that to mean anything, so it- ... it doesn't have to. Even if I want it to. Because it doesn't matter what I want—what matters to me is you."

You were thankful you had the couch next to you to brace a hand on, because you'd never felt so swept up by a conversation and you weren't sure how much longer you could stand the way your heart was nagging at you.

"You were right," swore James, but the slight shake of his eyes back and forth on your face didn't look as adamant as he sounded. "It's not fair for me to expect something from you when you already got over me."

The words you'd shouted at him in Hogsmeade that morning sounded foreign and wrong coming from his lips, and you knew the months of dishonesty that laced them like you knew the back of your hand.

"And it's too late now, I get that." His voice went from deep and determined to on the cusp of breaking, and it killed you. "I just want to know that you're happy, and if being happy means being with Vance instead of me, then ... I can deal with that."

You watched as he swallowed, like he was forcing the words to come from his lips even if it pained him. The way he hadn't broken eye contact with you the whole while was starting to make your head spin.

Your blinking sped up, maybe holding back the emotion you knew you was fighting to come out, and you whispered, "James."

Maybe you hadn't been loud enough, or maybe he just knew you'd try to disagree with him again, but he only continued determinedly at you.

"I know I probably went and ruined your chances with Vance, like an idiot, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you another date with him." He nodded at you once firmly, and within a second he was standing up, taking an intentional step forward. "Hell, I'll even go talk to him right now and-"

"James," you called again, louder this time. "Stop."

You put a hand out and it landed on his arm softly but firmly, and all you could was pray you could find the right words to say to him as he stared at you, level with you now in an unsteadying way.

"You didn't ruin my chances with Sebastian. It wouldn't have worked out regardless, even if I'd wanted it to. Because being with him isn't what I want." You shook your head, recalling back what James had said to you only moments before. "He wouldn't have made me happy." You sounded desperate now. "He's not you."

James stilled, his glistening eyes the only thing showing movement as they danced across your face intensely, though you saw them widen with something bright like hope. "What?"

The confusion of the word that he'd practically whispered out unspeakably attested to how you felt yourself, the terrain of the land you were exploring right there and then with James uncharted and rocky. You pushed on, knowing there was no going back now.

"Marlene wasn't completely right, James. She only said all of those things because I'd spent all this time trying to convince her—and myself—that I didn't still have feelings for you. But I do, clearly." You tipped your head down for a moment in exasperation and exhaustion, willing yourself to keep going. "Everyone can see it. All of our friends. Hell, even Sebastian could see it." You laughed, though your eyes were growing blurry. "So for me to try to push those feelings down any longer would just be lying to you and to myself." You let out an exasperated breath. "And I'm so sick of lying."

Your shoulders sunk as you stood there, a steadily shrinking distance between you and James that was both comforting and daunting to you. You couldn't do anything but watch as James's face stilled and then shifted as he thought, studying your own face in a way that made you conscious of every shift in your expression.

"I just," he began, and then raked a hand through his hair. "Why did you feel like you needed to hide how you felt in the first place?"

You felt your mouth go dry at the question—one you knew came only out of a desperate curiosity and nothing else—and your mind began spinning. The last few years of your friendship seemed to swirl in your head, flickering in and out of focus as you tried to come up with an answer.

"I-" you began, willing yourself to say something, anything at all. "I was scared." The words rang true so much that they made your heart pinch. "Scared that you wouldn't feel the same and I'd go and ruin everything. That I'd lose you."

James's hands lifted up from his sides like he wanted to reach out to you, and he did. He took your hand in his, grasping lightly at your fingertips in a touch that steadied you and made you feel lightheaded at the same time. He shook his head at you with a firm hold in his brow.

"You could never lose me."

His lips were parted, and his hazel eyes glistened over in the low common room lighting like the thought of your suggestion was painful enough on its own. Looking at him then, his face lined with years of a comforting, steadying familiarity, you knew deep in your chest that what he said was true. But that didn't alter all that you'd felt for the past number of years.

"It's not just that," you said, looking down at his hand that held yours and blinking away the guilt that crept into your stomach, because it wasn't James's fault that you had felt this way. "Even in Hogsmeade, James." Your voice was becoming unsteady again and it only frustrated you more. "What if everything you said you felt for me was just some spur-of-the-moment thing from some kiss? What if you didn't feel the same way a week from now? Or a month? I knew I wouldn't be able to get over that fear. Especially when I'd been hiding how I felt from you for years. And then there were your feelings for Lily to think about and ... I don't know."

You trailed off, finally able to stop yourself. You felt petty, so petty, because you were so close to getting what you knew your heart wanted, but you felt the insistent need to ruin things for yourself and think of every way things could go wrong. You'd never felt closer to James then, but also never farther away. All you could do was stand there and wait for him to say something, anything.

James stayed unmoving for a beat staring at you, wordlessly taking everything in with a fragility in the air that hallowed your labored breathing. Then he started to shake his head like he was in disbelief. He ran a hand through his brown hair.

"For Merlin's sake."

His voice was low, a mutter, and he stared at the ground for a moment in thought before dropping the hand that once held yours, turning and walking away from you, leaving up the steps to his dorm room. You watched his back as he disappeared, your fingertips feeling cold and empty.

You felt your blinking speed up in a dizzying confusion. You didn't know what had come over you, not even sure exactly what you'd said in all of your desperate rambling that had made him decide to leave, but your vision started to blur even more than it already had until you recognized the wetness forming beside your eyes.

Nothing made sense. Not then, and not in the last twenty-four hours. You moved until you were sitting down on the couch in front of you, feeling lightheaded as the fireplace crackled a few feet away. The light from outside had left with the sun and the room had a comforting kind of warm lighting, though even that did little to soothe you as you sat there with all the unresolved feelings within you.

You were confused and lost and wanted nothing more than to just fix things, but you were even more at a loss for words when you heard quick footsteps coming from the staircase James had left from, and then saw his returning form making its way down the steps.

You turned your head to him swiftly in confusion, following him and his soft but energetic steps as he came to sit next to you, and that was when you noticed he was holding something—a box. One that was tattered on the corners, its black fabric aged and dusting over.

You wiped at your eyes quickly, brows tugging in all your bewilderment as you waited for James to explain.

"I-" he began, and stopped as soon as his eyes focused more on your face. You must've looked as broken as you felt, and at seeing the look on your face, he held one of your hands in his before swiping across your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb.

You felt like wilting under his soft touch that you'd missed more than anything in the confusing weeks, mentally and physically exhausted from everything but still wanting more than anything to understand.

When you looked perhaps more stable, he looked back at the box that he'd set down beside him and placed it on his lap delicately as he spoke, his words echoing out slowly.

"I know you think I've just realized my feelings for you a week ago, and that they came from some kiss at a party. But, you have to believe me when I say that they're so much more than that." He placed the box in your hands, and you took it from him with a note of fragility, resting it atop your legs. His eyes bore into yours, like it would break him if you couldn't understand the words leaving his lips. He took a shaky breath in. "I need you to know, more than anything, that you're everything to me. You always have been."

Your lips began to shake at the earth-shattering words coming from your best friend's lips. "James, what-"

He stopped you with a gesture of his head that told you to look inside the box, and you did. Carefully, you lifted the flimsy cardboard top and placed it to the side, brows pulling together tight and something loud and hearty threatening to pull from your chest. You shook your head as tears began to well over your eyes again as you recognized what James had given you.

The box, the measly and old mess of cardboard and paper, was full of all the letters you'd written to him over the years—all the thank you notes, the letters you'd sent him from that summer and all the past ones—every single one of them. Your eyes raked over each of them when you felt too stunned to use your hands, but your heart still felt touched by the memories of each one all the same. It took everything in you not to release the sob you felt rising in your lungs.

"It's you. It's always been you."

James's eyes never left your face as you took everything in, the look behind them never having seemed so determined, so desperate. But there was something behind the way he looked at you, something so warm and honest, so familiar that you felt ridiculous for never noticing it before. And when your gaze flickered downward for a second in contemplation he tipped his head to follow it endearingly.

"Always," he promised. "Not Evans, not anyone else. I know I'm a bloody idiot, and I know I haven't been great at showing my emotions when it comes to you, but that's because it's you, and you mean everything to me and have since we were kids, and if this can't make you see that then I promise I'll spend every day trying to make up for it, and-"

"James." You stopped him, not knowing how much longer you could take sitting next to him and not getting rid of the frustrated crease between his brows, or how much longer you could ignore the thrum of your heart that called out to him so clearly now.

"Yeah?" he asked, and his eyes were like a deer in headlights. The warmth in their color reflected the simmering warmth from the fireplace, but that didn't compare to the fire that lay behind his gaze.

You placed the box, his box of the last six years of your friendship and then some, atop the couch next to you, and didn't wait another second before engulfing him in a hug. Your body crashed into his as he leaned back against the couch, his hands coming up to embrace you right away, and you heard him breathe a smile by your ear before he laughed, a perfect noise.

You felt like laughing then too, and crying, and everything else, because you couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten to hold him like this without the fear of revealing too much to him nagging at you. Your cheek pressed against his neck, his curls fanned against the top of your head, his hands held you tight, and you never wanted to leave the safety of his arms. Except to do one thing.

You pulled away from the hug and so did James after a second, his eyes wide and glistening but truly happy. He was smiling widely, his lopsided grin appearing after days like the sun after a storm, and you loved the sight more than anything, locking it away in the back of your mind as a memory you'd keep forever, like the box that sat next to you.

You laid a hand on his chest, another on his cheek, and James grasped the one that was flattened on his chest in his own, quickly glancing down at your hand in his like he couldn't believe he was holding it. He pulled you into him with it and leaned his head on yours.

"It's always been you, too," you whispered, and his eyes glanced down at your lips as you said the quiet words that'd been lingering on your lips for much too long. You had to push away your smile because you were aching to just kiss him like you'd wanted to for years. With a courage that could've only come from Godric himself, you finally did.

You leaned in until your lips met, a flutter of skin dancing shyly together until you leaned into him even further, and suddenly it felt like the crash of a wave, and sounded like the earth was moving beneath your feet, the sound of something right—and this time, you knew it felt the same for him too, because you could feel his boyish grin that you'd spent years admiring tugging against your lips.

You were kissing your best friend. For real this time. It felt so impossible for your mind to imagine such a thing, but luckily it didn't have to.

James moved his hands but they never left you, one sliding through your hair smoothly and one delicately holding your waist like you were something fragile. Butterflies fluttered through you at his touch, something familiar but foreign, wrong but also right, and somessilyperfect. You couldn't believe you'd spent all those years just a few words away from getting to feel it, getting to be surrounded by it.

You pulled away after a moment, your lips feeling puffy and burning with the heat of his kiss, but all you could think about was how free you felt, how happy you were that he was finally yours.

James looked down at you, his eyes dancing all across your face and stopping on your lips, and then somehow growing even warmer when they met yours again.

"I can't-" he began with a slight disbelieving shake of his head, voice coming out breathless and dazed as heat flushed into your own cheeks at the sight. "I can't believe..."

You laughed, feeling out of breath too, and adjusted the glasses that now perched crookedly on James's nose in an agonizingly cute way.

"Me neither," you finished for him, because you knew just how he felt, a secret the both of you shared; it was the only secret you still wanted to keep.

And it was a feeling you never wanted to have to live without again. Though now, with him in your arms and his familiar chocolate curls still brushing against your forehead, you knew you would never have to.

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wordstome · 10 months

Text

kingdom come - iii

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting

7.7k words

tw: explicit smut, animal death, mentions of child death, violence, mild body horror, ableist language (use of the word "cripple")

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"I'm not going to sleep with you." -quote from woman who is about to sleep with him

There’s a portrait of a woman in your room.

Of course, König offered to have it removed or replaced, but you’ve procrastinated the decision because you never thought you would be here long enough for it to matter. Yet here you are, staring up at this lovely young woman on the wall.

You tilt your head, studying her. Her expression is neutral, almost pensive, but the artist captured a playful sparkle in her eyes, as if she’s keeping some sweet secret.

It’s the first queen, of course. König’s first wife. The one who died many years ago. It’s strange that after so long, he hasn’t gotten rid of the portrait.

What happened to you? you wonder. If someone had asked what you thought when you first arrived here, you would have said, without hesitation, that König had her killed. All your life, you had been taught that he and his father were evil, unfeeling tyrants. Now, this conviction has wavered.

You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s ridiculous, to be thinking better of his character. You only ever wanted to know him better to kill him. But the more you understand about what makes him tick, the less you think that he would do such a thing. Perhaps it’s true, then, that she died in childbirth.

Your eyes travel all over the portrait, poring over every detail of her features. Did you know him? Did you understand him? Did you love him?

Did he love you?

What did that feel like?

“Good. You haven’t left yet.” Calliope comes into the room, bustling with energy even before the sun comes up. You don’t know how she does it.

“We’re about to.”

“That’s why I’m here.” You notice she’s wearing gloves, but more importantly, she’s holding a necklace: a silvery chain with a small, intricate pendant. Vine-shaped pieces of metal hold a white, almost clear jewel in place, its various facets reflecting the candlelight in vivid colors.

“Jewelry? I’m going to be living in the woods for the next few weeks,” you tease as she lowers the necklace over your head. It does look quite durable, but you’re not exactly dressing for a costume ball here.

“Consider it a reminder that I await your safe return,” Calliope responds, securing the necklace behind your neck. “Look at it and remember me. You’re not to do anything reckless out there, am I understood?”

“Understood.” You give her a soft smile as she arranges the necklace on your collarbones. You’re grateful for the gift: though she can’t come with you, a small piece of her will always remain with you.

“Good. And don’t let that handsome husband of yours distract you and get yourself killed.”

“Calliope! What happened to ‘something’s not right with him’?”

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t handsome!”

You snort and roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your face.

You used to think that living in König’s home already exposed you to an exhausting amount of the man. As it turns out, going on a journey with him is even worse.

There’s nobody else to talk to, nowhere to run or put distance between you two when he frustrates you. It’s not so bad for the first few days: the towns surrounding the capital are still populated enough to provide some respite from him. But once the two of you have made your way outside the bounds of civilization, it doesn’t take long for things to become stilted and awkward.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the last town.”

“I don’t feel talkative.”

“Really? I’m out of my mind with boredom right now. Come, you’re not in the mood to get to know each other a little?”

You give him a look. “What else is there to know? I’ve lived with you for several months.”

“But we don’t talk.” König nudges his horse to walk closer to yours. König is such a large man, his horse is massive too: comically so, next to your normal one. You let out a sigh.

“There’s nothing to know about me.”

“I doubt that. All I know about you is you’re a princess trained to be an assassin. ‘Your whole life’, according to yourself,” he says with a touch of mocking.

You purse your lips, determined not to let him get under your skin. “There’s nothing else to know.”

“Truly? Nothing about what you like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…your favorite food. Or hobby.”

“Hobby? …I suppose I spend a lot of time at target practice.”

“That’s not a hobby.”

“It’s relaxing to hone my skills.”

He gives you an amused look. “You remind me of myself as a young man.”

Something about that irks you. “We’re nothing alike.”

“I used to have the same mindset as you, at least. I held one objective in my mind and didn’t seek purpose outside of it.”

“I…”

As much as you loathe to admit it, he’s right. You have been focused on one objective your whole life. If you probe deeper, you can’t remember having any friends outside of Calliope, nor any interests outside of the curriculum your father set for you. “It wasn’t as bleak as you seem to think it was.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not like I never had fun. I had my own way of finding it.”

“Such as?”

“Well, when my training progress stalled, I’d be sent to bed without dinner. Naturally. I eventually learned how to climb out of my window at night and go foraging in the woods for something to eat.” A smile curls your lips as you reminisce. “Eventually I even worked my way up to hunting—little things, like squirrels. I spent many a cozy little evening cooking for myself over a fire.”

You turn to find an abject look of horror on König face. “What? What’s wrong? Is there danger?” You turn around to scan your surroundings, but nothing immediately jumps out at you.

“No. No danger. I just…he sent you to bed with an empty stomach so many times you learned how to crawl out of your room and hunt squirrels to eat?”

You blink at him. “You’ve never had squirrel before?”

He looks scandalized. “Of course I have! That is not the issue with what you just said.”

You shrug. “It was important discipline. Besides, it gave me hunting experience at a young age. Squirrels are hard to skin, but I could do it in twelve seconds flat if you gave me one now.”

König looks like he wants to say more, but instead he looks up at the sky. “We should make camp soon.”

“Is it that time already?”

“It needs to be set up before it gets dark. We should also start hunting while it’s light out—not all of us can catch things in the dark, squirrel-girl.”

“Hey!”

Later, you’re both chewing on a rabbit when he speaks.

“You know, when you said you wanted to travel with me, I was quite concerned.”

“Yes, I know. You didn’t think I was capable of handling myself.”

“Not just that. I was worried you would be…unaccustomed to living rough.”

“You thought I would be a spoiled princess.”

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yes.”

You snort. “Well, now you know. I can handle myself in the outdoors.” You toss the rabbit bones you’ve just picked clean into a small hole dug into the dirt. When you leave, you’ll cover it with dirt to prevent predators from smelling the remains and following you on your journey.

“You want the other leg?” you ask. König seems startled, for some reason.

“You caught this one.”

“Yes, but you’re bigger than me. You need the food.” You reach up to pluck a leaf from a nearby tree and wipe your hands. Rabbits sure are greasy…

There’s a strange look in König’s eye as he regards you. You raise an eyebrow at him in response. “What?”

“…nothing.” He reaches for the rabbit while you shrug and walk off to find some water. The back of your neck prickles as you go, as if his stare is physically touching you.

You can’t stand to be near him nowadays, and you don’t know why.

Of course, you have no choice but to. There’s a tension that feels weighty, forbidden. You know he can tell, because he’s been more cautious around you, giving you as much space as he can afford to. Somehow, that irritates you even more.

Tonight, the two of you are camping in a dense, thick part of the forest not far from a road. It’s quiet, secluded: even the usual soundscape of ambient animal noises is silent.

The fire crackles and pops as you stare into the flames, as if you’ll find any answers in it. Instead, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as König returns from washing himself in a nearby stream, approaching you from behind.

“This won’t work if you’re constantly upset with me for some unknown reason.”

You don’t turn to look at him, though some invisible force compels you. “Why? Because it makes you uncomfortable?”

“I’m worried about your comfort too, you know. If you just told me what I’ve done wrong, then we can resolve it before it breeds resentment.”

“I’m just stressed.” Everything he does or says seems to irritate you nowadays, but you know in your heart of hearts that it’s not his fault. It’s your own problem—you assume camping outdoors for so long has taken its toll on your psyche.

He frowns at you, but doesn’t pry any further. You can’t help but watch as he walks around to the other side of the fire, drying his hair with his shirt. God, he is a work of art: all chiseled muscles and glowing skin. Your eyes travel down his torso, drawn by the line of his abs, down to the happy trail leading to the slightly askew waist of his trousers.

“You’re drooling, princess.”

Your eyes snap back up to his face. His eyes are dancing with mirth as he realizes he’s just caught you ogling him. You make a face at him, but it only makes him laugh. “Was not.”

“Incorrect answer. You should have attempted to strike at my ego. Now I know you were looking.”

“I think I’m just being driven mad by spending so much time alone with you in the woods.”

“I know several ways to drive you mad, sweetling.”

You slouch against a tree, your face hot—and not from the fire. In a blink, he’s standing before you, with a gleeful expression on his face like he’s just discovered a cure for dropsy.

“I know what’s making you sour as vinegar. You need to be fucked.”

You bury your face in your hands, unable to look at him. “I thought we had moved past this,” you groan, trying to ignore your rapidly quickening heartbeat.

“What, your ever-growing carnal lust for me?”

“You being a pervert.”

“I’ve never made a secret of it. You, however…” You suck in a startled breath as he leans down, trapping you against the tree just like he had the day you sparred with him. “You’ve been denying yourself.”

