#or else the 3 hours i spent on him will be wasted...

[kabukeo]

miitopia jett dawson code: 45M6HYP

[rinnstars]

jealousy jealousy!

when hes just a little (very) jealous of someone else

bllk boys (nagi, rin, reo) x reader: insecurities, fluff!!!!!!!, established r/s except for rin (but you two get into one by the end!), nagis part was deleted and rewritten TT, not proof read + likes n reblog r appreciated <3

nagi seishiro:

“eh… you cleared this level already…? i thought you were struggling with it..?” nagi’s voice muffled against the pile of blankets his face was smushed in, looking up at you confusedly from your phone, displaying the game level cleared.

its not that he doesnt believe you cleared it all by yourself, if anything youre pretty good at this game despite only playing it for him. its simply because you were complaining on call with him about it, and all of the sudden youve finished it? he doesnt quite believe it, hes gone through that level too and he knows its pretty challenging, taking a little more energy than it really should have even for nagi himself.

“ah.. my seatmate cleared it for me this morning when he saw me playing it!” its strange: your bright voice always wakes him up a little, bringing light into his otherwise dull and boring life. yet this time, he feels his heart pang a little.

its troublesome. he doesnt like feeling this way: his heart tightens at your words, he unconsciously grips your phone a little, only realising when the screen protector cuts him a little, and he feels as though hes getting all fired up strangely the same way he gets on the field. if anything, nagi doesnt even know who this mysterious seat partner is, and he sure doesnt want to know: its troublesome to socialise with others after all. and yet, if there’s anything he’s now set on doing as though his life depends on it, as though your relationship with him depends on it, as though his ego depends completely on this: he wants to confront this guy and challenge him in an actual game competition. he knows he’ll win, he has spent his entire life in bed playing mobile game or spending late hours of the night on grinding back to immortal on different variety of games from valorant to league of legends to overwatch. he’s covered his grounds he thinks, that maybe all those time wasn’t wasted at all other than the fact that you weren’t with him during those time: lending him your lap to lie down on when he plays his switch or phone, lending him your support when you sit on his lap on his chair squirming to keep it a challenge to win and carry his team still, even more lending him your accounts when he plays with you, helping carry you in any game you want or even just building your islands together on animal crossing or minecraft on more chill days.

nagi doesn’t get it - really, its the same ego that drives him in football, not wanting to lose. his eyes flicker with sudden fire and intensity that only burns whenever he plays games with you: whether that be when you die in a pvp game and him immediately straightening his back to avenge you, earning aces for rounds straight until the screen flashes with victory, or when someone talks bad about you in the voice channel and is immediately reacted with nagi’s voice that defends your honour as if he’s your knight in shining armour, or even simply the way his hands click on the mouse quickly whenever he sees a zombie go near you in the dark cave whilst playing something as chill as minecraft. if anything, nagi think it might just apply to real life too: his hands tugging at yours as though on instinct in record speed when you trip on another branch to prevent you from falling, his glare at others whenever they bother you too much that is visible through the awkward smile you give and your hands finding its way to fiddle with his shirt.

and the same ego is clear to him now: he doesn’t want anyone else to be yours, he wants to be the only one to help you. selfish maybe, but he’ll deliver - the way he tracks your figure in the map from valorant to minecraft to even genshin, the way he fights to protect you from the enemies, his hands animatedly clicking at his mouse and the other navigating his keyboard all at the same time in order to garner the best and most successful result that he knows will get you to smile oh so brightly that makes his heart pound, or even the way he charges his old switch just to help you play animal crossing on his own account, maintaining your village and neglecting his all to make a cute little house for you inspired by your pinterest board even though it takes him all night.

and to you, its clear: he’s upset at what you’ve done with the way he deflates even more than he already is. and it clicks. a routine and cycle you’ve unintentionally broken - you complaining about a level or rank you can’t get out of, he’ll listen and ask you about it the next day when youre back at his house, and he’ll fix it just as he always down: an unspoken agreement really.

“sorry sei… i still can’t clear the next level.. help me seiiii…” and suddenly he’s back lying right on your pillowy thighs: the way his eyes that was just seconds ago filled with intensity that you think simply doesn’t fit his face closes with comfort as you massage his scalp again with his fingers, the way his face smushes against your thighs comfortably rather than the weird feeling of him hovering on your thigh as though he wanted to get up, the way his hands no longer grip your phone tightly and instead holds your hand, fitting it right in perfectly.

“kay… its not bothersome with you..” he says, a confession of love from himself. he’ll never find it annoying if its you: he thinks he would play the dinosaur game from having no internet for hours on end if you liked watching him play it, he thinks he’d fight against the same boss for even days straight if you said you needed the materials for it for your character, and he knows he will most definitely help you finish any level you can’t. and something he wont say, a quiet confession springs in his mind: he loves you and most definitely he loves to play for you. and based on you willingly passing him your phone, maybe, just maybe, he wont give in to his impulses and actually find that guy - only shooting daggers at him that sends a shiver down his spine when he waits outside your class for you to release after school.

rin itoshi:

its not the first time rin felt this pang in his chest: he felt it when his older brother kicks the ball to any other member of the football team to shoot for the goal, he felt it when his teammates seems to be able to shoot he ball even more accurately than he does, he felt it when his brother praised yoichi instead of him. he’s always regarded that feeling as something football related: he’s never felt too much emotions outside of his passion and hobbies either way - but lately, he thinks he feels it a lot whenever he’s with you. perhaps, the seed from before blue lock has started blooming: the day you boarded the bus with him to the facility that was hours away from yours and his house that made his cheeks stain with pink as he sits right beside you, eating the filling breakfast you made for him, beaming at him so brightly as you wave him goodbye that makes him hesitate for the first time in his life.

and right now, he doesn’t get it. its not like there’s a lack of chocolates at his desk, if anything its quite the opposite. there’s practically a mountain of chocolates of different variety that would surely fulfill his secret sweet tooth - from dark chocolate in a heart shape mold bought from a fancy shop, from milk chocolates in squares sprinkled with heart shaped sweet bits on top, or even strawberries dipped in white chocolate. and yet, if looks could kill, that guy who’s holding YOUR chocolate box would have died, guts spilled right on the classroom door like those cliche horror games he plays. rin doesn’t get it: its not as if youre close witht that guy,youre his seat partner for all the years you’ve spent together since kindergarten, and he’s sure that that guys no one special right? and its out of character when rin thinks harder about a nobody in his class: do you like band kids like that lame guy? (he did learn the guitar for fun when he was younger, should bring it out from under his bed again?) do you like guys who are a little better at math? (maybe he should study for this weeks math quiz he thinks) or do you like guys who have leadership roles? (he’ll ask to be captain of the football team, its obvious anyways, he’s the best in this dull football club in his school)

usually, when he feels this same pang in his chest, he ignores it, keep mum about it and just work harder instead until the glass shards leave his heart - and yet he can’t do that strangely despite the routine between you two staying: where you and him sit together at the back of the class, playing your phone at the back oops the class unbeknownst to the teacher, giggling and whispering about whatever, your feet kicking his occasionally from the lack of distance that makes his face a little pink. yet, here he is eyeing that last chocolate underneath your table, its unlike the others he noted - unlike the mini chocolate cup you passed to that guy who he wishes to punch simply because of the smug smirk that was plastered on his face, unlike the small chocolate bars you presented to the other girls in the class, and even more special definitely from the chocolate candies you sneak into both his and yours mouth during class. its heart-shaped, reminiscent of the other chocolate now angrily thrown into one plastic bag that he plans to eat whilst crying about this the second he reaches home, a ribbon tied messily clearly with much effort too, and even pasted mini heart papers.

and its not until recess when youre alone with rin in class as per routine, everyone leaving for lunch does he do something about it for the first time in his life about this nagging and tugging feeling that makes him feel like a little kid again. and it just might have been the universe way of telling the two of you how connected you two are: as you struggle to find the courage to give him the slightly burnt chocolate brownies inside the heart shaped box.

“i.. like you.” “f-for you rin..!”

its simultaneous, at the exact same time, where the clock struck 1:00pm.

the confession he’s kept all these years, since the first day he’s met you at kindergarten where you two practically were fixed at the hips ever since: seat partners since primary school all the way up until now where youre both now seventeen and about to go to university and him to become a professional football player soon. ten years - ten years of looking at you as if he’s so far away when youre with anyone but him as he feels the friendship bracelet around his wrist for reassurance, ten years of writing confession letters after confession letters and poetries only to rip them all apart, yelling into his pillow and kicking his feet like a maiden in love, ten years of looking at you pass chocolates every single time during valentines except to him. its unlike rin, he’s never been good at expressing himself, believing in action over words - the way he carries your files and extra bags after school, the way he always listens and remembers what you say and even buy things you’ve mentioned offhandedly with his own pocket money, the way he never hesitates to carry you back home even when his leg is all jelly from football practice that he doesn’t tell you.

and its the same for you. the valentine gift you’ve made for him all these years: spanning from chocolate chip cookies you’ve made, to macrons you bought for him from his favourite bakery, or even his favourite blueberry pie your mother bought you - and yet all left underneath the table, secretly placed back in your bag for you to eat it whilst crying about your cowardice. and you hate it: these ten years of watching him carry a plastic bag full of physical confessions without any interest, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth even when youre staying over and opening a pack of these chocolates when you’re hungry, these ten years of looking bitterly at the friendship bracelet that is nothing more than a bitter reminder of how you’ll never be more because of your own cowardice, these ten years of looking at rin accept everyone’s chocolates but yours.

and for the first time in years, rin thinks it’s just right - when he places his lips on yours, melting into this sweet kiss with the brownie in his mouth. and he thinks you might just taste sweeter than the brownie melting between the two of yours mouth.

reo mikage:

he doesn’t get this tight feeling wrapping like thorns around his heart - seeing you so close with a classmate, smiling as he seems to be teaching you something through the windows of your classroom. it’s clearly not the exhaustion from climbing all the way from his class at the first level to yours at the fourth with this being the millionth time hes done this like a instinct every time the bell rings, its not the way your hands seems to linger so close to his practically touching someone’s else hands that gets reo sweating cold beads of sweat down his neck, and its not jealousy at how someone else might just be better than him. realistically he knows, you’re probably just having difficulties in your academics, a normal human thing but he can’t help the bitter bile that rises to his mouth - he can teach you too evident from the library dates where he helps you go through your homework and teach you the same concepts like hes made for it and hes definitely better than that classmate right? hes smarter, he tops the class every single exam without fail with his name always plastered on the results sheet as number one, he’s much more charming he would like to believe with your smile always reaching your eyes that he adores, and he’s much more useful with the way he can teach you whilst helping you with other things like while buying you food on his phone, fixing your broken pens, or something. he swallows the bitter bile, walking into the practically empty class with just you and that.. classmate, scruntising his every detail in his mind all whilst putting on the charming facade hes too used to having on - one that you can tell by the furrowing of your eyebrows at him as he grabs a chair and slides it beside you as though looking at your homework.

“haven’t i taught you this before?” its petty, he knows, its quite literally a new chapter, one that he knows your class just started on. but he thinks it does the job when he sees your classmate suddenly feel uncomfortable - perhaps its the tone of his voice that underlies irritation clearly meant for him, perhaps its the subtle passive aggressive smile aimed at him, or perhaps its the intimidation of having reo mikage right next to you clearly upset with you. he doesn’t really enjoy the title placed on him, if anything sometimes he loathes the reputation that comes with his family name, with people looking at him as only that and never as reo - but just this time does he thank the stars for his luck.

“huh?” he can tell, youre confused, and he thinks youre just so oblivious or maybe hes just weirdly jealous of something so insignificant that even your brain can’t comprehend him at all. but he doesn’t mind it as he glanced sideways at your classmate - awkwardly and quickly packing his bag, leaving just you and reo sitting at your desk.

and its awkward silence, with him looking at your homework that he just received just an hour ago and hasn’t started on too, and you looking confused at him. its not unfamiliar to see reo in your class, its practically routine at this point, except he usually just stands outside until youre done with packing your bag, taking it right from your hands the second you step out of your class.

“so.. who was that?” he cant help the way his voice suddenly sounds so soft, as though its about to crack, as if hes about to cry. he tries to clear his throat to even it out, and even so, he definitely sounded a little too out of character - out of character for how he presents himself: nothing short of perfect. and he knows youve caught it, the cats out of the bag, when he sees the sides of your mouth tug up a little as you zip your bag.

“just a classmate reo really…” your voice a little teasing, looking at him knowingly, as his hands tug at your bag, slinging it around his right shoulder where it should belong. and he thinks its alright: the way you ruffle his hair that feels just so right that he leans in even closer and even bends down a little like a dog desperate for a pat, the way you beam at him that he knows is meant only for him that shifts the rest of your class to be nothing more than just a blur, the way your bag fits snugly on his shoulder as it was meant to be.

“yeah? it better be!~” he chirps, jealousy no longer gripping onto him like a chain tugging at his neck, reminiscent of the feeling he feels in his stuffy and restrictive home. and he knows it’ll be that way until the end of time: the way your hands tugs at his tightly as though you never want to let go either, the way you look at him as though he’s your entire world, the way you understand him even through a few words. soulmates, maybe, and perhaps he has no reasons to ever feel this bitter feeling that burns his throat.

[elikajinnie]

HIHI i read your jungwon hogwarts au just now ( i had been planning to read it for a while now ) AND IT WAS SO GOOOOODD 😭🫶🏻‼️ also your ni-ki ones were insanely good too 🥹🫶🏻 i wanted to ask maybe if you have time could write another jungwon hogwarts au? Sorry if its too much ! Thank you forr reading and have a great day/night ahead ^^

Hogwarts in Fur - Y.J

OMG THANK YOU!! This made my day fr. I am very happy that you liked them! its not too much! really :) have a great day and please enjoy this one <3

P: Hufflepuff!Jungwon X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Love Confessions.

Synopsis: After years of secretly admiring your brother's friend Jungwon, a mysterious and overly affectionate black cat appears just after Jungwon goes missing. Now who does this cat belong to? Why does your brother seem nervous? And most importantly, where has Jungwon gone?

masterlist

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

You weren't best friends with your brother. As siblings, you had a tendency to bicker, picking fights over the smallest things—whose turn it was to set the table, who had borrowed whose stuff without asking. It was just how things were, and neither of you made much effort to change that. So when the Hogwarts acceptance letters arrived for the both of you, the thought of being sorted into the same house made you cringe.

You couldn’t imagine anything worse than sharing a common room with him, dealing with his sarcastic comments every day, or worse, being seen together like you were… friends. Fortunately, fate, or the Sorting Hat, was on your side. He ended up in one house, and you in another. The relief was instant. You thought that would be the end of it, and the two of you would drift along separate paths without much need to cross each other’s.

At least, that’s what you thought until you saw one of his friends.

It was always by chance—maybe you were walking through the courtyard or passing through the Great Hall—but there he was, standing next to your brother, laughing with that damn dimpled smile. His laugh was low and smooth, something that caught your ear and refused to let go. Your gaze lingered longer than you’d care to admit, taking in the confident way he leaned against the stone wall, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief.

And you couldn’t help but wonder why your brother, of all people, got to be friends with him.

You didn’t really mean to end up meeting your brother’s friend—definitely not after you’d spent years pointedly ignoring their group whenever you saw them in the halls. But here you were, sitting in the library with your brother, who had been pestering you for days—begging, really—about helping him in Transfiguration. At first, you ignored him, telling him to figure it out on his own like everyone else.

He had struggled with some spell that McGonagall had been drilling the class on, and though you initially refused (because who really wanted to give up their free time to help their sibling?), his relentless begging finally wore you down.

"Okay, okay, fine!" you had snapped. "I’ll help you, just stop whining about it."

Now, watching your brother fail the same transformation for the tenth time, you were starting to regret your decision. "No, you’re flicking your wand too fast," you muttered, rubbing your temple. "It’s not a race, slow down and say the incantation clearly."

He groaned, clearly frustrated. "I am doing it right! You’re just a bad teacher!"

You shot him a sharp look, your patience already worn thin from the past hour of back-and-forth bickering. "Oh really? So it’s my fault you can’t turn a teacup into a tortoise?"

He slumped further into the chair, muttering under his breath while absentmindedly tapping his quill against the desk. You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as he lazily flicked through his notes without even looking at you.

“Are you even paying attention?” you snapped, crossing your arms. “Or is this just a waste of both our time?”

He shrugged, not even bothering to lift his head. "I’m trying! It’s not like you’re explaining it any better than Professor McGonagall does."

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose in frustration. "Maybe if you focused for five seconds instead of acting like this is some kind of joke, you’d actually get it."

He shot you a glare, the frustration clearly mutual. "Maybe if you weren’t so bossy, I wouldn’t have to!"

"You’re the one who begged me for help!" you snapped back. "If you don’t want it, just say so and I’ll leave."

For a second, there was silence between you, both of you glaring at each other.

“Hey, sorry to barge in. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

You looked up, and there he was - Yang Jungwon. He was standing next to your brother, a relaxed grin on his face as if he hadn’t just disrupted the painfully slow progress of your study session.

Your brother immediately perked up. “Oh, hey, Jungwon! I’ll be done in like… five minutes?” he said, casting a hopeful glance at you.

Jungwon’s eyes flickered over to you, curiosity lighting them up. “Oh, I didn’t know you had a tutor,” he teased, sliding into the chair opposite yours without waiting for an invitation.

You opened your mouth to retort that you weren’t a tutor, but your brother jumped in first. “Yeah, lucky me, right?” he said, grinning cheekily, ignoring the way you glared at him.

Jungwon chuckled softly, leaning back as though he had all the time in the world. “I’m Yang Jungwon, by the way,” he said, his gaze finally locking onto yours, and you couldn’t help but notice the warmth in his voice.

“Yeah, I know,” you replied, trying to sound indifferent but feeling a little thrown off. You hadn’t expected him to show up here of all places.

“So, what are you two studying? Transfiguration, right?” Jungwon asked, glancing at the textbook.

“Trying to,” you said, emphasizing the word as you shot a look at your brother. “Though, he’s not exactly the best student.”

Jungwon laughed, the sound easy and light, and you found yourself listening a little too closely. “I’m sure you’re doing fine. You always manage, don’t you?” he teased your brother, though his eyes kept flickering back to you. There was something in his gaze—curiosity, maybe, or amusement—that made it hard to look away.

You tried to refocus on your brother, but the atmosphere had shifted with Jungwon’s presence. And your brother seemed all too happy to let the tutoring session come to an abrupt end. Before you realized what was happening, he had packed up his things, slipping his quill and parchment into his bag with quick, practiced movements.

“Wait—hey, we’re not done,” you said, standing up from your seat, your voice carrying more frustration than intended.

Your brother shot you a cheeky grin, already halfway out the door with Jungwon by his side. “I’ll finish it eventually!" he called back, not even glancing over his shoulder.

You opened your mouth to protest further, but it was too late. The door shut with a soft click, and the sounds of their fading footsteps echoed down the hallway. You let out an exasperated sigh, sinking back into your chair, the weight of unfinished work settling on your shoulders.

Just as you were about to lay your head on the desk in defeat, you caught sight of Madam Pince, walking by with her usual stern expression. She stopped next to your table, clutching a book in her hands. “It’s a struggle, isn’t it?” she said, her voice softer than expected, though there was an unmistakable air of disapproval about her.

You blinked at her, still frustrated. “Yeah, something like that.”

Without another word, she handed you a thick, worn-out book you’d requested earlier—one you had specifically asked for to help your brother with his Transfiguration problems. The irony wasn’t lost on you as you stared at the cover.

"Here’s the book you asked for," Madam Pince added. "I hope it helps."

"Thanks," you muttered, though your enthusiasm had drained. The moment she left, you groaned and let your head fall onto the desk with a thud.

Typical. Your brother was off having fun while you were stuck with the work he was supposed to be doing. Just your luck.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

The next day, you headed to the courtyard, spotting your brother lounging with a group of his friends—Jungwon included. You took a deep breath, trying to suppress the irritation bubbling up as you approached. In your hand was a rolled-up assignment for Transfiguration that he had yet to complete, and you weren’t about to let him get away with neglecting it.

“Hey,” you said, walking up to the group and dropping the assignment on his lap. “You need to finish this by tomorrow, or Professor McGonagall’s going to have your head.”

Your brother groaned dramatically but grabbed the parchment anyway. You were about to turn and leave when you noticed some of his friends eyeing you, their teasing smiles quickly making you uncomfortable.

“Hey, Y/N” one of them said with a sly grin. “Why haven’t we seen you around more? You should join us sometime.”

Another chimed in, leaning in slightly. “Yeah, maybe we could get to know you better. Bet you’re a lot more fun than your brother.”

You rolled your eyes, already tired of their attempts. But before you could respond, your brother cut in sharply. “Oi, knock it off. She’s off-limits,” he said, his tone protective. “No guy’s good enough for her.”

As much as you appreciated his overprotective attitude sometimes, this was one of those moments when it was more annoying than endearing. You crossed your arms and shot him a pointed look. “Excuse me? I decide when I want a boyfriend, and I sure don’t need your approval.”

He scoffed, leaning back as if he had the upper hand. “Yeah, well, you can’t just pick any random guy. I’m only looking out for you.”

You raised an eyebrow, your annoyance growing. “Looking out for me? You’re just trying to scare off everyone. I can handle myself, thank you very much.”

The bickering began to escalate, the two of you going back and forth as his friends watched with barely concealed amusement. It wasn’t until Jungwon, who had been watching quietly, stood up and approached that the argument came to an abrupt halt.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Jungwon said with a calm smile, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He grabbed your wrist, gently but firmly. “I’m walking her to her next class.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but before you could protest, he was already leading you away from the group. “You—wait, what—”

“Trust me,” he interrupted smoothly, glancing at you with that same easy smile, “you’ll thank me later.”

You reluctantly let him guide you through the courtyard, your brother’s protests fading behind you. As you neared the Charms classroom, Jungwon slowed his pace, releasing your wrist and turning to face you.

“Well, here we are,” he said, his smile softening. Then, with a teasing tone, he added, “Though if you want me to walk you to class more often, all you have to do is ask.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling your face heat up slightly at the unexpected flirtation. “Very smooth,” you muttered, trying to sound unimpressed, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Jungwon grinned, taking a step back. “I aim to please. See you around.” And with a casual wave, he walked off, leaving you standing at the door, your heart racing just a little faster than before.

The day after, you found out your brother had failed his Transfiguration lesson—again. Much to your dismay, you heard about it through one of his friends who casually mentioned it in passing, as though it was no big deal.

When you finally confronted him in the courtyard, his response was as nonchalant as ever.

“I failed, so what?” he said, leaning back and shrugging. “I’ll figure it out eventually. It’s just one lesson.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “You do realize that if you fail again, Professor McGonagall will send a letter to our parents, right?”

That seemed to get his attention, but only for a moment. He still didn’t look particularly bothered, which only made your frustration grow.

“And,” you continued, eyes narrowing, “you won’t be allowed to continue playing Quidditch.”

His expression changed instantly, the casual attitude melting away as panic settled in. “Wait, what?”

You smirked slightly, leaning in as if to drive the point home. “Yeah. You think professor McGonagall’s going to let you get away with failing and still keep your spot on the team? Good luck with that.”

Your brother sat up straight, the reality of the situation sinking in. “But—Quidditch is… I can’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely worried now. “If I can’t play Quidditch, I’ll lose my spot for next year, and… and Mum and Dad will kill me if they find out I’ve been failing.”

You raised an eyebrow, enjoying the shift in power. “So maybe you should’ve taken our last session a little more seriously, huh?”

He shot you a desperate look, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. “Alright, fine! I get it. I messed up.”