Your breath is ragged as he looks you in the eye, the tension between the two of you as taut as a bowstring. A familiar sense of panic rises in you, the same way you feel every time he’s close to you like this. Before, you thought it was because it felt dangerous to be so close to your enemy. Now, you’re second-guessing yourself.

“So what if I have?” you mumble.

“There’s an easy way to fix that.”

“…The last time you had me in this position, you were threatening me.”

He tilts his head slightly, a wicked gleam in his eye. “You don’t feel threatened now?”

You don’t respond immediately, and heavens forbid, he takes it as hesitancy, his demeanor instantly transforming. “One word. One word, and we will never speak of this again. But if you tell me you want this, I will fuck you senseless.”

“Yes,” you whisper, and his lips on are on yours.

It’s a strange sensation, considering half of your mouth is pressed against the cold, smooth surface of his mask. You don’t even ask him about removing it—it’s become a part of him in your mind. And maybe part of you even finds the mystery of it alluring.

You all but melt into the kiss, against him. It’s different, everything is different than that first awkward kiss from when you were younger. It makes you ache, makes you long for him in a way you’ve never wanted someone before.

You have to separate to breathe, but your reluctance to break apart from him is clear by the way you chase his face with yours. He laughs at you, but it’s not condescending at all. It settles in your chest, warm like honey.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you murmur.

“Luckily for you, you’re in good hands.” It’s the cockiness in his voice that does you in, what makes you let go and give yourself over to him.

You feel flustered, awkward, and like the least desirable creature on earth, but he looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like there’s nothing else he wants more than to have you right now.

“You can trust me,” he says softly. You try to respond, but suddenly find you’ve gone mute. All you can manage is a small nod.

To your surprise, he lowers his mouth to your neck. You gasp, a full-body shiver running through you as he kisses you there, sucking and nipping at you as he goes. “W-wait, I’m—”

“Sensitive? I can tell.” You squeak as he continues to lavish you with attention, his fingers trailing down the front of your torso to undo your pants. His movements are deliberate but slow, giving you plenty of opportunity to stop him. But of course, you don’t.

You let out a quick little breath as he finds his way to your pussy, his deep chuckle reverberating against your throat. “You’re so wet…did I do that to you, liebling?”

You’re about to respond, but instead let out a sharp gasp as he dips a finger into your pussy. “How are you ever going to take me into this tight little hole of yours…” he taunts.

Oh, God, you hadn’t even thought about that. Your mind flashes back to your wedding night, and the first time you tried to kill him. You had mostly been shocked by his audacity, but only now do you recall how big he had felt between your thighs.

He’s gentle with you at first, patiently stretching you open as you whine and beg in his arms. You just about sob when he finally pays your clit attention, circling it with his thumb, and in what seems like no time at all, you’re cumming, hard.

“That didn’t take long at all,” he says with that awful smirk of his.

“Th-that’s not fair,” you stammer. “You know…”

“I’m only teasing you.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead as you come down, shivering with pleasure.

He makes you cum twice with just his hand. Your legs are trembling by the time the two of you properly get undressed. You’re soft and pliable, helpless putty in his hands as he lines the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Ready, liebe?” he asks.

“That is not going to fit,” you say, eyes wide and fearful. There’s absolutely no way, you think, staring down the absurdly thick and long monster between his legs.

“Trust me, remember? We’ll take it slow,” he reassures you. You bite your lip and nod, giving him the go-ahead to sink into you.

Instantly, you realize that no matter how well König could have prepared you, there was no chance that it would have been enough to ready you for the stretch of him. You feel like you can hardly breathe as he splits you in half with his cock, your mouth dropping open in a wordless cry.

“Fuck, you are tight,” he groans, but he keeps his promise to go slow, feeding himself inch by inch inside you until he’s sitting snug up against your cervix.

The two of you stay there, suspended in a moment in time, connected to each other in the most intimate way two people can be. It makes your head spin, makes you dizzy with the sensation of his body pressed against yours.

You nod, and he starts to move.

If you had thought before that his fingers felt good inside you, then his cock is something else. The delicious stretch of him is almost electrifying, and you wonder how you went all your life without it.

All you can do is let him take control—you don’t have the presence mind to do anything but hold onto him, gasping and moaning. He’s all around you, above you, inside you, and it feels like nothing else in the world matters, or that there is a world other than König, König, König.

Your third orgasm surprises you, waves of pleasure flowing through you as you cry out, your pussy sucking him in as if it wants him to stay inside forever. That’s what seemingly pushes him over the edge too, a string of expletives bursting from him as he floods you with his cum.

You’re limp and weak, all but purring as he shifts to lay next to you and pulls you into his chest.

“You are sweet when underneath me like this,” he purrs.

You swat him in the chest, but it must feel no heavier than being hit by a branch, because he just laughs.

“There’s no reason to be shy now. I’ve seen everything at this point.” You pout at him—something that only seems to bring him delight, because he pulls you in for a kiss.

“This isn’t how I wanted to take you the first time,” he says, a hint of shame in his tone.

Your heart twinges with affection. This isn’t how you imagined your first time, either, but the idea of him wanting you so badly he thought about it beforehand, fantasized about it even…“I’ve slept in trees before, this is nothing,” you reassure him.

He shoots you a concerned look. “You continue to share alarming events from your childhood.”

You sleep together that night, curled up against him with your legs tangled with his. He falls asleep first, the slight rumble of his chest as he sleeps against your cheek. You lay awake a little while longer, watching him, breathing him in. Now, you have no choice but to be confronted with the truth that you’ve been refusing to acknowledge this whole time.

You don’t hate him anymore. You don’t even dislike him now. And you certainly don’t want to kill him.

On one hand, things are easier. Crossing the line feels more like having torn down a wall, with no more need for pretense. On the other, König is somehow even more insufferable than before. Or perhaps insatiable is a better word for it. You go from having daily sexual tension with him to daily sex, period.

It’s like the floodgates have opened. He’s always loved to tease you, but it gets a hundred times worse now that he knows just how to make your cheeks feel warm.

“I was thinking…” he muses one night as you cuddle by the fire. “You may have to start riding on my horse.”

“Don’t I already do that?” you ask, sleepily playing with his hair.

He snorts. “Your susceptibility to my corrupting influence is truly something to marvel at.”

“You’ve been enacting psychological warfare on me for months.”

“Anyhow, as I was saying.”

“Your horse is quite large, but I don’t think it could handle me astride it as well.”

“Well. Certainly something else that’s large could handle that…”

You sigh. “Get to the point.”

“It’s becoming quite distracting, watching you moving up and down with the horse’s stride.”

“I cannot believe you. Innuendos twice in a row?”

“This is a legitimate grievance!”

“Riding on your horse would not fix the problem. Unless you plan for me to sit behind you in the saddle, which I refuse to do.”

“You’re no fun.”

You lean forward to kiss the corner of his mouth instead of responding.

Your newfound…activity, however pleasingly distracting, can’t eclipse what comes next.

The mood is somber as you arrive in the village: it’s a quiet, sleepy place, just a scattering of simple houses dotting rolling hills and one singular street lined with buildings in the center of it all.

In sharp contrast to his playful, almost jubilant mood on the road with you, König instantly snaps into his authoritative persona. It especially suits him when he puts on the hood: it makes him seem that much more intimidating and threatening. Almost inhuman.

The first order of business is to hold counsel with what passes for the leader in this tiny village: a local merchant patriarch. He’s a sturdy man in his older years, face lined with both wrinkles and scars. He must have been quite the warrior when he was young: you can tell by the way he carries himself.

He gives both of you the lay of the land, and it’s a grim predicament indeed. Herding the livestock is a job most often given to the children, as it’s a relatively safe job with less skill required than the tasks the adults take care of. That’s changed, of course, with the arrival of the beast a few weeks ago. He confirms the most gruesome details that have been brought before König by previous messengers, and it turns your stomach just to imagine it. Those poor children…

The two of you set off early the next morning, with directions from an experienced hunter who had been keeping track of the beast and reporting its movements. At first, it feels normal: just another walk in the woods with König. The solemn silence between the two of you serves as a stark reminder that this isn’t like normal—followed promptly by increasing signs of a presence in the woods. Snapped branches, giant pawprints, and worse, streaks of blood.

Then you break though into a clearing, and your blood runs cold.

The beast before you could only be described as a wolf for lack of a better descriptor. It’s monstrously large, being König’s height and half again, with all of its proportions just slightly wrong: its legs scrawny and just slightly too long for its body, the snout lean and far too sharp to fit the rest of its head. Dried old blood crusted into the fur of its muzzle and chest belies the savagery of the creature, even streaking onto the fur along its neck. And the most obvious tell-tale sign of an unnatural creature is that fur: a dark, rusty blue that shifts with impossible pinpricks of light, like the night sky is ensnared in this feral animal’s coat.

You heard its growl before you saw it. But now when it lays eyes on you and König, it opens its snout and…speaks.

“What do we have here?” The voice comes out as a broken, reedy croak, as if stretching vocal cords that haven’t been used in a long time.

Something about it raises your hackles, like your body’s responding to an ancient, ingrained fear. Fae.

“Don’t listen to anything it says.” König’s voice is suddenly soft, dangerous. “None of it is trustworthy.” Slowly, deliberately, his hand moves to his back and draws his sword.

“Ah, the boy king,” hisses the beast. “You simply couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“You’re eating my subjects,” König responds. Your eyes flit to where his hand tightens its grip on his sword. “This is not personal.”

“But it always is, is it not?” The beast and König circle each other, like two combatants in an arena. “You are as ever driven by your past mistakes.”

“König, what is it talking about?” You feel like you’re witnessing a conversation you shouldn’t be, but you feel helpless to do anything about it. If you tried to make a move towards the beast now, it would have its jaws snapped around you in an instant.

“It’s lying, liebling. It’s what they do. It’s trying to throw you for a loop so it can catch you off guard.”

“Liebling now, is it?” The beast lets out an awful, barking laugh. “My, the two of you have come far. But not far enough, it seems.”

König gives you a quick, sidelong glance, then tilts his head back towards the beast. The message is clear. We need to distract it. I’ll keep it talking.

“From her response, it seems you’ve been keeping secrets from your lovely little bride.” The beast shakes itself, its fur puffing up to look larger and more intimidating.

“There’s nothing to keep. None of that is important.”

“I would beg to differ. And if your liebling knew what it was, she would disagree as well.”

“You know nothing about us,” König growls. Yes, you’re in a life-or-death situation right now, but the viciousness in his tone sends an excited shiver up your spine. You’re opposite König now, almost completely hidden behind the beast’s monstrous form.

“You know nothing about each other!” Before either of you can react, the beast whips around. Its glowing-white eyes are fixed on you. “Not that it matters any longer.”

You barely have time to scream before the beast is upon you.

“No!” König’s voice rings in your ears. You can feel the creature’s hot breath, its vile drool spilling onto your clothes, its teeth closing around your neck—

Time slows to a crawl, the events unfolding one after the other in sequence. The first thing you’re aware of is the beast’s roar of pain, booming deafeningly all around you. I’m inside its mouth, you think numbly. The second thing you notice is your necklace: it’s glowing red, as if the metal has become molten hot. But you don’t feel any burning sensation, just a faint tingle.

The third thing you see is König shoving himself between the two halves of the beast’s snout, physically holding it open with his body.

It’s truly an impressive sight, like watching Atlas hold up the sky. For a brief moment, all you can do is stare up at him in awe.

“What are you doing?! Get out!” he yells, and you snap back to your senses.

You roll aside out of the beast’s range, scrambling to get back on your feet. König dodges out of the way just as the jaws snap shut.

“Is that..?” the thing wheezes. You rush to help König up as it glares balefully at you. Its beady eyes focus on the pendant around your neck, narrowing in disgust.

“Calliope,” it spits. “I should have known. This bears marks of your meddling all over.”

Your blood runs cold. “What did you just say?” What does your lady in waiting have to do with this?

“You—” The beast doesn’t get a chance to finish its sentence, because König takes advantage of its consternation to stick his sword into its neck. The creature bellows in pain and lunges at König, who barely manages to dodge the strike but loses his grip on his sword in the process. The monstrous animal whips around and around, attempting to grab hold of the sword with its teeth.

“Strike, now!” König calls before promptly getting clocked in the head with the pommel of his own sword as the beast thrashes and screams.

You don’t hesitate to spring into action, unsheathing a wicked-sharp blade as long as your forearm and sprinting towards the creature. König’s left you a perfect opening: as long as the beast is trying to get ahold of the sword, its chest is wide open for attack.

You don’t waste the opportunity. With the running start, you leap forward, sinking the blade into the wolf’s chest, right where its heart lies. The long, keening wail that the beast lets out is confirmation that your blade has struck true.

You have to throw yourself into a roll to get out of the way before the massive body crashes down on top of you. It lies on the ground, its heaving breaths growing shallower by the moment, its wounds staining the ground with a faintly shimmering golden ichor. So the fae do have golden blood, just like the old legends said, you think, watching the macabre scene with stunned terror.

“Brought low by two fae-touched mortals with barely a fight…” the beast huffs. It sounds weary and resigned to its fate, strange for a creature that had seemed so deadly and menacing just moments before. “Fate is cruel.”

“Fae-touched…what do you mean?” you ask, eyes widening. “Wait! What do you mean by that?!”

The beast doesn’t respond, its chest now hardly moving with its breaths. It’s not long for the world, now.

Behind the hulking, dying animal, you spot König staggering into a standing position. “König!” You gather yourself and rush towards him.

He’s visibly unstable on his feet, swaying slightly and looking dazed. The sword must have hit him hard, because his hood has been partially torn away. Despite everything, though, you can’t see any visible blood or injuries from this angle. Until he turns.

A bloodcurdling scream tears its way out of your throat. König cringes slightly at the sound, but you can’t help yourself. The sight is terrifying.

The skin above one half of his mouth is simply gone. He has no lip, not even any flesh up to his nose. His upper teeth and gums on one half of his mouth are just exposed, giving him a grim, unnatural appearance. He looks like Death itself, resembling the skeletal depictions in the manuscripts.

You should be afraid—scratch that, you are afraid. But you realize quickly your fear is not of him, but for him.

“Did it do this to you?!” you say, panicking. You dash forward and grab ahold of his face, turning it so you can examine the injury more closely. The act seems to startle König, who simply looks down at you in confusion.

“What are we going to do? There’s no way this village has a healer who could dress this wound…” you fret. An injury on this level is almost certainly a death sentence if he doesn’t receive adequate attention immediately, and he certainly won’t last the night if you’re forced to travel by horseback again—

“Schatzi…” König grabs your hands with his and removes them from his face. “I’m fine.”

You stare at him in shock for a moment. “You—how can—you—”

He heaves a heavy sigh, as if a massive burden has been placed on his shoulders. “I’m alright. The wound is…not new.”

“How can it not be new.”

König screws his eyes shut for a moment as if trying to gather his composure. “It’s been this way since I was young. Look,” he says, touching the area with a finger. “There’s no blood.”

On closer inspection, you realize he’s right: not only is there no blood, but the skin around his mouth and nose appear to be completely healed. And not even as if it were a true wound: there’s no scarring, no uneven flesh. The skin and muscle are simply…missing.

“What…how…” You’re at a total loss for words. Since he was young? What happened? How had he survived such an injury as a child? You have a million questions, but you find yourself unable to ask any of them.

You watch him, stunned, as he walks past you towards the beast’s body. It lays completely still now, all semblance of life having fled from the corpse. With one hand on the grip and one foot braced against the beast’s body, he wrenches his sword free, then bends to pull your knife out.

“I know you must have questions,” he says, wiping the blood off of both weapons onto the wolf’s fur with a grimace, “but I can’t answer them here. Please, if I promise to explain, will you…will you wait until we’ve left the village?” He turns to look at you beseechingly.

“I…” Now that the adrenaline and initial panic is beginning to fade, your whole body feels heavy and exhausted. You don’t have the energy to be angry, or afraid, or demand an explanation now. You have no choice but to agree, nodding quietly. König seems relieved at your calm response.

“So that’s why you always wear a mask or a hood,” you say numbly as you watch him take the ruined hood off, shaking his head to get the hair out of his face. He gives you a sad, regretful look.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

“Did you mean for me to find out at all?”

“I never meant for anyone to find out.”

The villagers throw a celebration. A modest one, to be sure, but the relief on the peoples’ faces is enough of a reward for you. You can tell König is glad to see it as well—though every time you look at his face, hidden once more behind his mask, you feel a twinge in your heart as you remember what lies underneath it.

You can’t find it in yourself to enjoy the celebrations, even as excited children and grateful parents swarm you to give their thanks. You give them all a smile and a kind word, but that’s all you can manage. Dread and curiosity mix to form a terrible feeling in your gut.

The days between your defeat of the beast and your departure go by in a blur. You’re grateful for the rest, but you can’t stop thinking, worrying, about König’s condition. You manage to stop being petrified that he’s going to drop dead of infection at any moment, but you can’t look at him anymore without thinking about it. About the secret that he’s kept from you, from everyone who’s ever met him. You can’t even wrap your mind around what it all means. You have no point of reference for what could have happened to your husband’s face.

Husband. What a strange thing, to be wed to someone whose full face you had only seen a few days ago, months into your marriage. You haven’t thought of him like that at all. He’s always been König: the king, the enemy, the annoyance. And your lover, you suppose. For the first time, you start to wonder exactly what kind of man you’ve bound yourself to.

Because it’s exceedingly clear to you now. You can’t kill this man. Not just because you don’t want to anymore, but because he might be unkillable.

The village hasn’t yet vanished in the distance behind the two of you when you speak. “What the hell?”

König’s eyes slide to you, then back to the road ahead. “Language.”

You sputter in indignation. “Lang—that’s not what I want to hear!”

“Forgive me. I couldn’t resist.”

“König, this is serious! You promised an explanation.”

“I know what I promised,” he says, a slight edge creeping into his voice.

“Well?”

König takes as deep breath. Inhale, exhale.

Then he begins.

“Well. What do we have here? You’re awfully young for this, little prince.”

He’s fourteen. He’s about to make a decision that will shape the rest of his life.

He had done as the crone’s old tome instructed. Bone from an animal slain in its youth. Flowers bloomed under the cover of pitch black night. A blade whet on the summoner’s own flesh. He’s knelt under the light of the full moon, round and blindingly white.

The ethereal creature standing before him is easily twice his height, with an unearthly glow to their skin and hair and a smile that could almost be mistaken for kind and benevolent on their unnaturally beautiful face.

He’s done it. He’s summoned a fae.

With no small amount of difficulty, he rises to his feet, leaning heavily on the cane that helps him walk. The fae lets out a noise of amusement as they watch the young boy struggle.

“Usually, mortals don’t gamble away their lives until they’re older, and greed begins to dictate their actions.”

He glares at the fae but doesn’t respond.

“Come, now. Do not look at me so. Give me your name, little prince.”

“…you may call me König.”

The fae’s expression sharpens, ever so slightly. “Clever boy. ‘König’…don’t you think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself?”

“I want to make a deal.”

The fae sighs. “Straight to the point, I see. Well, I can’t fault your efficiency. Or is it desperation?” They smirk at him, their eyes taking the rest of him in. He knows he must make for a pathetic sight: a cripple with a harelip, spine curled and legs thin and spindly.

He doesn’t care. This is the last day he will ever be this pathetic.

“Let me guess. You wish to no longer be a cripple.”

“I want to be able bodied. I want to be strong enough to defeat my enemies. I want to be rid of my harelip.” Clear, concise language. He’s spoken these words to himself in the mirror countless times.

“You’ve certainly done your research. Then you know what price I will ask for such things.”

He swallows nervously. “Yes.”

“Very well then. Let us begin.”

It starts in his toes, the strange sensation that flows up through him that he will know all his days. He can feel the strength rushing into his limbs, feel his spine straightening, withered muscles coming to life.

Then comes the pain.

It’s white-hot torment, as if his body has become a living coal. He falls to the ground again, screaming and writhing as his bones crack and realign themselves. Somewhere, in the distance, he can hear the fae’s cruel laughter as they watch him suffer. For a brief moment, some primal, animal part of his brain thinks he’s going to die.

“Fret not, boy king. You won’t perish—I won’t let you until you give me what you’ve promised me,” the fae says, as if they can hear his thoughts.

He’s not sure how long he lays there on the ground, body wracked with agony. It feels like hours pass before he regains use of his limbs. But the pain does eventually fade away, leaving him dazed but still alive. Slowly, he manages to stand up again.

He stares at himself in wonder, legs and arms stretching. For the first time ever, he’s able to stand tall and straight on his own, his cane discarded to the side. And he feels strong. At last, he doesn’t feel weak for once.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” The fae’s face has changed: they still look the same, but there’s a beastly, ugly quality to their lovely features that chills him to the bone.

His hands fly instantly to his face. The harelip is still there, he notes with displeasure.

“You forgot something,” he says, frowning in his lopsided way.

“Oh, I didn’t.” Before König can react, the fae’s eyes hollow and grow dark, becoming two pools of endless void. Their teeth sharpen, their face grows gaunt.

“Remember what you owe, boy king,” they remind him. “On the day and the hour your first child is born, I will come to collect.”

He doesn’t even have time to scream before the fae reaches forward with black talons and tears off his mouth.

You’re rendered speechless by his story. Where do you even start?

Your first thoughts are of the way he described himself as a child. König, weak and crippled? König? You look at him now, eighteen hands high astride his horse, the picture of raw strength and dominance. You can’t imagine it at all.

Your second thought is— “You made a deal with the fae? Do you know how foolish that is? Fae never give you what you want, and the cost is always far too high!”

“Don’t lecture me,” he says tightly. “I know what I was getting myself into. I had no other choice.”

“What do you mean, no other choice? You were the king’s son—you are the king! You could have had servants carry you everywhere if need be!”

“You don’t understand what it was like,” König snarls, turning to you with fire in his eyes. “Nobody would have accepted a cripple as their king. My life would constantly have been in danger, having to rely upon others. Unable to even defend myself if an assassin set upon me in my bed.” He’s getting angrier, more worked up as he goes.

“I told you that I was once poisoned as a child with nightshade berries. Did you wonder why there was such a plant in my mother’s garden? Why the royal heir was unsupervised for so long in the first place?” König’s expression is twisted, his voice turned bitter with betrayal. “It was a plot against me by some of my father’s advisors. They conspired with my nursemaid to make it seem like an accident…they expected me to die.”

“I…I’m sorry, König. I didn’t think.”

He glances at you and takes a moment to collect himself before speaking. “I was lucky. My father sent for the best healers he could find. My mother cried at my bedside for weeks.” His brow furrows. “My lot in life could have been worse: my parents loved me, at the very least. But it made me hate myself even more—that I was such a profound disappointment.

“My mother had a difficult birth. Some whispered that it was penance for what my father did: that the spirits of those slain during his campaigns had cursed my mother’s womb. She never was able to conceive again…so all their hopes rested upon my shoulders. My crippled, useless shoulders.”

The venom in his voice when he talks about himself makes your heart ache with sympathy. You move your horse closer to his and put a hand on his arm, squeezing him in what you hope is a comforting manner. His expression softens as he looks down at you.

“It would have been easy for you to kill me if I were still like that, liebe.” You feel your face grow warm again at the term of endearment.

“It makes sense, your strength being fae-given…Calliope said there was something not right about you.”

“Calliope is a perceptive woman.”

You study his face, eyes regarding his mask in a new light. “It really doesn’t look so bad. I only reacted that way because I thought you were injured.”

He shrugs. “Never was that good-looking anyway.”

You make a face. “Are you suggesting I sleep with ugly men?”

“You’ve only slept with me.”

“I’m trying to compliment you.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

“When you’re not annoying me.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, now you know.”

You study him. He seems relieved to have finally gotten this off his shoulders. “Do you regret it?”

He gets a faraway look in his eyes. “…No.”

The village’s leader had advised an alternate path back home: it might take you a day or two longer, but it was less remote and lined with other villages. You arrive at the first inn just as the sun is about to duck beneath the horizon, the sky streaked with orange.

It’s a serene part of the wood, and the inn is quite quaint as well. Whoever runs it has done well for themselves, you think absentmindedly as you and König dismount and prepare to unload.

A side door swings open, and a quite frankly huge man walks out, facing away from the two of you. Your sense of scale is attuned to König now, so he’s of course not the biggest man you’ve ever seen, but he’s broad-shouldered and thick with muscle. You can’t see his face from this angle, but you can just about spot his blond hair—

“Shit. Shit.” König instantly spins around so his horse is between him and the man who’s just walked out of the building. You squint. Is he…hiding?

“What’s going on? Should I be worried?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.” Is he cringing? “Do you think it’s too late to set up camp?”

“Set up camp? When there’s a perfectly good inn right there?”

“Yes!”

“What has gotten into you? That man is quite big, but he’s not that sc—”

“I’m not scared of him, I just recognize him. And I don’t particularly feel like seeing him.”

You’re agog at the scene before you. “You’re the king.”

“Even kings have their hangups, alright?”

“I am not sleeping in the woods.”

“As your husband and supreme ruler, I demand it.”

“Come now. I know you’re tired of fucking me outside.”

That gives him serious pause, which almost makes you giggle. Ridiculous man. You could probably lead him onto an executioner’s block if you held him by the cock.

“Please,” you beg, stepping forward to hold his hand and giving him the biggest, most wide eyes you can muster. “I’m not ready to go back to sleeping on the ground yet.”

His face scrunches up in a hopelessly endearing, almost childlike way. “Fine. But you have to go in and talk to the innkeep. I’m going to stay out here.”

“I don’t know what all the fuss is, but fine. You big baby.” You hand him your horse’s reins and make your way to the front door of the inn.

You’ve barely pushed the door very far at all before you hear a friendly voice from inside. “Welcome, traveler! Come on in.”

“It’s wonderful to make your—” You stop in the doorway, frozen with shock.

“It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, your highness.” A pair of familiar sparkling eyes look back at you. “And you can tell his majesty that he can come inside, I’ve already seen him.”

König’s first wife stands before you, watching your reaction with clear amusement.

Forgive me for that smut. It's been years since I've written anything nsfw, and I wrote this at like. 5AM after a very long day because when I'm not exhausted, writing smut becomes impossible. It's quite the pickle.

Well...I did say that part 3 was going to be a doozy! I'm looking forward to all the reactions...🤭

Comments and feedback are of course always appreciated <3

@kneelingshadowsalome @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @keiva1000 @catluvwr @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @channelsoph @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @lexuria @complexivelovely

#I hope I managed to tag everyone!!!#könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #König x reader #konig x you #König x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #fic: kingdom come

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wantingsobad · 1 year

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are you bored yet? | h.hj x reader (a,f)

masterlist

pairing : hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

content : established relationship, insecure!y/n, cutest bf ever hyunjin, lots of self-doubt, angsty with a little fluff at the end

word count : 1.7 k

“but i can’t help from asking ‘are you bored yet?’ ”

The cold pattering of the shower onto your skin has not encouraged the effect you had been hoping for.

You had hoped that the ice-cold water would bring you back to Earth for just long enough that you could do some chores that needed to be done, but in reality, you were now stood under the running water, zoning out into an infinitesimal space of self-destruction in your mind.

The last few weeks have consisted of a constant battering and bruising of your self-worth. But all of it was caused by your own insecure thoughts.

Hyunjin has been nothing but the best boyfriend you could ever ask for, carrying you in his heart so gently as if you are the most precious thing that has ever existed. He has cared for you these past few months of dating in ways nobody else has ever even attempted to care for you.

It’s honestly a picture-perfect relationship in everyone's eyes,

except for yours.

While dating someone who might as well be considered an angel who has fallen from the sky, the floods of insecure thoughts multiplied as the months passed.

He could do better.

They are all looking at you two differently. They think you don’t deserve him.

Why would he pick someone like you?

These thoughts have led to your current predicament in the freezing shower, a useless attempt to bring back any sanity to your discouraged self. You see how this attempt is ultimately futile, and you turn off the water stream, quickly drying off and stepping out of the shower just to plop down on the floor of your bathroom, leaning against the wall.

You haven’t seen nor really talked to Hyunjin in 12 days, an insanely long time considering how often you two would call or have coffee dates together in the early mornings of the day.

He has sent a few questioning messages about where you have been or how you are, to which you would respond with such a false sense of happiness, saying that you were ‘okay, just busy’ in the least amount of words possible.

That was bullshit, and even you knew that, but the thought of facing him now after spending hours lying in bed thinking about how horrible of a partner you are for Hyunjin sounds excruciating.

Avoidance isn’t a forever option, but right now, it’s the option that works best for you.

Until the ringing of your phone begins to sound. The unique chiming is one that you had specifically set for Hyunjin so you would know to always answer that call.

You think you would rather do anything than answer that call right now.

The ringing continues to go on. You are not even making a single movement towards your phone, just letting it ring and ring up on the bathroom countertop.

You close your eyes and rest your head back up against the wall, silently praying for the ringing to finally end so you can go back into your delusional fantasy land where you will never need to talk to Hyunjin.

The phone eventually stops ringing, but it is replaced by an erratic knocking on the front door of your apartment.

You slowly stand up, still wrapped in your towel, and walk towards the front door, carelessly letting the water fall off your body to form a trail following you to the door.

You stand in front of the door, not moving to open it, as you already know who’s behind it.

If you were wrong, then you would have no clue who it-

“Y/n? Are you home?”

Your guess was right. It’s Hyunjin.

You knew that this little game of hide and seek wouldn’t last long considering the type of guy that he is, caring about you so deeply that he would take the subway at 11 pm to make sure you were okay.

Yet, you still don’t open the door. You don’t know what you would say to him.

He still deserves better. Ignoring him is for his own benefit.

“Baby, I know you are there. Please just open the door. I want to see you…”

Shit. You thought you would be stronger than this but the next thing you know you are opening the door at the sound of his pleas.

The sight of him kills you. His face is flushed a deep red and his hair is tousled due to the extremes of the late autumn weather. A quick look to his hands shows a small bouquet of flowers and a small bag from a local bakery, likely containing your favorite pasty that they make.

He quickly throws himself into you, almost dropping what he’d been holding. The hug he envelopes you in makes you feel so incredibly guilty for ignoring him.

“Why are you here?” You ask while moving a little away from the hug to see his face clearly.

“I missed you so much. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He lifts his free hand up to gently cradle the side of your face, “I just haven’t seen you in so long so I figured a surprise visit with some of your favorites would help relieve you from some of the stress of your busy schedule.”

Honestly, you wish you would just get swallowed up by the floor right now. Hearing him care so much after you have been lying to him for almost two weeks was a wild punch in the gut for you, the guilt almost unbearable.

And because of this, you move out of Hyunjin’s hold as tears start to stream down your face.

His face morphs into one of confusion and concern as he figured you would be happy to see him rather than sad.

“Hyunjin, i really think you should go home. It’s late,” you say, barely able to say this without your voice entirely failing on you.

“What? Are you okay? I’m not going home,” He steps further into your apartment closing the door behind him and setting his gifts on the floor before approaching you, waiting for you to seek comfort in him as you normally do.

But this time, you don’t move toward him. Rather, you take another step back as you avoid eye contact with him, not being able to deal with the hurt in his eyes. “I’m just not feeling well right now, Hyunjin. Thank you for coming to check up on me, but you should leave.”

“Stop calling me Hyunjin,” he says while walking further toward you so he can lift up your face so you will meet his eyes, “You never call me Hyunjin. Please tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something, baby?”

God, you wish he wasn’t the absolute sweetest soul in the world. Of course, it wasn’t because of him. He could never do anything wrong to you.

“No, it’s not you,” you quickly spill out, not wanting him to delve any deeper down that hole, “but it’s definitely because of me.”

He gives a confused quirk of his eyebrows and a sort of sad look in his eyes, “What do you mean? You haven’t done anything.”

“That’s exactly it, Jinnie. I haven’t done anything. I just don’t understand why you are here to see me when I’m just me. How are you not bored of me yet?” This comes out straggled through your sobs, and you are practically unable to get out the entire thing.

A quick look into his eyes immediately calls out every one of your idiotic insecurities to be horribly wrong as his care for you is reflected back to you.

“What are you even saying, baby?” He starts to tear up at your admission of conscience, feeling horrible himself for not treating you better (as if he wasn’t already treating you like a goddess beforehand). “I will never get bored of you. You are my everything, Y/n. My happiness. My comfort. My love.”

“But Jinnie-“ You try to speak out to stop him from continuing.

“No. There are no ‘buts’ here. I am here for a reason, baby, because I love you so much that I was worried sick that work had been stressing you out too much with how busy you’ve been. I hated thinking about you being miserable, so I came to see you. I missed you, and I wanted to talk to you. I love you, Y/n. Does that really seem like I’m ever going to be bored of you?” Hyunjin proclaims this with his full chest, reaching and holding onto your hands so tightly just to get his point across.

You don’t think you have ever been loved as well as Hyunjin loves you. He truly, unconditionally loves you with everything that he is able to give you.

You shatter the glass pane of insecurities, pushing past those insignificant thoughts to realize that you are more than lucky to have this great of a man here to love you. You run into his arms, holding him in the tightest hug you could give. “I’m so sorry, Jinnie. I love you, too, so so so so much.”

Hyunjin breathes out a deep, relieved sigh as he reciprocates the hug. He knows you have struggled in your past with feeling insecure, but he never thought you would ever feel that way when being with him.

He gives you time to get what you need from this hug until your grip on him loosens a little. He takes the initiative this time and pulls out of the hug, transferring his admiration for you from a hug into a deep kiss that takes you by surprise.

It’s a long kiss, one that you both need. It’s a shared sign of your love for each other as you both sigh into this kiss, revelling in the affection and warmth of the other.

After breaking the kiss when needing to breathe, you and Hyunjin look at each other. This is when you truly realize how enamoured you are with him, which you can see in his eyes is exactly how he’s looking at you, with only pure love.

“Thank you, Hyunjin. You are my prince.”

He laughs airily at this but responds, “Anything for you, my princess.”

You know that these insecurities will eventually come back, but now you know that your prince will come in to swoop you up and take you away from that evil into a land of happiness and love.

a/n : i’m sorry but hyunjin is just so boyfriend-coded that this needed to happen. this song is so good that i just had to use it as inspo. as always, requests are open and lmk how i did! - eb

#Spotify #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #skz fanfic #straykids fanfic #hyunjin angst #skz angst #hyunjin fluff

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scribblescrabbledepartment · 1 month

Text

this one isnt my best writing (the story itself is goofy but it was taken directly from a dream so whatever) but i think the illustration came out good enough

[ID: an illustration of a dead guy slumped over on a table, decomposing flesh and slop all over the place. a guy who appears to be some sort of investigating personnel stands beside him, prodding his shoulder with a pen.]

story under cut:

I never really cared for livestreams. It always seemed like a hell of a commitment, sitting down and watching somebody in real time, not being able to turn my focus away lest I miss something exciting. They always seem to stretch on for hours, too. Who has time to watch all that? Well, I guess if somebody has time to stream it, somebody has time to watch. Anyway, that doesn't make a difference to me. I don't have time to sit around watching a four hour stream. I liked this guy's videos, though. That's why I decided to take a look.

I had no intention of sticking around for the whole thing, of course. I popped in a few minutes after it started to see what was going on. The title advertised some new game he was planning on sharing, but he hadn't started yet. I had stuff to do, and I didn't feel like sitting and waiting while he dicked around, so I closed out. I'd peek in again later to see if anything interesting was going on.

The next time I opened the stream, he was dead.

It hadn't been more than twenty minutes, but there he was, hunched over, face down on the desk. Lifeless. The chat was frantic. I could barely read the messages as they sped by, but I gathered that he'd been like that for a while now. Chilled and bewildered, I closed the stream again. I didn't know what to make of it. What do you do? What can you do? Unsettled, with a vague feeling of responsibility for the situation that I couldn't do a damn thing about, I went on with my chores.

I carried on with my day, feeling disoriented and unable to get the image of the dead gamer out of my mind. What the hell could have happened? As I mindlessly scrubbed away at the pan that had been soaking in the sink since last night, I wondered if the stream was still going. I wondered if he lived alone. How long would it go? Until somebody found him? Until his equipment stopped working? Hours, days? Would he decompose on the internet for all to see? Would people watch?

Unable to stop thinking about it, I gave in to curiosity and tuned back in. There was a woman in the frame now, sniffling wetly and speaking softly to somebody just out of the shot. The dead man remained still in his place. I gathered that she was his wife, and that whoever was in the room with her–aside from the corpse, I mean–was some sort of first responder. That was about all I could gather; the conversation was nearly inaudible.

A sudden wave of disgust came over me. I had no business watching this. A complete stranger's grief and horror at the loss of her husband, the undignified slump of a man who could no longer present himself, vague murmurs of their private life. I quickly exited the window and shut my laptop. I hadn't bothered to look and see if anybody else was still watching, but I didn't have to; there was no doubt that somebody was. Probably a bunch of people. I couldn't blame them. It was morbid, certainly, and invasive beyond words, but who wouldn't be curious? Interested, even?

As a matter of fact, I was curious. I was interested. I lasted a while longer, but the pull grew too strong to resist. Once again, with a hesitant hand, I reopened my computer.

There were a number of people in the room now, police, EMTs, what have you. Most of them were just milling about, but two were examining the corpse. Christ, didn't they realize they were live? Could nobody see the camera? Wouldn't the wife have known he'd be streaming? I nearly closed my computer again, disturbed by the unintentional broadcast of such a private moment, but something caught my attention. I wish it hadn't.

One man was knelt beside the body, poking and prodding and dictating notes for another to jot down on his pad. The examiner began feeling around the back of the dead gamer's neck, and as he did, the skin and meat began sloughing off in wet chunks, sliding away from the tendons and leaving clean bone behind. Nobody in the room seemed particularly alarmed by this, but I was dumbfounded. He'd only been dead a few hours, if that long! What the hell could make a person rot like that?

I watched as the examiner continued maneuvering the body around. In spite of his careful movements, the corpse continued to come apart, flesh sliding off like unset jello, skin opening up like wet paper to reveal caverns of pus. I couldn't see the wife, but she was still in the room; I could hear her crying. It was a funeral sort of crying, soft and subdued, not the horrified shrieks I'd expect of somebody watching her husband rapidly decompose into a pile of chum, but then, nobody seemed all that horrified.

At this point, I was invested. I turned up my volume, listening closely, hoping to pick out something that might explain the gruesome display, but with no success. The conversation was hushed, sounding almost as though it were coming from another room, and while I could make out a fragment of a word here and there, the rest was unintelligible. How that was possible was beyond me; the dead man had a fantastic microphone, and the sound had been fine at the start of the stream. As a matter of fact, even now I could clearly hear the sound of birds chirping and cars passing by–not outside my house, but his. Dogs barking in the distance, the footsteps of a jogger fading in and away. The background noise was perfectly clear. The chatter taking place right in that very room, however, was muffled ambient noise.

The impromptu autopsy taking place all over the living room floor was nauseating to watch, but I didn't have to endure it much longer. The stream ended without warning. Maybe his computer died, or somebody knocked a connection loose, who knows. I felt a sense of relief in knowing I couldn't peek back in again, but I also felt thoroughly shaken. What the hell? What the hell had just happened? I couldn't make sense of it, and I supposed I'd make myself nuts if I tried. I closed my computer. I had a feeling I wouldn't open it again for some time. I remained there for a moment, staring blankly at the wall. Then, with nothing better to do, I pulled myself up and got back to washing the dishes.

#writing #marker #blood #gore #death

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mrs-kmikaelson · 1 year

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05| The Tribrid

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x daughter!reader Summary: As you settle back into the Quarter, you juggle your personal and new professional life—but with the Mikaelsons, it was almost as if there was no difference between the two. Warnings: none Words: 5.6K

Masterlist | Part 6

a/n: i see this series getting long, guys; just letting you know. btw, i'm pretty much unoccupied, so u can expect new posts for this series and possibly other imagines like every 2-3 days. and tysm for all the support! anyway, i'll let you get to reading now.