You tilted your head, waiting for the inevitable.

“I need your help,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I can’t afford to fail again, not with Quidditch on the line.”

You were just about to refuse—after all, you had warned him plenty of times before. But before you could get the words out, he pleaded, “No distractions this time. No friends, no tricks. Just me, focused, I swear. Please.”

You paused, arms crossed as you studied him. His expression was serious, and the desperation in his eyes was hard to ignore. It was a rare sight—your brother begging for your help without any sarcasm or half-hearted promises.

“I don’t know,” you said, pretending to think it over. “What’s in it for me?”

He groaned but quickly recovered, realizing this was his last shot. “Anything! I’ll do anything you ask, alright? Just… please.”

You smiled smugly, relishing the moment. “Anything, huh?”

He nodded frantically, looking like he’d sell his soul at this point if it meant saving his Quidditch spot.

“Alright,” you said, a slow grin spreading across your face. “I’ll help you… but I’ll be cashing in on that ‘anything’ promise sooner or later.”

He sighed in relief, though there was a hint of hesitation in his expression. “Fine, whatever you want.”

You smirked, feeling the upper hand. “Deal.”

True to his word, your brother showed up to the library that evening, looking more focused than you’d ever seen him when it came to schoolwork. He set his books and wand down on the table, already prepared to start, though you could still sense a bit of reluctance in his posture.

“Alright,” you said, sitting across from him and opening the Transfiguration book to the chapter on animal transformations. “No distractions. No shortcuts. You’re going to get this right if it’s the last thing I do.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I’ll try.”

You pulled out a teacup, placing it in front of him as you tapped your fingers on the table. “Okay, you know the incantation. Focus on the form of the animal, not just the spell. Visualize it fully.”

He sighed, gripping his wand tightly. “I know, I know. It’s just… hard.”

“Not an excuse,” you said, not letting him off the hook. “Go on.”

He took a deep breath, aiming his wand at the teacup. “Vera Verto.”

The teacup shook slightly, wobbling on the table before it started to change shape—slowly, very slowly. For a moment, it seemed like he might actually do it. But just as the teacup began to take the form of a small tortoise, it reverted back to its original state with a sharp clink.

He groaned, slumping back in his chair. “See? I can’t do it.”

“You’re close,” you said, keeping your voice calm even though you were starting to get frustrated too. “You’re overthinking the spell. Don’t rush it—focus on the animal’s form.”

He sat up straighter, taking a deep breath. “Okay, okay… let’s try again.”

Over the next hour, you guided him through the steps again and again, watching as he tried—and failed—repeatedly to get the teacup to fully transform. Each time, it got closer, but never quite there. Either the tortoise would have an odd shape, or the spell would falter halfway through.

Your patience started wearing thin, but you pushed through, determined to help him succeed.

“Look,” you said, leaning over the table and pointing at the page in the book. “You’re rushing the incantation. Break it down, slower this time.”

He nodded, taking your advice seriously for once. He aimed his wand at the teacup again, this time speaking the spell more carefully, enunciating each word with deliberate focus. “Vera Verto.”

The teacup quivered again, its edges shifting into a shell. Slowly, the handle morphed into a tiny, clawed foot. You both watched as the tortoise’s form finally solidified. A small, slow-moving tortoise now sat on the table, blinking up at you.

Your brother’s face lit up in surprise, his mouth falling open. “I did it?”

You couldn’t help but smile, despite yourself. “You actually did it.”

He beamed, picking up the tortoise carefully as if he couldn’t believe it. “Finally! Merlin’s beard, I didn’t think I’d ever get it.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, leaning back in your chair, “you only got there because I was a great teacher.”

He snorted, setting the tortoise back on the table. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully swatting him on the arm. “Don’t push your luck. Remember, you still owe me for this.”

He winced, but a grin tugged at his lips. “Alright, alright.”

You smirked, already plotting.

The next day, your brother returned from his Transfiguration class with a huge grin plastered on his face. He practically burst into the Grand Hall, eyes alight with excitement, and you knew immediately that something had gone well.

“I did it!” he exclaimed, rushing over to where you were seated. “I actually did it!”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your book aside. “Wait, you actually passed?”

“Not just passed,” he said, standing tall, practically puffing out his chest. “I nailed it! McGonagall didn’t even have to correct me once. She even said it was one of the best transformations in class!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how giddy he looked, the tension from the past few days completely gone from his shoulders. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d pull it off, honestly.”

“Hey, I’m not that hopeless,” he shot back, but his smile stayed wide and bright. “But seriously, thanks to you. If you hadn’t made me practice all those times, I’d still be failing.”

You smirked, giving him a mock-salute. “Well, that’s what good teachers do. And, you know, you can keep playing Quidditch now, so I guess that’s a bonus.”

At the mention of Quidditch, his excitement seemed to double. “Yes! Merlin, if I had to quit the team, I’d be dead. There’s no way I’m telling Mum and Dad that I failed Transfiguration and got kicked off the team.”

You chuckled, watching him bounce on his feet like an overexcited first-year. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Now you can focus on your matches without McGonagall breathing down your neck.”

He nodded eagerly, practically vibrating with joy. “Exactly! I can’t wait for the next practice. I’m going to crush it.”

You shook your head, amused at how his mood had completely flipped from just a few days ago. “Just remember to keep up with your studies, alright? I’m not going to bail you out every time you forget to do your homework.”

He gave you a mock pout. “What, you’re not going to tutor me forever?”

“Not a chance,” you said, laughing. “I’ve got my own work to focus on. You’ll just have to survive on your own from now on.”

He groaned dramatically but was clearly too happy to complain for real. “Fine, fine. But seriously, thanks. I owe you big time.”

You grinned, leaning back in your chair. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As he ran off to tell his friends the good news, you couldn’t help but feel a little proud of him. Despite all the bickering and the endless complaints, he had finally pulled it off. And, in a way, it felt like a win for both of you.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

The courtyard was buzzing with students enjoying a rare free afternoon, and your brother, now full of confidence from his recent success in Transfiguration, had taken it upon himself to show off his newfound skills. With a small group gathered around him, he cast spell after spell, transforming objects into animals with exaggerated flair. He was basking in the attention, especially from his friends, who cheered every time he succeeded.

"Watch this!" your brother said proudly, aiming his wand at a stray quill. “Vera Verto!”

The quill shifted into a small, fluffy rabbit, hopping around on the cobblestone, much to the crowd’s delight. He grinned, feeling invincible now that he had McGonagall’s praise under his belt. Emboldened, he attempted another transformation, but his next spell shot out of his wand faster than he anticipated. It veered wildly across the courtyard, completely missing the intended target.

The errant spell flew in an arc, headed straight for the far end of the courtyard where Jungwon had just been walking, completely unaware of the chaotic show your brother was putting on. Before anyone could react, the spell hit Jungwon square in the back.

In a flash, the Hufflepuff boy wasn’t standing there anymore.

Instead, a small black cat with bright, intelligent eyes stood in his place, looking confused for a split second. Jungwon—or rather, the cat that had been Jungwon—flicked his tail and darted away before anyone in the crowd could notice the commotion. He vanished between the hedges that lined the courtyard, disappearing into the maze of gardens beyond.

Your brother stood frozen for a moment, his eyes wide as he realized what had happened. One of his friends nudged him, oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. "Nicely done! What did you hit this time?"

“Uh…” he stammered, looking in the direction where Jungwon had been, but the cat was long gone. “I think I might’ve just… hit someone.”

One of the other students burst into laughter, thinking it was part of the fun. “What, you turned someone into a rabbit again?”

Your brother didn’t laugh. “No. Worse. I think I just turned Jungwon into a cat.”

The laughter around him died down quickly as the reality of what he’d done began to settle in. “What do you mean, a cat?” one of his friends asked, their tone becoming more serious.

But before your brother could respond, he was already hurrying toward the edge of the courtyard, scanning the area where Jungwon had disappeared. “We have to find him before anyone else does!” he muttered to himself, a growing sense of dread filling him.

However, Jungwon—or the cat—was nowhere in sight. He had bolted the moment the spell hit, and now he had vanished without a trace, leaving your brother to deal with the consequences of his reckless display.

The problem was, turning someone into an animal was one thing—but reversing it? That was a whole different level of Transfiguration.

Your brother searched frantically, darting around the courtyard and calling out for Jungwon. “Jungwon! Where are you?” he shouted, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. The laughter from his friends had faded, replaced by concerned murmurs as they began to realize the seriousness of the situation.

He sprinted around the corner where Jungwon had vanished, scanning every nook and cranny, every shadow cast by the towering castle walls. “Come on, this isn’t funny!” he pleaded, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Jungwon would pop out from behind a bush or the edge of a statue, ready to reveal that it had all been a prank.

But Hogwarts was vast, and as the minutes stretched on, the reality began to sink in. Jungwon—now a cat—had disappeared without a trace. Your brother ran a hand through his hair, panic rising within him. He couldn't afford to get caught for this.

Turning back to his friends, he lowered his voice, urgency clear in his tone. “Okay, listen. You can’t say anything about this. If any professors find out Jungwon is missing, we’ll all be in trouble. We need to find him before anyone notices.”

His friends exchanged worried glances but nodded in agreement. They understood how serious the situation was. “Right,” one of them said, trying to lighten the mood, though the tension was palpable. “Let’s just act like we’re studying for the next couple of hours. If we can’t find Jungwon, maybe he’ll come back on his own.”

Your brother nodded, but doubt gnawed at him. What if he didn’t? He felt responsible—if he hadn’t been so eager to show off, Jungwon wouldn’t have been turned into a cat in the first place. “We’ll check all the usual spots,” he said, determination sparking in his eyes. “He might head for the Hufflepuff common room or the kitchens.”

They split up, your brother retracing his steps back through the castle, checking every corner, every common area, and even asking other students if they’d seen a small black cat. But the castle was sprawling and labyrinthine; the longer he searched, the more overwhelmed he felt.

As the minutes turned into an hour, frustration bubbled up inside him. “This is pointless!” he muttered under his breath, leaning against a wall in a deserted corridor. “How could I let this happen?”

After another fruitless round, he finally returned to the courtyard, panting slightly. His friends were gathered in a huddle, whispering amongst themselves, and he felt a flicker of hope. “Did you find anything?”

One of his friends shook his head. “No sign of him anywhere. It’s like he just vanished.”

Your brother sighed, frustration and guilt mingling in his chest. “If we don’t find him soon, it’s only a matter of time before someone notices he’s missing from class. Professor McGonagall will have our heads.”

Just then, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He turned, but it was only a crow flitting across the courtyard, cawing loudly. Your brother’s heart sank. Hogwarts was just too big; how could he possibly find Jungwon in a castle that could swallow whole entire groups of students?

With a defeated expression, he sank onto a bench, burying his face in his hands. “What am I going to do? I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

His friends joined him, unsure of how to comfort him. “We’ll figure it out,” one of them said, trying to reassure him. “We just need to keep looking.”

But deep down, your brother couldn’t shake the feeling that they were running out of time. He was the one responsible for turning Jungwon into a cat.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

You were sitting on the ground near the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the courtyard. The view was peaceful, and with a gentle breeze rustling the trees around you, it felt like a perfect moment to relax with your book.

Just as you settled into the first chapter, a small rustling sound caught your attention.. You looked up, surprised to see a small black cat making its way toward you, its greenish-gold eyes trained intently on you. The cat was sleek, with a slight glimmer to its fur under the sunlight, and it moved gracefully, weaving through the grass until it was at your feet.

“Hey there, little one,” you murmured, smiling as the cat sat down, regarding you with an almost curious gaze. Without hesitation, it leaped into your lap, settling down with a soft, contented purr.

The book forgotten, you brought a hand up to stroke its head, running your fingers gently over its soft fur. The cat’s purring grew louder, and it nestled into you, pressing its tiny head against your hand as if asking for more.

“Well, aren’t you a friendly one?” you said, chuckling as it leaned into your touch. You hadn’t expected it, but this little black cat was endearing itself to you quickly. Every time you paused in your petting, it would nudge its head under your hand, practically demanding more affection.

You laughed, charmed by the cat’s insistence. “Alright, alright, you win. More pets it is,” you murmured, resuming your gentle strokes.

The cat sprawled out across your lap, stretching its small limbs and settling back down with a sigh, its eyes half-closed as it drifted into a state of utter relaxation.

Minutes slipped by as you sat there, the black cat curled up happily in your lap, and any thoughts of returning to your book faded completely. “What’s a cat like you doing out here all by yourself?” you asked softly, smiling as it nudged its head up to meet your gaze. The cat simply blinked at you, its eyes clear and bright, before it began to purr even louder, pressing its small paws against your legs in a way that was almost… human-like.

You let out a small laugh, rubbing your thumb over the top of its head. “Alright, alright, you’re stealing all my attention,” you murmured. “I should be reading, but you’re just too cute.” The cat looked up at you with an expression that almost seemed like a smirk before closing its eyes again, purring louder than ever.

With a contented sigh, you leaned back against the tree, unaware that you’d just found Jungwon—and that he was thoroughly enjoying your company.

Eventually, the afternoon sun began to dip lower, and you knew it was time to return to the castle. With a sigh, you shifted in your seat, giving the cat a gentle nudge to encourage it off your lap.

“Alright, little one. I have to get back,” you murmured. The cat gave a low, disappointed-sounding meow, but leapt gracefully onto the ground as you stood. Just as you turned to gather your things, however, the cat started to weave between your ankles, pawing at your robes with insistent little meows.

You tried taking a step, but the cat was immediately at your heels, pressing against your leg as though it had no intention of letting you leave. When you moved forward, it darted up and batted playfully at your robes, trying to climb up and cling on as you walked.

“Oh, Merlin, you really don’t want me to go, do you?” you muttered, bending down to scoop the cat into your arms. As soon as you lifted it, it relaxed, its head nuzzling against your neck as it purred deeply, seeming more than content to be carried. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the soft fur warm against your skin and the gentle tickle of its whiskers along your throat.

“Alright, you can come with me,” you said with a soft chuckle, the cat’s wide eyes blinking up at you as though it fully understood. You held it securely, feeling the vibrations of its purring as it squished its head into the crook of your neck. It was surprisingly calming, and you found yourself enjoying the quiet presence of this affectionate little creature as you made your way back through the castle halls.

By the time you reached your common room, you had half a mind to keep it, especially as it snuggled closer, its whiskers brushing against your chin. “I’ll have to find your owner,” you whispered, though the cat gave no sign it wanted to leave your arms any time soon.

With a sigh, you stepped into the common room, glancing around at your fellow housemates and wondering if any of them had ever seen this black cat before. But as you felt the warmth of its tiny body snuggled against you, part of you wasn’t in any hurry to hand it over.

As you asked around the common room, you realized none of your housemates recognized the little black cat nestled in your arms. Some shrugged, while others asked to pet it, and each time you shook your head, a small part of you felt a guilty spark of relief. No one knew where it had come from, and no one seemed to be looking for it.

With the sky darkening outside and a long day behind you, you headed up to your dorm to change, gently setting the cat down as you pulled on your coziest clothes. No sooner had you settled onto your bed than the cat leapt up, its movements silent and smooth. It padded around your blankets, kneading the fabric with its tiny paws and purring so loudly you couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh, no, no—if the house-elves find fur on the bed, they’ll be mad” you muttered, making a half-hearted attempt to shoo the cat off your bed. But when it turned and met your gaze, its bright eyes watching you with an innocent curiosity, you found yourself softening. The cat tilted its head, curling up against your side, its eyes half-closed as if perfectly content in your presence.

“Fine, you can stay,” you sighed, scooting over to make a little more room. The cat wasted no time, settling down right next to you and resting its tiny head on the blanket as if it belonged there.

With each slow, deep rumble of its purr, a calmness settled over you. You rested a hand lightly on its back, feeling the softness of its fur under your fingers. Soon, its gentle kneading softened, and the rhythmic rise and fall of its breathing lulled you into a state of relaxation.

Just as your eyes were beginning to flutter closed, the cat shifted, moving to rest its head against your hand, a contented weight in the dim quiet of the room. You chuckled softly, feeling the warmth of the small creature by your side, and drifted into sleep, the cat’s purring accompanying you into peaceful dreams.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

Jungwon blinked, his new vision sharper in the dim light, taking in every detail of your sleeping face. The feline instincts were strong—comforting, even—but his human mind lingered just beneath them, stirring with a confusing blend of emotions.

When he’d first bolted from the courtyard, his mind had been clouded with panic. All he could think of was escaping, getting somewhere quiet, somewhere safe. But then he’d picked up on your scent—soft, familiar—and without a second thought, he’d followed it. His cat instincts hadn’t questioned why; they simply led him to you, to the one place that felt right.

Now, as he curled beside you, his heart pounded in a strange mixture of relief and guilt. He should be searching for help, finding someone who could reverse the spell and put an end to this humiliating predicament. But looking at you now, seeing the peaceful expression on your face and the faint smile gracing your lips, he felt something different.

You looked… happy. Content. The way you had opened your arms to him, stroking his fur and letting him stay close—it had made his heart race even in this small, helpless form. In the past, he’d admired you from a distance, always caught off guard by his nerves whenever you were near. But here, under the guise of this small, black cat, he was finally close to you without the hesitance.

He felt torn, his human logic telling him this was ridiculous—he had to find a professor, get back to normal, explain to you what happened. But another part of him—the soft purrs escaping without his control, the way his little paws kept kneading against the blanket—wanted to stay just a little longer. Just until the morning.

For now, he let himself settle into the comfort of your presence, letting his instincts guide him. After all, you looked far too pretty to disturb with a frown when you found out the truth.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

The days slipped by, and despite your best efforts, you found yourself no closer to finding the cat’s owner. You’d asked around, stopping classmates in the hall, mentioning the small black cat that had so readily taken up residence on your bed, but no one claimed it. Each time, you received the same answers—shakes of the head, puzzled expressions, a few amused smiles.

With every passing day, the cat became more of a fixture in your life. Each morning before leaving for class, you’d give him a little scratch behind the ears, feeling his soft purrs ripple through your hand. And each evening, you’d return to find him curled up in the same spot on your bed, his little form nestled in the blankets, his tiny paws tucked under his chest as if he owned the place. There was something comforting about his presence, and you noticed how he’d glance up at you with those intense, knowing eyes every time you walked in, as if he’d been waiting for you all day.

The cat—who you’d started calling “Onyx” in your head—seemed perfectly content. He’d stretch luxuriously when you arrived, basking in any attention you or your housemates would give him, blinking slowly and rubbing his head against your hand, as if he were marking you as his own. And he was endlessly spoiled by your housemates, who would sneak in to pet him whenever they could, laughing over his unusual attachment to you.

Meanwhile, your brother seemed on the verge of a complete breakdown. Every time you caught sight of him in the hallways, he was muttering under his breath, eyes darting around as if he expected Jungwon to materialize out of thin air. His friends could barely keep up with his frantic pace as he searched the school from top to bottom, interrogating classmates, making excuses to professors, and even peeking into the kitchens.

One afternoon, when you saw him dashing through the courtyard, you raised an eyebrow at him. “You look like you’re about to explode. What’s going on?”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. “Nothing, nothing—just… I lost something really important. And if I don’t find it soon, I’m going to be in so much trouble,” he said, casting a wary glance over his shoulder as though he expected it to appear any second.

You patted his shoulder, offering him a sympathetic smile. “Good luck, then. I’m sure you’ll find it,” you said, trying to reassure him. But you had no idea that the “lost item” he was so desperately searching for was happily snoozing on your bed, completely unaware of the chaos he’d left in his wake.

Jungwon, or Onyx, stretched lazily, content to continue napping in the warm scent of your blankets, savoring each gentle pet and scratching his cheek against your hand whenever you came close. His human instincts occasionally tugged at him, whispering that he should reveal himself, that he should find a way back to normal. But the comfort of your presence, the gentle affection, and the sound of your laughter as you spoke to him were too good to leave just yet.

Four days after you’d found the little black cat, it struck you that you hadn’t seen Jungwon around. Usually, you’d spot him at least once a day—sitting with your brother at meals, laughing with his Hufflepuff friends in the courtyard, or even catching him in the hallways. But now that you thought about it, he’d been strangely absent, his cheerful presence nowhere to be found.

Curious, you tracked down your brother between classes, catching him just as he was shoving books into his bag. “Hey, have you seen Jungwon? It’s been days. Is he alright?”

Your brother stiffened ever so slightly before glancing up with what he probably hoped was a casual look. “Jungwon? Oh, yeah, he’s… he’s fine. Just sick. Nothing to worry about.”

You raised an eyebrow at his rushed answer. “Really? I thought he’d usually be back by now. He’s not usually the type to miss this much class.”

“He’ll be back soon, don’t worry about it,” your brother said quickly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “He’s probably just lying low until he feels better.”

“Alright… well, tell him I hope he feels better,” you said, giving him a small smile before turning back to your own things.

Your brother nodded, though his face was tight with worry. But you didn’t notice his nervous glances, already distracted by the thought of getting back to “Onyx,” who was likely curled up on your bed, waiting for you. You didn’t give Jungwon’s absence much more thought, trusting your brother’s explanation, but you made a mental note to check in with Jungwon as soon as he returned.

When you slipped into your dorm room, carefully unwrapping the napkin bundle, the savory scent of chicken filled the air, and the cat immediately perked up. The moment you set the pieces down, he eagerly devoured them, tail flicking with excitement. You chuckled softly, watching as he polished off every last bite, licking his lips in pure satisfaction.

As you turned to grab your bag, Onyx suddenly jumped up, landing neatly on your shoulder. Startled, you reached up instinctively to hold him steady, and he nuzzled against you, purring loudly. You couldn’t help but laugh, scratching behind his ear. “You know I have to go, right?”

Onyx blinked at you, his bright eyes wide, and let out a small, soft meow, almost pleading. His paws lightly pressed against your chest as he settled into your arms, curling his tiny body closer as if he had no intention of letting you leave.

“Alright, alright…” you sighed, giving in as he snuggled into your embrace. Muggle Studies could wait, couldn’t it? What were a few facts about telephones compared to this soft, warm ball of fluff purring contently against you? You slipped off your shoes, set your bag down, and climbed onto your bed, pulling the blankets over the both of you as Onyx nestled against your shoulder, his purring a gentle hum in the quiet room.

As you traced gentle patterns along his fur, he stretched his little head up, his whiskers tickling your cheek as he nuzzled closer, eyes half-closed with contentment. The warmth of the moment filled you with a sense of peace, and you drifted off into a light nap, your arm curled protectively around him, wondering absently why this small creature felt so right here with you.

The following day, as you sat nestled in a corner of the library, flipping through your notes, your brother slid into the seat across from you, an odd look on his face. You glanced up, raising an eyebrow at his nervous expression.

“Hey, I need… um, a little help with something,” he started, tapping his fingers against the table.

You set your quill down. “Alright, spill it. What’s going on?”

He cleared his throat, glancing around as if worried someone might overhear. “I just… well, I wanted to know the incantation to reverse… an animal transformation. You know, from animal back to human.”

“An animal transformation?” you repeated, giving him a quizzical look. “Why would you need that? Unless…” You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve been practicing transfiguration spells on yourself or your friends.”

He waved his hand dismissively, though his nervous laugh didn’t help his case. “Nothing like that. I’m just… curious! Thought I’d get a head start, just in case we need it for class.” His voice was unconvincing, and you tilted your head, not buying it.

“Uh-huh. Right. So you just need a random incantation for a transfiguration reversal?” you pressed, crossing your arms.

“Exactly,” he said, nodding eagerly. “It’s really just for, you know, future knowledge.”