I walked into the Abattoir with a façade of confidence. I was now completely sober, facing the repercussions of my drunken actions. It'd been about a week since my agreement with Elijah and he'd only just called me in to speak with him yesterday.

I was currently cursing my drunk self, but at least Marcel was now allowed back into the Quarter without any fuss. Of course, he wasn't allowed back into the slaughterhouse, but he did compel himself a nice little townhouse a few minutes of human-walking away from my place.

In New Orleans, it was always better to live in the Quarter than anywhere else. This was the heart of the city's supernatural happenings. You were both safest here and also at most danger. But I guess, if you had enemies, you wanted to be in the Quarter because, if you had a crew to roll with, then nobody would really try you.

That's how it used to be at one point in time, and that's what the factions were trying to achieve now.

I was immediately greeted after making it past the gates. "Y/N," Elijah said, walking towards me, hands held out. He wrapped an arm around me, walking me to the couches in the middle of the courtyard. I tried not to show any discomfort at the physical touch. "It's lovely to see you."

I chuckled a little. "Feeling's mutual," I replied, causing the nobleman to let out a little laugh himself. I sat down on one of the couches while he sat on the other. "So, what have we got today?"

He sighed, "The withes are unhappy because of- all due respect, Marcellus' actions."

Right. Marcel forbade anyone to do magic. While I understand his reasoning, trying to protect a little witch by the name of Davina Claire, it was cruel. To ask a witch to go without magic was like asking a human not to breathe; it was damn near impossible.

Even though I get what he was trying to do, I still didn't agree with it—but that didn't mean that I agreed with what the New Orleans witches were doing either.

"So I've heard. But I'm sure you're aware of why he did what he did." He was; otherwise, I wouldn't have brought it up. I wouldn't do anything to endanger Davina; she'd become like a family to me. I knew that the Mikaelsons knew all about Davina, the harvest, and whatnot.

"Yes, of course. To protect Davina, I understand. She is special, without a doubt." Elijah's voice with filled with nothing other than conviction; I'd expect nothing less when people were speaking about Davina.

I smiled thinking about her. "Yes, she is."

"However, it still hasn't done us any favours on a community-wide scale." Elijah ran a hand through his hair. "The witches' spokesperson, Genevieve, is just about furious with the treatment they've received." A look suddenly appeared on his face. "And considering the... interactions my family has had with her, I wouldn't want to anger her further, especially since Hayley is with child."

This was the first time my heart didn't stop at the mention of Klaus' unborn baby. Instead, I was too focused on the witch Elijah named: Genevieve. Now, this was a name Marcel had somehow neglected to inform me about, but I was well aware of who she was.

From my understanding, Rebekah Mikaelson killed her the same year the Mikaelsons fled New Orleans, sometime in the early 1900s. Marcel spilled the whole story to me one night when he was drunk.

Genevieve died. Yet, according to Elijah (and I know this is not a coincidence) she's alive leading the NOLA coven.

Great.

I responded after a beat, bringing my hands together. "Okayyy, so what are we doing?"

"Making the witches happy, love."

Now my heart stopped.

I turned my head to see Klaus just finishing walking down the stairs. "Elijah tells me you're our new... fixer." He shrugged, making his way to the minibar. "So fix it."

"Niklaus."

"Get a grip, Elijah. I don't think I'm offending the young woman," he said before turning to face me. "Am I offending you, love?"

I skipped the whole processing bit of this situation and dived straight into my persona. "Not at all."

Klaus made a gesture to me with his hand, turning back to his brother. "See, Elijah. Marcel's right hand has tough skin." Elijah responded with a much more exhausted sigh than before, rubbing his hand on his face. Klaus ignored this, turning back to me with a bottle of bourbon in his hand. "Want me to pour you a glass, Y/N?"

"It is ten o'clock in the morning, Niklaus."

"All the more reason," he quipped back. "Y/N?"

I tried to loosen up, but my smile probably came out a little more tense than I originally intended. "I'm good; thank you."

Klaus looked at me for a few seconds before shrugging and pouring his own glass. Elijah took this opportunity to continue, but not before letting out another sigh. "As I was saying before my brother so tersely interrupted us, Genevieve has agreed to meet with us after I told her that you—Marcel's right hand, as Niklaus put it—were going to be representing us."

I tried to focus all my attention on the task at hand instead of my absent father who kept looking over at me periodically. I remembered what this was like when I did it for Cellie; I just had to get back in the game. "So, if you are looking to make an agreement of some sort, what are you willing to negotiate—give up, even?"

Just as Elijah was about to answer, Klaus briskly cut him off. "Oh, that's all on you, love." I narrowed my eyes slightly and he elaborated. "You decide then and there what you think is fair." He shrugged again, and although he looked carefree, he also had a smug look on his face that I doubt he was even trying to hide. "Ball's in your court." This was a test.

I didn't ponder on that for too long, nodding to him. "I can do that."

Klaus nodded back. He looked like he wanted to say something, but a quick look from Elijah seemed to make him want to hold his tongue. Thank God.

While I seemed like I was coming a long way, just the mere idea of holding a conversation with this man was terrifying. There were so many things I was holding my tongue about. It was just lucky that I so happened to be 500 years old. A few, quick conversations with my dad who had no idea I was his illegitimate child would not break me. Maybe it fucked with my head, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle.

I'm here after all, aren't I?

Elijah cleared his throat. "Well, it seems to me that we've discussed everything we needed to discuss for today." He stood up and I followed suit. "Again, it was lovely seeing you, Y/N."

"Likewise." I shook the hand he held out, once again ignoring the weird original rush I felt. "I'll see myself out." Couldn't get out faster.

I walked toward the exit before Elijah could say something gentlemanly about escorting me out and before Klaus could say something that'd boggle my mind even further. I assumed he'd text me the details about the meeting later.

I took a deep breath immediately once I was far enough from the compound that I was sure they wouldn't hear me. I had no idea how I was going to get used to any of this, but it was too late to go back now.

In the meantime, I decided to take my mind off the Mikaelsons for a bit by visiting someone who I've yet to see.

I walked into the old church with caution. It wasn't like I had a problem with Kieran; I just felt awkward whenever I talked to him, so I'd rather avoid him. I've had enough awkward situations in these past few weeks to last me a lifetime.

To my luck, he was absent and so I just walked straight upstairs, dodging cobwebs as I went until I made it to the attic's ajar door. A girl sat on a stool in front of an easel, painting a landscape. She was so focused she didn't even notice me push the door the rest of the way open.

I smiled, leaning on the door as I looked around the room that'd changed since I last saw it, now more decorated and screaming it'd been touched by a teenage girl. "So Marcel's still got you holed up in here, huh?"

She instantly spun around with her jaw dropped. "Y/N?!" She ran toward me, engulfing me in a tight hug that I'm sure would've broken some bones if I was human.

I chuckled, "Hi, Davina. I've missed you, too."

She pulled back, looking over me with disbelief visible on her face. "Oh, my God- when did you get back?"

"A little while ago. I'm sorry I couldn't come see you sooner, but I've been absolutely swamped. I promise, though—going into the future, I'll make time to see you." Davina smiled, pulling me back in for another hug. Her happiness spread to me and I started smiling so hard that my cheeks hurt. I think this might be the first time I've been this happy since I got back to New Orleans.

Davina was an amazing kid. I was supposed to meet up with Marcel the night of the harvest when he saved her, and so I ended up meeting her a few months before I left. She just so happened to be one of the few people who know my secret. She was incredibly gifted and reminded me so much of my younger self. I felt like I owed it to her, to myself, to be there for her. In the short time I've known her, she's become something like a little sister to me, if not a daughter.

When we broke from the hug, we both ended up sitting on the bed. I let her catch me up on what's been happening, even though I already more or less knew it from Marcel's summaries. "Okay, so if the witches aren't trying to hunt you down anymore, why are you still hiding away in this attic?"

"Well, I'm not hiding away anymore," she replied. "Marcel just figured it'd be safer for me to stay here instead of with them. He still doesn't trust them and, honestly, neither do I. They've been acting kind of weird since the witches were resurrected, but I just deal with it and go there everyday to practice."

I hummed. I understood Marcel's reasoning; keeping Davina at the church was actually pretty smart. I wouldn't trust her with a bunch of vengeful witches, either, especially after they tried to kill her once. But this attic was far too small for a little girl to spend her days in.

I looked around the cluttered room, thinking before I said screw it and decided to propose my idea to Davina. "What if you didn't have to stay here?" I asked, looking back at her.

She furrowed her brows. "What do you mean? It's not like there's anywhere else I could go, besides with the witches."

"Not necessarily true." I sat up straighter. "I mean, my townhouse has three rooms, and only one of those rooms isn't empty." I shrugged, gesturing around the room. "It's bigger than this place, so all your stuff would fit."

She sat up too. "Wait, are you being serious?"

"Hell yeah, I am. And the protections on my place are a lot better than this church's, trust me."

"You want me to move in with you?"

"Yeah, Davina, that's what I've been sayi-" I was cut off when she threw her arms around me in the tightest hug she'd given me since I entered the attic, and that was saying something.

"Oh, my gosh! Yes, of course!"

I giggled at her enthusiasm, hugging her back before pulling away to pull my phone out of my back pocket. "Okay, I'll drop you off at the apartment now and I'll text some people to come pick up your stuff and bring it to you." I glanced back up at her for confirmation, looking back at my phone when she giddily nodded. "You can just make yourself at home and get settled in. I'll be home a bit later; I just have a business meeting first."

"Yeah, sure." Davina then stood up, looking around and clapping her hands. "I'll start packing!"

I laughed for what felt like the umpteenth time since I've seen her, standing up too. "Alright, D. I'll see you later," I said, but she was already far too engrossed in packing her things, giving me a distracted goodbye. I shook my head, the corners of my lips going up even higher as I left the room.

Thank God I wouldn't have to come back to this creepy ass church anymore. I really hadn't even thought of asking Davina move in with me; it was such a spur of the moment kind of thing, but I had no doubts then and no doubts now. She'd be safer with me than here, with the witches, or even Marcel.

At the though of my friend, I went to text him about this new development, coming across a message from Elijah along the way.

Elijah M. We'll be meeting the witches at 7:00 PM at the compound.

You OK, I'll be there.

I stuffed my phone back into my pocket after responding to Elijah and texting Marcel about Davina. Seven was two hours away, so I had time to go home and freshen up before the meeting.

I wasn't nervous; I'd already been here before, already done it all, but I did feel a weird pressure to do this well. Something in me said Klaus was counting on me to fail, so it was my job to prove him wrong.

I walked right into the compound later without standing out front for ten minutes like I did this morning. I was gonna have to get used to this all eventually and I'd prefer that'd happen sooner rather than later.

I was apparently earlier than everyone else because there wasn't a Mikaelson or red-haired witch in sight. I checked my watch: 6:30, it read. Earlier than I expected, but that was fine with me. I wiped the imaginary dust off my outfit: slacks and a tight white dress shirt that I'd unbuttoned just enough to not look like a female Elijah. Resemblance to the Mikaelsons was not what I needed right now.

I was just about to pull out my phone to keep myself busy when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around, my eyes meeting the mother of Klaus' kid. "Oh, hi," she greeted, a surprised look on her face. "What are you- oh, right, Elijah told me you guys were meeting with the witches tonight."

"Yeah- it, uh, appears that I'm a bit early." I chuckled, making small talk even though I really didn't want to have any unnecessary conversations with anyone that lived in this building.

"No, it's a good quality. Elijah's like that," she told me. I nodded, ignoring my thoughts which were questioning her relationship with Elijah. Something told me it was a lot more complicated than it seemed. "I wanted to thank you, by the way."

My brows furrowed. "Hm? For what?"

"For covering me that day with Elijah- and for saving me from that vampire that day, too," she expressed with an almost bashful look on her face. "I realize I was pretty rude to you, but I was really just having a bad day, and-"

"And I'm a vampire, so you were just being careful." She let a small, embarrassed smile form on her lips which I reciprocated. "It's fine, I get it. I'd do the same if I were in your shoes."

"Thank you for understanding; I really appreciate it." I told her it was no problem, resisting the urge to be nosy and ask why she didn't wanna tell Elijah what happened; I didn't want to risk her growing suspicious of me.

Before Hayley and I could fall into an uncomfortable silence, Klaus and Elijah strolled in through the gates into the courtyard. Klaus' eyes narrowed between me and Hayley, probably in a protective manner, while Elijah greeted me.

"Y/N, sorry to have kept you waiting-"

"Oh, no, it was no biggie." I gestured to Hayley. "I had good company, anyways." Hayley smiled, excusing herself after wishing us luck with the witches, but I doubted I'd need it.

I was good and I knew it. Half a millennium alone in the world taught you how to negotiate, how to get your way when you had no one else on your side. Really, I was less worried about the witches and more worried about being in Klaus' presence.

Speak of the devil.

"The witches should arrive soon," Klaus announced, glancing down at his watch then up at me, a smirk arising on his face. "And then you'll be able to play your hand."

I stopped myself from narrowing my eyes or doing anything that showed I felt the shade he was so obviously throwing my way. Clearly, without even having really spoken to me, dear old dad has decided he doesn't like me, much less trust me. I don't know why that hurt because I don't even want to be talking to him period. I guess there's just a part of me that disagrees with that.

Like this morning, Klaus didn't waste a second before walking over to the bar. "Can I interest you in a drink whilst we wait, love?" He poured himself a glass. "Some... liquid courage, if you will."

He's being a jackass on purpose.

I declined, "No thanks." I shook my head. "I don't need it." And I also don't need to be under the influence around the Originals.

Klaus chuckled in an almost sardonic manner. Like the night I met him, he had a dark air around him that he barely cared to conceal. Klaus wanted people to notice that about him; he wanted people to be scared. And I was, but for entirely different reasons.

However, I'd sooner die before letting him know that. If he wanted to play hard ball, then I'd be the best damn batter he's ever seen.

Klaus turned around, tipping his glass to me. "You're quite confident."

"Well, I can back it up," I quipped back. In response, he sarcastically smiled, taking a sip of the brown liquid in his hand. From the corner of my eye, I saw Elijah glancing in between us watchfully.

"So I've heard- and you know, it got me thinking, what exactly is it about you that makes you so special?" This-

I was given time to pause by Elijah's interjection. "Niklaus."

He held his hands out in the air. "What, Elijah? I'm just curious," he reasoned.

I cut Elijah off before he could say something more in order to respond. "No, it's alright, Elijah; I understand the skepticism." I looked back to Klaus whose eyes just so imperceptibly narrowed. "The reason why people are more inclined to listen to me is because I don't operate with a desire to instill fear in others, just respect." I maintained eye contact with Klaus, hoping he was picking up what I was putting down. I knew he got the message when I saw his jaw clench.

He looked like he was going to say something else, but before he could, the gates to the compound opened. All three of us looked toward the entrance to see Genevieve and two other witches walking beside her, like a little entourage.

Elijah seemed to let out a sigh of relief at the intrusion. "Genevieve," he greeted, walking toward them. "Thank you for agreeing to this meeting. Please, take a seat. Can we interest you in any beverages?"

While Elijah was clearly doing his best to mediate, Klaus didn't say a word, only burning a hole into the side of Genevieve's head with a hard glare while he drank his scotch.

The three of them sat down on one couch as Elijah and I sat on the one parallel to it. "No, that'll be alright," she said, crossing her legs. "I know you appreciate verity, Elijah, so I'm gonna be honest: I wouldn't have agreed to this meeting if it weren't for the woman sitting next to you."

Elijah nodded. "Yes, I'm completely aware. Y/N is here to make sure that we both get what we want and to ensure that the future of the Quarter, and everyone in it, is prosperous."

I smiled, holding my hand out. "Hello, it's lovely to meet you. I've heard many good things about you." That was a lie.

Shaking my hand, she responded, "Likewise. The elders of the coven are practically smitten with you. I've never seen witches so eager to deal with a vampire."

"Well, I hope that, after our discussion, you will also be more eager to work with the Mikaelsons."

Genevieve almost scoffed at what I said. In my peripheral, I saw Klaus roll his eyes—at me or her, I'm unsure. "Please, Y/N—I'm sure you're aware of who exactly these people are and what they've done. Even though you're a vampire, you have to admit it's outrageous." Her voice was incredulous.

I really don't understand what she was making a big fuss about. From the way the story was told, Genevieve used to have a huge crush on Klaus back in the day—ew—but I wasn't gonna actually use that against her. I didn't want her to resent me; I actually needed her to like me for this to work.

"I understand where you're coming from," I told her, managing to muster up a sympathetic expression. "But we all want the same thing: peace. That is the final destination; there are so many stops along the way to get there, so if peace is where we truly want to be, then we need to be willing to put aside our differences."

The redhead sighed. "I hear what you're saying, but how can we expect peace while working with these people? How do you expect us to trust them?" Now, Klaus scoffed, causing both Genevieve and Elijah to look over at him, Elijah with a more stern look in his eyes. I, on the other hand, ignored him altogether, focusing completely on the witch in front of me.

I said her name to get her attention back onto me, thus causing Elijah to look away from his brother, too. "I am, in no way, asking you to trust blindly. We're willing to negotiate; just state your terms." I knew this was dangerous, giving her the opportunity to ask for whatever she wanted, but the witches had been recently oppressed; giving them the chance to ask for what they wanted was like an apology of sorts, one that I felt they'd appreciate.

Genevieve looked hesitant, glancing at both of her associates, to Elijah, Klaus, and then back to me. Even without looking at him, I could feel Klaus staring at me, probably questionably. None of them were expecting that move.

See, because I was representing the Mikaelsons, Genevieve expected me to state their terms first then negotiate since they were more powerful. So, of course she was surprised.

After a beat of silence, she finally spoke up. "We want to practice freely."

"Done."

"And we want to celebrate our festivals without a hassle."

"Of course."

"And we want to reclaim witch territory for ourselves and ourselves alone, like the Lafayette cemetery."

"Reasonable," I noted, waiting for her to say something else. When she didn't, I asked, "Is there anything else we can give you? You don't have to answer right now; we'll take some time then I'll get a contract drafted-"

"Esther Mikaelson's grimoire." At her interjection, the room went silent. I didn't even wanna know what Klaus looked like right now, but Genevieve sure as hell seemed to have regained her confidence. "We want Esther Mikaelson's grimoire." That was one ballsy request.

"Are you out of your mind?" For the first time since the witches walked into the compound, Klaus spoke. I looked over at him to see a look of shock adorning his face as if the redhead just tried to kill him—and, I mean, was he that far off?

You don't ask for the Original Witch's spell book without wanting to kill or at least having the ability to kill if you so need it.

Elijah seemed to recover from a shock of his own, trying to calm his brother down. "Niklaus-"

"I am not giving you my mother's grimoire." Klaus had set his drink down, walking toward where we were all sitting. Smoke might as well have been coming out of his ears. I knew that, if I were one of the three witches sitting across from me, I'd be shitting myself. "After what you tried to do to my family, you expect me to hand over-"

"Niklaus." Elijah cut him off, but more firmly and this time Klaus actually listened, turning to look over at Elijah with hard eyes. His eyes flickered to me for a split second before looking back at Genevieve—or glaring, rather.

While Genevieve looked slightly startled, I saw the dead-set expression on her face. It'd be hard to try and convince her that Esther's grimoire wasn't what the witches wanted, but it was possible.

Gears turned in my head as I thought it over until a quick idea popped into my head. At that moment, I began, "I'm sorry, Genevieve. We can do everything else you mentioned, put it in writing, but Esther Mikaelson's grimoire is a no-go." I saw her shaking her head before I even finished.

"Then no deal-"

Elijah cut in, "Genevieve, please-"

"I can give you the next best thing." I caught Genevieve's attention easily, along with everyone else's in the room. In seconds, I had come up with a quick fix; it was a gamble, but if you aren't willing to go big, then go the fuck home. "I currently have a Bennett grimoire in my possession." I paused, gauging her reaction. Clearly, this night was full of surprises.