You weren’t convinced, but he was desperate, and you found yourself softening under his pleading gaze. “Fine, I’ll teach you. But you owe me—no, you owe me two favors for this.” You held up two fingers, your expression firm.

“Deal,” he said instantly, relief flashing across his face.

With a sigh, you gestured for him to take a seat beside you, flipping open your transfiguration notes. “Alright, listen carefully. The reversal incantation isn’t simple. You have to focus on the original form of the person and their essence before casting. If you don’t concentrate, it’ll either fail or, worse, only half-work,” you explained, watching as he nodded along, his expression tense.

As you practiced the incantation with him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this story. But, for now, you focused on teaching him the spell, repeating it until he could say it smoothly, his confidence growing with each repetition.

"Just… remember, don’t go using this on any poor creatures for ‘fun,’ alright?” you added as you finished up, giving him a stern look.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he replied, though his gaze darted away. You rolled your eyes, hoping he’d stick to his word.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

As the days stretched on, Jungwon felt the line between his human and feline instincts beginning to blur. He’d started feeling strange, odd urges pulling at him that he didn’t quite understand but felt impossible to resist. The need to chase things that moved quickly—flickering lights, loose threads, even the feathery tips of your quill as you wrote—all of it stirred a primal thrill in him. His ears perked up at the slightest sounds, and he found himself irresistibly drawn to the cozy comfort of curling up beside you.

At night, he’d stretch out over your stomach or chest, his paws kneading into you as he settled down. The warmth of your body and the steady rise and fall of your breathing soothed him, and he would close his eyes, purring loudly as he drifted off. During the day, whenever you studied in the common room, he would find a spot to settle between your thighs, his little head resting comfortably against your leg, peeking up at you whenever he wanted a little scratch behind the ears.

But the more he settled into his role as your personal shadow, the more possessive he became. If one of your male housemates so much as got too close, his eyes would narrow, his ears flattening as a low, warning hiss escaped him. His back would arch slightly, and they would back off quickly, shooting you wide-eyed looks as they muttered apologies. The second they were gone, Jungwon would leap up onto your shoulders, his tail flicking with satisfaction as he licked your cheek, snuggling against you as if to say, Mine.

When you wore oversized hoodies or sweaters, he couldn’t resist crawling under the soft, cozy fabric, his little head poking out at your collar. It was his favorite spot, snug and warm, and he’d curl up contentedly, letting out a rumbling purr every time you scratched his head. Your housemates couldn’t help but laugh, dubbing him “your son” and teasing you whenever he was glued to your side.

“He’s practically attached to you, isn’t he?” one of your friends laughed as Jungwon, true to form, climbed onto your lap and lay there, eyes half-closed in contentment.

You shrugged, petting him gently. “Guess he just knows he’s found someone who’ll spoil him.”

He would chase after loose threads from your clothes, batting them playfully with his paws as if they were the most fascinating toys in the world. His playful antics brought you endless joy; you often found yourself laughing as he pounced and rolled, completely entranced by his own reflection in a nearby window.

When nighttime fell and you settled into bed, Jungwon would curl up on your chest, his small, warm body rising and falling with each breath you took. In those quiet moments, he would gaze up at you with wide, adoring eyes, completely mesmerized. In his cat mind, you were the woman for him—his perfect companion. He would think about how soft your skin was and how lovely it was to be close to you, relishing the sound of your heartbeat beneath him.

He became clingier than ever, following you around the common room and weaving through your legs, his purring becoming a constant background noise in your life. If you left the room, he’d meow softly, almost in protest, as if urging you to come back. When you weren’t around, Jungwon would curl up on your bed, his eyes half-closed as he waited patiently for your return. Each time he heard the sound of the door opening, he’d perk up, tail flicking excitedly, ready to shower you with affection the moment you stepped inside.

If you were studying or hanging out with friends, Jungwon would find a way to squeeze into your lap or snuggle against your side, his soft fur inviting you to pet him.

He would often steal your attention, meowing softly until you looked down at him, his bright eyes pleading for affection.

Your pet owl, however, became a rare source of conflict. The moment you started cooing to it, stroking its feathers, Jungwon would watch with narrowed eyes, his gaze intent, as if he were sizing up a rival. He’d immediately trot over to you, swatting gently at your hand with his paw, a soft mrrp leaving his mouth as he demanded your attention. If you gave in, he’d snuggle close, basking in the affection as if he’d won some unspoken victory.

To everyone else, it was obvious you had somehow become this little black cat’s world.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

One crisp afternoon, you stepped out of your dorm with your housemates, the sun streaming through the tall windows of Hogwarts. You all laughed and chatted, excitement buzzing in the air as you discussed plans for the weekend. Just as you were about to leave the common room, one of your friends suddenly exclaimed, “Oh no! I forgot my Potions book!”

“I’ll be right back!” they called, dashing back inside the cozy room.

The rest of you continued down the corridor, blissfully unaware that the door had swung ajar, leaving just enough space for a curious little black cat to slip through unnoticed. Jungwon, feeling adventurous, seized the opportunity to dart after your friends, his instincts kicking in as he decided to trust his nose to find you. Your perfume—sweet and comforting—drew him in like a moth to a flame.

Navigating the familiar halls of Hogwarts, he quickly made his way through the bustling corridors, weaving past students and ignoring the occasional glance thrown his way.

Finally, he spotted you in the courtyard, nestled comfortably on a bench with your favorite book in hand. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows around you, and for a moment, Jungwon was mesmerized by how serene you looked, completely absorbed in your reading. He couldn’t help but let out a little meow, excitement bubbling up as he began to sprint toward you.

But just as he was about to reach you, your brother appeared out of nowhere, stepping directly into Jungwon’s path. The sudden block caught him off guard, and he skidded to a halt, a startled yelp escaping his mouth. Your brother crouched down, arms outstretched, attempting to scoop Jungwon up, but he had other plans.

With a quick flick of his paw, Jungwon hissed, his instincts kicking in as he squirmed to escape. “Hey! No!” your brother protested, eyes widening as he struggled to keep a hold on the wriggling black cat.

Jungwon protested, hissing and wriggling in his grip, desperately trying to escape. The sound was startling and unusual, catching the attention of several students nearby who turned to witness the scene unfolding, including yours.

“What’s happening?” you shouted, your heart dropping as you recognized the little black cat your brother was trying to grab. “Onyx!”

At the sound of your voice, Jungwon's ears perked up, and he whipped around to look at you, desperate for help. Before your brother could fully grasp him, Jungwon managed to twist free from his grip, leaping out of his hands and bounding straight into yours.

You caught him with a gasp, the soft weight of him settling against you instantly warming your heart. “What are you doing?” you exclaimed, cradling him protectively as you shot a glance at your brother. Jungwon meanwhile purred loudly, rubbing his cheek against your hand as if to say, Yes, this is exactly where I want to be.

“What’s going on?” you asked, concern lacing your voice as you glanced at your brother.

“Uh, it’s nothing, really,” he replied, attempting to brush off the situation with a half-hearted smile.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Come on, just tell me the truth.”

Your brother sighed, his shoulders slumping as he relented. “Okay, okay! The cat you’re holding... it’s Jungwon. I, um, accidentally turned him into a cat during Transfiguration practice.”

Your heart sank as you looked down at Jungwon, who was nestled comfortably against your chest, blissfully unaware of the chaos surrounding him. “Are you sure this is Jungwon?” you asked, concern lacing your voice.

He nodded vigorously, a hint of guilt flashing in his eyes. “I swear! It was an accident! I didn’t mean for it to happen, I just—”

With a deep sigh, you set Jungwon down gently, your mind racing. Pulling out your wand, you focused on the spell needed to reverse the transformation. “Alright, just hold still, Jungwon,” you instructed softly. “Reverso Animus!” you said clearly, watching as the familiar golden light enveloped Jungwon.

In an instant, the small black cat began to shimmer and shift, growing in size until you were staring at the unmistakable form of Jungwon himself. Your eyes widened in shock as he stood up slowly, looking at his hands, then down at his body as if he couldn’t believe he was back to normal.

“I’m back!” he exclaimed, a bright smile spreading across his face, laughter bubbling up as his friends and your brother rushed to surround him, excitement and relief evident on their faces.

“I’m so sorry, Jungwon!” your brother shouted over the commotion, his voice filled with a thousand apologies, clearly trying to make amends for his mistake. “I didn’t mean to!”

Jungwon squirmed in the midst of his friends, a frown tugging at his lips as he watched you walk away. His heart raced, the familiar urge to be near you pulling at him like a magnetic force. He tried to push through the throng of excited voices and laughter, reaching out for you with desperation, but his friends held him back, oblivious to the intensity of his need to follow.

“Come on, Jungwon! Celebrate with us!” one of them cheered, clapping him on the back, but Jungwon could barely muster a smile. His eyes remained locked on your retreating figure, the sight of you disappearing into the building stirring a pang of disappointment within him.

“Come on, Jungwon! You’ve got to tell us everything!” one of them exclaimed, laughing as they playfully tousled his hair. Another chimed in, “You’ve been a cat for days! We want the scoop!”

He felt the playful nudges and laughter of his friends, but they only served to heighten his frustration. No longer just a cat who sought warmth and comfort, he was a boy desperate for connection, with you. He bit his lip, glancing between your back and the cheerful faces surrounding him, feeling an overwhelming urge to break free.

When you finally disappeared through the doors, Jungwon’s heart sank. With a determined huff, he pushed past the clutches of his friends, murmuring a half-hearted excuse that went unnoticed amidst their excitement.

“Guys, I’ll be right back!” he called out, his voice firm as he took off in the direction you had gone.

He navigated the winding corridors of Hogwarts, his mind racing as he thought of all the things he wanted to say. I’m sorry for the chaos, he wanted to tell you. Thank you for changing me back, and more than anything, I love you.

However, as he rounded a corner near the Great Hall, he lost sight of you. The bustling crowd of students moved like a tide, and just like that, you were gone. A wave of defeat washed over him. He pushed through the throngs, glancing into classrooms and common areas, calling your name softly, but there was no response.

Frustration bubbled within him, mingling with disappointment. Why did I let them hold me back? he berated himself. He felt like a fool for not breaking away sooner, for not insisting on finding you right away.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned against the cool stone wall, he could picture the look of confusion on your face, the hurt in your eyes when you realized.

“I’ll find you tomorrow,” he promised himself, determination creeping back in. It would have to be enough for now. He knew he had to make it right, to explain everything and show you just how much he valued you.

Resolving to make a plan, Jungwon walked back to the common room, his mind swirling with ideas. He would catch you after class, or maybe in the courtyard where you often read. He’d find a way to make sure you heard him, no matter what it took. Tomorrow, he would not let anything—or anyone—get in the way of what he needed to say.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

The next day, the bustling halls of Hogwarts seemed to stretch endlessly as Jungwon searched for you, his heart pounding with anticipation. After your final class, he spotted you in the corridor, laughter spilling from your lips as you chatted with a few friends. His heart raced at the sight of you, and he felt a surge of determination.

Summoning every ounce of courage, he quietly approached from behind, his nerves buzzing. Before he could second-guess himself, he gently pulled you into an empty classroom, the door clicking shut behind you with a soft thud.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice steady yet filled with urgency, “we need to talk.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. The moment felt charged, a whirlwind of emotions swirling between you. Jungwon took a moment to gather his thoughts, his gaze unwavering. “I’ve wanted to say this for so long,” he continued, stepping closer. “I love being with you. These past days, especially with everything that happened when I was… you know, a cat. I didn’t realize just how much I needed you.”

Your heart raced at his confession. “Jungwon, I… I didn’t know you felt that way,” you stammered, surprised by the warmth blooming in your chest. The memories of cuddling with him as a cat rushed back—his soft purrs, the way he’d nuzzle against you, how safe and happy he made you feel. “You showed me your vulnerable side. I cared for you so much, and I want to be with you too, but I need some time to process everything that happened.”

Jungwon’s expression softened, understanding flooding his eyes. “I get it,” he said gently, taking a step closer. “But I want you to know how I feel. I loved every moment we spent together, even when I was just a cat. You were there for me, and it felt so real. It’s like I could finally be myself around you.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, the sincerity behind them washing over you like a warm tide, glancing down at your feet for a moment, feeling the weight of your feelings pressing on your chest. “It was confusing at first. But seeing you back as Jungwon… it feels so right.”

Jungwon stepped even closer, his hand brushing against yours, sending a spark of electricity up your arm. “I care about you so much, Y/N. It’s like you’re my safe place, and I want to be able to share everything with you, the good and the bad.”

His sincerity wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you couldn’t help but lean closer, feeling drawn to him in ways you couldn’t explain. “I feel that way too,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“We can take it slow, see where this leads us without rushing. I just want to be with you, no matter the form it takes.”

Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. You melted against him, feeling the tension dissolve in the comfort of his presence.

When you both pulled back slightly, Jungwon's expression turned serious. “If you ever feel unsure or need space, just tell me, okay? I want you to feel safe with me.”

You nodded, appreciating his sensitivity. “I promise.”

He smiled, a mixture of relief and affection lighting up his face.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

Over the next two days, your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Every moment was filled with thoughts of Jungwon, replaying your conversation in that empty classroom. You knew you had to make a decision, and every time you thought of him, your heart swelled with a sense of belonging and excitement.

Finally, the day arrived when you couldn’t hold it in any longer. After your last class, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you made your way through the bustling halls of Hogwarts, searching for him. When you spotted Jungwon leaning against a wall, laughing with a couple of friends, your heart raced.

“Hey, can we talk?” you called, trying to sound casual, though your nerves were anything but.

His gaze shifted to you, and the moment he saw you, his smile widened. “Of course!” He excused himself from his friends and walked toward you, the laughter fading as anticipation filled the air.

You took a deep breath, glancing down momentarily to gather your thoughts. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what we talked about the other day,” you began, feeling your heart race. “And I realized… I want to be together.”

Jungwon’s eyes lit up with joy, and before you could react, he stepped forward and twirled you around in an ecstatic hug. “Really? Are you serious?” he exclaimed, laughter bubbling in his voice.

You laughed along, feeling weight lift off your shoulders as you embraced the happiness of the moment. When he set you down, he looked into your eyes, a mixture of surprise and delight on his face. “I can’t believe this!”

His joy was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I just… I really like you, Jungwon. I’ve felt it for a while now.”

His expression softened as he stepped closer. “So, can I…?” He hesitated for a moment, then grinned cheekily. “Can I get a kiss?”

Your heart raced again, but you nodded, feeling a rush of excitement. You leaned in, and as your lips met, the world around you faded away. It was gentle at first, but as you melted into the kiss, it deepened, filled with all feelings you both shared.

When you pulled back, breathless and smiling, your thoughts suddenly turned to your brother. You remembered his protective stance, always claiming that no guy was good enough for you. The sudden wave of worry hit you, and you glanced down, biting your lip. “Um, so… about my brother…”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression. “What about him?”

You sighed, feeling a bit sheepish. “He can be a bit… overprotective. He’s probably going to have a lot to say about us being together. I just… I hope he doesn’t freak out or anything.”

Jungwon chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I think I can handle him. Besides, I’m the one who got turned into a cat. If anything, I should have some kind of clout, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “True, you do have a unique story. But still, I just don’t want him to think poorly of you.”

“Hey,” he said gently, lifting your chin so you met his gaze. “I promise I’ll do my best to win him over. I care about you, and I want him to see that. Plus, if he sees how happy you are, he might just come around.”

You nodded, comforted by his words. “You’re right."

With a playful grin, Jungwon wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Then let’s tackle this together. How about we talk to him after dinner? Just the three of us?”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Let’s do it.”

After dinner, you felt a mix of anticipation and nerves as you and Jungwon made your way to the courtyard to meet your brother. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the stone path as you approached the familiar spot where your brother usually liked to unwind.

He was leaning against a pillar, casually flipping through a book. When he noticed you both approaching, he closed it and set it aside, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “So, what’s the big news?”

You exchanged a glance with Jungwon, and he gave you a reassuring nod. “We wanted to talk to you about something important,” you began, your heart racing. “Jungwon and I are… well, we’re together now.”

Your brother’s expression shifted from curiosity to surprise, but instead of the angry outburst you feared, he broke into a smile. “Really? You two?”

You nodded, relief flooding through you. “Yeah, we just wanted you to know.”

To your astonishment, your brother’s smile grew wider. “Honestly, I couldn’t have picked a better guy for you. I trust Jungwon. He’s the only guy I know who’s worthy of you because I know he’ll treat you right.”

The weight lifted off your shoulders as joy washed over you. You turned to Jungwon, and without thinking, you both leaned in, sharing a sweet kiss under the moonlight. The moment was perfect—until your brother suddenly coughed, breaking the spell.

“Hey! No kisses in front of me!” he declared, mock annoyance in his tone, but there was a teasing glint in his eye.

You and Jungwon pulled back, laughter bubbling up between you. “Okay, okay,” you giggled, feeling warmth spread through you at your brother’s acceptance. “No kisses in front of you.”

With a playful grin, Jungwon stepped forward and pulled you into a warm hug. You melted into his embrace, feeling a sense of comfort and happiness enveloping you. “Thanks for being so cool about this,” Jungwon said softly, his breath tickling your ear.

Your brother crossed his arms, shaking his head in feigned disapproval. “Just keep the mushy stuff to a minimum around me, alright?”

You laughed again, feeling giddy. “We will, I promise.”

As you pulled back from the hug, you saw the genuine happiness in your brother’s eyes. “Just remember,” he added, a more serious tone creeping into his voice, "treat her right, alright?”

Jungwon nodded earnestly, a serious expression crossing his face. “I promise I will.”

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

Bonus!:

The day of one your brother's Quidditch match had arrived, and the atmosphere around the pitch was electric with excitement. You had made your way to the team tent, filled with an eagerness to support your brother. As you entered, the familiar scent of fresh grass and a hint of waxed wood filled the air, along with the chatter of the team gearing up for the game.

You found your brother pacing nervously inside the tent, his Quidditch gear scattered around him. The atmosphere was charged with excitement and anticipation, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. He looked up, surprise washing over his face when he saw you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

With a playful grin, you pulled out a bright yellow chicken costume from behind your back, waving it triumphantly. “I came to collect one of the favors you owe me!”

His eyes widened in disbelief, and he groaned dramatically. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You’re making me wear that? Right before the match?”

“Absolutely!” you teased, stifling a laugh. “A chicken mascot would really boost team morale. Just think of it as a strategic advantage.”

He shot you a look that could only be described as a mix of annoyance and resignation. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, snatching the costume from your hands. “Fine! But if I get ridiculed out there, I’m blaming you.”

“Hey, at least you’ll be memorable!” you shot back, unable to hold in your laughter as he started to put on the ridiculous outfit. The fluffy yellow feathers looked utterly absurd against his determined expression.

As he struggled to pull the costume over his Quidditch gear, you couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Come on, embrace your inner chicken! You’re gonna be the star of the show!”

“I’m going to be the laughingstock of the school!” he retorted, but you could see a hint of a smile tugging at his lips despite the exasperation.

Once he finally managed to get the costume on, you took a step back to admire the spectacle. He looked utterly ridiculous, and you burst into laughter, doubling over at the sight. “You make a great chicken! You’re gonna fly out there and peck the competition!”

“Very funny,” he grumbled, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone as he glanced in the mirror. “Alright, let’s just get this over with.”

“Just remember,” you said, suppressing another laugh, “you’ve got a chicken in your corner cheering you on. You’ll win for sure!”

With that, he rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile on his face. “I better not regret this,” he muttered as he headed out of the tent, his confidence bolstered by your playful energy.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

You and Jungwon stood in front of your brother, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “So, we have a bit of a favor to ask,” you said, trying to sound as innocent as possible despite the excitement bubbling up inside you.

Your brother looked at you skeptically. “What is it this time? Because I swear if it involves another chicken costume…”

“It’s nothing like that!” Jungwon interjected, stifling a laugh. “We want you to turn us into cats.”

Your brother blinked in disbelief, processing your request. “Seriously? You two want to be turned into cats? Why would you even want that?”

“Because it would be fun!” you replied, barely able to contain your excitement. “I promise, it’ll be worth it!”

He hesitated, clearly torn between disbelief and amusement. “And why would I even consider this?”

You exchanged a quick glance with Jungwon before speaking up again. “Remember that second favor you owe me. This counts, right?”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Fine! But if this backfires, I’m holding you both responsible.”

“Thank you!” you both chimed, practically bouncing on your toes with excitement.

With a sigh, your brother pulled out his wand, muttering the incantation under his breath. A warm light enveloped you and Jungwon, and suddenly you felt yourself shrinking, your limbs transforming as your human forms faded away. When the light dimmed, you looked around with wide eyes, realizing you were both small, furry creatures now.

Jungwon turned to you, his eyes sparkling with delight, and let out a soft, inquisitive meow. You mirrored his expression, feeling the softness of your new form and the thrill of being a cat. You nuzzled against him, your whiskers brushing against his fur, and instinctively, you both began to purr.

Your brother, now looking utterly baffled, shook his head in disbelief. “You two really went through with it…” he muttered, a mix of amusement and exasperation in his voice. “Just be careful, okay?”

But before he could say anything else, you and Jungwon turned your attention back to each other. Without a second thought, you dashed over to Jungwon, who had already curled up on a nearby cushion. He looked up at you with bright eyes, and you couldn’t resist the urge to snuggle up against him. You nestled into his warm side, feeling the comforting rhythm of his purring resonate against you. He responded by wrapping his paws around you, drawing you closer.

As the two of you settled into a cozy heap, Jungwon began to groom you, his rough tongue lapping at your fur in gentle strokes. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the soothing rhythm of his actions. You felt safe and content, purring softly as he continued to lick your fur, making you feel warm and loved.

Drifting off to sleep, you felt Jungwon shift slightly, wrapping his body around yours as if to protect you. He looked down at you, his eyes full of affection, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. You were just two cats, snuggled together, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment as you drifted off to sleep in the comfort of each other's warmth.

[moonlitstoriess]

The Cost of Deception- Azriel x fem!reader (2/3)

Summary: After years of silence, Y/N and Azriel unknowingly track the same target, only to find themselves face-to-face once more. Betrayal runs deep, and neither is willing to forgive, but the mission must come first—if they don’t destroy each other first.

See masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

Warnings: not proofread, SMUT MINORS DNI (i will mention when it starts and ends), mentions of trauma, fighting, angst, mentions of SA, still kinda toxic Azriel, injuries

Azriel had been up for hours. Sleep had evaded him, the tangled sheets of the too-small bed serving as a bitter reminder of his lack of control. He hated himself for what had happened the night before—for how easily he had given in to her. She had been a firestorm in his arms, all heat and anger, a perfect storm of fury and passion. And he’d matched her, moment for moment, letting the simmering tension they’d carried for years erupt into something raw and primal.

But it was a mistake. He knew that.

His shadows slithered around him, restless as his thoughts. The morning air was cool, biting against his skin as he packed their meager supplies with deliberate precision. Every movement was an effort to drown out the memory of her body, the feel of her beneath him, the taste of her curses and her lips all at once.

The soft rustle of sheets behind him told him she was waking. He didn’t turn. He couldn’t. Not yet.

“Already up?” her voice broke the quiet, low and husky from sleep.

Azriel didn’t pause, his tone colder than the air. “We leave in ten minutes.”

He heard her shift, the sound of her feet hitting the floor. She didn’t say anything for a moment, and in the silence, he allowed himself a glance.

She looked… different in the soft morning light. No less fierce, but there was something raw about her, a vulnerability he didn’t want to acknowledge. Her hair was tousled, her expression guarded, but her eyes—gods, those eyes. They betrayed her for a heartbeat, flashing with hurt before they iced over.

“Right,” she said flatly, turning away to gather her things. “Wouldn’t want to waste time.”

The words were casual, but he could feel the edge in them, sharp enough to cut. He deserved it. He’d known that last night would hurt her, and he’d done it anyway.

His jaw tightened as he turned back to his task, pretending not to notice the quickness with which she dressed, the stiffness in her movements. Pretending not to feel the weight of the silence between them.

Azriel’s thoughts churned, a chaotic mess he couldn’t untangle. He’d spent years keeping his distance, convincing himself it was better that way. Safer. For her. For him.

But he hadn’t truly stayed away. He’d watched from the shadows, making sure she didn’t stumble into trouble she couldn’t handle. It was obsession, maybe. Or guilt. Or something he couldn’t name.

And last night had only made it worse.

He shouldn’t have touched her. Shouldn’t have let her pull him under. But the moment her lips had met his, all his carefully constructed walls had crumbled. And now, standing here in the cold light of morning, he couldn’t escape the truth of it: he wanted her still.

Not just her body, though that was seared into his mind like a brand. He wanted her fire, her defiance, the way she challenged him like no one else dared.

And gods help him, he hated her for it.

Because she had ruined him, too.

The memory of her betrayal—her lies—burned like a fresh wound. Her false information had led to disaster, and he’d paid the price. They both had. He could still see the fallout, the chaos it had caused, the look on her face when the consequences had come crashing down.

He shoved the thought aside, his jaw clenched as he swung his pack over his shoulder.

“We’re late,” he said curtly, breaking the silence.

She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “I’m ready.”

They left the room without another word, the door clicking shut behind them.

As they walked through the quiet streets, the tension between them was palpable. His shadows twitched, brushing against her arm as if they had a mind of their own. He saw her stiffen at the contact, her gaze snapping to his in annoyance.

“Can you control those things for once?” she muttered.

“Can you stop giving orders for once?” he shot back, his voice colder than he intended.

Her lips thinned, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she quickened her pace, as if putting distance between them would lessen the weight of the silence.

Azriel watched her, his thoughts a tangled mess of guilt, anger, and something he refused to name. She was infuriating. Stubborn. Beautiful.

And gods help him, he didn’t know how to let her go.

The trail they followed wound through dense woods, the kind that swallowed sound and sight in equal measure. Every step was accompanied by the crunch of leaves underfoot, though Y/N couldn’t bring herself to care about stealth. Her frustration at the male stalking behind her simmered too hotly for that. If Azriel wanted her to be quiet, he could damn well walk faster and take the lead. But no—he kept his distance, keeping to his shadows as if they were the only things he trusted.

And maybe they were.

Y/N’s grip on her weapon tightened as she stomped down the uneven path, the tension between them suffocating. She didn’t dare look back, not when the memory of last night still clung to her like a second skin. She’d woken up to find him already dressed and preparing, his expression shuttered, his voice clipped.

A mistake.

That word had cut deeper than any blade. She hated herself for the flash of hurt he must’ve seen in her eyes before she managed to lock it away. Hated him even more for the way he seemed so unbothered, as if it hadn’t meant anything to him.

She gritted her teeth, her mind replaying his cold tone as she finally muttered, “You know, if I’m such a liability, why don’t you just leave me behind?”

Azriel didn’t answer immediately, though she knew he’d heard her. His shadows slithered across the ground toward her, curling near her boots as if they, too, wanted to silence her.

His voice, when it came, was clipped and devoid of emotion. “We’ve been over this. I need you. You need me. We both have the same goal. Malrik’s loyalists won’t hand themselves over for interrogation.”

The mention of Malrik set her blood boiling, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of the danger he posed or the fact that Azriel’s words had come with such detachment—I need you, not I want you. Not I care about you.

“Right,” she muttered, rolling her eyes even though she knew he couldn’t see her face. “Because that worked so well last time.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, but Azriel didn’t take the bait. Of course he didn’t. He never rose to her provocations unless it served some purpose, and right now, his silence only made her anger burn hotter.

The tension between them had her so distracted that she nearly missed the sound. Nearly.

A twig snapped, sharp and sudden, slicing through the oppressive quiet of the forest.

Y/N froze instantly, her instincts kicking in as she gripped her weapon. Her heart raced, but her body stayed perfectly still. She didn’t need to look back to know Azriel had stopped, too. His shadows darted out like vipers, curling through the trees in search of the source.

“Move,” Azriel hissed, his voice low but urgent.

Before she could process his command, he shoved her behind a tree. The force of it knocked the air from her lungs, and she barely had time to steady herself before an arrow flew past, embedding itself in the bark where she’d been standing a second ago.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she peered out from behind the tree. Figures emerged from the shadows—six of them, maybe more. Their movements were too calculated, too precise for common bandits. These were professionals.

“Well, well,” one of the mercenaries drawled, his scarred face splitting into a grin. “Looks like we caught ourselves a pretty bird and her handler.”

Y/N’s grip on her weapon tightened, her pulse thundering in her ears. She could feel Azriel’s presence behind her, could feel the shift in the air as his shadows slithered around them. The tension between them was nothing compared to the danger standing before them now.

Azriel stepped out from behind the tree, his wings partially spread, his blade gleaming in the dim light filtering through the canopy. He looked every bit the terrifying Illyrian warrior the stories warned of, his shadows curling around his feet like living smoke.

“Leave now,” he said, his voice cold and sharp as steel. “And you’ll live.”

The mercenary laughed, the sound rough and mocking. “Oh, I don’t think so, shadow boy. Malrik wants your heads, and he’s paying well for them.”

Y/N stepped out then, her own blade at the ready. Her pulse steadied as adrenaline took over, her focus sharpening. “If you think Malrik’s gold is worth your lives, be my guest.”

The mercenary’s grin widened. “Feisty. I like her.” He raised his hand, and the rest of the group moved as one, fanning out to surround them.

Azriel shot her a warning look. “Stay close,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

She bristled at the command but didn’t argue. They could hash out their differences later—if they survived this.

The first mercenary lunged, his blade aimed at Azriel’s throat. Azriel moved like a shadow, his dagger flashing as he parried the attack and countered with brutal efficiency.

Y/N barely had time to take it in before another mercenary was on her, his blade slashing toward her midsection. She sidestepped, bringing her own weapon up in a fluid arc that caught him across the shoulder. He staggered but didn’t fall, and she had to duck as another mercenary came at her from the side.

The fight descended into chaos, the sounds of steel meeting steel echoing through the forest. Y/N moved with precision, her strikes landing with deadly accuracy. But the mercenaries were relentless, their coordination suggesting they’d fought together before.

At one point, she felt a presence at her back and whirled, only to see Azriel there, his blade slicing through the throat of a mercenary who’d gotten too close. His shadows curled protectively around her for a moment before he moved away, his attention snapping back to the fight.

Her breath hitched, but there was no time to dwell on it.

Another mercenary lunged at her, his strike aimed at her head. She ducked and retaliated, driving her blade into his side. He went down with a grunt, but she barely had time to catch her breath before another took his place.

The fight was brutal, and for a moment, it seemed like they might be overwhelmed. But then Azriel’s shadows surged, wrapping around two of the mercenaries and dragging them to the ground. He moved with lethal grace, his blade flashing as he finished them off.

The remaining mercenaries hesitated, their confidence wavering as they realized they were outmatched.

“Leave,” Azriel snarled, his voice low and deadly.

This time, they listened. The survivors turned and fled, disappearing into the trees.

Y/N lowered her blade, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her body ached, her muscles screaming in protest, but she forced herself to stand tall.

Azriel turned to her, his expression unreadable. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned away, cleaning his blade with practiced efficiency.

The tension between them hadn’t lessened. If anything, it had grown worse. But for now, there was silence, broken only by the distant sound of the mercenaries retreating.

Y/N stared after them, her thoughts a chaotic mess. She’d survived worse fights, but something about this one felt different—something about the way Azriel had looked at her, the way his shadows had curled around her like a shield.

She didn’t know what to make of it, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

After a couple of hours, the forest gave way to a clearing bathed in the glow of an early sunrise, the light slicing through the lingering mist. Y/N pushed past a dense tangle of branches, Azriel a step behind her, his shadows still coiling warily as if the mercenaries from earlier might reappear. Her muscles ached from the fight, and her patience was worn thin.

They had only just stepped into the clearing when Y/N froze.

Figures—at least five of them—stood gathered near the center, a flickering fire between them. They were armed and armored, their postures relaxed but alert. The glint of steel and polished leather caught the light, and though they looked at ease, the tension in the air was unmistakable.

“More of Malrik’s men?” Y/N muttered, her hand instinctively tightening around her blade.

Azriel’s shadows slithered forward, testing the air around the strangers. “No,” he said quietly. “Not mercenaries. But not friends, either.”

The figures turned as one, their conversation cutting off as they noticed the new arrivals. Y/N’s stomach twisted. They hadn’t been expecting anyone here, and whoever these people were, they looked like they could hold their own in a fight.

The leader of the group—a tall female with auburn hair braided down her back—stepped forward. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, flicked between Y/N and Azriel. “Well, isn’t this a surprise?” she said, her voice smooth but carrying an edge. “And here I thought this little corner of the forest was supposed to be quiet.”

Azriel stepped in front of Y/N, his shadows curling around his shoulders like a cloak. “We don’t want trouble,” he said evenly.

The female arched a brow. “Funny, considering you look like trouble incarnate.” Her gaze drifted to Y/N, lingering for a moment before returning to Azriel. “You don’t look like you’re from around here. What brings you to our woods?”

Before Azriel could respond, another figure stepped forward—a male. He was taller than the others, his dark hair curling slightly at the ends, a sword strapped to his back and a dagger at his hip. His eyes were a startling shade of green, sharp and unreadable, but there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips, as if he found the entire situation amusing.

“Raya,” the male drawled, addressing the woman. “Let’s not scare our guests off just yet. They’ve already had a rough night, judging by the state of them.” His gaze flicked over Y/N, lingering on the dried blood streaked across her cheek and the dirt smudged on her gear.

Y/N bristled under his scrutiny, raising her chin. “We didn’t realize we were trespassing,” she said coolly.

“Of course you didn’t,” the man said, his smirk widening. “That’s what makes it so much fun to catch fae like you off guard.”

“Enough, Cade,” Raya said sharply, shooting the man a warning look. He raised his hands in mock surrender, but the grin never left his face.

Raya turned her attention back to Y/N and Azriel. “These woods are dangerous, in case you hadn’t noticed. Fae like you don’t usually wander in without a reason.”

Y/N hesitated, weighing her options. She didn’t trust these people, but the group was clearly organized, well-armed, and familiar with the terrain. If they were looking for Malrik’s loyalists, these strangers might know something useful.

“We’re looking for someone,” she said finally, ignoring Azriel’s sharp look.

The group exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. It was Cade who broke the silence, his smirk replaced by a more serious expression. “And who, exactly, are you looking for?”

“Malrik’s men,” Azriel said, his voice hard. “We’re tracking them.”

That got their attention. The tension in the clearing shifted, the casual postures of the group becoming more guarded.

“You’re hunting Malrik’s men?” Raya said, her tone skeptical. “Why?”

“Because they’re a threat,” Y/N said simply.

Cade laughed, the sound low and rough. “A threat? That’s putting it lightly. They’re practically crawling all over these woods. You’ll need more than the two of you to take them on.”

“Maybe we’re not the only ones who want them gone,” Y/N said, her tone sharp.

Raya tilted her head, studying her. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that if you know something, you share it,” Y/N said, stepping closer. “We’re after the same thing. Help us, or stay out of our way.”

The group went silent, their eyes darting between Raya and Cade. For a moment, it seemed like they might refuse. But then Cade stepped forward, his green eyes locking on Y/N’s.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, his voice dropping into a low drawl. “We’ve got a camp not far from here. Come with us, and we’ll talk.”

Y/N hesitated, glancing at Azriel. His expression was unreadable, but his shadows were curling tighter around him, a sign of his unease.

“We’ll follow,” Azriel said at last, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Cade’s smirk returned. “Good. Try to keep up, shadow boy.”

As the group began to move, Y/N fell into step beside Azriel, her thoughts racing. She didn’t trust these people—especially not Cade, with his infuriating smirk and sharp eyes. But if they knew anything about Malrik’s men, they couldn’t afford to walk away.

Still, as they followed the group deeper into the woods, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d just stepped into something much bigger than a simple hunt for mercenaries.

The trek toward the camp stretched on, the forest around them dense and humming with the subtle sounds of life. Cade led the way, his steps light and confident, while the others moved in a loose formation, clearly comfortable navigating the terrain. Y/N kept her eyes sharp, scanning for any sign of danger, though the group’s relaxed demeanor suggested they weren’t worried about threats.

She felt Azriel's presence like a shadow at her back—silent, watchful, and brooding. It was a constant reminder of their earlier argument, and the weight of his frustration pressed against her like a physical thing.

“So,” Cade said, his voice cutting through the quiet. He glanced over his shoulder at her, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s a girl like you doing running around with shadow boy over there?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his sudden question. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t exactly scream ‘spymaster lackey,’” Cade continued, ignoring Azriel entirely. “No offense, shadow boy.”

Azriel didn’t respond, but Y/N could feel the temperature drop as his shadows tightened, curling around him like restless smoke.

“I’m not his lackey,” she said coolly, stepping over a fallen branch.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Cade grinned, his green eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re a little too... fiery to be running around on a leash.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Fiery?”

“It’s a compliment,” he said with a wink. “Though, if we’re being honest, I’d peg you as more of a wildfire. Unpredictable. Dangerous. The kind that burns a man alive if he’s not careful.”

Despite herself, Y/N felt a flicker of amusement. “That’s a lot of assumptions for someone who doesn’t even know my name.”

“Oh, I don’t need your name to know you’re trouble,” Cade replied, his grin widening. “It’s written all over you.”

She shook her head, biting back a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re deflecting.” Cade’s tone turned teasing, his gaze flicking over her with open curiosity. “So, what’s your story, wildfire? How’d you end up chasing mercenaries with a shadow-slinging brooder?”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but a low, dangerous growl from behind her cut through the air. She glanced over her shoulder to find Azriel glaring at Cade, his shadows curling tighter, darker.

“Shouldn’t you be watching the path?” Azriel said, his voice cold and quiet, the kind that sent shivers down her spine.

Cade, to her surprise, didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, he shrugged, completely unfazed. “The path’s not going anywhere. Besides, I’d hate to miss the chance to get to know your lovely companion here.”

Azriel’s steps quickened, and suddenly he was at her side, his towering presence making it clear that Cade’s banter had crossed a line. Y/N felt the air between them shift, the tension so thick it was suffocating.

“Maybe focus on getting us to the camp,” Azriel said, his voice like steel.

Cade just smirked, his confidence unshaken. “Relax, shadow boy. No harm in a little conversation. Or are you afraid she might like me better?”

Y/N couldn’t help the startled laugh that escaped her, though she quickly masked it with a cough. Azriel shot her a sharp look, his jaw tightening.

Raya, walking a few steps ahead, sighed audibly. “Cade, shut up before I gag you. You’re giving me a headache.”

“Aw, Raya, don’t be jealous,” Cade said with a mock pout. “There’s plenty of me to go around.”

“Gods, you’re insufferable,” Raya muttered, shaking her head. Then, turning to Y/N, she added, “Don’t let him fool you. He talks a lot, but it’s mostly nonsense.”

“I’m starting to get that,” Y/N replied dryly, though her lips twitched.

Azriel said nothing, his sharp gaze fixed on Cade like a hawk watching its prey. Y/N could practically feel the restraint it was taking for him not to lash out. She nudged him with her elbow, whispering, “Relax. He’s harmless.”

Azriel didn’t look at her, but his voice was low and taut. “I don’t like him.”

“Shocking,” Y/N muttered under her breath, earning her a sidelong glare.

Finally, the trees parted, revealing a sprawling camp nestled in a natural hollow. Tents of various sizes dotted the area, their canvas sides fluttering in the breeze. A large fire burned in the center, and several figures moved about, their movements purposeful and efficient. Despite its rough appearance, the camp was well-organized, and Y/N couldn’t help but be impressed.

“Welcome to our humble abode,” Cade said with a dramatic flourish. “It’s not much, but it keeps us alive.”

“Barely,” Raya muttered, striding past him.

Cade ignored her, his attention once again fixed on Y/N. “Come on, wildfire. Let me give you the grand tour.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Grand tour of tents and dirt? Tempting.”

“You’d be surprised what secrets this place holds,” Cade said with a wink. “Stick with me, and I’ll show you all the best spots.”

Before Y/N could respond, Azriel stepped forward. “We’re not splitting up.”

Raya turned to him, her expression hardening. “You are. The elder wants to speak with you, shadow boy.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched. “I don’t answer to your elder.”

“You do if you want our help,” Raya shot back, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Y/N placed a hand on Azriel’s arm, meeting his icy stare. “It’s fine. Go with her. I’ll be fine with Cade.”

Azriel’s gaze darkened, his voice a low growl. “No.”

Y/N sighed, exhaustion creeping into her voice. “Some distance from you would be good, Azriel. I’m tired of seeing your face.”

From somewhere behind her, Cade’s amused voice whispered, “Ugly one at that.”

Azriel moved so fast she barely had time to react, but Raya was quicker. She stepped between him and Cade, her voice sharp and commanding. “Enough. You’re going with me, whether you like it or not.”

Azriel’s glare could have melted steel, but Raya didn’t flinch. With a frustrated growl, he finally turned away, his shadows writhing around him.

Cade grinned, holding out a hand toward Y/N. “Shall we?”

Y/N hesitated, glancing at Azriel’s retreating form. He didn’t look back, but she could feel the tension radiating off him like a storm.

Taking a steadying breath, she turned back to Cade. “Lead the way.”

Azriel followed Raya through the winding paths of the camp, his strides measured but laced with a tension he couldn’t shake. His shadows rippled restlessly around him, curling and unfurling like they too sensed the storm brewing inside him.

Cade’s smirking face lingered in his mind, every smug word replaying over and over like a taunt. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the urge to turn back and rip the grin off that idiot’s face almost overwhelming. But it wasn’t Cade that truly haunted him—it was the way Y/N had looked at him.

Her faint amusement. The way she’d allowed Cade’s attention, even if she didn’t encourage it.

Why did that bother him so much?

Azriel ground his teeth, the questions cutting deep as he walked. Why did it matter if she found Cade’s banter entertaining? Or if she thought Cade was charming? Hell, she probably did. Cade was... Cade. Confident, carefree, and the type of male who wore his charm like a damn badge of honor.

Azriel’s steps faltered.

Maybe she’d be happier with someone like that. Someone who could smile easily and joke without shadows clouding every word. Someone who wasn’t... him.

No.

The thought sliced through his mind like a whip, swift and brutal. The idea of her with anyone else made his chest tighten painfully, his shadows darken dangerously. Cade. Any male. It didn’t matter. None of them deserved her.

She could only ever be—

Azriel froze mid-thought, his breath catching as the realization clawed at him. With me.

His mind reeled, the emotions swirling in a storm of jealousy, fury, and something he refused to name. How had it come to this? How had she embedded herself so deeply into him that even the thought of her entertaining another male made him want to burn the world to ash?

It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this—not again.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, guilt twisting in his gut. He didn’t deserve this—her. She deserved better. Someone who could offer her light and laughter, not shadows and scars. Not pain and betrayal.

And yet, despite knowing all of that, the selfish part of him—the foolish part of him—wanted her anyway.

“Trouble in paradise?” Raya’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, dry and laced with amusement.

Azriel blinked, his head snapping toward her. He hadn’t realized she’d been watching him.

“Not in the mood,” he muttered, his tone sharper than intended.

Raya snorted. “You’re walking around like someone stole your favorite dagger. Let me guess: it’s about your lovely companion and Cade’s endless charm.”

Azriel’s shadows flared before he could stop them, and Raya laughed, shaking her head.

“Thought so,” she said. “Don’t worry, shadow boy. Cade’s an idiot, but he’s harmless. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Azriel asked, his voice low, his shadows darkening further.

Raya waved a hand dismissively. “He talks a lot, but he’s not stupid. He knows when to back off... usually.” She glanced at him, her tone turning serious. “You should trust her. She doesn’t seem like the type to be easily swayed.”

Azriel said nothing, his jaw tightening as they continued walking. Trust her? He did. But that didn’t mean he trusted Cade—or any male, for that matter.

They reached a small hut near the center of the camp, its wooden structure weathered but sturdy. Smoke curled lazily from a small chimney, and the faint scent of herbs and earth lingered in the air.

Raya pushed open the door without hesitation, motioning for Azriel to follow.

Inside, the space was warm and dimly lit, the walls lined with shelves overflowing with jars, trinkets, and scrolls. A low table sat in the center, surrounded by cushions, and an elderly figure hunched over it, her hands moving deftly as she sorted through a collection of dried leaves.

The elder looked up as they entered, her eyes sharp and knowing despite the deep lines that etched her face. Her hair was a striking silver, braided down her back, and her presence filled the room like a force of nature.

Raya spoke first, her words flowing in a language Azriel didn’t recognize. The elder responded in kind, her voice steady and measured, though her eyes never left Azriel.

Finally, Raya turned to him. “The elder will speak with you now. Try to be polite.”

With that, she left, closing the door behind her.

Azriel inclined his head slightly, stepping further into the room.

“You are not what I expected,” the elder said, her voice soft but carrying an unmistakable weight.

Azriel raised a brow. “And what did you expect?”

The elder smiled faintly, gesturing for him to sit. “A male less... shrouded.”

He didn’t move. “We won’t be staying long. I only need information on Malrik.”

The elder chuckled, a low, knowing sound. “Always so impatient, your kind. Sit, shadow boy. I am older than your parents combined, and I don’t have time for your posturing.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, but he sat, his shadows shifting uneasily. “Why are you helping us?”

The elder leaned back, studying him with an intensity that made his skin prickle. “Because Malrik is dangerous, and you would not be here unless you had reason to stop him.”

Azriel hesitated, weighing his words carefully. Finally, he said, “He’s gathering forces, planning something larger.”

The elder nodded slowly. “You are right to be wary. Malrik has aligned himself with dark forces—forces that crave power and destruction. He is not a simple mercenary. He is a predator, and his sights are set on far more than this forest.”

“Where is he?” Azriel asked, his voice taut.

The elder’s expression darkened. “North of here, beyond the river. He has a stronghold hidden in the cliffs. But be warned—his forces are not easily overcome.”

Azriel nodded, his mind already calculating their next move. “Thank you for the information.”

The elder’s gaze softened slightly. “Be careful, shadow boy. The path you walk is treacherous, and the stakes are higher than you realize.”

Azriel didn’t respond, rising to his feet.

“You and your companion may stay here for the night,” the elder added. “But do not linger. The longer you stay, the more dangerous it becomes.”

With a curt nod, Azriel left the hut, his mind a whirlwind of plans and unresolved emotions.

He had left Y/N alone with Cade for far too long.

Y/n’s laughter had been constant throughout the tour, a sound she hadn’t realized she’d missed so much. Cade’s charisma was infectious, his humor weaving through the air like a gentle breeze, pushing aside the heavy thoughts that always loomed in her mind. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was no Azriel, no Malrik, no looming threats. There was just Cade, a bright presence, bringing lightness to her soul that she hadn’t known she needed.

Every joke Cade made felt like a small reprieve, each laugh an escape from the oppressive heaviness of her reality. His voice was like a soothing melody, lifting her spirits with every word he spoke, each playful comment distracting her from the constant weight of responsibility and turmoil. She had almost forgotten what it was like to simply be, to not be at war with herself or the world around her.

As the tour wound to its end, Cade finally turned to her with a grin, his hands brushing against his jacket as if closing a book.