I suppressed the urge to glance over at my relatives; I had a feeling that I already knew what their faces looked like.

Genevieve struggled to compose herself, so I continued, "It's yours, so long as you accept." I understood what was happening here: the witches or the spirits or whatever were already decided, and they wanted the Mikaelson grimoire, but how could they be upset with what I was offering? A Bennett spell book was a damn good replacement if I ever saw one, and if anyone knew that, it was Esther's children themselves.

I knew the history—I've spent my life learning it. Ayana taught Esther everything she knew; the Bennett bloodline was one of the strongest, maybe even stronger than the Mikaelsons. And although I doubt Genevieve knew the lengthy Bennett history, she quickly got her bearings and responded, "I- we accept-"

I cut her off, smiling, "Great. Now our turn." I clasped my hands together. "You guys can keep your sanctuaries, the cemetery and whatnot, but in shared areas like the rest of the Quarter, we ask that you remain peaceful and avoid altercations with other factions. We're asking the same of the other factions, as well. Similarly, the Mikaelsons don't want conflicts, so we'd also like to avoid altercations in that area."

It seemed pretty simple because it was. It was like what Elijah said to me that night in Rousseau's: everybody wants power, and the witches were no different. They didn't agree to this meeting for peace; they agreed because they wanted power, and the Mikaelsons struck this deal for the same exact reason, even if that's not how the nobleman would've phrased it.

While I didn't provide the witches with the same prepared list of terms, what I was asking for would have the same effect. The Originals were already on top, so what more did they really need to ask for?

Genevieve, once again, looked over at the two girls sitting next to her who both nodded at the silent question she was asking. When she turned back to me, the smallest of smiles was on her lips. "You have yourself a deal."

I reciprocated her expression as we both stood up. I shook her hand. "Pleasure doing business with you. I'll work on getting that contract drafted in more detail, so please, come to us with any other requests you may have."

Genevieve nodded, letting go of my hand, and Elijah took the pleasantries from there, walking them out of the compound. This left Klaus and I alone momentarily.

I looked over at him to see that he was already staring at me. I felt a chill go down my spine from how intently he was looking at me, my mini adrenaline rush dying down. It looked almost like he was picking me apart with his gaze.

I didn't want him to think I had something to hide, so I held his stare. We were both silent until Elijah walked back. This time, he didn't seem to sense the tension in the room—that, or he just chose to ignore it.

"Thank you, Y/N," he said. I looked away from Klaus to smile in response, but the second I did, he broke his vow of silence.

"How do you have a Bennett grimoire in your possession?" Klaus' voice was cold and accusatory, just as his eyes were. Elijah just might have frozen had he not been a thousand-years-old; hell, I probably would have, too, but I'd already been crafting an explanation as soon as the idea popped into my head.

Not the real explanation, but one that made more sense.

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I met one a few hundred years ago. She died after she was in the wrong place, wrong time, but she left that book to me."

Klaus didn't look sold. "A Bennett witch left her grimoire with you, a vampire? Not with her family?"

"Well, to be fair, she wasn't in touch with her family at that time," I retorted. "And I was human at the time so, yes, she left it to me because she knew it could come of use one day."

Klaus didn't reply to me, instead choosing to continue staring me down. However, his glare was now lessened, so I knew he sort of believed me, even though he had doubts.

In the time that Klaus wasn't saying anything, Elijah cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to him. When I looked over, he smiled and tried to further de-escalate the situation. "Thank you, again, Y/N."

That was my cue to leave. "No problem. Are you okay with meeting up tomorrow to discuss the contract?"

He nodded. "Of course. Lunch?"

"Sounds great," I said, grabbing my bag that I'd left on the armchair next to me. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

Elijah bid me farewell while Klaus remained mute, but I still felt him staring at me, even as I was walking out; only when I'd walked two minutes away from the compound did I finally let go of that feeling

I didn't speed all the way home this time like I had been doing recently after exiting the Abattoir. Instead, I decided to take this time to think since I really haven't gotten a moment alone all day.

The excuse I gave Klaus wasn't too far from the truth—I only warped it slightly. I didn't know who he knew or how well he knew my mother before he slept with her, but I knew that if I gave him the real story, there was a possibility that he'd find out who I was.

The real story was that my mother was best friends with a Bennett. Almost like history repeating itself if you thought about it; Amelia Bennett was to my family what Ayana was to the Mikaelsons. She was both a mentor to my mother and me.

In reality, we were a lot closer than I made it sound. She was a lot closer to my mother than she was with the rest of her family. We were in Salem; the witch trials were just beginning, so any witch in the area was either preparing to leave or to die. She was anticipating the latter, so before she died, she made sure to leave the assets she had to my mother.

The other Bennetts didn't dispute this, fleeing west. The rest of the story, I try not to think about. I needed to be strong, for Davina, for Marcel, for Amelia, for my mother, and for myself; otherwise, everything I've sacrificed would've been for nothing.

With that thought, I had a new resolution.

This, what I was doing here in New Orleans, could not fail. I have not lived the life I've lived just to fail. So from this moment forward, I decided to be better, to be stronger. No more quivering at the mention of my father or his baby, no more getting shaken up by conversations with the Mikaelsons.

Walking toward my apartment, I made myself a promise.

This city will not break me, no matter what.

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mandaplease10 · 4 months

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A Polin Take Nobody Asked For #1

Here I'll be yapping about different things I've noticed from Polin's Story in the Bridgerton Series. Don't know how many parts this will be, but here goes the first!

Colin's Fake Persona

Most of us (with media literacy) realize that the Colin when see in the beginning of season 3 is not the real Colin. He has traveled and returned to the Ton with this new personality to try and fit into society and the other men.

Many have stated that this is because he acts this way (flirting, brothel visits, etc) because he is simply mimicking the actions of the other gentleman and his own brothers. This all makes sense and it is a very good take, but then I took a deep dive and came up with this.

What if the reasoning behind this new Colin is actually because of Pen and what happened last season.

Let me explain:

We learn from Colin that Pen didn't respond to his letters while he was away despite him constantly writing to her. It is never really mentioned or inferred that he stopped writing to her due to her non replies, so it seems like he had hope that she would respond one day.

Now, we know that Pen and Colin have always remained in touch whenever he was gone away based on previous seasons, which meant that he always had Pen to rely on to share his adventures with through his letters and still had a piece of home with him by reading her letters.

Fast forward to him returning this year and despite this new personality he still seeks out Pen. When he greets his family, he instantly looks around for Pen because she has always been there with his family when he returned in the past. Once he realizes she's not there, he glances over towards her house, as a reflex.

Then at the debutante event he seeks her out again and when he finds her can't wait to see and talk to her. In his mind, he thinks everything is okay and they'll jump right back into their old friendship.

But then she keeps their conversation short and he realizes that something is different with Pen. At this point he thinks it is from whatever is going on between Pen and Eloise, which could also not be helping the case, but isn't really the main reason.

Then we see their next interaction at the ball and once again, Colin seeks her out. He notices her when she walks in and even looks towards her direction once more even after everyone else has moved on. He again, notices that she leaves and is upset, despite being surrounded by the Fife and his friends and trying to keep up with the persona, he has to check on Penelope.

It's in this moment he finds out about why Pen is upset with him and as soon as he realizes this, that previous act, falters and he wishes to make things right, but Pen won't have it and walks away.

It's looking back at his words in this moment mixed with what we learn from his journal entry and just the overall arc of his character in these four episodes that got me thinking.

We hear from Colin that he missed Pen because she never responded to his letter. He missed their connection, their friendship, their conversation, his feeling of home, etc. So, while on his travels, he decided to seek out such a connection in the only way he knew how and that was by taking on the rake persona because that's the only gentlemen experience he knew.

I mean think about it, he was very young when his father died and we don't really know if Edmund had his own rakish days since he and Violet fell in love so young, so he only has his brothers to look up to as well as the rest of the rake bros in the ton.

Yet, we also know despite him taking on this new personality and action, he never did find that connection or fill the longing he was feeling from missing Penelope. The only reason why he keeps up with this act for so long is because he finally was feeling accepted by everyone, even his own family, so he felt like this was who he was supposed to be.

But when he realizes that what he feels for Penelope isn't just platonic love or feelings, he slowly starts to take off the mask and become the person he really is because Penelope accepts him.

Honestly, there is more I could say about this one topic, but this is already long enough. Ha

P.S. I will add that I really would love a prequel about Violet and Edmund. I know that Julia Quinn doesn't want to write it because of Edmund dying, but I still think Shonda and Netflix could do a similar spin off like Queen Charlotte where it's not their whole story, just the beginning. I definitely think Colin is similar to Edmund and it would be lovely to see any parallels between Edmund/Violet and Colin and Penelope 's love story.

#bridgerton #colin bridgerton #colin x penelope #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton s3 #penelope featherington #polin #polin bridgerton #penelope x colin

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seenoversundown · 8 months

Text

Siren

Jake x Fem OC (AU)

Warnings: 18+ Smut (Minors DNI) Soft Dom (M) edging, teasing (flirting way not bullying) Hand kink, Oral (M receiving) , Penetrative sex, Cursing, Fingering (F receiving), Cute fluff and silly jokes at odd times.

Word Count: 4.2k

Author’s Note: I love these two so much 😭 Once I had the thought for them, I had to write it 🩷

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Siren (noun) 1. any of a group of female and partly human creatures in Greek mythology that lured mariners to destruction by their singing

Charlotte POV

Opening the doors to the bar, I take a quick scan to see who else is working. Seeing that my favorite spot at the bar was open, I swiftly made my way over to claim it as mine once again. Where is he? Nobody is behind the bar at the moment, but I can hear movement out back.

“Helloooo, my dear!” Josh’s voice rings down the hall.

“Oh, hi Josh, how are you?”

“Great now that you’re here,” he starts, which seems charming to most. Still, I know what that means, “I should be off momentarily. Well, as soon as my wonderful brother finally shows up,” he says with a complacent smile plastered on his face.

“What are you and Quinn doing for the evening?” I ask.

“I let Quinn decide because I got my gift this morning,” he tells me, followed by a wink.

Oh my god, Joshua, what the hell.

I slowly blink at him before I respond, “That’s great, Josh. I’m so happy for you.” If I didn’t have my makeup done right now, I would be rubbing my eyes until I saw stars. I never needed that image in my head.

The door chimes ring, causing us both to look over. Mmm, there he is. Jacob saunters over to me; his eyes always seem to find me when he enters a room. In his usual button-up, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, only the bottom half of the buttons were actually done. I love the way he’s so comfortable having his chest exposed, and maybe it’s selfish because I daydream about curling up with him every night.

“Hi,” his tiny, raspy voice mumbles. His hand gently cups my jaw as he places a sweet kiss on my lips, followed by a few little pecks.

“Hi,” I manage to squeeze out in between kisses, “I missed you,” I can feel his smile through the kiss. I’ll never get over that, before pulling back and running his hand down the back of my head.

“I always miss you, honey,” he says, rounding the corner behind the bar. “Did you not order anything yet?”

I simply shake my head ‘No.’

“I was waiting for you to make it.” Resting my chin into my hand, I watch his eyes light up. His hand gesturing for me to wait a minute, he quickly puts a drink together for me.

“A Boulevardier for you, m’lady,” the English accent he loves coming through.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask, my eyebrow-raising out of skepticism.

He shrugs as he backs away to take care of other customers who just sat down. Knowing him, he probably feels terrible that he has to work today. I can’t really say much, I have been working all week, and this is quite honestly the earliest I’ve been off.

I will gladly sit here all night, though. I may have a little surprise of my own... Even though Valentine’s Day is overrated? Hush, I know it’s silly, but a girl can have fun sometimes, okay? Ever since I met Jacob, he’s been an easy target. That sounds mean.. I just mean he’s still a man. Sometimes, I take advantage of that, and honestly, it benefits us both.

Watching him work is practically a hobby of mine at this point, anyway. I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of it, his hands, his hands, his hands. The way he has gotten so confident in making drinks and talking to customers, it’s been like night and day since I first came in. He can quickly pour drinks without having to measure, and seeing him shaking drinks is… I’m better than no woman, alright? He’s so fine, and watching his arm muscles flex. GOD. This may be a more potent drink than usual.

“I’m sorry, this is how we have to spend Valentine’s together,” he finally admits. And the truth comes out, about time, Jacob.

“No, it’s okay, really.”

“No, no, I’ll make it up to you,” he says softly, reaching over to grab one of my hands, “I promise,” finishing with a little wink as he runs his thumb over the back of my hand. He promises?

“And how are you going to do that?” I can’t help but ask. I have been spending too much time around Josh, and now, I’m way too nosy for my own good.

“I have some ideas,” he says quietly, “I think you’ll enjoy them.”

“I guess we’ll see,” I tell him, the smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. How is he real?

“Did you make my drink stronger tonight, or is it just made with extra love?” I ask, knowing it’s a bit cheesy, but Jacob is a sucker for romantic things.

“You think I’m just trying to get you drunk?” He cocks an eyebrow, “Because you may be onto my plan.” Slapping my hand over my mouth, I can’t stop the giggle from escaping.

“Jacob!”

He leans over the bar slightly, gesturing for me to come closer. I stand on the little footrest bar of the barstool, leaning over the bar to meet him in the middle.

“Can’t wait to hear you yelling that later,” he whispers quickly before turning to press a kiss on my cheek. JACOB– Two can play this game.

My jaw going slack; I don’t even know what to say to him. My lack of response to him elicits the most beautiful smile from him. Nothing makes my heart swell more than seeing that boy smile. I watch as he turns, hearing his name called from the other end of the bar. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The bar gets more crowded now that the night has gone on; every seat at the bar is filled. I’ve had the pleasure of not having to ask for refills but receiving them, along with a few saucy glances from the most delicious bartender I’ve met.

I tap on my phone to scroll through any notifications when the idea hits me. I click on my messages, seeing his cute little face pinned to the top.

Me: Maybe I am sad that we’re here on Valentine's Day.. 🥺

I hit send and then wait for him to look at his phone. Please, please, please. He slides it out of his back pocket and unlocks it. Glancing over to me, giving me a little frown before quickly typing away.

Jacob ❤️: i’m sorry honey, just a little longer then I’m all yours.

‘I’m all yours’ making my heart flutter. Jacob is the most wonderful person I’ve ever encountered, and somehow, he’s mine.

I need to pee. I wave him down and point to the bathrooms, knowing he’ll ensure nobody takes my seat. I scroll through my emails as I walk down the hall into the bathroom, managing to catch one of them as someone is coming out. I glance at myself in the mirror as I walk in, and suddenly the lightbulb goes off. Mmmm yes.

I look in the mirror, fix my hair, and check to make sure my lipstick isn’t all over the place. I open the camera on my phone, facing the mirror, and pull up one side of my sweater dress. Revealing the black lace garter snug against my thigh, knowing it would drive him crazy. Taking the picture, a slight pout on my face; he best think I’m hot. Tugging my dress back down into place and locking my phone, I head back to the bar.

Sliding into my seat, he’s already clocked me being back. It’s cute how fast he’ll catch me. Noticing that my drink is full and fresh, I go to take a sip of it, but as I lift the glass, I see there’s writing on the napkin.

‘You look beautiful, I can’t wait to get you home’ is scribbled across the top. I feel the heat rush into my cheeks about as quickly as my thighs tighten while I read it. 11:15 p.m. stares back at me, thank god the bar is closing early tonight I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I click on his messages again, choosing the picture I just took and hitting send.

This is my favorite part. I sip on my drink for a few minutes before he finally reaches for his phone. Leaning against the back counter, I see him tap on his messages. Oops, is all that runs through my mind as I watch his entire face turn red. Looking up at the ceiling for a second and then back at his phone, zooming in and pulling his phone closer to his face to see my little present better.

Jacob ❤️: holy shit

Jacob ❤️: FOR ME?

Jacob ❤️: i need to thank everything and anything in the sky for letting you be mine. But really, youre so hot??? I’m so lucky?

I love when he’s flustered. Who am I? I love him always. Flustered is just a cute bonus.

Me: only 30 more minutes baby 🤭

The way he drops his head back when he’s struggling makes me giggle. The next thirty minutes need to fly by, or I think one of us may explode. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The moment the last customer walks out of the bar, Jake is right behind them to lock the doors. Shutting all the lights off in the front in one go before coming over to me.

“You ready to go?” practically falls out of his mouth. I look around, you’re not clocked in right now, and look back at him.

“Don’t you need to clean?”

“It can wait,” he says, pulling me closer to him, “You’re more important.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I press my body against his.

“Baaaaby,” I coo into the crook of his neck. Feeling his hands run down my back and landing on my waist, he gently squeezes. He lets out a small ‘mmm’ that radiates through his chest.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

I grab my bag from the barstool, and Jacob already has my hand in his, pulling me down the hall.

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Walking into the apartment, it’s dark, and no signs of life.

“Josh?” Jake says, flipping on the lights in the kitchen, “Bub, are you home?” He walks over, gently cracking Josh’s bedroom door to see that it’s empty. Thank god.

“He must be at Quinn’s,” I whisper, “He said something about he let them choose tonight’s activities because he already got his gift.”

I giggle as Jake shudders, “Hun, you don’t have to tell me everything he says to you.”

“I had to hear it, so you also have to,” I giggle as he comes closer. “Plus, he’s YOUR brother, so.. it’s only fair.”

“I’ll let it slide this time,” he says, glancing down at my lips before making eye contact, “but only because I’m very interested in this surprise you have for me.”

Grabbing his shirt and pulling him close, I take a second to admire him. I lean in, placing the tiniest kiss on the tip of his nose. Then, moving down to kiss the corners of his lips, oh, his lips. Seeing the little smirk creep up as I linger over his mouth, I love to tease him and see how long I can stay just a whisper above before he breaks. Tonight didn’t take long before he leaned into the kiss, feeling his soft lips press against my bottom one. Sliding my hands up, holding the nape of his neck as he gently nips at me.

His hands glide from my waist down to my thighs, grabbing behind my knees to pick me up. Instinctively, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“Let’s go, Captain,” I whisper into his ear, eliciting the most delicious groan from him. He picked up his pace to the bedroom as I pressed a kiss just under his ear, letting lip prints trail down his neck.

Pushing the door open with his foot, he spins us around so he can sit on the edge of the bed with me on his lap. Sliding my dress up my thighs, revealing that black lace I’ve been taunting him with.

“You really do love me huh?” He says, pulling back to look at me, his teeth on full display. I only reply with a quiet ‘mhm’ as I bring my hands back down to his chest, unable to keep eye contact when his mouth looks like that.

Pushing his chest gently so he’ll lay back on his bed, I hover over him just for a second before he pulls me in for a kiss. This one was more desperate, practically whimpering into my mouth. Fuck me. His hands find the bottom hem of my dress, sliding it up and over my ass, the cool air drawing goosebumps to my skin. He grabs a handful while the other hand slides up to cradle my back.

Swiftly flipping us over, he hovered over me with a devious grin on his face. He props himself up onto a knee, looking down to see the bottom of my lingerie on display.

“Fuck me,” he mutters, sliding my dress higher as I arch my back to help him.

“I’ve been trying,” I quip back, leaning up on my elbows. The look on his face is priceless, his jaw slacked and eyes hooded. I pull my dress over my head carefully and run my hands through my hair quickly.

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

YES. I nod rapidly, reaching my hands out for the bottom of his shirt, lifting it just enough that I can barely see the small trail of fine hair. His hands find mine, gently pinning them above me.

“Mm mm,” he murmurs into my ear, sending a chill through my body, “You need to tell me what you want from me, hun.”

What. “I uhh—“ I hesitate, distracted by how I can see down his shirt, watching his stomach muscles tense slightly.

He’s staring at me with that one eyebrow cocked and a little smug smirk, holding both of my hands with one of his.