"And that, my lady, is the grand tour," he declared, bowing dramatically. "Voila, your room, your kingdom."

Y/n’s laughter bubbled up again, and she felt a little lighter, a little freer. She didn’t even realize how deeply his presence had begun to impact her until this moment—until the joy had settled over her like a warm, comforting blanket.

But then, something shifted. Cade’s hand, warm and playful, slid around her waist. The movement was casual, natural, as if they had known each other for ages. Y/n stiffened for a brief moment—until the sharp chill of a shadow cut through the air.

Before she could even process the change, a blast of dark power pierced the moment, and Cade was forced to recoil. The sudden pain contorted his face as he jerked his hand back, clutching at it. Y/n's breath caught in her throat, her eyes flashing to the source.

Azriel.

He moved toward them with a deadly quiet, his presence like an icy storm sweeping over the area. His eyes locked onto Cade, and the space between them froze in an instant. Y/n felt the pulse of tension in the air as Azriel’s gaze bore through Cade, his jaw clenched, the coldness radiating from him sending a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.

"Cade, are you alright?" Y/n found herself asking instinctively, her hand reaching for him, wanting to help.

Cade, ever the charmer, brushed off his injury with a smile, despite the clear wince of pain. "I’m fine. No need to worry, my lady. See? Hardly a scratch."

But Y/n was already turning, irritation bubbling under her skin as she faced Azriel. His expression was unreadable, his icy demeanor masking something far darker lurking underneath.

"Azriel," she began, her voice sharp with an edge of frustration, "why the hell would you—?"

Before she could finish, Azriel was already cutting her off, his voice low and controlled. "They gave us a room. Let’s go."

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at his commanding tone. The words were like a cold slap to her face, a harsh reminder of who Azriel was—what he was capable of.

"No," she shot back, standing firm. "I’m staying here with Cade. He showed me to my room."

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his voice slipping into a low growl. "You’ll be coming with me." His gaze flickered to Cade, a clear challenge in his eyes, and it wasn’t long before Cade, seemingly unaffected, fired back.

"A room close to mine," he stated, his grin mischievous, as though taunting Azriel to escalate the situation.

Y/n’s heart twisted. She could feel the storm brewing between them, the undeniable pull of their conflict—a storm that had been building for far too long. And then, just like that, the tension snapped. Azriel didn’t wait. He lunged forward, a blur of motion, and before anyone could react, he had Cade pinned against the wall. The air crackled with the promise of violence, and Y/n’s pulse raced as she realized just how far things had already gone.

"Cade!" Y/n shouted, rushing forward, but it was Raya who managed to break them apart, her voice commanding as she barked orders.

"Get back, Y/n! Now!" Raya’s voice was like a whip, cutting through the chaos.

Y/n hesitated only for a moment before she grabbed Azriel’s arm, pulling him away with surprising strength as Raya moved to separate Cade from the mess. The citizens had gathered, whispering, eyes wide, watching the spectacle unfold, and Y/n could feel their stares on her as if she were the cause of all this madness.

"Get him away," Raya demanded, her voice cold and stern. Y/n’s own anger flared as she guided Azriel, pushing him towards the room that had been assigned to them.

When they finally reached the door, Y/n slammed it shut behind them, her breath heavy with a mix of anger and frustration. Azriel, ever the master of control, seemed unfazed on the surface, but she could see the simmering fury beneath his calm mask. He was coiled tight, ready to strike—at her, at anyone who dared to challenge him.

Y/n was silent for a moment, her back pressed against the door as she tried to steady herself. When she turned to face him, she saw the tension in his jaw, the tightening of his fists.

"Azriel," she started, her voice quieter than before, though the fury still laced her words. "You can’t just... you can’t keep doing this."

He met her gaze with the cold, deadly calm that he always wore, but she could see it in his eyes—the hunger, the need for control, the need to make her bend to him.

And it disgusted her.

"Sit down," she demanded, her tone sharp as she moved past him to find medical supplies. "You’re hurt."

Azriel didn’t argue, though there was a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. He sat on the chair, his body tense, the only sign of his earlier aggression still visible in the way he held himself.

Y/n moved toward him, her hands working to gather the supplies. The silence between them stretched, heavy and thick with unspoken words. As she gently touched his wounds, applying the ointment with careful precision, the moment stretched out into something… more.

"You’re still the same," she whispered, barely audible, her hands hesitating as she met his gaze. "Nothing has changed."

Azriel's voice was low and edged with a dangerous kind of amusement. "What do you mean by that?"

Y/n leaned down to tend to the injury on his shoulder, her breath warm against his skin. As she reached to dab at the wound, her hand brushed across his lips. The world seemed to still, the air thick with tension. Azriel’s gaze locked on her, heat swirling in his dark eyes. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against her finger, and before she could react, his tongue darted out, catching the tip of her finger.

She gasped, her body freezing as the sensation of his touch ignited something inside her that she had thought long buried. Her thoughts scattered, and for a moment, she forgot herself.

"Divine," Azriel murmured, his voice thick, the word leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

Her breath caught in her throat. No. She would not fall for this again. Not after everything.

Y/n jerked back, pulling her hand away from him, her heart hammering in her chest. "Let me go," she whispered, her voice shaky with a mixture of rage and something darker.

Azriel reached for her again, but this time, she was quicker. "You’re not getting away from me that easily," he muttered, though the dark hunger in his eyes made her heart twist.

But she wouldn’t let him. She wouldn’t fall for it. She wouldn’t let herself believe that she could forgive him, not again, not after everything he had done.

"Why?" she spat suddenly, her voice low but raw. "Why did you care, Azriel? Why does it matter to you now?"

Azriel’s expression froze, his eyes narrowing. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Y/n's words spilled out, as if they had been building for years, for lifetimes, ready to erupt.

"Because of you," she hissed, the words cutting through the silence like a blade. "Because you banished me. You took everything from me, Azriel. It was because of you that I ended up in Malrik’s path. He raped me. Is that what you wanted to hear? You wanted to hear the truth, Azriel? There it is."

The room fell silent. Azriel’s body froze, his eyes wide with shock and something else—something almost darker than fury.

"Wh—what?" Azriel’s voice was cold, barely a whisper, and she could hear the tremble in it.

Y/n’s gaze hardened. She would not give him the satisfaction of her pain. Not again.

"You heard me," she said, her voice breaking only slightly. "Forget it, Azriel. I don’t need your pity. I never wanted it from you."

Azriel’s eyes burned, but she wasn’t looking for the comfort of his gaze. She was too far gone. Too broken.

"Do you care now, Azriel?" she mocked, laughing bitterly. "After everything? After you helped ruin my life?"

Azriel took a step toward her, his expression a mixture of confusion and anger.

"Don’t test me," he warned, his voice dangerously low. "What did you just say?"

Y/n didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The damage was already done.

With one final, cold laugh, she turned on her heel, heading for the door. "You don’t deserve to know."

And with that, she left him standing in the silence of the room—his world slowly crumbling around him.

Azriel’s fists were clenched so tightly that his nails were digging into his palms, the pain a welcome distraction from the fury that churned through him. His mind raced, every thought tangled in a mess of rage, guilt, and self-loathing, each one more suffocating than the last. Malrik’s name burned through his veins like acid, every breath he took a reminder of the horror that had unfolded—the horror he had failed to stop. He could feel his body trembling with barely contained violence, a force ready to break free at the first opportunity. But it was not just Malrik’s face he saw when his mind closed in. It was hers.

Y/n.

He couldn’t escape the memory of her—her eyes wide, brimming with raw pain as she recounted the depths of what had happened to her. It was the sound of her voice, trembling, the way her hands had jerked away from him as though his touch had poisoned her. It was the coldness that had filled the space between them. It was the utter betrayal he had felt in her eyes, as though every part of her had been shattered by him. By him.

The realization gnawed at his insides like a feral beast. He had been so blind, so consumed by his own guilt and his obsession with keeping control, that he had failed her when she needed him the most. When she had needed him most.

And then, the worst part—the piece of his own tortured soul that he couldn't escape from. That night, when everything had gone wrong, when Y/n had needed someone to chase after her, someone to protect her, someone to care, he had stood there, frozen. Frozen.

His mind had screamed at him to go after her, to chase her down and hold her in his arms, to assure her that he would never let anyone hurt her again. But he hadn’t. He had stayed behind in that wretched room, wallowing in his guilt, knowing that he didn’t deserve to comfort her. He didn’t deserve her.

The thought was like a jagged knife in his heart. How could he, when he had failed her so utterly, so completely? He was the one who had let her down. He was the one who had failed to protect her, who had let the world hurt her.

His rage reached new heights as he thought of Malrik’s name again. The bastard. The monster. Malrik had taken something so precious from her, and Azriel had been too weak, too much of a coward to stop it.

Not again.

Azriel’s chest heaved as the thought surged forward, becoming his singular focus. He would make Malrik pay. He would make him suffer in ways that no man—no monster—could endure. The bastard would feel every single second of pain that Y/n had felt. And more. The thought of what Malrik had done to her filled him with a fury so overwhelming that it threatened to break the walls of control Azriel had built around himself.

Azriel didn’t sleep that night. His mind wouldn’t allow him to. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face again—the raw emotion in her eyes, the betrayal, the pain. The tears that had gathered there but never fell.

Instead, he planned. He planned every agonizing moment of Malrik’s downfall. Every strike, every word he would say to break him. He would make sure Malrik understood what it felt like to be stripped of everything, to have everything he had ever known taken from him in the most brutal of ways.

But even as he planned, even as he dreamed of tearing Malrik apart, a part of him knew—knew—he wasn’t doing it for vengeance. He wasn’t doing it to make the world right again. No. He was doing it for Y/n. He was doing it because she needed him, even if she couldn’t see that right now. Because she would need him again, whether she admitted it or not. He would be there, in the shadows, ready to protect her when she was ready to accept him.

That thought—her needing him again—kept him from completely losing himself. He would keep her safe, even from himself. Even if she never looked at him the same way again, even if she never forgave him, he would keep her safe. That was the only promise he could make.

Morning came slowly. The dim light of dawn crept through the window, casting long, slanted shadows across the room. Azriel felt the weight of the night’s torment lift, but only slightly. His chest still ached with the burden of guilt, but he knew there was work to be done. There was always work to be done.

He stood, stretching his arms above his head, the tension still lingering in his body as he gathered himself. His heart thundered in his chest as his eyes fell upon the door.

He had promised to keep her safe. He had failed her once, but not again.

With one last glance around the room, Azriel stepped otside, his footsteps silent as he moved down the road. The cool air of the early morning settled on his skin, the silence broken only by the distant sounds of the camp stirring to life.

He knew she would be out there. He could feel her. He could sense her presence in the air like a faint pull at his soul, the connection between them still there, even after everything. He would find her.

And as he rounded a big tree, he saw her.

Y/n.

Her back was to him, her posture stiff, her shoulders hunched in a way that made his stomach twist. She sat on a log near the fire pit, Raya beside her. Neither of them looked particularly happy. Azriel could see it—the tension in her shoulders, the way she barely seemed to move, the way her eyes flicked to the ground as if avoiding something. It was clear she wasn’t okay.

Raya spoke, her voice too soft to be heard from where Azriel stood, but Y/n didn’t answer. Not with words. She barely moved. Azriel’s heart clenched at the sight. She looked so fragile, so broken, and it was all his fault.

His anger flared again, but this time, it was directed inward. At himself.

He wasn’t enough for her. He had never been enough. He had always tried to push away his feelings, tried to convince himself that his duty to his people, his loyalty to the shadows, was enough to make up for the coldness he hid behind. But it hadn’t been. It had never been.

And now, here she was, sitting there, broken and lost, because of him.

But he couldn’t let this continue. He couldn’t let her be alone in this. No matter what she thought of him, no matter how much she hated him, he would not leave her like this.

She would never be alone again.

Stepping forward, he moved with the silence of the shadows that had always been his ally, coming up behind her.

Y/n didn’t notice him approach, and for a moment, he simply stood there, watching her. His heart twisted in his chest, but his gaze hardened. There would be no more hesitation. No more hiding behind his guilt.

"Y/n," he said, his voice low, barely a whisper.

Her shoulders stiffened, and she turned slowly to look at him. Her eyes, dull and filled with something he couldn’t place, met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

She said nothing, and yet everything in her screamed at him.

But Azriel didn’t look away. Not this time. Not when she needed him most.

"I swear to you," he said, his voice low and laced with a promise, "Malrik will pay. And no matter what you think of me, no matter how much you despise me, I will keep you safe."

She didn’t answer, but the faintest flicker in her eyes told him that she had heard him. It was a small step, but it was a step.

And it was enough.

Azriel stood there, resolute. He would make Malrik pay. He would make the bastard regret ever laying a finger on her.

And as the first rays of sunlight crept across the horizon, he knew—he would always fight for her.

No matter what.

Y/n’s steps were slow, measured, her body almost dragging behind the others. The forest around her seemed distant, even though it was right in front of her. The towering trees, the chirping birds, the rustle of leaves—they were just noises in the background, blending into the dullness of everything else. There was a weight in her chest, one that felt like it was pressing down on her lungs, suffocating her.

It was an unfamiliar kind of silence. The quiet between her and Azriel was thicker than it had ever been, and for once, she didn’t even have the energy to make some biting remark, to lash out. The fire that usually burned inside her, the defiance, the sharpness—it was gone.

Everything felt numb. Everything.

Azriel had been silent too, his usual stoic expression betraying a deep strain that had only grown worse over the hours. She could feel his gaze on her, though she didn’t dare look back at him. She couldn’t. The thought of meeting his eyes—of seeing that guilt, that sorrow written across his face—was almost too much.

She hadn’t said a word since they’d left camp. Neither of them had. The only sounds between them were their footsteps on the forest floor, the soft crackling of twigs underfoot. She was surprised she hadn’t heard Azriel speak, to ask her something, to break the silence. But he hadn’t. Instead, his presence lingered behind her like an invisible weight, an oppressive force that made every breath she took feel shallow.

Eventually, they reached a clearing. The sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled light over the soft grass. A small lake stretched out before them, its surface as still as the air around it. It was almost eerie, the quietness of it all, and Y/n found herself standing there for a moment longer than she intended, as if waiting for something—anything—to change.

Azriel, however, came to an abrupt stop, causing Y/n to halt as well. He turned to face her, his eyes flicking to the water briefly before meeting her gaze. His jaw tightened, the lines of his face hardening in that way they always did when he was deep in thought.

"We stop here," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Malrik’s place is close. We need to make the final plan."

Y/n just nodded. She didn’t care. She didn’t feel anything. The words fell flat in her mind, the weight of the situation not even penetrating her numbness. Azriel’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, his brow furrowed, like he was waiting for something. But she didn’t offer anything. Not a word. Not a glance. Nothing.

Azriel sighed deeply. It was a sound full of weariness and frustration, and when she finally looked up at him, she saw something she hadn’t expected—guilt. A deep, gnawing kind of guilt that twisted at the corners of his eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration. His eyes dropped to the ground, then flicked back to hers.

"Y/n," he began, his voice low, almost too quiet, "I know what I did… I can’t fix it, but I need you to understand." He paused, visibly gathering his thoughts, as though the weight of his words was more than he could bear.

She stood still, her arms crossed over her chest, her gaze fixed firmly on him. She was cold, distant—detached. It wasn’t that she wanted to ignore him. It was just… easier this way. It hurt too much to feel anything else.

"I made the choice to protect the rest of the team," Azriel continued, his voice hoarse with regret. "I didn’t believe you, but I did it to protect the network, the people we worked with. I… I spread the lie that you were a traitor to keep suspicion off of everyone else. To keep the integrity of the mission intact."

His words hung in the air between them, each one a sharp reminder of the betrayal. But Y/n wasn’t surprised. She didn’t even feel the sting anymore. She had lived with it for so long, she had become numb to the pain of it all.

Azriel’s voice faltered when he saw her reaction—or lack of one. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t react the way he had hoped. Instead, her eyes were flat, distant, as if the words didn’t matter anymore.

"That day…" Azriel’s breath caught in his throat. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for not believing you. I thought—"

Y/n’s eyes flicked to him, the coldness in her gaze sharper than any dagger. She cut him off before he could finish.

"Really?" she asked, her voice flat, a dull edge to the words that cut deeper than any shout. "That’s all you have to say? That’s how little you believed in me, after everything I did for you? After everything I gave you?"

Her words were like ice, and each syllable seemed to strike Azriel like a hammer against his chest. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out at first. The guilt was so thick in his throat he couldn’t find the words. He had hurt her so deeply, and now, there was nothing he could do to make it right.

"You branded me a traitor," Y/n continued, her voice cold and cutting. "I was forced to flee, branded and cast out, with no home, no life to go back to. And do you know what happened then? Do you know what happened when you turned your back on me?" She paused, her eyes now dark and distant as if she were reliving the memories in that very moment.

Azriel’s chest tightened. He could see the pain there, in her eyes, even though her face remained an emotionless mask.

"Malrik," she said, her voice almost a whisper, the name like venom on her tongue. "He found me, in my weakest state, when I had nothing left. He took advantage of me, twisted me into something I wasn’t. And all of it—everything that happened—was because you couldn’t believe in me."

Azriel winced, his entire body recoiling from the harshness of her words, the weight of her truth. He had never wanted to see her like this, to hear her speak of everything he had done to her. He had thought, all this time, that his actions were justified. That they were for the greater good. But now, standing in front of her, all he saw was the destruction he had wrought.

"I didn’t mean for any of it to happen," Azriel whispered, his voice breaking. "I never wanted you to go through that. I was wrong. I failed you, Y/n, and I can’t—I can’t fix it. I just want you to know… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."

Y/n stared at him for a long moment, her eyes cold, unyielding. Her lips pressed into a thin line. She said nothing for a moment, letting the silence hang heavy in the air.

And then, in a voice that was quiet, but somehow colder than anything Azriel had ever heard, she spoke again.

"Sorry doesn’t change anything, Azriel," she said, her words cutting through the silence. "Sorry doesn’t fix what you did. Sorry doesn’t give me back the life you took from me."

Her gaze flicked to the ground, and Azriel’s heart shattered at the hollow emptiness in her voice.

"I don’t need your apologies," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "I needed you to believe in me. I needed you to trust me. But you didn’t."

And with that, she turned away, walking toward the edge of the lake, her steps distant, her posture rigid with that coldness that now seemed to define her.

Azriel stood there, motionless, the weight of her words sinking into him like a thousand blades. He had never felt such crushing guilt in his life. He had never felt so utterly lost.

But Y/n didn’t look back. Not even once.

(SMUT STARTS HERE)

Suddenly, she sighed before saying, "I hate you but I also need you."

And the next thing she knew, she was taking her clothes off, feeling his gaze behind her as she lazily entered the water. She hated how even after all of this, she wanted his gaze on her and only her.

She was still not looking at him, turned away so her back was facing him in the water as she stared into the other side of the lake. "Let's make the mistake of last night once more. After all, we won't be seeing each other once this mission's done. I don't need your useless pity. All I need is to use you now, just like you used me then."

It meant nothing, it would cut him deep and she didn't care.

Suddenly, she felt his naked chest pressing against her as he lened in to whisper in her ear, "Use me then."

Y/n's breath hitched, a tinge of surprise fluttering inside her despite the cold, calculated mask she had been wearing. She hadn’t expected him to move, to be this close again. But Azriel, ever the shadow, was right there—his presence like a storm against the stillness of the lake. His voice, a low rasp, sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't want to acknowledge it, but she couldn't ignore the way her body reacted to his proximity. She hated it. She hated that even in this mess, even in the aftermath of betrayal, her mind still wanted him, still needed him.

"Use me then," Azriel repeated, his words a dark promise that neither comforted nor threatened. It was like he was daring her, pushing her to go further, to test the boundaries of the agony between them. He knew this was all she had left—the anger, the coldness. The way she lashed out, using her words like blades, trying to push him further away.

Her pulse quickened, but Y/n kept her face impassive, her gaze hard as she stared across the lake. The water rippled lazily around her, reflecting the overcast sky, the light barely reaching through the trees. It was all so calm—so still. And yet, inside her chest, the storm raged.

He moved then, his hand sliding around her waist, pulling her against him with a gentleness that contrasted the tension in his body. His lips brushed the back of her neck, a fleeting, tender touch that nearly broke her. But Y/n stayed still, her pulse pounding in her ears.

"I’m not leaving you," Azriel murmured, his voice soft but fierce. "Not like before. Not this time."

The words hit her harder than she’d expected, and for the briefest moment, the coldness in her heart cracked open.

But she wouldn’t let it. Not now. Not ever.

"Let’s make that mistake," she said again, her voice flat, unfeeling. "But don’t think it’ll change anything."

Azriel’s arms tightened around her, his lips brushing against her ear one last time. "I never thought it would."

And before she knew it, his hand went lower, reaching her core, causing a small gasp to leave her lips as her hand came over his arm, gripping it.

He lazily massaged her clit and she suddenly felt aware of his largee cock teasing her from behind too. And as if on cue, he entered her from the back at the same time as his finger entered her from the front.

Y/n couldn't hold the moan that escaped her lips after that, her grip tightening on his arm as azriel began thrusting into her from behind while his mouth started sucking and kissing on her neck.

Then, she felt a second finger dip into her as he began fucking her faster, his pace quickening as her moans grew louder.

"Fuck, just like that, keep moaning," Azriel said through his own growls as she leaned her head back on him for support and thats when he took the chance to capture and mark her lips.

The kiss was brutal, it was as if he wanted nothing more than to eat her alive, to forever be joined with her, to imprint himself on her. The water was rippling wildly with their movements and when he felt her clenching around his cock and fingers, he knew she was close.

But then-- then she did the unthinkable.

Azriel suddenly felt his mind go blank when Y/N reached her hand out and touched that part of his wings. Just the right area of his nerves to make him weak in the knees. With a loud groan he couldn't stop himself and released inside her, Y/N following right after him.

Their ragged breaths were all that could be heard as Y/N fell back on to his strong hold for support.

(SMUT ENDS HERE)

An hour later, the silence between them felt heavier than ever after what had transpired. The air was thick with unspoken words, emotions both raw and tumultuous swirling around them.

Y/N lay back on the soft earth beside the water’s edge, her breath still shallow from the intensity. She stared up at the sky, the clouds slowly floating away. But it wasn’t the sky that had her attention—her mind was clouded with thoughts of what had just happened. The distance between them, once so palpable, had blurred. And now, in the aftermath, she felt more lost than ever.

Azriel sat beside her, his posture tense, but there was something else—something softer in the way he looked at her, though he remained silent. He didn’t touch her, didn’t speak. But she could feel him there, present, his very presence suffocating her thoughts.

She wanted to speak. To scream, to confront him, to demand answers. But the words wouldn't come. The anger and frustration she’d been holding inside for so long—since before everything had spiraled—felt heavier now. But it wasn’t just the anger. It was confusion. Confusion about herself, about him. About what they had just shared.

He finally broke the silence, his voice low and rough. "Y/N…" he whispered her name, and she flinched slightly, though she didn’t look at him. "I—"

"Don’t," she interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want your apology. I don’t want your explanations."

There was a long pause, the kind that felt like an eternity. Her words hung in the air between them, but she didn’t regret them. She couldn’t. Not after everything.

He remained silent, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. She could feel the weight of his stare, but she refused to meet it. She didn’t trust herself to look at him without feeling something she wasn’t ready to face.

After what felt like hours, he spoke again. "You can hate me all you want," he said quietly, his voice strained. "But I’ll never stop trying to protect you. Even if you don’t want it."

Y/N sat up, her gaze flickering over to him, though her heart twisted at the sincerity in his tone. "Why?" she asked softly, her voice trembling slightly despite herself. "Why now? After everything?"

He turned to her, his expression unreadable, though the shadows in his eyes seemed to deepen. "I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers. But I do know that I can’t walk away. Not from you."

Her heart pounded in her chest, and for a moment, she thought she might fall apart. Instead, she swallowed, her walls—barely held up to begin with—beginning to crack.

"You think that changes anything?" she said, her voice strong, though her chest felt tight with emotion. "It doesn’t. We can’t undo what’s been done."

Azriel’s eyes flickered, his jaw tightening. "I never expected you to forgive me," he said, voice low. "But I’ll make sure you’re never alone again. Even if that means staying out of your way."

Y/N turned away, her emotions swirling. She wasn’t ready for this conversation. Not yet. Not when everything still felt so fresh, so painful.

But in that moment, something shifted—something she couldn't name or understand. A part of her knew that this... whatever this was between them... would never be simple. But for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t sure she wanted it to be.

"Let’s finish this mission," she said quietly, her voice shaking slightly. "And then... we'll figure out where we stand."

Azriel nodded, but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her, even as she stood up, brushing the dirt from her clothes. The mission. The chaos. It all still loomed ahead of them, and neither of them was ready to face it just yet.

But as they walked away from the lake, side by side, something unspoken had changed. They hadn’t fixed everything. Far from it. But they’d come closer to understanding each other, to acknowledging that whatever had happened between them—it wasn’t over.

Not yet.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @darkbloodsly @moonfawnx @clementine111002 @galaxystern08

[coqhee]

 ﹙✧﹚ㅤㅤ TO THE MOON AND BACK, I LOVE YOU

ALT ✷ you never liked astronomy until you met han taesan, your crush since freshman year. in an attempt to get closer with him, why not drag along the boy that's been there all along? ∘ ∘ ∘ catalogue \ romance told

西村力 x f!r ―ㅤ fluffㅤ comedyㅤ &&ㅤ f2lㅤ ⨯ㅤ 3533

em's note ★ yay!! first romance: told fic out!! it only took this long!!! hope the anon who requested it enjoyed :3 btw I've never been to a planetarium lawl...

─── ♡

when you found out that your crush, han taesan, was taking astronomy for an elective in senior year, you immediately put that down instead of your originally planned “late arrival”. a free point five elective credit AND a chance to see your crush one last time? hell yeah. but then came the realization—you had no idea who else was in the class, and the last thing you wanted was to be stuck alone with a bunch of people you barely talked to.

so, naturally, you turned to nishimura riki. the weird boy that you had always been friends with since before you could even fathom. 

“riki, please take astronomy with me,” you had begged, practically hanging off his arm.

“absolutely not,” he had deadpanned, barely looking up from his phone. “i’m not trading MY late arrival so you can go the tan haesan.”

“it’s han taesan, but whatever. don’t leave me alone.” you had whined, poking his shoulder. “what if everyone sucks? what if i end up next to some weird freshie who smells like expired milk?”

“then don’t take a class that would have freshmen in it?”

"but jungwon is taking it," you pointed out, as if that was all the reasoning he needed.

riki sighed, finally glancing up from his phone. “so? what does that have to do with me?” riki hates to admit it but he knew he would already be talking to his counselor the next day to swap out his cherished sleep period.

you huffed, dramatically slumping against his shoulder. “because I don’t want to suffer alone,” you mumbled. “i need my best friend with me.”

at that, riki stiffened for just a second before rolling his eyes. “you’re so annoying,” he muttered, but you caught the way his lips twitched—like he was already considering it.

“please?” you dragged out the word, gripping his sleeve and giving him the best pleading look you could manage.

“fine,” he grumbled, shoving his phone into his pocket

you beamed, throwing your arms around him in excitement. “i knew you loved me.”

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but his ears burned a little red.

he made it sound like a hassle, like you had dragged him into it against his will. but really, it wasn’t like he needed much convincing. if there was anyone he’d willingly lose his late arrival period for, it was you.

─── ♡

on the first day of the new year after summer break had ended, you walked into period 1 to see taesan already sitting in the middle row, scrolling through his phone. your heart did that stupid little flip it always did when you saw him, and for a split second, you forgot riki was even behind you.

“oh my god, you’re so obvious,” riki muttered, elbowing you in the side as he followed your line of sight.

“shut up,” you hissed, shoving him back before making your way toward an empty seat behind where taesan was sitting. 

before you and riki could bicker further like you always did, class started to your dismay and it was finally starting to settle in that the two of you were in for a class, neither of you cared about. 

riki let out an exaggerated sigh as he slumped in his seat. “this is your fault,” he whispered, tapping his pencil mindlessly against the desk. “we could be in bed right now.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “oh please, you would’ve just spent that extra hour playing video games.”

“exactly,” he grumbled. “prime gaming time, wasted on stars.”

before you could retort, the teacher started going over the syllabus, droning on about assignments, projects, and participation. you tried to pay attention, but your gaze kept flickering to the back of taesan’s head, watching the way he absentmindedly spun his pen between his fingers.

riki caught you staring and groaned. “this is painful to watch.”

“then don’t watch,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

he gave you a deadpan look. “i have to. it’s like witnessing a car crash in slow motion.”

you stifled a laugh, “shut up and take notes.” shoving his hand back to his paper, away from doodling on your fresh blue, 70 page, college rule notebook. 

“uh huh”

you shook your head, turning your attention back to the front just in time to hear the teacher announcing partner assignments for the semester-long project.

“please let me be with riki,” you whispered under your breath, fingers crossed beneath the desk.

riki hummed in agreement. “i swear if i end up with some guy who doesn’t know the difference between a planet and a star, i’m dropping this class.”

but, of course, fate had other plans.

“y/n l/n and han taesan.”

your stomach flipped. riki turned to you slowly, horror written all over his face.

“no way,” he whispered.

but there was no taking it back now. taesan turned slightly in his seat, a small smile tugging at his lips. “guess we’re partners,” he said, voice smooth and easygoing.

“yeah,” you breathed, hoping you sounded normal and not like your brain had short-circuited.

riki gagged dramatically beside you.

“nishimura riki… you’ll be working with…oh, looks like we have an odd number, you can join y/n and taesan,” the teacher called.

riki perked up instantly, all traces of his previous horror vanishing. “oh, sick,” he muttered under his breath, shooting you a victorious smirk.

you, on the other hand, were caught between relief and something dangerously close to disappointment. you weren’t even sure why—you wanted riki to be your partner, didn’t you? but now, instead of getting to work one-on-one with taesan, riki was right there in the middle, like a human buffer.

taesan didn’t seem fazed, though. he turned back to you both with a nod. “works for me.”

riki leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “yeah, totally. wouldn’t want my best friend suffering alone.”

you elbowed him under the desk.

the teacher moved on, and taesan shifted slightly to face you. “do you guys wanna meet after school to start planning?”

“sure,” you answered at the same time riki groaned.

the rest of class went by in a blur, the lecture on introductory astronomy terms barely registering in your brain. every so often, your gaze would flicker to taesan, watching the way he twirled his pen, the way his lips pursed ever so slightly when he was concentrating. it wasn’t fair how effortlessly cool he looked doing the most mundane things.

“you’re doing it again,” riki muttered beside you, barely moving his lips.

“doing what?” you whispered back, eyes still locked on the front of the classroom.

“staring at him like he hung the stars in the sky.”

─── ♡

riki had been enduring your hopeless crush on han taesan for seven full days now, and, frankly, he was over it.

“you know, i really just don’t get what you like so much about him. he’s just a guy,” riki muttered, barely dodging the kick you sent his way from across the library table.

“oh my god, shut up,” you whispered harshly, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard. “and just a guy? you make it sound like i’m drooling over some random dude.”

riki raised an eyebrow. “you are drooling over some random dude.”

you ignored him, instead recalling your advances towards taesan, convincing yourself that it was going just great. 

on the second day of class, and you had strategically chosen to sit beside taesan instead of riki, much to the latter’s dismay. you figured starting small was the way to go—nothing too forward, just a simple, friendly compliment.

“i like your hoodie,” you had said, giving him what you hoped was a casual but cute smile.

taesan barely glanced up from his laptop. “thanks, my mom got it for me.”

…that was it. no follow-up, no return compliment, no you’d look good in one too—nothing. you had expected something to work with, but instead, he had gone right back to typing like you hadn’t even spoken.

gosh, it was like he wasn’t even interested in you.

on the fourth day of class when you figured you were going to make another attempt to talk to him. 

“oh, i saw that you listened to understand by keshi on your story” you had mentioned casually as you slid into your seat beside him. “such a good song.”

taesan had nodded. “oh yeah, it’s good.”

you had stared at him for a moment, waiting for anything more, before finally just pulling out your own notebook in defeat.

and of course, riki, from his seat across the room, had been watching the entire thing unfold, shaking his head in barely concealed amusement. riki had been patient—far more patient than he normally was—but after an entire week of watching you fumble through failed attempts at flirting, he had reached his limit.

"alright," he announced, slamming his notebook shut. "i can’t take this anymore."

you blinked at him, caught off guard. "what?"

"this," he gestured wildly between you and the table, "this pathetic, one-sided crush. you’re driving me insane."

you scowled. "wow, thanks for the support, best friend."

he ignored you, leaning forward with an exasperated sigh. "look, it’s not happening. you’ve tried, like, four different approaches, and taesan has given you nothing to work with. it’s time to move on."

"i can’t just move on," you grumbled, crossing your arms. "it’s not that simple."

"oh, it’s that simple," riki countered, standing up and grabbing his bag. "and you know what? i’m gonna help you."

you eyed him warily. "help me how?"

he smirked. "by showing you what it’s like to actually have fun with someone who does pay attention to you. plus i already bought tickets to the studio ghibli movie fest for tonight and the rest of next week, so you’re going.”

“you’re joking,” you gasped with excitement, jumping up and down, loud enough for the two of you to get kicked out of the library. but who cares when you could go see ponyo tonight, howls moving castle tomorrow and every other ghibli movie for the rest of the week.

he shook his head with that familiar, comforting smile, "this is already more fun than whatever you thought you had going on with taesan," he said, nudging your temple with his knuckles.

you sighed, leaning into his side for a moment. "yeah," you admitted, and for the first time in a week, you actually believed it.

─── ♡

throughout the week, you still found yourself looking for taesan, but not nearly as much as you used to.

by the third night of the ghibli fest, you had almost forgotten why you had been so fixated on han taesan in the first place. between sneaking in your own snacks, debating over which ghibli protagonist had the best character arc, and riki dramatically reenacting scenes on the way home, your mind was too occupied to obsess over every little interaction with taesan.

but that didn’t mean you never looked for him.

in class, your eyes still wandered toward his seat before you could stop yourself, scanning for any hint that maybe he had started to notice you back. but taesan was always the same—calm, polite, distant.

“you’re doing it again,” riki muttered under his breath, flipping his pen between his fingers.

“doing what?” you asked, even though you knew exactly what.

you shot him a glare. “i’m not staring.”

riki gave you a pointed look.

“…i was just glancing,” you clarified, sinking into your seat.

he snorted. “whatever helps you sleep at night.”

but the thing was, riki was right.

taesan was never rude—if anything, he was nice in that effortless, detached way that made it impossible to tell whether he actually cared about your presence or was just being polite. he answered your questions, acknowledged your comments, but never extended the conversation past necessity.

and after a week of being around riki—who never once let a moment fall flat, who filled every second with banter, laughter, and the kind of easygoing energy that made everything feel lighter—you were starting to realize just how dull it was trying to get taesan’s attention.

“hey,” riki nudged your arm, bringing you back to the present. “movie’s at seven tonight. spirited away. we’re going, no excuses.”

you sighed, but you couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips. “yeah, okay.”

maybe looking for taesan wasn’t worth it anymore.

on the final night of the ghibli fest, you and riki found yourselves in your usual seats—middle row, slightly to the left, close enough to the screen without being too close. you had gotten used to this routine by now: sneaking in snacks, arguing over who got to hold the drinks, riki making dramatic commentary under his breath just to annoy you.

but something about tonight felt different.

it could’ve been the way that he already had bought your entire movie theater snack order before you even arrived, the way your heart skipped when he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "if this movie makes you cry like you always do, i won’t judge,”

“i never cry at movies,” you shot back, ignoring the way your face felt weirdly warm.

“uh-huh,” riki smirked. “that’s what you said during my neighbor totoro, and yet—”

“i had something in my eye,” you interrupted quickly, shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth to avoid further discussion.

it felt like it could’ve been normal, but the air between the two of you had shifted, and part of you didn’t want to jump to a conclusion or even admit that it had shifted to begin with by any means.

he just chuckled, settling back into his seat. but his arm stayed where it was, fingers still lightly tapping against your shoulder. while you should’ve been focused on the movie, every fiber of you wasn’t. instead you were focused riki, taking a second longer glance everytime the two of you leaned over to make some dumb and stupid comment.

when the movie was over and riki had teased you for how you cried once again, you rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag and following him out into the cool night air. but as you walked side by side down the quiet street, the warmth of his arm against yours lingering like an unspoken thought, you couldn’t help but wonder—

when did everything start feeling like this? 

since when did your heart start beating so fast, pumping so much blood it felt exhilarating just being around riki.

you didn’t know when it started.

you just knew that it had.

─── ♡

the next day in class, you found yourself sliding back to the seat next to riki as usual, all of a sudden not finding the back of taesan’s head that interesting. 

you were doodling on your page listening to your teacher explain the moon’s orbit in relation to earth, then somehow get onto a tangent about the moon’s symbolization in cultures.

before you could zone out completely, the teacher clapped their hands together, bringing the class to attention.

“alright, everyone! before we continue, i have an announcement—next friday, we’ll be taking a class field trip to the planetarium.”

your head perked up at that.

“you’ll need to complete a small assignment while we’re there,” the teacher added over the mix of groans and excited whispers. “but other than that, you’ll have plenty of time to explore.”

immediately, you turned to riki, already knowing he’d be your partner. he was grinning, kicking your foot under the desk. “guess that means we get a free pass to mess around.”

“or,” you corrected, “we could actually pay attention.”

he snorted. “we both know that’s not happening.”

you just rolled your eyes, shifting back in your seat as the teacher dimmed the lights to play a video about the moon’s phases.

a few minutes in, riki nudged your elbow. when you glanced over, he was pointing at his notebook, where he’d drawn a very questionable-looking moon with a lopsided smile.

you bit back a laugh. “what is that?”

“the moon,” he whispered, as if it were obvious. “but, like, happier.”

you shook your head, flipping to a new page in your notebook. with a few quick strokes, you sketched out your own version—a smoother crescent with little stars around it. riki peeked at it and scoffed. “show-off.”

you grinned, flipping your pencil in your fingers. “you’re just mad mine looks better.”

“whatever,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the video—but not before sneaking one last glance at your drawing.

toward the end of class, as you were packing up, taesan passed by and nodded toward your desk. “what were you two so focused on?”

before you could answer, riki shoved his notebook under his arm, grinning. “just academic excellence.”

you snorted, and taesan just gave a small, amused nod before heading out. once he was gone, you turned to riki with a knowing look.

“academic excellence?”

“obviously,” he said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “what else would it be?”

you just laughed, shaking your head as you fell into step beside him.

─── ♡

the planetarium was dim, lit mostly by the soft glow of the exhibit lights, casting shadows across riki’s face as he stood beside you. the hum of other students echoed faintly in the background, but you hardly noticed.

the two of you took your seats underneath the large screen and gazed up into the above, admiring the way the stars swirled in the galaxy. 

just how small the two of you were in the giant universe, yet here this moment existed for just the two of you to remember.

you smiled softly to yourself. there was something comforting about it all. something warm and endless and beautiful.

but you didn’t notice the way riki never looked up.

while you sat there, eyes wide with wonder, his gaze never left you. not even for a second.

he watched the way your lips parted just slightly in awe, the way your eyes shone under the artificial starlight. how still you became when you were lost in something you loved. and maybe it was dramatic—maybe it was just the darkness, or the quiet, or the closeness—but in that moment, you looked more magical than any of the stars above.

“the earth and the moon: an eternal dance. though nearly 400,000 kilometers apart, the moon’s pull shapes the tides of the earth. it never strays far, always orbiting—faithful, constant. even in darkness, it reflects light. it stays.” the narration continued on,.

you smiled faintly and pointed up. next to you, riki followed your gaze, then tilted his head.

“sounds kind of dramatic,” he murmured, nudging your elbow. “like some tragic love story.”

you continued looking at the spherical projected figure, amused. “i think it’s kind of sweet. the moon never leaves.”

riki hummed in response. then, so quietly you almost missed it, he said, “i’d stay, too.”

your breath caught in your throat.

you tried to play it off with a gentle nudge to his side. “stop being weird.”

you finally looked down, ready to say something about the way the moon was just so pretty.

riki was already looking at you.

and he wasn’t embarrassed about it. he didn’t look away, didn’t pretend to be interested in the show you’d both come to see.

his eyes were soft, unblinking. like you were the one he had come for.

“you’re not even watching,” you whispered, voice shaky, heart louder than it should’ve been.

riki tilted his head, lips curving into the smallest smile.

“i am,” he said quietly. “just not the stars. or the moon for that matter.”

you froze, breath caught somewhere between your chest and your throat. he didn’t look away. not even for a second.

“you know,” riki continued, voice just low enough for only you to hear, “if the moon really is 400,000 kilometers away, i think i love you to the moon and back,”

“riki…” you whispered, unsure what you meant to say next. you felt breathless, like the words were still catching up to the moment.

but he only leaned back slightly in his seat, his shoulder brushing yours. “you don’t have to say anything,” he said, softer now. “i just… i wanted you to know.”

your fingers twisted in your lap, eyes flickering back up to the stars for just a second, like they might tell you what to do next. they didn’t. they just kept spinning silently across the domed ceiling, beautiful and endless.

you turned to him again. “i think,” you said slowly, “that maybe… maybe i’ve been looking in the wrong direction.”

he looked at you then—not surprised, but quietly hopeful. like he’d been waiting for you to realize it.

“yeah?” he asked, voice steady but a little too careful.

you nodded. “yeah.”

suddenly, the stars or the moon weren’t the brightest thing in the room anymore.

and somewhere above you, the moon kept orbiting the earth. steady. constant. never fully leaving the planet’s side.

@ coqhee 2025. all rights reserved.

[lordprettyflackotara]

Hey Tara, could you do some Toby fluff? Like, specifically a fempov after a nasty breakup...??? Sorry for the weird request ik you usually do smut but I love your style and need some sort of comfort after my boyfriend left me, even if it is just a fictional character... Love you ❤️

-🫀

crown || ticci toby

‘wait, you can’t please everybody’

sum: after a messy breakup you’re undeniably heartbroken and toby wants to make you feel better

tw: unintentionally a little angsty but mostly fluff

a/n: my dearest anon, i am so sorry i just now saw your request. i hope this is not too late and hopefully helps you navigate through your journey and makes you feel a little better. i went through a messy breakup around christmas as well and feel like this resonates with me as well. i’m not the best at writing fluff but i tried, i hope you enjoy and are doing well <3

“I-I found you!”

You could hear that Toby was excited, even as your back was turned to him. You had been curled up in a ball for the past hour, hiding in the attic of the mansion. Dust covered boxes were scattered around the room, your small form perched beside the oval window. You didn’t say anything, unable to match Toby’s typical perky energy. Your knees were tucked to your chest, your gaze settled on the grass outside.

Toby frowned slightly at your lack of a response, the young proxy walking around one of the boxes. “Hey, y-you good?” He asked unsurely. Toby wasn’t good at handling negative emotions, or so he thought. The moonlight gave him a good look at your face, which made his eyes go wide. Bags hung under your eyes, your lips chapped so much they were becoming cracked. Your eyes were undeniably puffy, which he suspected to be from hours of crying. He approached you quickly, squatting down in front of you. He shoved his orange goggles onto his head, licking his own dry lips.

“T-Talk to m-me, what’s wrong?”

The concern lacing Toby’s words was almost enough to send you over the edge again. You inhaled, trying to refrain from more salty tears from escaping your waterline.

“We didn’t workout.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, your ex boyfriend’s name on the tip of your tongue. It felt odd to think about, nevertheless say out loud. Toby’s brain instantly clicked, his bandaged hand reaching out to touch yours. “That’s a g-good thing though r-right? Wasn’t he an asshole towards t-the end anyways?” He asked unsurely. Your eyes were sharp as you met his puppy dog gaze, your flicker of anger immediately diminishing. Instead you took a deep breath, realizing how irrational your scattered emotions were.

In through your nose, out through your mouth.

“It’s not that simple. You don’t know, how horrid the actual breakup was. It was like, the shell of the person I used to know. The man I used to know vanished right before my eyes and got replaced with whatever the fuck he is now,” You rambled. You could feel yourself getting worked up, Toby’s eyes softening as he looked up at you. “I spent so much time, so much time with him and now it’s wasted. Gone. Like it meant nothing at all to him, but it meant everything to me,” You continued. Tears flooded your waterline with ease, painful flashes of memories appearing in your mind. You bit your bottom lip, attempting to stop the tears from flowing. “And I don’t know how i’m supposed to do this. How i’m supposed to waltz around like I know what i’m doing. He was my rock and now he’s gone. It’s like he was never here and I feel like i’m going insane,” You whimpered lowly, unable to stop the tears from free falling.

Toby was never good with dealing with heavy human emotions. Most of the time the responsibility of handling them was handled by someone else in the mansion. But you were the apple of his eye, one his favorite people to walk the planet. So instead he tuned into his instincts, hoping that what he was about to do was even semi socially appropriate. He rose to his feet, sitting across from you on the bench built into the large window. Stretching his long arms outwards he wrapped them around you, pulling you against him abruptly. You tensed for a moment, feeling Toby hold you so close. It wasn’t until your brain registered his warmth and earthy scent that you finally allowed yourself to crumble.

You felt like your lungs were going to collapse, your breath shallow as you nuzzled your face into his chest. Your chest felt tight, your sobs muffled as you cried into his signature jacket. Your soft sounds only made him hold you tighter, the brunette careful to not squeeze you too hard. Toby swallowed, bringing his slender fingers to your hair. Unsurely, he began to stroke it, hoping it would bring you some sort of ease. He continued these actions until you had no tears left to cry, your wheezing now simmering down to deep breaths. “I’m s-sorry I don’t h-have the inhaler,” Toby apologized, regretting leaving it with Tim. (It was in fact Tim’s inhaler).

His sudden outburst made you chuckle, even as a few more stray tears slid down your cheeks. You pulled back a few inches, just enough for Toby to see your face. He didn’t like seeing you like this, so hurt. Without thinking he raised his hand, fingertips grazing your cheek as he tucked some stray hairs behind your ear. “F-Fuck him, you’re the important one, y-you’re the one,” Toby said as confidently as he could muster. You knew his words meant well, even if they didn’t come out the way he meant for them to. He used the pad of his thumb to swipe away the few remaining tears, cupping your cheeks. Your eyes fluttered closed, your face relaxing in the palms of his hands.

Social constructs were a mystery to Toby, truthfully. But he knew in this moment to do what he thought was best. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He ignored any emotion he felt towards the gesture, his attention completely centralized on you. “Y-You know i’m not the b-b-best with words, but I p-promise everything’s gonna be okay,” He mumbled, his chocolate eyes filled with worry as he tried to catch your gaze. Your glassy eyes eventually met his, your bottom lip trembling as you confessed, “He’s the one who left me, Toby.”