“Use your words, tell me,” his hand finds a place on the nape of my neck, as his thumb runs across my cheekbone, “I know you’re thinking it; just say it.” His voice switched to a whisper, causing goosebumps to creep in rapidly.

Touch me, please. For the love of GOD, Jacob.

“I need you,” I finally squeak out.

He laughs softly to himself, “Do you want me to..” his voice trailing off as his hand slides down to my chest, gently resting on my sternum. Without having to do anything, I can feel my nipples start to harden; I swear his eyes light up at the sight. Quickly palming one of my breasts, he dances his index finger around me, and I’m already squirming. A small moan slips out, getting his attention.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Please, Jacob,” I softly whine, his hand wandering to my other breast.

The smile on his face is taunting me. He knows exactly where I want him. If he weren’t sitting between my legs, oh god, my legs would be tightly together.

“Touch me,” laced with a moan, falls from my lips, “Please, Jake.”

Letting go of my hands, he finds both of his sliding down my waist and holding onto my thighs, gently squeezing them. Fuck. Slowly moving them up, barely touching the lace fabric, my hips shift, trying to find relief.

“Oh,” he says lowly, “This is what you want?” He ever so lightly drags a single finger down my lace-covered middle; I can’t stop the breathy moan coming from me.

“More baby,” comes out whinier than expected, “please please please more.”

“How could I ever say no to you?” His soft voice, wrapped in the most sultry tone, already has me in a chokehold when he dips his hand under the lace fabric. His fingers quickly find the perfect spot, making small circles on my touch-starved bud. The sounds pouring out of my mouth at this point are absurd.

He slides his other hand up my thigh, his index finger gently dipping into me, not far but enough to elicit a small gasp from me. The way this man can have me drenched at the lightest touch is insane.

I watch as he pulls his hand up, placing that same index finger into his mouth and slowly pulling it back out. FUCK he’s hot.

“My sweet girl,” he says, reaching up to caress my cheek for a moment before he taps my bottom lip, “let me—“ My mouth couldn’t open fast enough, he slides his middle and ring finger in and without hesitation I’m already swirling my tongue around them, hearing him moan quietly at the feeling.

He pulls his hand slowly back but swiftly, finding my entrance and pushing them in.

“Shit,” I mumble.

Finding the right spot, he continues pressing into it, making that knot in my stomach tighter.

“Come on, honey,” his voice makes everything even more overwhelming. “Need to hear how good you feel.”

That pushes me over the edge, my back arching as I’m overcome with pleasure. A slew of ‘oh my god’s and ‘Jacob’ loudly escape my body. He slows down but still applies pressure as I come down.

I reach my arms out to him, pulling him down on top of me, wrapping all my limbs around him. Turning my face into the crook of his neck, pressing little kisses all over him.

“Feel good?” he mumbles into me.

“Mhmm,” I hum against his warm skin, “It’s your turn,” Feeling his chest vibrate with a laugh, I hold him tighter against me.

As he starts to sit up, I let go, missing his warmth already. We switch places; he’s sat up against the headboard. I immediately crawl up in between his legs, wasting no time as I unbutton the rest of his shirt, pushing it out of the way. Kissing my way down from his jaw to his collarbones, finding that slight dip in the middle of his chest. His hands make their way into my hair, brushing it away from my face as I press my lips into his soft skin just above his hips.

Unbuttoning his pants alone makes him groan; his dick pressed tightly under the waistband, poor thing. Pushing them down with his boxers, my mouth is watering at the sight alone. Lightly tracing my finger up his length before fully wrapping my hand around him, carefully stroking him before wrapping my lips around him, and letting my tongue dance around him. Slowly taking more of him into my mouth, I glance up through my lashes to see his head tilted back against the headboard. Peering down at me, his mouth is barely open, but enough that his moans ring through my ears. I move up slowly and back down, going further so he’ll keep making those beautiful noises. As my nose just touches his stomach, I moan a little, causing his hands to tighten their grip on my hair.

I come up, still working him with my hand as I line myself up with him. He slides the lace over as I lower myself onto him, his hands finding their place on my hips as I adjust to the feeling.

“You feel so good,” he mumbles out, clearly focusing hard as his eyes shut softly. I roll my hips forward as he hits that spot again; oh god. Lifting my hips and dropping back down carefully, everything feels good.

“Oh,” I let out, as he starts thrusting his hips up into me, slowly at first but building up speed.

“Oh my god, baby,” I can’t hold back the moans anymore as he’s hitting the right spots, “Holy shit.”

“Stand up for me,” he says as he slows his hips down.

My legs shake as I lift myself off of him, stepping off the bed as he quickly follows behind. His hands snake around me, pressing his chest against my back, peppering kisses down my neck onto my shoulder.

“I’ve been thinking about bending you over all night,” he tells me softly, “can you do that for me, beautiful?” I don’t answer him, turning and pressing a kiss against his cheekbone and then leaning down and stretching my arms out.

His hands graze my ass as he steps closer; I can’t help but wiggle myself against him, teasing him until his palm swats at me with a small clap.

“Mmm, have I been bad, Captain?” I turn my head to see him from the corner of my eye, trying not to giggle at how ridiculous that sounds.

His head falls backward as he lets out a belly laugh. He leans over me and presses a kiss in between my shoulder blades.

“Soooo bad,” he says with a wink.

He lines himself up with me, gently pushing himself in, and god is it good. Feeling his hipbones pressed against me before he starts pumping himself into me. This angle is probably my favorite, feeling so full from him and it’s hitting all the right places.

“Harder, baby,” comes out a bit louder than before, with a loud moan right behind it. His hand sneaks around me, going back to its rightful place in between my legs and adding some friction to my throbbing clit. The sensation of his hand mixed with the feeling of him behind me. I swear I’m in heaven.

“Don’t hold back, honey,” he tells me. “Told you I wanted to hear you scream my name tonight, let it out.”

‘Oh my god,’ slips out as the tension builds again. I’m so close.

“Need to feel you come for me.”

His voice, mixed with his hand and his hips digging into my ass, sent me over the edge. I can’t refrain from the loud ‘Jacob’ that comes out of me as my orgasm tingles through my body. His hips slow a bit as he rubs my sides, waiting for me to come back to earth.

“God, you’re so hot,” he whispers, making us both giggle for a second. “This isn't gonna last much longer, hun.”

I reach back and tap his leg so he’ll step back, pulling out slowly. I push myself up from the bed, turning to face him and sinking to my knees. Wrapping my hand around him and pumping a few times before I lick a stripe up the length of him. Letting him slide into my mouth, I tap on his hip twice, and he starts to thrust gently. He carefully gathers all my hair, wrapping his around his hand and holding the back of my head.

“I’m gonna-” he starts, and before he can finish, I bob my head so he goes deeper. The delicious moan he lets out fills my ears before I feel his release. His head falls back as he rides out his high. I swallow as he pulls back, letting my hands glide up his stomach, enjoying the bliss on his face before he opens his eyes.

His hands grab mine and pull me up to my feet. Quickly grabbing the sides of my face, giving my lips a quick glance before smiling into me. His soft lips pressed into mine, taking turns trying not to smile, giggling at each other as he peppered my face with tiny pecks.

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My legs are tired as I walk into the living room and find Jacob sitting on the couch watching whatever Hallmark movie is on the TV. I shouldn’t be drooling over him already, but when he’s just there with no shirt and in his sweatpants, I can’t help myself. I can’t believe he’s MINE.

“Hi there,” he says, reaching out for me. “Feel better?” As I’m crawling into his lap.

“Much better. The shower was needed after all of that.”

Wrapping his arms around me as I curl up like a kitten on top of him, this is my favorite place to be. I tuck my face into his neck, enjoying the warmth of his skin. Quietly toying with his necklace, fixing the chain so the clasp is in the right spot. We sit in the quiet, the background noise of the cheesy romance on the TV keeping it from being silent.

“Are you hungry?” he whispers.

“I’m starving, actually,” I giggle back.

“Thank god,” the relief evident in his tone, “I’ll make us something quickly.”

“Jacob,” I glance at the clock, “It’s almost 2 a.m.”

“Already back to my full name?” he asks, raising his eyebrow. My mouth falls open; I tend to full-name him, but honestly, I just love it.

“You know what,” I start, holding eye contact with him, “Carry on. Thank you, baby.” There’s that smile.

“I could just call you Captain,” I tease, giggling as he turns around.

Pointing at me with a wooden spoon, “Don’t start something you’re not gonna finish, hun.”

Standing up from the couch, I make my way over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and leaning my face against his back as he cooks. Fiddling with the waistband of his sweatpants until he grabs my hand.

“Alright now,” he mumbles, “what did I just tell you?” his laugh vibrates through his body.

“And who said I can’t finish it?”

He turns around promptly, that devilish smirk creeping back onto his face, “care to try your luck?”

“Whenever you want, Captain.”

Masterlist | Taglist | Caravel Tavern Series Masterpost

Taglist Besties: I may have had a little Jakedown and this happened 🤭 Hope you enjoy xoxo

@gvfsstardust , @myleftsock , @mindastreamofcolours , @dont-go-home-without-me , @literal-dead-leaf , @lizzys-sunflower , @mackalah , @klarxtr , @edgingthedarkness , @writingcold , @i-love-gvf , @takenbythemadness , @ladywhimsymoon , @earthgrlsreasy , @peaceloveunitygvf , @violet-hayes , @musicspeaks , @anythingforjtk

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spicywhenspeaking · 8 months

Text

a little angst for us to enjoy 🤭🫣😭

Noah Sebastian x Reader -> breaking up is hard to do

bad omen taglist (open) : @cookiesupplier

“Don’t do this” he rasps out, taking a step closer to me but I back away further trying to create more space between us.

“I’m sorry Noah, it’s over.” I repeat again, my voice remaining strong despite the heartache I’m feeling.

“Please. Please Y/n I’m sorry. I can’t lose you, I love you” he pleads and my heart cleaves in two as he reaches out again and grips my wrist tightly in his hand.

I’ve been grappling with this feeling for so long and I know I have to do what’s best for me even if it hurts.

Sometimes love isn’t enough.

“You’ve already lost me Noah” I try to remove my hand from his grasp but his hold is too strong. I wiggle my wrist and there is no give, his grip is tight enough to leave a mark.

“Noah, I’m leaving. You have to let me go. Please I can’t do this anymore.” Frustrated tears well in my eyes while I continue tugging my hand free.

“I can’t let you go, please Y/n I love you. Don’t go” my defense falters for a second and he moves in closer, angling his forehead to rest against mine.

“I’ll get better, it’ll all get better I promise” he’s fighting tears of his own but I shake my head. Clearing the conflicting thoughts that pool in my mind. It’s an unending cycle of promises. Nothing ever changes, nothing will ever change unless I leave.

“You have to let me go” and then I say the only thing that might work to give me the window to slip out of his grip.

“I don’t love you anymore, Noah. It’s over” a lie.

I do still love him but until we learn fight the demons that plagued our souls we will never be good for each other or anyone else in our lives.

Maybe we were never meant to last, maybe we were only meant to show each other how much more work our hearts need before they are ready for another person.

His eyes shoot open, a mix of shock and hurt written across his face “wha-what? You don’t mean that. Y/n you love me.” His grip loosens up enough for me to remove myself from his space and I back away closer towards the door. His eyes shimmer with tears “you- you don’t love me anymore?”

His voice shakes with the question and then he straightens quickly, “You’re lying, I know you’re lying. Why are you lying?!” The volume of his voice increases and I flinch at the sound of it.

“I’m not lying, Noah, I don’t love you anymore. We aren’t good for each other and I’m leaving. Please, just let me go” I grab my bag off the floor and turn to open the door.

“If you walk away for us, from me, we’re done Y/n. For good.” His voice breaks.

“I know” the tears fall down my cheeks like a damn finally breaking.

“I never want to see you again” he growls out in a dark voice laced with venom. “I should have known something as broken as you wouldn’t be capable of love. Just a sad, broken, pathetic nobody. Get out of my house.”

Almost immediately I’ve ripped the door open and slammed it behind me and I jump when I hear his fist slam into it on the other side.

Tears freely fall down my face as I walk blurry eyed towards my car.

Nothing but the sound of my broken sobs accompany me on my drive home.

My studio apartment has never felt smaller when I walks in. Laying on my bed my bleeding, fractured heart beats sluggishly as darkness finally consumes me.

When I wake up the next day in the early afternoon I have several missed texts from the other guys asking me what happened. I don’t respond. I turn over and cover my head unwilling to face the day yet.

Knowing I did what was best for both of us offers me little comfort.

Time might heal my wounds but there will always be a scar from my self inflicted heartbreak.

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noahsebastian #noah sebastian angst #bad omens angst #angst #angst without a happy ending #but maybe later?#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens cult #badomenscult #rpf #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian rpf

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sparkle-fiend · 2 years

Text

Truth or Dare, part 2

Continued from this post, inspired by a prompt by @kedreeva

———————-

Eddie watches Robin jump up to chase after her best friend. Everyone else is left staring, wide-eyed and stunned into silence. It makes his skin itch.

He exhales into his cupped palm and takes an exaggerated sniff. “Guess I shouldn’t have had those onions for lunch, huh?”

It doesn’t get much of a laugh. With a shrug, he drops back down to his place on the floor, folding his long legs underneath him. He feels off-balance, caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting Steve to react that badly.

He plucks at his jeans, worrying the frayed edge of the hole over his right knee, and chances a glance at Gareth. His friend is staring at him with one eyebrow raised pointedly, as if to say See? I told you so.

Which is true. Gareth has been trying to convince him to stay away from Steve Harrington ever since the first day he walked into Eddie’s hospital room and found the other boy sitting by his bedside. Eddie slouches, shoulders curling inward as he looks away. The hole in his jeans starts to unravel a little wider.

Vickie looks uncomfortable. “Should we go after them?”

Gareth snorts rudely. Jeff, ever the peacekeeper, shoots him a warning look and says, “I think maybe we should keep playing. I’m sure they’ll come back when they’re ready.”

The only one that comes back is Robin, sliding into her place in the circle with downcast eyes. Vickie leans over to whisper something in her ear, and Robin shakes her head. She’s clearly upset.

“Steve just had a, uh… migraine. It came on really quickly, so he had to go home.”

She is such a bad liar.

They try to keep playing a few more rounds, but nobody’s heart is in it anymore. Claire is the first to leave, muttering goodbye to Vickie and ignoring the rest of them. It’s pretty clear she was only suffering their presence to try and get close to Steve.

Good riddance, Eddie thinks with a sneer. He’d barely restrained himself from dumping punch all over the presumptuous little flute player. She really had some nerve - allll the girls had a crush on King Steeeeeve…

Nauseating.

Vickie makes a show of checking her watch next. “I guess it is getting late. My mom wanted me home by 11.”

“Yeah, we should go too,” Eddie says. He waves goodbye to the girls and heads for the door at a fast clip, the rest of the guys following without question.

It seems cooler outside, away from the press of bodies and the stifling air – thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol. Eddie takes a deep breath. Someone’s been smoking nearby, which makes him crave a cigarette of his own.

“I don’t think we should drive yet,” Jeff says. “That punch was pretty strong. Why don’t we walk down to the diner and get some fries?”

It’s a good idea, so they set off down the sidewalk. Gareth waits for Dave and Jeff to pull ahead a little before drifting close enough to nudge Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry about that man. I really hoped he would prove me wrong, but…”

Eddie nods, fishing the crumpled pack of Camels out of his back pocket. Steve’s not the guy Eddie thought he was – it’s disappointing, to say the least. If that was his reaction to kissing a guy on a dare, then god knows how he would respond if he ever found out Eddie’s gay.

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he clamps a cigarette between his lips, patting his pockets for his lighter.

“But hey, at least you know he’s not worth your time now, right? Better to find out before you fell ass over tits and got your heart broken.”

Too late for that Gare-bear… too late for that.

“Sure.”

Eddie smokes his cigarette, avoiding any further conversation. When they reach the diner, he orders some cheese fries, picking off the crispy bits of cheese before he starts shoving food around the plate to make it look like he’s eating. The guys chat about band practice and the summer D&D campaign, but Eddie doesn’t have much to add.

He keeps replaying the Truth or Dare game in his head. He’s positive he didn’t let anything slip. Eddie is an experienced DM – he’s good at controlling his expressions. He never gives anything away when his players do something to throw him off guard; and he’s sure he didn’t give anything away tonight. So it can’t be his inconvenient crush that made Steve uncomfortable.

Everything was lighthearted and casual… and Steve seemed okay with it at first. Shit, the way he was staring at Eddie’s mouth and licking his lips, it almost seemed like he was into it. Eddie nearly lost it at that point – he had to cover by pretending to swoon when he felt himself start to blush.

Then Eddie moved in for the actual kiss, and Steve pushed him away. He looked at Eddie with this… awful expression on his face and said he couldn’t do it.

Eddie assumed at the time that Steve lost his nerve and got grossed out. But when he pictures the look on Steve’s face in that moment, it doesn’t seem right. What was that expression?

The guys finish up and they all pay for their food. Gareth is clearly still concerned, shooting worried little glances his way as they walk, so Eddie stays between Jeff and Dave on the way back to the cars.

He appreciates his friend’s concern, and he knows Gareth means well, but he really just wants to go home and lick his wounds in private.

Eddie makes it to his van and takes off while Jeff and Gareth are debating whose turn it is to drive Dave home. He cranks the stereo louder than usual, trying to drown out his thoughts with some Black Sabbath, singing along until his voice cracks. His ears are still ringing a little when he creeps into the silent house, navigating by the light Wayne left on in the kitchen.

With the money from the government payout, his uncle doesn’t have to work nights anymore – which means for the first time in his life, Eddie has to be careful not to wake the old man up when he comes home late. He kicks off his Reeboks at the door and tiptoes up the stairs, skipping the creaky step.

He goes through his nighttime routine on autopilot: brushing his teeth, massaging lotion into all his scars, and braiding back his hair. To prevent split ends - a tip he got from Steve “the Hair” Harrington himself (Eddie can’t escape him – thoughts of Steve permeate every aspect of his life at this point).

He changes into an old pair of pajama pants and flops onto the bed, arms and legs stretched out like a starfish. Sleep, he thinks, shutting his eyes firmly. Sleep, sleep, sleep.

Thirty minutes later, he’s still staring up at his shadowed ceiling.

Steve looked… sad. That’s what it was. He looked sad and pained when he said, “I can’t do this.” And he said something else…

Not like this.

Not like this? But that… would imply it was the situation that was the problem. Right? Not the kissing.

“Holy shit!” Eddie yelps, sitting upright so fast his side twinges. He claps a hand over his mouth to prevent any further outbursts.

He assumed the worst, because that’s what he always does – better to be prepared then disappointed; that’s been his motto for years. But Steve didn’t storm off because he was homophobic.

He wanted to kiss Eddie! He must have – just not in front of all their friends. Not as part of a game, or as a joke.

Eddie jumps out of bed and starts to pace, filled with a restless, almost manic energy. He’s worried about Steve - wishing he’d gone after the other boy right away, at the party. Is he still upset? He looked upset.

Eddie considers the phone – he even picks up the receiver and starts to dial Steve’s number, before he gets a grip and hangs up. It’s 2 o’clock in the morning, he can’t call this late; Steve would probably panic and assume someone had been hurt.

When he can’t take it anymore, Eddie decides to go for a drive. He grabs Wayne’s keys instead of his own – the truck is quieter than his old rattletrap of a van, and less conspicuous. He drives aimlessly, taking random side-streets and circling cul-de-sacs; only to wind up in front of Steve’s house.

There are lights on inside.

Eddie pulls into the driveway and parks the truck. He contemplates the house for a while, nearly changing his mind twice before he finally gets out and makes his way to the front door. He knocks – not too loudly, just in case Steve is sleeping (even though the lights are on).

It takes less than a minute for Steve to come to the door; long enough for Eddie to realize he’s still in his pajamas – too fast for him to chicken out and run back to the truck.

Steve looks exhausted: his hair is messier than Eddie’s ever seen it before, and the soft skin around his eyes appears swollen and tender. It hurts Eddie’s heart to see it.