You might as well have shot him dead then and there. Toby couldn’t feel pain, due to a list of neurological disorders he couldn’t bother to remember. But he knew for a fact he felt a pang of despair mixed with anger thud in his chest. “P-Piece of shit,” He grumbled, his hands still cupping your cheeks. The animalistic side of Toby wanted to find him, to make him hurt for causing you so much pain. But the soft look in your eyes, the way you were borderline clinging to him, made those thoughts evaporate. You came first. You needed him. You needed Toby more than you needed anyone. Swallowing thickly Toby tilted your head upwards, forcing you to look at him.

“You’re b-better off without him, alright? I never liked him anyways,” Toby started. Maybe this wasn’t the correct way to comfort someone, maybe he should try a different route instead of spewing insults. He dug into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small joint. “It’s n-not much but, we can s-smoke and talk about it,” He offered. This made a sad smile creep up your lips, your hands moving to open the window. “I think i’d like that Toby,” You agreed. You both readjusted in your seats, turning to face the window. Toby admired the moon as you took the joint between your lips, sparking the lighter. Again, social constructs were foreign to him. But as he threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer, he got the sense he made the right decision.

[julietsf1]

All is Fair in Love and Pastries - Kenan Yıldız x Reader

summary: She came to Munich for romance and got ghosted instead. Now, all she has left is a non-refundable ticket, a wounded ego, and an ongoing feud with a man who stole her last pretzel. (8k words)

content: serendipity, slight enemies-to-lovers, unexpected chemistry, teasing, fluff :)

AN: getting that real life inspo lmao I'm actually still going to Munich this weekend as my ticket is non refundable :') bet im gonna go shopping tho!! have a lovely day darlings <3

_______________________________________

I stared at my phone for the hundredth time that day, hoping—no, praying—for a notification. A single message. A carrier pigeon, even. Anything to prove that I hadn’t just imagined the last 5 months of my relationship.

Nothing.

Just the same empty screen, as quiet and indifferent as the man who swore he loved me five days ago.

I refreshed our chat anyway, like that would suddenly make a difference. Maybe my WiFi was acting up. Maybe he had texted, and the message was just... stuck in the digital abyss, waiting to be delivered.

Nope. Still nothing.

I sighed dramatically and flopped back onto my bed, holding my phone above me like it might suddenly start explaining itself.

It had been four days since my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend? Current ghost?—had last texted me. Four whole days. No explanation, no excuse, not even the cowardice of a half-assed breakup text.

Just... radio silence.

Besides the instagram stories of his friends, where he was seemingly having the time of his life clubbing and going to basketball matches.

The man who, less than a week ago, had been telling me he missed me so much, that he couldn’t wait to see me, had apparently decided I no longer existed.

Cool. Very cool.

I unlocked my phone and stared at my last message to him. A simple:

"What time are you picking me up from the airport <3"

Sent. Read. Ignored.

I clenched my jaw and rolled onto my stomach, glaring at my laptop screen where my non-refundable plane ticket sat in my email inbox. A round-trip flight from Nice to Munich, purchased in what I now recognized as the stupidest burst of romantic optimism I’d ever had. 

What was I supposed to do now? Cancel? Waste the money and sit at home, marinating in my own heartbreak like some tragic rom-com protagonist?

Absolutely not.

He may have ghosted me, but I’d be damned if I let some spineless man ruin my weekend. If nothing else, I was going to Munich. I had been there quite often for him anyway; I can figure out town for myself. And if nothing else, I was going to eat overpriced pastries, wander through fancy boutiques, and romanticize the hell out of my heartbreak.

So that’s exactly what I did.

I packed my bags and boarded the plane with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to their own public execution.

…

Munich was cold, and I was hungry—a dangerous combination for my already fragile mood.

I had spent the last hour walking through Englischer Garten, trying to shake off the lingering irritation of being ghosted. Fresh air was supposed to be good for you, right? It was supposed to clear your head, restore balance, whatever.

Did it work?

Not even a little.

I even stopped by the Eisbachwelle, where wetsuit-clad lunatics flung themselves into freezing water, attempting to surf a man-made wave in the middle of the city. I lingered for a while, waiting for the sight of someone wiping out spectacularly to cheer me up. A little Schadenfreude, as the Germans call it.

But even that failed me.

A guy faceplanted so hard that his board smacked him in the ribs, and all I felt was secondhand embarrassment. Not a single drop of joy.

Which meant I had officially lost my edge.

I needed a reset. Something warm, salty, buttery, preferably in the shape of a large pretzel.

So when I spotted a small bakery stand in Marienplatz, I knew what had to be done.

There it was. The last Brezn.

Golden brown, perfectly crisp on the outside, still steaming slightly. It looked like a hug in food form. The kind of thing that could turn your entire day around, that could restore faith in humanity, that could—

A hand shot out at the same time as mine.

Before I could react, the pretzel thief had already handed over his cash, nodding a polite danke to the vendor as if he hadn't just robbed me blind in broad daylight.

I stood there, hand still hovering mid-air, fingers closing around absolutely nothing.

The guy—the criminal in question—didn’t even hesitate. He just took a bite, slow and deliberate, as if he were performing for a food commercial.

I should have just let it go. But I was cold, hungry, and, quite frankly, on the verge of snapping.

“Excuse me?” I said, my voice teetering dangerously close to customer service polite.

He finally turned toward me, mid-chew, like he hadn’t just committed culinary theft.

Up close, he was—unfortunately—pretty easy to look at. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features softened only slightly by a full head of thick, dark blonde hair. The kind of guy who looked like he belonged in an expensive ad campaign, modeling watches he probably didn't even know how to read.

His gaze flicked down at me, scanning me with the casual arrogance of a man who had never had to fight for the last anything in his life.

“Problem?”

I crossed my arms. “You just stole my Brezn.”

He glanced down at it. Then, without even a hint of remorse, ripped off another piece and tossed it into his mouth.

“Oh?” he said, chewing. “Didn’t see your name on it.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose. “You cut the line.”

He shrugged. “I don’t wait in lines.”

I squinted at him. “Oh, wow. That must be so difficult for you.”

“It is,” he replied, entirely serious, before popping another bite into his mouth.

I stared at him. He stared back.

This was a test from the universe.

“I think I deserve it more,” he said finally, still looking alarmingly relaxed about this whole thing.

“Oh yeah?” I deadpanned. “And why’s that?”

He licked a bit of salt off his thumb—unnecessarily slowly, might I add—before replying, “I’m barely ever home. Haven’t had one of these in months.”

I exhaled sharply, glancing at the vendor like maybe—just maybe—there was another pretzel hiding in a secret stash somewhere. But no. This was it.

This stranger had not only taken the last Brezn but was now making a compelling case as to why he deserved it more.

I had two choices:

1.     Accept defeat like a normal, functioning adult.

2.     Die on this hill.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t feeling particularly mature today.

“Well,” I said, shifting my weight onto one leg. “I actually had a really rough week. So if we’re doing the who deserves it more competition, I’m pretty sure I win.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking far too amused for someone who had just ruined my day. “Oh yeah? What happened?”

I opened my mouth, then hesitated.

 “Let’s just say I’ve had a series of unfortunate events that have led me here, to this exact moment, where all I wanted—all I needed—was a Brezn.” I gestured toward the offending baked good, still clutched in his ridiculously nice hands. “And yet, here we are.”

He considered that for a moment, like he was actually entertaining the idea of handing it over.

Then, after a beat, he simply swallowed, dusted the salt from his fingers, and said, “Still not giving it to you.”

I blinked. “You’re actually the worst.”

“Probably,” he agreed, unbothered.

And then—because apparently, this interaction wasn’t infuriating enough—he shot me a quick smirk, turned on his heel, and walked away.

With my pretzel.

I watched his retreating figure, the back of his stupidly nice jacket, the annoyingly confident way he walked, and considered my life choices.

Maybe I should have just tripped him.

…

By the time I reached Jamal’s apartment, I had mostly let go of the pretzel theft.

Mostly.

Fine, not at all, but I was telling myself that because I refused to let some random bread bandit ruin my entire weekend.

I rang the doorbell, and within seconds, the door swung open to reveal Jamal Musiala—failed Raya date turned best mate.

We had met on the app ages ago, but within the first five minutes of real-life conversation, it was abundantly clear that we were better off as friends. No awkward tension, no will-they-won’t-they—just immediate sibling energy.

And when he heard about my spectacular disaster, he didn’t even hesitate.

"Cancel the hotel. My guest room is free. You’re staying with me."

Which was how I ended up here, standing in his doorway while he pulled me into a quick hug.

"Yo! Finally made it," he said, immediately pulling me into a hug. 

"Survived another international flight," I sighed, stepping inside and already feeling the tension in my shoulders ease.

He grabbed my bag, tossing it near the door like it was his personal mission to make sure I did absolutely nothing for myself this weekend. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I muttered, collapsing onto the couch. "Between the baby on the flight and some guy testing my patience on the streets of Munich, I was one bad moment away from throwing hands."

Jamal raised an eyebrow, already amused. "Define ‘testing your patience.’"

I waved a hand. "Eh, some random dickhead cut in front of me at a bakery. Took the last Brezn. Very tragic. Anyway, I’m over it now."

Jamal snorted. "You don’t sound over it."

"I’ve grown as a person," I said solemnly, grabbing the tea he handed me. "Anyway, enough about me. What’s new? Got any hot gossip?"

"Nothing as dramatic as your bread wars," he teased, settling into the chair across from me. "But I’m still reeling over the fact that you thought long-distance dating was a good idea."

I sighed, taking a long sip of my tea. "Alright, go on. Get it out of your system."

He smirked. "No, no, I just think it’s inspiring. You—who has approximately zero patience for time-wasters—thought dating someone five countries away was a solid plan."

I gave him a look. "It made sense at the time!"

Jamal raised an eyebrow. "Did it?"

I groaned. "Yes! In theory, long-distance means built-in space. No pressure to see each other all the time, no risk of losing yourself in the relationship. You still get your own life. It’s all very mature, very evolved."

"Ah yes," he nodded seriously, "a relationship with absolutely no quality time. Revolutionary."

I ignored him. "It worked perfectly for me."

Jamal leaned forward, grinning. "I think you’re saying he just didn’t make you fall head over heels properly."

"I’m saying it was a noble experiment that failed," I corrected.

"You rationalize love like it’s a business deal," he said, shaking his head. "I bet you made a whole pros and cons list before agreeing to this relationship."

I pursed my lips.

Jamal’s eyes widened. "Oh my God. You did."

"It was a very casual list," I mumbled into my mug.

He threw his head back, cackling. "You’re mental."

I scowled. "Some of us like to make informed decisions, Jamal."

"And some of us," he grinned, "realize that love isn’t an investment portfolio. It just happens."

I squinted at him. "That sounds like something people say when they want me to shut up."

"That too," he admitted, still smirking. "Anyway, I invited a friend over for FIFA later—hope you don’t mind."

I waved a hand lazily. "No problem. I’m gonna take a long shower first anyway."

…

The shower did its job. By the time I stepped out, warm and wrapped in one of Jamal’s oversized hoodies, I felt lighter. Like maybe this weekend wasn’t a complete disaster. Maybe I could just enjoy being in Munich, enjoy my friend’s company, and ignore the nagging feeling that I had flown here for absolutely no reason.

Then I stepped into the living room.

And froze.

Because sitting on Jamal’s couch, controller in hand, was none other than the Brezn thief himself.

I stopped so abruptly I nearly slid on the hardwood floor.

He looked up at me mid-game, one hand casually flicking the joystick, the other resting against the back of the couch like he had all the time in the world. His dark blond waves were slightly damp, like he’d just showered too, and he was wearing a black long-sleeve shirt that looked unfairly good on him.

For a split second, I thought maybe the universe was punishing me. That this was some kind of elaborate karmic joke.

Then he grinned, slow and lazy.

“Oh,” he said, far too casually for my liking. “It’s you again.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you following me?”

Jamal—completely oblivious to the mounting tension in the room—paused the game and looked between us. “Wait. You two already know each other?”

The man—who I now knew was not just some random bakery menace but an actual acquaintance of Jamal’s—stretched his arms out in front of him like he was completely at ease, shooting me a look that was somewhere between amused and smug.

“We met earlier,” he said, still grinning like he found this whole thing hilarious. “Had a little disagreement over a pretzel.”

I crossed my arms. “I wouldn’t call it a disagreement. More like an act of blatant food theft.”

Jamal let out a loud laugh. “Oh my God. You’re the Brezn guy?”

I turned to him, betrayed. “You’re taking his side?”

“Oh, I’m on no one’s side,” Jamal said, still grinning. “I just can’t believe you’ve been ranting about this all evening, and it turns out it was Kenan.”

Kenan.

I turned back to him, my brain finally catching up. Kenan Yıldız. The name suddenly clicked into place. Juventus player. Young star. He had been on all the football news headlines lately, yet I hadn’t recognized him when we’d been too busy arguing over baked goods.

Kenan leaned back against the couch, clearly enjoying every second of this.

“If it helps,” he said, “I did think about giving it to you.”

I scoffed. “Wow. So generous.”

“Didn’t, though,” he added, eyes gleaming.

I inhaled sharply, mentally weighing the pros and cons of throwing a pillow at his head.

Jamal, meanwhile, was still thoroughly entertained. “Alright, alright. Before you two start a war in my living room, sit down. We’re playing FIFA.”

I dropped onto the couch, watching as he passed a controller to Kenan. “Oh, fantastic. I get to witness high-quality gameplay firsthand.”

Kenan barely glanced at me as he selected his team. “That sounded sarcastic.”

I took a sip of my drink. “That’s because it was.”

Jamal grinned. “You talk like you’ve seen him play before.”

I gestured toward the screen. "The evidence is right there. You haven’t even started playing, and I can already see the classic overconfidence."

Jamal burst out laughing. “Oh, this is great. I love this."

Kenan tilted his head slightly. “You think I’m bad at FIFA?”

I leaned back, stretching my legs out. “I think you think you’re good, which is way worse.”

Jamal wheezed. “Mate, she’s calling you a fraud.”

Kenan finally smirked, something sharper in his expression now. “Alright then. Play me.”

I scoffed. “Why would I waste my time proving something I already know?”

Kenan handed me a controller. “Because I think you’re all talk.”

Jamal let out a low whistle. “Damn. You gonna let him say that?”

I squinted at Kenan, assessing. He looked too confident, too pleased with himself, like he had already decided I was going to lose.

Big mistake.

I stretched my arms, feigning boredom. "Fine. But when I win, you’re buying me a Brezn."

His grin widened. “Deal.”

Jamal leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. “Alright, this is officially the most invested I’ve ever been in FIFA.” 

The match started, and I quickly realized three things:

1.     Kenan was as smug as humanly possible.

2.     I was not as bad as he expected.

3.     I was still losing.

“You sure you’ve played this before?” he teased, passing circles around my defense.

I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Shut up.”

And then—he scored.

Jamal burst out laughing as I dramatically collapsed against the couch. “I’m going to throw this controller at your head.”

Kenan grinned. “You’re just mad because you’re losing.”

I exhaled, resetting. “Alright. I’m locked in now.”

Kenan smirked. “Oh? You weren’t trying before?”

“I was warming up.”

And then—I started to figure him out.

Kenan was good, but he was also comfortable. He played like someone who expected to win—which meant he wasn’t ready for surprises.

So I gave him one.

Instead of playing safe, I started forcing mistakes. Instead of predictable attacks, I threw reckless passes forward, sprinting onto them with zero hesitation.

And then—somehow, some way—I scored.

The room went silent.

Jamal’s eyes widened. “NO WAY.”

I shot up from the couch, genuinely thrilled, throwing my arms in the air like I had just won the World Cup. “LET’S GO!”

Kenan blinked at the screen, processing. “...Alright. That was decent.”

“DECENT?” I laughed. “That was incredible. That was a masterpiece. Someone call FIFA, that was the best goal of the year.”

Jamal was dying, doubled over in laughter. “She’s actually celebrating like she won the league.”

Kenan shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.

Jamal leaned toward him. “You good, man? I think she actually rattled you.”

Kenan exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “One goal means nothing.”

I grinned. “You sound stressed.”

“I’m not,” he said flatly.

“You look stressed.”

Kenan didn’t even respond. He just restarted the match, jaw set, eyes focused.

And that’s when I realized—he actually cared.

I had gotten to him.

And that fact alone made my entire weekend.

The rest of the game was pure chaos. I spent the entire match talking, commentating my every move like I was a sports announcer, making Jamal cry with laughter while Kenan did his best to block me out.

And then—somehow, against all odds—I scored again.

Jamal fell to the floor. “SHE DID IT AGAIN.”

I jumped up, clapping my hands together, absolutely beaming. “Someone get the cameras! Someone call ESPN!”

Kenan exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

Jamal cackled. “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

Kenan looked at me then, properly looked, and for a split second, there was something undeniably fond in his gaze.

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head with a tiny, reluctant smile.

I flopped back down, grinning wildly. “Kenan, should I go pro?”

“You should retire while you’re ahead,” he muttered.

I smirked. “So you admit I’m ahead.”

Kenan sighed, picking up his drink. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”

Jamal wheezed. “Nah, man, you lost. Accept it.”

I stood up, stretching lazily. “I believe you owe me a Brezn, Yıldız.”

With a giggle, I wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a coke from the fridge, still riding the high of my victory.

Behind me, I heard Jamal got up, grabbing his phone. “Food’s almost here—I’ll go down and get it.”

The appartment was quiet now besides the sound of a controller being set down. A pause.

Then, Kenan’s voice, low and even.

“She’s unbearable.”

I grabbed a coke and turned around, only to find him already walking into the kitchen.

He moved with the kind of easy confidence that was impossible to ignore, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt slightly, like he had all the time in the world. I expected him to go for a drink himself, but he just leaned against the counter, watching me.

I raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip. “Let me guess. You came in here to process your humiliating loss in private?”

His lips twitched. “I came in here to see if you’d finally crack and admit you got lucky.”

I scoffed, setting my drink down with dramatic emphasis. “Lucky? Oh, that’s cute. You think this was luck.”

Kenan tilted his head slightly, like he was really considering it. “Mmm. Either that, or you tricked me into underestimating you.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “Are you suggesting I played mind games with you?”

His eyes glinted with something just shy of admiration. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

I smirked. “You’re right. I totally did. And I’d do it again.”

Kenan’s lips curled at the edges, like he wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction of admitting anything. But his gaze flickered—just for a second—down to my mouth before locking back onto my eyes.

There was a beat of silence, not awkward but charged.

His voice was lower when he spoke again. “I’ll get you back for that.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Sure you will.”

Before he could respond, Jamal’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Food’s here!”

Kenan stepped back, running a hand through his hair before nodding toward the door. “Come on, winner. Let’s eat.”

I followed, my smirk still lingering.

For the first time all weekend, I felt genuinely good.

…

It had gotten late the night before. Later than expected.

Jamal had ordered food, we’d all ended up sitting around, eating, talking, and somehow, between full stomachs and heavy eyelids, Kenan had ended up crashing on the couch. It wasn’t planned—just one of those things that happened when the night stretched longer than you thought it would.

I had barely registered it at the time, already halfway asleep in Jamal’s guest room, but when I woke up the next morning and wandered into the living room, there he was.

Kenan Yıldız. In all his six-foot-something, professional athlete, half-asleep glory.

Sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes, hair a mess of lazy curls, mouth slightly parted like he hadn’t fully re-entered consciousness yet.

I stared for a second too long, mostly because I wasn’t used to seeing him like this—soft around the edges, not smirking or arguing with me—before clearing my throat.

“You know, Jamal does have an actual guest room.”

Kenan didn’t move, just let out a low, sleep-roughened grumble that was probably a sentence in some language I didn’t speak.

I rolled my eyes, walking into the kitchen. “I’m going to get breakfast. If you’re alive in the next five minutes, feel free to come along.”

He was already pushing himself up onto his elbows, blinking like he wasn’t fully convinced the day had started yet. “Where’s Jamal?”

I grabbed my coat. “Still dead to the world.”

Kenan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. “Smart man.”

…

The café was small, tucked away from the main streets, the kind of place that felt warm the second you walked in. The smell of fresh bread and espresso filled the air, and despite the morning chill outside, it was cozy, inviting, the kind of place people actually took their time in.

I relaxed a little the second I stepped inside.

Kenan scanned the space, hands in his pockets, taking it in like he was mentally scoring it. “Not bad.”

I scoffed. “Not bad? This is an elite breakfast spot.”

He smirked. “I’ll decide once I taste the food.”

I rolled my eyes but before I could continue defending my flawless café selection, I noticed a small interaction at the counter.

A barista—young, probably new—was clearly overwhelmed, trying to juggle too many things at once. She fumbled slightly with the coffee machine, hands moving fast, eyes flicking to the growing line like it was personally taunting her.

The businessman at the front, impatient and already checking his watch, let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “Jesus, is it always this slow?”

I didn’t mean to intervene.

It just kind of… happened.

I leaned slightly against the counter, offering a calm, easy smile.

“Take your time. It’s way too early for people to be this impatient.”

The words weren’t pointed, not really, but they carried just enough weight to cut through the tension.

The barista glanced at me, a flicker of relief in her expression before she nodded quickly and refocused on the drink in front of her.

The businessman, unimpressed, muttered something under his breath but dropped it, grabbing his coffee and stalking off.

Kenan, silent up until now, turned his head slightly toward me, like he was seeing me differently for the first time.

I ignored it, focusing back on the menu.

When we finally stepped up to order, the barista, still looking a little frazzled but better, managed a small, genuine smile.

“Thanks,” she murmured, adjusting her apron. “Some people are just…” She trailed off, rolling her eyes slightly, as if she couldn’t quite find the right word.

“The worst?” I offered.

She laughed. “Yeah. That.”

Kenan was still watching me, but now there was something else behind it.

Something almost amused.

“So you do have the capacity to be nice,” he mused, smirking as we stepped aside to wait for our drinks. “Interesting.”

I scoffed, stirring a sugar packet between my fingers. “I am perfectly capable of being nice.”

Kenan raised a brow, feigning deep contemplation. “Mmm. Just not to me?”

“The barista never stole my pretzel.”

He let out a low, lazy laugh, shaking his head as if he almost respected the answer. “Fair point.”

I took a sip of my coffee, pleased with myself, but before I could gloat, the barista returned, sliding an extra croissant onto our tray.

“On the house,” she said with a grin. “For being nice.”

I shot her a bright smile, but that smile slightly fell when I turned back to Kenan, I caught him watching me.

Not smirking. Not teasing.

Just looking.

It wasn’t obvious, nothing overt or lingering enough to call attention to itself. But there was something there—something unreadable, like a thought passing through his mind before he could decide what to do with it.

I frowned. “What?”

Kenan blinked, shaking his head slightly like he was resetting his expression. “Nothing.”

I squinted at him. “You’re weird.”

He smirked. “And yet, you invited me to breakfast.”

I rolled my eyes. “Because I was feeling charitable.”

Kenan took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes still flickering with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Lucky me.”

And for some reason, that sentence stayed with me longer than it should have.

…

The rest of the day, after dropping Jamal’s breakfast and Kenan went home, I was on a mission.

Enough sulking. Enough rehashing why I was even here. If I was going to spend a weekend away, I was going to make something of it—starting with the one thing that had never failed to lift my spirits.

Retail therapy.

Now, let’s be clear—I wasn’t the kind of person who regularly indulged in luxury shopping sprees. I was a firm believer in financial responsibility and splurging on sales.

But sometimes—just sometimes—a girl needed to treat herself.

I had no intention of actually buying anything.

But the moment I stepped inside Saint Laurent, something in me shifted.

Maybe it was the soft golden lighting, making everything look like it belonged in a dream. Maybe it was the quiet elegance of it all, the way the sales associates moved like they had all the secrets to life itself.