Steve watches him cautiously. “Eddie? What are you doing here – is everything okay?”

“You said… not like this,” Eddie says abruptly. He cringes at the blunt approach – he’s usually better at thinking on his feet than this.

“Eddie…”

“I just want to understand Steve. Please? What did you mean?”

Steve gnaws at his bottom lip before sighing heavily. “I like you Eddie. Like, romantically. I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks now. But I couldn’t do it… if it wasn’t for real.” He drags his hands roughly through his hair, mussing it up even more. “I’m so tired of being King Steve – pretending like meaningless sex and drunk make outs are enough, falling in love with people who don’t love me back… I can’t do it anymore.”

Eddie is reeling. He doesn’t know what to focus on first. Steve likes him? Romantically?! And he’s wanted to kiss him for weeks. Eddie might need to sit down.

Steve is chewing at his lip again – he’ll draw blood if he keeps it up. He looks so hesitant, so uncharacteristically insecure.

Because you’re standing here like an idiot after he spilled his heart out to you, Eddie thinks. Say something!

“Steve… Truth or Dare.”

“What?”

“Pick one.”

Steve looks like he’s thinking about shutting the door in Eddie’s face. Finally he says, “Truth,” in a grudging tone.

According to the game, Eddie should ask Steve a question. But Steve has been truthful enough tonight – it’s Eddie’s turn now.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you a lot longer than just a few weeks. Probably since I saw you tear that demobat apart. But it was in the hospital - when you came to visit every day, looking after me and Max and the rest of the kids – I think that’s when I fell in love.”

The tiniest little, “Oh,” escapes Steve’s mouth. Eddie has a few seconds to worry that the love confession was too much - and then a smile replaces Steve’s look of shock, dawning bright and beautiful.

There’s no more pretense required when they come together, lips meeting softly.

Eddie is so glad that Steve stopped him at the party. Because now they have this moment, this perfect moment – standing in the silvered dark, two souls alone together under the moon. He gets to enjoy the warm press of Steve’s lips against his without any prying eyes or teasing; gets to slide his fingers daringly under the hem of Steve’s thin sleep shirt.

Steve breaks the kiss with a gasp of laughter when Eddie hits a ticklish spot just below his ribs. They pause to smile at one another, foreheads pressed together.

“Truth or Dare,” Steve says.

“Well, truth has been a pretty good choice so far…”

Steve reaches up to press a gentle palm against Eddie’s cheek, scraping his thumb over the stubble. “I love you too.”

Truth or Dare is officially Eddie’s new favorite game.

————————-

Tag list (I tried to include everyone that requested a tag - apologies if I missed anyone)

@manycoloureddays @vecnuthy @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @proficientatfreakness @sadcanadianwinter @farfaras @makewavesandwar @grtwdsmwhr @xwildangel @electrick-marionnett @swimmingbirdrunningrock

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington/eddie munson #my writing #several people were excited for this second part #I really really hope I didn’t let anyone down #😬🫣

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frenchfrywrites · 1 year

Text

Simeon’s new neighbor

MINORS DNI

Warnings: trans masc top vampire reader, trans human bottom Simeon, blood, both of yall r fucked up.. so like morally gray/dubious things and such, attempt at religious themes and guilt, fingering, humping, blood drinking, fear wetting (nonsexual (if you can believe)), strap on, scent kink, lmk if i missed anything..

tysm to @pulpbeing for helping me w inspiration w this fic :)

It’s a spring Sunday morning when Simeon wakes to find the house across the street from him– the one nobody had lived in for years, and he was certain would never find a buyer– has finally found its new owner. He smiles to himself at the sight of the vintage car in front, and the new doormat placed outside the front door. While there’s not many other signs of life, yet, Simeon hopes that the homeowner will settle in nicely and make the place their own.

It’s out of the ordinary that his new neighbor moved in during the night, Simeon thinks briefly, but refocuses on how happy he is that someone moved in at all. He hums as he brews himself a cup of coffee, exciting himself with imagining what his new neighbor is like. He wonders if they’re friendly. He wonders if he’ll see them at church this morning. Knowing he’ll be seeing a new face around the small town leaves Simeon energized, and truth be told he probably doesn’t need the coffee at all. There’s enough pep in his step anyways.

But his age is catching up to him, and in order to keep from yawning during the service, he downs the cup he’d prepared (though not before adding copious amounts of milk and sugar to make it bearable).

Simeon does little else before going to morning mass, and when he gets there he scans the familiar faces. All the grannies swarm at him, asking him about his week, how he’s been, among other things. He does his best to give them his attention, but he’s losing focus as he continues to analyze the congregation.

He tries not to let disappointment sink in as no new face enters the church. The sunny day turning cloudy does little to help his emotional state. Simeon rationalizes that perhaps his neighbor is tired from the move, and even if you never go to church that doesn’t automatically make you a bad person. Smiling to himself, he decides he’ll make you a dessert as a welcoming gift.

It’s not long before he’s standing in front of your door, reaching out to ring your doorbell, holding the sweet treat in the other hand.

“Who’s there?” a beautiful voice calls from within, and Simeon feels rejuvenated, excited, and giddy all over again.

“Your new neighbor!” he responds, figuring that if he only responded with his name, you’d be entirely confused.

“Hello?” you open the door, and Simeon’s heart nearly stops. You’re nothing short of impressive and deeply intimidating in your beauty. He thought he was wearing his Sunday best, but compared to your outfit he might as well be wearing rags. Every strand of your hair is perfect, and you’ve no blemishes or disfigurements. In fact, if it didn’t sound silly to say aloud, he'd say you’re glowing. And what impresses him even more so, is that your beauty seems so effortless.

His jaw drops slightly, leaving him gaping at you like an idiot. He’s embarrassed to be standing before you like this, as he imagines he must look so frumpy and boring compared to your elegance. You don’t seem to mind though. In fact if Simeon were to guess by your expression alone, he’d say you’re endeared and pleased with him at your doorstep.

“Ah, hello!” he finally shakes himself out of his stupor. “My name is Simeon, I live across the street,” he gestures behind himself, to his house.

You don’t even spare his house a glance, your eyes instead staying locked on him, and Simeon feels his heart throb at how they’re an unusual, but mesmerizing, bright amber color. He licks his lips, feeling uncharacteristically flustered. “Um- I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood, so I made you a-” he prattles on, telling you about what he made, and what’s in it. From there he rambles a bit about allergies, anxiety setting in over the fact that he may have presented something inedible for you.

“Simeon,” he gasps softly at the sound of your voice cutting him off. You’re smiling, and Simeon finds himself mimicking you, though his smile is a far more bashful one. You introduce yourself to him, and Simeon thinks your name is as beautiful as you are, “would you care to come in?” you ask, opening the door for him. He enters your home without a second thought.

The two of you get on like you’ve been friends for years. You make him tea and guide him to your living room where you’re able to talk to him for hours, about a myriad of topics, until Simeon’s grumbling belly regrettably leads to him excusing himself for dinner. You walk him to your door, waiting and watching at your doorstep until you see him wave to you from inside his house.

Simeon is a social butterfly, and gets on with just about anyone, but he feels different with you. He feels like a kid with a crush again, and it’s not just that you’re good company, he feels utterly at ease and refreshed in your presence. For the rest of the night he flits around his own house in a haze of bliss, already thinking about what he wants to discuss with you next.

He finds himself at your doorstep the following evening, because that’s the time you told him you were the most available. You welcome Simeon into your home happily, and insist on making dinner for him. Strangely you don’t eat, but you tell him it’s because you had a filling lunch, and promise him you’ll eat later in the night. Simeon feels only mildly awkward being the only one eating at the table, but that feeling melts away slowly as you start up conversation again.

Like the previous night, the two of you talk until Simeon’s body catches up to him and he’s yawning more than he’s speaking. He leaves with a smile on his face, and waves to you happily from his house. He knows that his feelings towards you may become an issue later, because he can’t imagine a world where they’re reciprocated, but he’s enjoying himself too much to worry about it now. He figures he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

The next few nights he finds himself too busy to see you, but that doesn’t mean you’re off his mind. Rather, Simeon finds himself thinking of you nearly obsessively; until the first body turns up.

The town Simeon lives in is a small one, and when someone is found dead, everyone knows the details and feels their absence. The community mourns, and Simeon feels shock and fear ripple through it. This body was mangled and gored, and the main theory is that an animal did it. Despite there being an official theory, all eyes are on Simeon’s new neighbor, the outsider.

Whispers only die down once the family receives a bouquet from you on their doorstep. You’re not welcomed yet, but you’re no longer a suspect.

Simeon finds himself confused, and seeking someone to talk to. Before you, he would have gone to confession, but now he hurries across the street when the world around him turns a deep blue and twilight sinks across the sky.

“Simeon,” you greet him happily, ushering him in immediately.

“Hi,” he breathes, again taken aback by your presence like the first day he met you. The memory of you that’s been running through his mind doesn’t even hold a candle to the real thing before him.

The two of you stare at one another in the foyer. You clap your hands, “I don’t think I ever gave you a tour of my home, did I?” Simeon shakes his head, grateful for you taking the lead of the conversation.

He follows you eagerly as you guide him through the first floor that he’s seen most of. You go through the kitchen, the dining and living room, your study, and the downstairs bathroom. Then you lead him upstairs. Simeon finds himself entirely distracted from the grim events of the week as you move from room to room.

Upstairs you show him your little library– and you pause here for a while, because of course Simeon has to jealously browse your collection– the room where you do your work, and finally your bedroom. Simeon can’t help but feel bashful when you kindly show him your room. He hopes you don’t notice. If you do, you’re kind enough not to mention it.

Your house is like a museum, Simeon thinks. There’s more artifacts, antiques, and collectables in each room than he’s ever seen in his life. You have things from every era, and he can’t help but be in awe of how much care and love you put into them.

There are some oddities within your home as well. He notices you have every mirror and window covered. Simeon wouldn’t dare bring it up though, fearing that he’d come off as rude or invasive.

After leading him through the upstairs, you bring him back down to the living room.

“There’s a basement too,” you mention offhandedly as you sit down, “but it’s unfinished.”

“Your house is amazing,” Simeon confesses. You smile, and he continues, “thank you for taking me on a tour, I was…” he trails off for a moment, “I was having a rough time with the recent events, and this was a needed distraction.” In response to that you hum,

“I’m happy to have been able to help, Simeon,” you rest your head on your hand looking at him through your lashes, and Simeon feels a guilty pang of lust grow in his loins. “When death presents itself so violently and suddenly, it can be so consuming,” you muse. “I wish I could have done more for the family, I hope my condolences provided a moment of comfort.”

“Ah, I was going to tell you,” Simeon starts, “I’m sorry that some of us worried that you had something to do with this! I didn’t think that at all of course. I don’t think you could hurt a fly,” he reassures you. You laugh at that, and Simeon feels his cheeks heat with flush.

“I see how grief could make some see a coincidence where there is none,” you say once your laughter dies off, “but let's not talk too much about all this. You came over for a distraction, no?” Simeon nods, “then let’s talk about something more lighthearted. You said you’d read some of the books you saw in my library?”

From here the conversation turns, and the two of you talk deep into the night.

“I’ll walk you home,” you tell Simeon once he finally admits he needs to leave. Suddenly, any and all exhaustion is gone from Simeon’s body.

“Are you sure? I’m just across the street,” Simeon says, though deep down he wants you to come over.

“I know, but it’s so dark. It’d make me feel better even if it’s just walking a few feet,” you say, pulling on your shoes.

The night is quiet, save for the chirps and calls from nocturnal critters. There’s light conversation between the two of you as you walk Simeon the very small distance between your houses.

“Here I am,” he says awkwardly, unlocking and opening the door to his home. You stand outside the doorway, illuminated from his porch light.

“Good night Simeon,” you say softly, reaching out to tuck a stray hair away from his face. Awestruck, Simeon stands in his doorway dumbly, watching you turn to leave.

“Bye,” he breathes, when you’re already halfway across the street.

He watches you enter your own house, and it’s only when you’re out of sight that he closes the door, and grabs at his chest. He laughs, a relieved and elated sound.

“Oh Father, thank you, thank you,” he murmurs between his giggles. He goes through his nighttime routine, feeling like he’s walking on air, like he’s in a dream.

Simeon had believed that his crush was silly, that there was no possibility of his feelings being returned. Perhaps that’s still true, that your intentions were purely platonic, but it felt like so much more than that. He sighs wistfully, looking out his bedroom window at your home. You’d done something that felt so intimate so easily, like it was nothing at all. It was everything to him.

The weeks pass, and spring turns to summer, and summer eases into fall. Simeon finds himself at your house more often than not as the months pass. Helplessly he falls deeper and deeper in love with you as you make him dinners, and talk with him, and do puzzles, and quietly read together, and drink fine wines on your living room loveseat with him. He texts you during the day, and during most times that he’s not able to be with you.

Simeon’s not been this happy in a long time, and everyone around him knows it. His community has eventually warmed up to you too. It’s hard when they don’t see you in the day time, and you not going to church is certainly a difficult thing for some to stomach. Simeon praises you enough that they finally come around to accepting you.

It’s not all love and bliss surrounding him, as there’s been more deaths. It’s no big city, so typically Simeon’s town deals with maybe two to three deaths a year, and very rarely are they violent ones at that. The police say there’s leads, but when they issue a curfew, the town begins to doubt them. Simeon feels safest when he is with you, but he can’t deny the way that terror has settled into his town.

Another person is reported missing a week before Halloween, and Simeon feels like he’s going crazy. He knows the curfew is quickly approaching, but the urge to see you overpowers his logic and he finds himself in front of your door.

It’s only then that his typical anxiety surrounding breaking rules– and even more powerful, his catholic consciousness and the fear of always being watched– sets in. He worries that even knocking will alert someone that he’s breaking curfew, and instead gives the door a try. To his surprise, it turns under his palm.

Simeon pushes in and finds himself in the house he’s grown to love.

He calls your name, but there’s no response. Quickly, he hurries through the rooms on the main floor, but finds each space empty. As soon as Simeon attempts to take the first step upstairs, he hears the crash from below him.

The basement.

Simeon would have never guessed to check there, so he thanks God for the noise you’ve made. He honestly forgot you had one, but as he searches for an entrance he remembers how you’d mentioned it when you’d first given him a tour of your house.

He finds the door relatively easily, now that he’s looking for it. It’s cracked open, an invitation to join you if Simeon’s ever seen one. The lights are off, and he finds that strange, but he’s gotten used to your oddities by now. Softly, he calls your name as he makes his way down the stairs, trying not to startle you.

Simeon’s brain takes a second to process the scene before him as he reaches the basement floor. At first he thinks it’s a lump of clothes, but he soon realizes there’s a body inside of said clothes. A body. Not your body, either. He registers that there’s blood everywhere, and he can’t believe he didn’t notice that first. He can’t believe anything he’s seeing.

A soft, choked sound leaves him at the massacre displayed before him. He’s stunned, unable to think of how to react, or where to begin. Simeon’s hands are shaking, his pulse beating rapidly in his ears. Distantly– hardly audible at all compared to the pounding in his head– he hears the soft puttering sound of liquid dripping. At first he thinks it’s blood from somewhere, but then he notices the wetness in his pants. Weakly he nearly laughs (it comes out as a strained moan), because now he feels more shame than he does terror.

“Simeon?” a familiar voice shocks him to his core. He turns to look at where the sound came from, and is not entirely pleased with what he finds.

Your familiar, beautiful face is covered with blood, your eyes shining a bright gold, staring right at him. Simeon should run, he should turn and scramble up the stairs out of your house to the comfort of his neighbors. But he’s frozen.

“Simeon,” you coo his name, stepping towards him. He has a million thoughts at once, adding to the powerful headache he has growing.

“A demon?” he whines weakly, finally finding the strength to speak. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and then you’re smiling, showing off your animalistic, lethally sharp canines.

“No, no,” and maybe it’s because Simeon’s brain is working really hard to keep up with him, but weren’t you further away before? “I know I don’t have the sparkly skin like some more popular of my kind,” you nearly giggle and he feels his knees try to buckle. “But can’t you guess what I am?” you tease.

“Vampire,” he breathes, no uncertainty laced in his voice. You nod,

“Oh good, that’s right,” you praise, slowly taking him into your arms. Simeon melts like butter into you. You coo, “aw sweet thing, don't fret, I won’t hurt you, I could never hurt you,” you assure him. Simeon doubts you, but there’s not much else he can think to do.

You hoist him up carefully. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hm,” you start slowly making your way up the stairs. “I didn’t mean for you to see this, of course. I don’t mind others' opinions of me– though you seem to care a great deal on my behalf– anyways I do care what you think. We could have gone a while without you ever finding out. Naughty Simeon, you shouldn’t have been breaking curfew anyways,” you tease, rambling as you take him swiftly all the way up to your room, and into the adjoining bathroom there.

“Would you take off your clothes?” you ask, setting him down on the toilet, and starting hot water for him. Simeon sits motionless, feeling confused and still quite terrified. You look back at him, and your eyes glow a bright yellow, “You’re safe,” you assure him, “and it’s going to be okay,” and with every word you speak Simeon feels relief and calm wash over him. He exhales a soft breath, almost forgetting what he was scared of in the first place. He remembers your request, and does as he’s told,

He shakily, with your help, finds himself comfortable in your tub.

“If I had the working blood to do so, I’d be blushing,” you tell him as you sit next to him, on the floor of the bathroom. When he doesn’t respond you sigh, “lots on your mind, I suppose.”

The two of you sit in uncomfortable silence for a moment.

“God forgive me,” Simeon finally breathes, turning to face you. There’s still blood caked on you, and it makes him gag. You frown, clearly upset by this. Laughable that you’re more upset by his disgust than the dead body in your basement.

“I’m sorry, I should let you go, and– and leave in the morning. I apologize for ever–” Simeon cuts you off with a sad sound.

“It’s not you,” he confesses, “I– I’m disgusted that I still love you, even though you’re…” he gestures vaguely.

“A cold-hearted, bloodsucking, undead, uncaring killer?” you prompt, smiling at him. Simeon, despite it all, smiles back.

“Yes," you tongue licks your blood stained lips,

"And you love me?" You sound so hopeful. Simeon doesn't hesitate,

"Yes," he breathes. You reach out tucking a stray hair behind his ear like you did so many nights ago.

"Can I kiss you?" You ask, and instead of answering, Simeon closes his eyes and leans in.

Your lips are cold, but Simeon soon finds he doesn’t mind so much. He’s dreamed of this moment, and while it didn’t come about in the way he imagined, his heart still flutters and soars at the feeling of finally having your lips on his. He reaches up, cupping your cold face with his warm, wet hands, pulling you closer. You moan softly, licking his lips with your cold tongue.

Briefly, Simeon thinks that God must be watching him right now and cursing him for his choices. Then again, if He is all knowing, He knew Simeon would never stop loving you. Maybe God thinks creatures of the night deserve some love too.

You pull away, your eyes so bright Simeon wonders if they’re actually glowing.

“I’ve wanted to do that since you knocked on my door all those months ago,” you confess. Simeon smiles bashfully,

“Me too,” he whispers. You lean in and kiss him again, and Simeon knows he’s in the deep end now. There’s no way he’ll ever return to his normal life again; if it meant not having you in his life, he’s not sure he’d want to.

This time, Simeon can taste the blood that’s still caked on your lips, and it grows harder and harder to ignore the fact that you’re still clothed and covered in gore. He pulls away this time.

“Get in the bath with me?” he requests softly, never feeling so emboldened in his life. You moan softly,

“Are you sure?” you ask, and the slow heat that had settled in Simeon’s body (just from a bit of kissing) now feels like a raging fire.

“Yes, please,” and you don’t need to be asked twice. It’s like he blinked and there you are naked in the tub with him. Simeon doesn’t hide the way he ogles your now bare body. He shimmies his way forward, closing the space between you, and grabs a washcloth. You watch him carefully, unblinking, as Simeon carefully washes the blood from your face.

“You’re too good to me,” you whisper sincerely when he removes the cloth from your face, and sets it down elsewhere.

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?” Simeon jokes, smiling at you. He pauses, “speaking of mouths,” he mumbles, looking at you hopefully. You laugh, catching his drift and opening your mouth for him.

Carefully, like you’re a wild animal, Simeon runs his fingers along your teeth, marveling at how sharp your canines are. “Would you suck my blood?” he asks breathlessly. You lick his finger, and he pulls back a bit.

“If I ever started, I’m not sure I could stop,” you tell him honestly. Gently you take a hold of his wrist, and press your nose against his pulse point. You look at him as you lick across his skin, “it’s hard not to, when you smell so good,” you confess. Simeon flushes and squirms under your gaze. He glances down, trying to avoid eye contact when it becomes too much for him.

“You’re hard,” he breathes, noticing your clit peeking out from between your pubes, his voice cracking with excitement. He looks back up at you and you’re grinning.

“Yeah,” you let go of Simeon’s wrist, “and you are too. You’re so wet for me” you sound proud, but more than that you're thrilled. Simeon furrows his brow, because how could you tell when you’ve not yet touched him? “I can smell it,” you explain, sensing his confusion.

Simeon flushes from being found out, and because he is- to his surprise- wildly turned on by the way you’re able to smell his arousal.

“Oh,” he breathes softly, and there’s a moment of stillness between the two of you. Then, your lips are pressed against his, and Simeon is wrapping his arms around your neck, pulling you between his thighs. You hold onto his hips to prevent yourself from slipping, and Simeon can tell you’re holding back your strength, but your grip is still pleasantly strong.

Now, instead of his fingers running along your teeth, Simeon uses his tongue to explore your mouth. Your fangs are scarily sharp, and your mouth is cold, but none of that bothers him. He can feel your pussy rut against his thighs, and he moans into your mouth.

“Will you,” he pulls away to start, “would you make love to me?” you groan at Simeon’s request.

“You’re so cute,” Simeon opens his mouth to argue but you cut him off, “is that really something you want?” you ask, rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

“It’s all I’ve been able to fantasize about for the last few months,” Simeon confesses easily, and you groan again.

“Fuck, okay, yes, me too,” you seem thoroughly flustered, and Simeon feels a sharp bit of pride jolt through him at the fact that he’s able to make you feel that way.

You kiss him again as one of your hands drift from his hip to his cunt. Simeon gasps and curls in on himself a bit when he feels your fingers against him. For so long he’s only been the one to touch himself, and it’s exhilarating to feel someone else press against him. You rub easy circles onto his throbbing clit, and Simeon hiccups.

“Fuh-oh-feels so good,” he whines against your lips, slipping a bit in the tub and mashing his mouth against your chin. You huff out a laugh,

“Are you going to last long enough for me to get my fingers in you?” you tease. Simeon takes your words seriously, and shakes his head, jerking his hips and making the water slosh,

“Probably not,” you coo, leaning down to nuzzle against his neck. You inhale deeply, and moan,

“I want you to be able to take my strap,” Simeon’s breath hitches, “will you be able to after cumming, or do you want me to make you wait?”

Simeon whines, his eyes fluttering shut. It feels too good to have you playing with his most sensitive bundle of nerves, he can’t think straight enough to give you a response. You pinch his clit and his eyes shoot open,

“Yes sir,” he rushes out, “yes, I-I can do it.” You smile, showing off your fangs.

“Good,” Simeon’s back arches when one of your fingers slips down and into his aching hole. You’re so cold, he wonders if he feels like a furnace inside. He squeezes around you, panting for air, feeling far too close to cumming already. Faintly Simeon can feel you still rubbing yourself against his leg, and the water splashes gently against the sides.

One finger quickly turns to two, and you’re stretching him open, your thumb still rubbing insistently against his clit. In the brief moments before his orgasm comes crashing into him, Simeon remembers how the French call it the little death. He’d laugh if he weren’t so busy spasming around your fingers, his eyes rolling back into his head and his mouth dropping open in a silent cry. His legs tremble, and his hands shake. It’s never been as intense as this.

“There we go, there we go little angel,” you coo, “ohh, look at you,” you sound foggy and far away as Simeon rides out his orgasm. He can vaguely sense that you’re still rutting against him, and feels the way you’re licking at his skin.

It takes him a moment, and then he’s coming down, breathing heavily and slumping into the cool water.

“Simeon?” you test, but he’s downright dumbstruck, only mumbling incoherently in return. You huff a laugh, and instead let him warm your fingers until he hums softly.

“Hi,” he says dumbly, a bashful smile on his face.

“You’re back,” you tease, pulling your fingers from him– causing Simeon to whine.

“I still want to,” he clears his throat, “um, take your," he coughs, "cock,” he stumbles a bit but finally gets out, “if you’d let me.”

“Oh angel,” he feels butterflies in his stomach at your use of the nickname for him. “I’d love to.”

The next few minutes are filled with you moving from the bathroom to your bedroom. You insist on drying him down yourself, teasing and touching Simeon all over until he’s squirming and giggling. It’s frightening how easily he can forget about the body in the basement. It’s like it never happened at all.

You guide him to your room, your cold hand fitting perfectly in his, and lay him on your bed. Simeon thinks it’s funny that you have a bed at all. He wonders if you ever sleep. Absentmindedly he plays with his hair while watching you take out your harness. He feels heat growing between his legs as he catches a glimpse of your strap.

Soon, you’re on top of him, with lube in your hand. Simeon spreads his legs making room for you between them.

“You finished pretty quick in the bathtub,” you muse popping open the lube. Simeon covers his face, feeling a bit embarrassed. You coo, using one hand to move his arms so you can see his face, “aw don’t be shy, I’m flattered, really.”

“It’s because it’s been so long since I had someone– um– touch me like that,” it’s not something that’s bothered him much, the fact that as he’s aged he’s had less and less people make advances on him, but confessing it to you suddenly feels so embarrassing. You don’t seem to judge him though,

“That’s alright sweetheart, I’ll be gentle,” you promise, spreading lube along your fingers. Simeon smiles, again finding himself feeling safe in your presence.

Just to be safe, you slip a couple fingers in him, stretching him out, slicking up his insides for you. Then you lather your cock with lube, and press against him.

“Wanted to have you like this for so long,” you tell him, rubbing against Simeon’s hole, then against his clit. He presses his hips back against you, so desperate to have you filling him up.

You lean down, taking one of his nipples into your mouth as you slowly push into him. One of your fangs lightly grazes against it, and Simeon gasps. Mistaking it for a sound of pain, you pause, looking up at him with a worried gaze.

“It’s okay, keep going, keep moving, please,” he babbles desperately. You switch to his other nipple, and comply with his request, slowly moving deeper into him.

“Oh,” Simeon sighs when your hips press flush against his.

“Okay?” you pull off his chest to check in.

“Yeah, yes,” he groans, “feels so good,” he tells you as he wraps his legs around your waist, keeping you impossibly close to him. “You’re so deep, ‘m so full,” you lean down to kiss him, stopping him from rambling more about your cock.

Slowly but steadily, you begin to fuck into him. It’s an agonizing pace at first, but Simeon realizes you’re trying to be careful with him, and he’s lovestruck all over again.

Finally he can’t take it any longer. “Faster,” he whines against your lips, “please sir.” You’re happy to comply, picking up the pace to satisfy him. Simeon keens, letting your tongue into his mouth. He drools and pants around your tongue, losing his composure and control. Simeon can’t believe how free he feels.

“Mhmm, angel,” you pull away from him to groan, licking your lips, “you’re so good, you taste so good,” Simeon whimpers at the praise, feeling his pussy gush. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, lookin’ like that, smelling like that,” you drawl, your speech slurring.

“Bite me,” Simeon begs, wanting so badly to have you drunk off of him. Your brows furrow, like you’re upset by the idea, and yet your hips stutter. “Puh-lease,” and with his wanton plea, you lean down and lick at his neck.

You’re fucking him hard and fast now, getting Simeon closer and closer. He lets out a pleased noise when your fangs sink into his flesh, and then you’re drinking from him. It’s a weird sensation, not one that hurts at all.

It takes him a minute to realize it, but Simeon thinks you might be cumming. If the gurgled moans, and the way you’re ramming your hips into him at such an erratic pace is any hint. The idea of you getting off from the taste of his blood sends him over, and for the second time tonight you make him cum.

Minutes feel like hours and milliseconds simultaneously, but soon Simeon feels woozy.

“Ah,” he moans, feeling lightheaded. You dislodge from him, licking at the fresh wounds on his neck. Then you’re pulling away from him. All Simeon can manage is a weak whine. Shushing him gently, you pull your strap out of him, and gracefully plop down next to him, taking him in your arms.

“Sorry, I think I got carried away,” Simeon says what he thinks is “it’s okay,” but it sounds like a whole lot of nothing coming out of his mouth. “I think I should get you a snack or something,” you muse.

Exhaustion hits and when Simeon wakes up again you have water, juice, tea, and ten types of snacks available for him. He feels sluggish and nauseous.

“Do you need any help?” you ask, and Simeon looks over to find you sitting in the armchair in the corner of your room, looking at him.

Simeon shakes his head, shakily grabbing the glass of juice and drinking it down. His body, eager for sugars and nutrients, immediately feels better.

“What are you doing over there?” he asks carefully. You look nervous, an expression that he can’t remember ever seeing on you before.

“I didn’t want to scare you,” you say. Simeon laughs,

“A bit late for that,” he teases, and pats the bed. You come over slowly, settling in next to him like a guilty dog. He smiles at you, “if you’ll have me, I don’t expect that I’ll be leaving you any time soon,” you light up.

“Oh what a relief,” you cuddle into him, “because I wasn’t planning on letting you go.”

#oh the agony #cw blood #cw monsterfucking #cw scent kink #cw religious guilt #written by someone w no religious guilt so uhhh idk how real that tag is lmao #spice #sub obey me #sub simeon

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arichaa · 9 months

Text

Taking care of Akaza's wounds

Hi! This is my first oneshot... I just hope you'll like it ♡ So it talks about Akaza being injured and we take care of his wounds yeah? Alright good good hahahahahahahhhahahahahahha

Precisions: Female human reader; Akaza's personality is like... shy, maybe a little bit tsundere? And too proud to show weakness; the infinity castle dynamic isn't like the one in the anime, but it's more like a big big house where they all live together or smth; Demons can be injured and don't have any regenerations abilites.

Nobody knows why Muzan needed a human in the Infinity Castle. Y/N might be important for his plans. She seems to know that she has no choice and is conscious of her duty in all this. A duty no one else needed to know. Muzan commanded the Upper Moon 3, Akaza, to protect her at all cost. To be her "bodyguard" when she needed to go outside the Castle, for instance.

Y/N is always kind and respectful with the Uppers Moons. She doesn't know them personally and some of them scare her, so she decided to interact with them only when needed. She knows what demons are capable of, although she tries to comfort herself into thinking that they would never disobey their master by hurting her. Or worse.

What doesn't help is that she's absolutely beautiful. Irresistible. So elegant. Pretty inside and outside. The fact that she blushes and loses her grip when someone compliments her accentuates her beauty. The Upper Moon 2 just has no shame in making her uncomfortable using this weakness, but it's just to tease her, according to him.

When it comes to Upper Moon 3, he doesn't care about her link with Muzan or what she is here for. Because why would he? Muzan didn't thought it was necessary to inform them about anything. No. What he cares about is her as a person. He gives his all. He gives his all to not embrace her tightly when she's worried. He gives his all to not absolutely destroy this colored eyed idiot's face everytime he pronouces a syllable directed at her. His all to have a non emotional discussion everytime he talks with her. He tried everything. Nothing worked. Maybe it's because Y/N stayed here for too long... no... just one month? He has never been like this, in his demon life and human life. He knows it's wrong, so he keeps giving his all desesperately. -----------------------------------------

Upper Moon 3 has been training with his colleague, Upper Moon 1, Kokushibo. He doesn't shows any mercy in his trainings, but that's a sign he appreciates him and wants him to get stronger. Akaza would rather die than ask him to be less harsh with him. He keeps collecting bruises and other injuries, but he doesn't talks about them because he just doesn't want to bring attention to him and show any signs of weakness.

Y/N is cleaning the kitchen. She doesn't have anything to do so why not? She hums, rearranges a little. Akaza happens to walks into her. There she is. Not that he looked for her. And if he was, it would only be to assure her protection. Nothing else. Come on. He knows he can't convince himself into thinking that. She didn't noticed him yet, tiptoeing to reach a bowl on the shelf. She looks adorable as always. He swallows, then clears his throat to annouce his presence. She looks behind her shoulder.

Y/N: Ah... Akaza dono, good evening.

Akaza: Good evening, Y/N.

Y/N: How was your day?

Akaza: Not bad, thank you.

Y/N: Good then...

They just look at each other, not knowing what else to say. Maybe he should leave now. It's just a greeting. The more Y/N looks at Akaza, the more she turns around completely to face him.

Y/N: Akaza dono.

What? What does she want? She swallows again, apprehending.

Akaza: Yes, Y/N?

The way she looks at him, it doesn't look good for him. She approaches him, looks at his chest. His wounded body. Then she looks back at his eyes

Y/N: You look severly injured. Is it because of your trainings?

Akaza is taken aback. He doesn't know how to respond correctly.

Akaza: Ah... "Severly" is a big word don't you think?

She tucks her hair behind her ear. Trying to keep composure.

Y/N: I picked this word because that's the only accurate one. *sighs* Don't you think you should... take breaks sometimes? Or, at least treat your wounds?

She knows these kinds of words might upset demons, so she tries to keep a calm voice to balance. He is the last person she wants to upset. Akaza doesn't know what to think. She is the last person he wanted to attract pity from. Yet he likes that she is worried about him.

Akaza: My... wounds don't need to be treated. And I don't have time to rest.

Y/N bites her lip, thinks for a second and takes his hand before walking towards her room. Akaza is absolutely flabbergasted. Of course it wasn't the first time they had physical contact. It would happen when he had to carry her around or when she tripped. But this time, it is initiated by her. He can do nothing but follow her. His neurones are all focused on her soft, small hand. They arrive in front of her door and Akaza regains composure.

Akaza: Y/N... What is this?

She looks at him, flustered

Y/N: I... Please... Let me take care of your wounds. I know you will never do it.

Take care of his wounds. That's what she wants to do. But Akaza is the one supposed to protect her. He doesn't want to be a burden to anyone, especially to Y/N.

Akaza: I'm not letting you do that.

She opens the door and slowly pulls his hand to make him enter. It's crazy how he can't even make himself clear to a human. To a woman. No. To Y/N.

Y/N: With all respect... Please sit down. I hope to see you in my room when I'll come back.

She leaves the room and runs to another. While Akaza, still standing, puts his hand on his hips, sighing from embarassement. He wonders how he managed to get himself in this situation. He just goes to sit on her bed, waiting for Y/N to come back. When she does, Akaza sees in her hands an aid kit, with everything needed for a healing session. She closed the door then goes sit next to him, at his right.

Y/N: Hearing you refusing my hand, I thought you would leave unnoticed.

She plans to do this step by step, his right arm first. She takes his hand again, his palm showing. Y/N just stares at his limb. Bruises and cuts everywhere. She wouldn't have survived if she had all these injuries. Or maybe she worried too much. After all, Akaza is strong, well build... Those muscles... She swallows then focuses on her mission.

Akaza: I appreciate your concern, but I really don't need all this.

Y/N: Cuts are open doors for infections. It can end badly, Akaza dono.

He sighs. That's too much for him. He already loved her to death. She didn't need to do this. Y/N looks at his arms, while he looks at her. Her focused expression makes his heart beat like drums. They're so close he can hear her breathing. That little mouth makes him imagine situations. It's the same thing on Y/N's side. She tries to keep a regular breathing. While she puts cottons on his cuts, she also tries to caress his skin for her own pleasure. Maybe it's inappropriate. But as long as he doesn't notice.

Of course he did. He hopes with all his soul she doesn't look at him to see a blushing Upper Moon. Y/N goes towards the shoulder to try and heal his wounds. Just the perfect height to hold her close. Her close presence distracts him from the stinging of the alcohol. They have been silent for a while now. They both know they should say something.

Y/N: If there's any intern injuries, I'm afraid I won't be able to help.

Akaza: There isn't. And you're doing enough, thank you for this.

She now treats his chest, full of deep cuts. That chest of his she always had to look away from. She touches him with her fingertips, evaluationg the seriousness of each bruise. While Akaza seats here, not moving. If he does nothing, he can't do something bad. He stiffens everytime she touches him.

The neck is the next step. While Y/N does her magic, she glances sometimes at his face, admiring his features. His cheeks so kissable. His little nose she wants to rub hers against. His eyes reminding her of a sunny day. She finds it ironic because Akaza can't go out in the sun. That mouth makes her lose her mind. And his hair urging her to caress it. Akaza looks back at her. Her heart does backflips.

Y/N: Ah! I was just... uh... checking if there's any wounds on your face. Yeah...

Akaza: I didn't say anything.

Y/N: Haha, indeed...

Well that's embarassing. She ends her awkward laugh with a sad smile. Akaza can be cold, but never mean, especially to Y/N. She knows it. And the Upper 3 just tried to not let himself do something he might regret by avoiding eye contact. But her stare was too long to avoid it indefinitely. And why did he have to say that? Out of all the other things he could've answered with... Akaza becomes more self conscious and tries to control his gestures and strength. He doesn't want to scare or hurt her.

Now they exchange words about the other moons, his injuries and other small talks. That makes them feel more comfortable. Y/N even starts to hum. She's almost done with the last body part she needs to treat, his left arm. She put bandages on each cuts. After finishing his hand, she brings it to her lips, closes her eyes and kisses it... kisses it?

Her brain is still trying to process what she just did. After all, that cutie used to take care of her nieces and other children's bruises and kept the reflex of the kiss on the little boo-boo. Heck she even made that "mwah" sound... She stayed on automatic mode for too long. What is she supposed to do now? Pretend it didn't happen? Apologize? Leave the room? She just keep looking at his hand and swallows. She is anxious about what would happen if she makes eye contact.

Akaza's brain is in the same state as hers. He can't even breathe anymore. She did it first. He can't do this anymore.

Y/N: ...Wait... let me explain, it's a ref...

The demon gently holds Y/N's hand, guides it towards his mouth and puts his lips on her fingers while closing his eyes. She didn't miss a second of that. Their movement are now only fueled with want. She looks so moved by his gesture. Y/N comes closer and caresses his cheek. He leans in her touch, pressing her hand with his.

Y/N: Akaza dono... I...

Akaza: Shhh... no need for words...

Akaza takes her in his arms, holding her tight. Her eyes are wide open as he shoves his face in her neck. She gently pushes him to make him lie on the bed so she can cuddle with him, her head against his chest. She tighens her hug by embracing his waist. And of course he lets her do whatever she wants with him. They both dreamed about it. They don't care about consequences now.

Akaza: Y/N... I know I shouldn't but... I'm in love with you. From day one. This moment between us, it was the last straw.

Y/N: I see... *chuckles* I love you too, Akaza dono...

Akaza leans in for a kiss. He slowly catches her lower lip between his, as she wraps her arms around his neck, and his around her waist. As sweet as he imagined. She intensifies the kiss by caressing his hair. She keeps kissing his cheeks, lips and nose while he blushes and smiles. He would've never thought she was the kind to show that much affection and he loves it. Y/N kisses him one last time on the chest and closes her eyes to feel his embrace.

Y/N: *whispers* I know your containing your strength. Don't hold back and hug me really tight. I need to feel you.

She didn't need to say more. He makes himself more comfortable and holds her for all the times he couldn't while putting his cheek on her head.

Akaza: *whispers* You can call me Akaza from now on.

#akaza x y/n #akaza headcanons #akaza x reader #akaza #akaza oneshot #akaza fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #upper moons #upper moon 3 #demon slayer #demon slayer headcanons #kny #kny headcanons

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