Or maybe, for the first time all week, I felt like I deserved something just for me.

I started with the handbags, lightly running my fingers over smooth leather and delicate gold clasps, trying to soak up the feeling of being in a place that felt so effortlessly put-together.

And then—I saw it.

It wasn’t a bag.

It was a dress.

Simple, timeless, and undeniably perfect.

I hesitated for a second, fingers hovering over the fabric, wondering if I was allowed to try something this nice on.

Then a sales associate appeared, smiling warmly. “Would you like to see how it fits?”

I bit my lip, a little shy. “Oh, I was just—”

But then, in a rare moment of self-indulgence, I nodded. “Actually… yeah. Why not?”

And that was how it started.

Five minutes later, I was standing in front of a mirror, staring at a version of myself I hadn’t seen in a while.

The dress fit like it was made for me.

It hugged just right, elegant but effortless, like I’d just thrown it on and magically looked stunning. The kind of dress that didn’t need accessories or complicated styling. It just… worked.

I smoothed my hands over the fabric, twirling just slightly, inspecting every angle.

And for the first time all weekend, I actually smiled at my reflection.

The saleswoman clasped her hands together. “That’s the one, isn’t it?”

I exhaled, still staring at myself. “You’re very good at your job.”

She laughed. "You look stunning, dear."

I let out a small, giddy giggle, the kind I hadn’t heard from myself in a while. It felt nice, to like how I looked—to do something that was just for me, without a single ounce of guilt attached.

For once, I wasn’t overthinking it.

I wasn’t analyzing whether I should or shouldn’t.

I was just happy.

So before I could talk myself out of it, I lifted my chin and said, “I’ll take it.”

As I handed over my card, I thought about where I’d wear it.

Jamal’s match tonight. The VIP box.

And then, out of nowhere, another thought crept in—one I definitely didn’t mean to have.

What if Kenan sees me in this? Surely he would be there too.

The moment the thought fully registered, warmth crept up my neck and into my cheeks.

I nearly choked on my own internal monologue.

I shook my head quickly, forcing down the blush before the saleswoman could notice.

I wasn’t buying this for him. Obviously. No. This was just for me.

…But if Kenan happened to see me in it, well.

That wasn’t my fault.

….

By the time I arrived at Allianz Arena, I felt genuinely lighter.

Maybe it was the crisp night air, the buzz of excitement in the crowd, or the fact that I was actually looking forward to something for the first time in days.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that I felt good in my new dress.

The stadium lights shone down as I made my way to the VIP section, clutching my pass. The energy inside was electric, fans already singing, the deep thrum of anticipation settling over the stands.

I stepped inside the box, scanning the seats for Jamal, when a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

I turned, already knowing who it was before I even saw him.

Kenan stood next to me, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his usual smirk firmly in place. The stadium lights did unfair things to his features, casting a warm glow over his already obnoxiously handsome face, and for a split second, I hated that he had the nerve to look like that in any setting.

His gaze flicked down ever so slightly, scanning my dress before he met my eyes again.

“You look good.”

I blinked, caught slightly off guard by the lack of sarcasm in his voice.

Then, as if he could sense me registering the compliment too much, he added, “Unexpected, really.”

There it was.

I let out a scoff, placing a hand on my chest. “Oh my God, Kenan. That was almost a normal, genuine compliment. You must be exhausted.”

He hummed, nodding. “Yeah, I don’t know what came over me. Won’t happen again.”

“Shame,” I teased. “I was really enjoying the moment.”

He shook his head, biting back a smile. “So, what brings you here? Finally expanding your horizons past FIFA?”

I crossed my arms. “Actually, I’m here for Jamal. Some of us support our friends.”

Kenan nodded slowly. “Mmm. And yet… you’re standing here, talking to me instead.”

I opened my mouth to fire back, but before I could, the stadium erupted in cheers, the players stepping onto the field.

I turned my attention to the match, trying to pretend I wasn’t slightly flustered.

Kenan, however, didn’t seem as interested in the game as he was in continuing his favorite pastime: annoying me for fun.

“So, be honest,” he murmured, leaning in slightly. “You understand the rules of football, right?”

I gave him a dry look. “Wow. Incredible assumption. You see a woman at a match and immediately assume she doesn’t get it?”

Kenan grinned, unbothered. “No, I just see you at a match and assume you’re mostly here for the snacks.”

I gasped. “Excuse me, I am deeply invested in Jamal’s career.”

Kenan hummed, clearly not convinced. “Okay. What position does he play?”

I stared at him. “...Defense?”

Kenan smirked. “He’s a midfielder.”

I groaned, throwing my hands up. “Alright, whatever, I’m here for vibes and friendship. Sue me.”

Kenan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with pure amusement.

For once, I didn’t feel annoyed by it.

I turned back to the field, taking in the sheer energy of the stadium, the rush of excitement that rippled through the crowd.

And out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kenan watching me.

I glanced at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the match?”

His smirk didn’t waver. “I am.”

Something warm and fluttery settled in my stomach before I could stop it.

…

By the time the match ended, I was happily full of stadium energy but tragically underfed.

The VIP box had food, sure, but it was the kind of small, fancy bites that looked better than they tasted. You know, the kind that was supposed to be "elevated dining" but just made you angry and hungrier.

I popped another tiny canapé into my mouth and sighed dramatically.

Kenan, who had been watching me struggle with barely concealed amusement, finally smirked. “You’re starving.”

I turned to him, offended. “I am not starving.”

Kenan gestured lazily to the criminally small appetizer on my plate. “You just inhaled that in one bite.”

I crossed my arms. “Maybe I have a very refined palate.”

He snorted. “Right. That’s why you look physically betrayed after every bite.”

I sighed, defeated. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m a little hungry.”

Kenan hummed like he was deep in thought, then glanced at his watch.

“Come on.”

I frowned. “What?”

He was already heading toward the exit, looking over his shoulder like it was obvious. “We’re getting food.”

I blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

Kenan chuckled, his expression full of mischief. “Trust me, anything outside is an upgrade from whatever that was.”

I tilted my head. “And what if this is an elaborate scheme to lure me into a suspiciously empty street?”

His smirk deepened. “I’d like to think if I wanted you gone, I’d be more creative than that.”

I considered it. “That’s… unsettlingly fair.”

…

Kenan’s car smelled unfairly nice—not in an overwhelming, aggressively expensive way, but in that effortless ‘I have my life together’ way. It was all clean leather, faint cologne, and something subtly fresh, like pine or citrus, the kind of scent that made you want to breathe a little deeper just to keep it around a second longer.

I did not breathe deeper.

Instead, I focused on the city outside, on the soft blur of streetlights streaking across the window as we drove through a quieter part of Munich. The streets were mostly empty, the chaos of match day behind us, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I wasn’t feeling weighed down by my own thoughts.

I was full, I was warm, and for once, I wasn’t thinking about him.

And then, Kenan spoke.

“So.” His voice was casual, almost offhanded, like he wasn’t about to upend my peace. “You never actually said why you were in Munich.”

I blinked, looking away from the window. “What?”

He glanced at me briefly, his fingers drumming idly against the steering wheel before he turned back to the road. “You don’t seem like the type to just book a random flight for fun.”

I scoffed, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I am very spontaneous.”

Kenan hummed like he didn’t believe me. “Right. And how many of these ‘totally random’ solo trips have you taken before?”

I opened my mouth. Paused. Frowned.

“…That’s not important.”

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head. “So, you’re telling me you woke up one day and thought, Munich sounds nice?”

I huffed dramatically, crossing my arms. “Maybe I did.”

Kenan shot me a pointed look that said ‘I know you’re full of shit.’

I exhaled, shifting in my seat. “Fine. I was supposed to see someone.”

He didn’t react—just kept driving, waiting.

It was almost worse than if he had immediately jumped in with a question.

I sighed, resting my head against the window. “But, uh… turns out he didn’t feel like seeing me back. And I had the ticket booked already.”

The words felt… lighter now, like they didn’t hold the same weight as they did a few days ago. Maybe because I’d said them out loud before. Maybe because I wasn’t alone with them anymore.

Kenan’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel, his jaw tightening for half a second before he spoke.

“Idiot.”

I blinked, turning toward him. “What?”

His voice was even, casual, but the way he said it was too sure, too final. “The guy. He’s an idiot.”

I let out a small, surprised laugh, shaking my head. “You don’t even know him.”

Kenan didn’t hesitate. “Don’t have to.”

Something about his certainty made my stomach twist.

I licked my lips, choosing to ignore the warm feeling creeping into my chest. “You’re very confident in that assessment.”

Kenan finally glanced at me, just for a moment, then looked back at the road. “Yeah. I am.”

The air in the car felt different all of a sudden, not uncomfortable, but charged.

I opened my mouth, about to say something to break whatever this was, when—

Kenan reached into the backseat, grabbing something, and tossed a small paper bag into my lap.

I frowned down at it. “What’s this?”

Kenan kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting lazily on the gear shift. “Something I saw.”

I gave him a suspicious look before reaching inside.

The first thing I felt was something soft.

And when I pulled it out, I actually gasped.

It was a Jellycat plush.

But not just any Jellycat plush.

A pretzel-shaped one.

Ridiculously soft, golden brown with tiny embroidered salt flecks, its round body twisted into a perfect loop, like an adorable, carb-shaped hug.

I stared at it, completely thrown.

My brain short-circuited.

I turned to Kenan, wide-eyed. “You—” I stopped, shaking my head, too stunned to be normal about this. “You got me a Jellycat pretzel?”

Kenan shrugged, like this was completely normal behavior. “Figured you’d appreciate it.”

I blinked down at my lap, still gripping the plush like it might disappear if I let go. “I—this is—I don’t even know what to say.”

Kenan smirked. “Wow. A rare moment.”

I ignored him, still reeling. “Wait. How did you—” My eyes narrowed as the realization hit. “Jamal.”

Kenan huffed a small laugh. “Jamal.”

I groaned, slumping back against my seat, embarrassed beyond belief. “I swear, he’s worse than an actual gossip column.”

“He told me the full pretzel tragedy while you were shopping this morning.” Kenan’s lips twitched. “Said you looked genuinely devastated when I took the last one.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “I was devastated.”

Kenan let out a real laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I got that impression. Little drama queen.”

I glanced back down at the plush, running my fingers over its ridiculously soft surface, warmth blooming in my chest for an entirely different reason now.

I swallowed. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, you know?”

Kenan exhaled through his nose, his smirk fading slightly. “I know.”

There was a small pause, then—

“I wanted to. I like to see you smile”

I froze.

Just for a second.

It wasn’t even what he said.

It was how he said it. Like it was simple. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was a big deal.

I looked down at the Jellycat pretzel, tracing my thumb over one of the little embroidered salt flecks.

Kenan cleared his throat, like he wanted to move the conversation along before I got weird about it.

“I, uh—” He rubbed his jaw, focusing back on the road. “I couldn’t exactly smuggle a fresh one into the match, so I figured this would keep you warm in a different way.”

I swallowed, my grip tightening on the plush.

Somehow, slowly over the last few days, my heart stopped feeling so heavy.

I glanced at Kenan, and for once, he wasn’t watching me with his usual smirk or teasing expression.

He was just watching.

Like he was still trying to figure out why I looked so surprised.

Like he didn’t realize he had just completely disarmed me.

I turned back to the window, hiding my smile.

Kenan shifted in his seat, adjusting the air conditioning like he suddenly needed something to do with his hands.

He still hadn’t started the drive back to Jamal’s.

Good. I wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere.

…

I woke up earlier than expected, the kind of early where the world still felt half-asleep, where the streets outside hummed quietly with the first stirrings of the city.

The apartment was still, save for the occasional distant sound—pipes groaning as someone used the shower, the soft buzz of an electric toothbrush in another room.

And then—

A loud "OH, COME ON!" followed by rapid button-mashing and what I could only assume was a FIFA-related disaster.

I groaned, pressing my face into the pillow, trying to will myself back to sleep.

It didn’t work.

Instead, my hand reached instinctively for something beside me, fingers brushing against—

Oh.

I cracked one eye open.

There, sitting right beside my pillow, was the Jellycat pretzel plush.

Warmth bloomed immediately in my chest, completely uninvited.

It had been exactly where I left it, tucked neatly beside me like some ridiculous comfort object. I had slept next to it. Like some sentimental idiot.

I exhaled sharply, flopping onto my back and covering my face with my hands. “I’m losing it.”

Jamal’s distant FIFA agony continued in the other room.

I peeked at the plush again, this time reaching over to pick it up, squeezing it absently in my hands.

It was too soft. Too huggable. Too… thoughtful.

Kenan had really gone out of his way to find something like this. He had listened to Jamal’s retelling of my pretzel tragedy and then acted on it.

That thought alone did something weird to my stomach.

I needed to leave before I started reading into things.

After a long, slightly too-hot shower and a reluctant change into travel clothes, I zipped up my suitcase and walked into the living room, where Jamal was still intensely focused on FIFA.

“Morning,” I greeted, adjusting my bag strap.

Jamal barely looked up. “Yo. Ready for your flight?”

I nodded, shifting my weight. “Yeah, time to go back home. Thanks for letting me crash.”

He finally paused his game, stretching lazily. “No problem. You’re welcome to crash here whenever your love life implodes.”

I gasped, fake offended. “Excuse me, that was one time.”

Jamal smirked. “That was this time.”

I glared at him. “You’re very lucky I don’t have time to fight you about this.”

Jamal grinned, unpausing his game. “Safe flight, man. Oh—Kenan’s out front, by the way.”

I froze mid-step, my brain short-circuiting. “What?”

Jamal tilted his head toward the window. “I think he’s waiting for you.”

I blinked rapidly, my stomach flipping for reasons I refused to acknowledge.

Kenan was… waiting for me?

I didn’t even have time to process what that meant before my feet were already moving, slipping on my coat and heading for the door.

And sure enough—

When I stepped outside, there he was.

Leaning against his car, hands tucked into his pockets, his posture completely at ease, like he had been there for a while and had all the time in the world.

The moment he saw me, his lips curved into a smirk, like he had been expecting me to be surprised.

“You’re awake,” he said, as if he had any reason to assume I wouldn’t be.

I scoffed, shifting my bag higher on my shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

Kenan shrugged. “Driving you to the airport.”

I blinked. “I—what?”

He tilted his head slightly, amused by my confusion. “What, you thought I’d let you navigate Munich public transport with a suitcase?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I was literally just going to call an Uber.”

Kenan rolled his eyes, exhaling through his nose. “That’s boring.”

I stared at him, the weight of this entire situation settling into my brain.

Kenan—who had no reason to be here—had woken up, driven across the city, and was now waiting for me outside, completely unbothered, like this was just something he did.

I adjusted my coat, voice quieter. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

Kenan looked at me like I had just said something profoundly stupid. “Yeah. I know.”

I didn’t know what to do with that.

So instead of overanalyzing it to death, I just sighed, adjusting my bag.

“Fine. Let’s go.

…

When we finally pulled up to the departures area, Kenan shifted into park, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel.

I unbuckled my seatbelt slowly, suddenly feeling like this was weirdly… final.

Like leaving now meant returning to normal.

And for some reason, I wasn’t ready for that.

I turned to him, opening my mouth to say… something.

But before I could, Kenan reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out.

A tiny bag of pretzels.

I blinked, thrown completely off guard. “You—”

Kenan smirked, holding it out toward me. “Figured you might need some snacks for the flight.”

I stared at him, something warm creeping into my chest before I could stop it.

I took the bag, shaking my head. “You’re trying to buy my goodwill?”

He leaned back against the seat. “You love it.”

I scoffed, but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Debatable.”

Kenan’s gaze flicked to my carry-on, and before I could register what he was about to say, his smirk deepened slightly.

“Did you pack the Jellycat?”

My face immediately heated up.

I opened my mouth—to lie, obviously—but Kenan just let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You did.”

I huffed. “No comment.”

Kenan’s lips twitched. “Good. It means my plan worked.”

I frowned. “Plan?”

He nodded toward the plush peeking slightly from the top of my bag. “Now you have to think about me every time you see it.”

My brain short-circuited.

I had no response to that.

I huffed, adjusting my bag. “Okay, well. Thanks for the ride, I guess.”

Kenan nodded once, casual as ever. “See you around.”

I hesitated for half a second.

Then, before I could stop myself—

I turned back to him one last time.

And said, without thinking:

“Don’t miss me too much.”

Kenan’s smirk was slow, lazy, and way too confident.

“No promises.”

I stared at him, my brain doing at least fifteen flips, before turning on my heel and walking inside before I could make this worse for myself.

I had no idea what had just happened.

All I knew was that my face was burning, and I was smiling like an idiot.

…

Back home, everything was exactly as I had left it.

The same apartment, the same slightly-too-loud coffee machine sputtering in protest before coming to life, the same half-empty fridge reminding me that I should really start grocery shopping like an adult.

Everything had resumed as normal.

And yet—

I found myself standing in my bedroom, suitcase still half-unpacked, as if some part of me refused to fully settle back into my routine. My fingers ran absentmindedly over the plush pretzel sitting on my bed, its soft, squishy loops an absurd but strangely comforting reminder of the past weekend.

I wasn’t supposed to still be thinking about him.

I wasn’t supposed to be replaying conversations in my head, breaking apart the way he had looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, the small shifts in his expression, the casual, almost careless way he had handed me that bag with the Jellycat and the pretzel, as if it hadn’t meant anything at all.

I let out a frustrated sigh, squeezing the plush against my chest like it was somehow responsible for all of this.

“You’re not helping,” I muttered at it.

Unsurprisingly, the Jellycat did not have a response.

I groaned, flopping onto my bed and burying my face into my pillow, as if that would somehow smother my thoughts into submission.

This was ridiculous.

I was being ridiculous.

I had gone to Munich with a very specific reason—to see someone who had ultimately proved to be unworthy of my time. But somehow, I had left with something else entirely.

A new inside joke. A new routine. A new, completely inconvenient way my stomach flipped whenever I got a text notification.

Which was precisely why I should not have reached for my phone just now.

But I did.

And when I turned it over—

There it was.

A new message.

From Kenan.

I hesitated for a beat, my thumb hovering over the screen, already knowing that whatever it said would only make things worse for me.

Then, finally, I clicked it open.

Kenan: Buy a nice winter coat.

I frowned, sitting up slightly as I typed back.

Me: Why?

The reply came almost instantly, as if he had been waiting for me to answer.

Kenan: I’m playing in the Netherlands next Wednesday.

Another message followed before I even had time to process the first.

Kenan: I need you to see how much better I am than Jamal, obviously.

I stared at my screen, my heart doing a very, very inconvenient thing, something warm and fluttery and deeply annoying settling into my chest.

I didn’t respond right away.

Because I already knew what I was going to do.

I was going.

[slasherscream]

Can you do some more until dawn characters (yandere please) like you’re trying on clothes at the mall and ask their opinion?

YANDERE UNTIL DAWN CHARACTERS + READER IS TRYING ON CLOTHES

A/N: thank you for reading my until dawn content! it's such a small fandom these days, comments/reblogs/anon reviews/asks are appreciated as they let me know people are still reading these. 

- Josh has an excellent eye for aesthetics. He may not know all the words/names for the types of clothes you look good in but he recognizes them right away. He’ll try and describe something you should get, give up, wander off, then come back with examples of what he meant while you’re in the dressing room. If the shopping trip is under four hours he can remain locked in the entire time. This is the strength of will and character that comes with being the big brother to two little sisters who got his driving license first. He’s spent entire lifetimes at the mall hyping up the twins. He knows what to do. Overall helpfulness: 8/10.

- Sam loves spending quality time with you. Quality time is one of her preferred love languages, in fact. She picks you up for your shopping day with your favorite coffee shop order in hand, from the best place in town. She’s good with little details like that. You can always count on her to give you her honest opinion on what you pick out. She’s gentle about it, but she’ll never let you wear something she thinks is unflattering. She’s also mindful of waste consumption. With Sam’s help you wind up picking things you love, are comfortable wearing, and that you’ll actually use. Not a penny wasted, no matter how much you spend. Overall helpfulness: 10/10. 

- Chris could not possibly, in any version of reality, fix his mouth to give you a criticism about any of your choices. Let alone choices about how you will go about decorating your body. He’s lucky he gets to look at you. It’s an honor! Thank you for honoring him! Every time you step out of the dressing room you will get the exact same answer, very enthusiastically, in the same tone: “That looks GREAT, babe!” You’ll be ready to kill him thirty minutes in. Absolutely worthless feedback. You’ll have to get help from the salespeople who work there for opinions. If you want a ‘yes man’ this is your guy! Overall helpfulness: 3/10. 

Hannah is another sap. She’s more helpful than Chris, but only by the slightest margin. If something doesn’t look good she’ll be able to stutter her way around to it…. eventually. She’s nearly petrified at the thought of upsetting you. Never-mind the fact that you’ve asked her how the top looks on you five times now. “Well…. I mean… how do YOU think it looks, Y/N?” As if you’d be asking if you could come up with an opinion yourself. You’ll wind up leaving with only a few items. You’ll have to come back with a friend in a few days. You may need a new wardrobe, but if you need help picking it out, you’ll need a different set of eyes. Overall helpfulness: 4/10.

- Emily is going to be honest to the point that, yes, it will hurt your feelings a little… if you’re lucky. Mileage may vary. If you’re particularly sensitive she’ll hurt your feelings a lot. But god forbid you start trying to take someone nicer shopping with you. She’ll throw the hissy fit of the century when she finds out. Yes, when, and not if. Emily manages to find out everything you try to keep from her. Everything. On one hand you’ll wind up looking the best you’ve ever looked. Your entire wardrobe suits you perfectly. She even buys/picks out things that you’ll like, in your style, even if she finds the style personally distasteful. That’s how much she loves you. It just has to suit you, or else she will say something, and the way she says it is never very nice. You’ll look incredible, but at what cost to your mental health? Overall helpfulness: 8/10. 

- Mike isn't very enthusiastic about the activity, but likes the good boyfriend points it garners him. Thus, he will come along whenever you bid him to do so. He’s only got about two and a half hours of shopping in him though, so try and have an idea of what you want to get in your mind. Before you arrive at the stores, please. If you take a long lunch break he can go back for another two hours but this is his hard limit. Knows well enough what you already look good in. Or when something looks downright awful on you. He does struggle a little to help if you’re wanting to try a completely new style. He’s as lost as you. The more underground/alternative/particular the style you want to try is, the worse the advice gets. If you’re just doing a wardrobe refresher this is your man. Overall helpfulness: 6/10. 

- Beth makes shopping relaxing. You’ll stay as long as you need in order to get everything you need. She probably had you make a Pinterest board before you guys went out so that you’d be able to refer back to it. She knows getting into the stores can wipe your mind clean of what you needed/wanted to get. She’ll have you guys stop for lunch as well, but then you’re right back at it! She likes seeing your style evolve and change. Her feedback is honest, but gentle. It won’t ever feel like a criticism of your body, just the clothing. You walk out satisfied and always happier than when you came in together. Overall helpfulness: 10/10. 

- Jessica is in her element here. Honestly, Jessica drags you shopping with her more than you’ll ever drag her shopping. Spending time together means a lot to Jessica. She never takes it for granted. Thus, she always tries to make any activity, but especially repeat ones like shopping, fun. She probably has a shopping playlist she made for the two of you. You both wear one wireless earbud and get to movie montage with each other. Watch out if the Princess Diaries songs or something Hip-hop comes on, she’ll start dancing to make you laugh. Her feedback is upbeat and positive, but honest. She hypes you up like crazy when you come out wearing something that makes you look really hot! Wolf whistles and everything, your face will be burning up as you flee back into the safety of the dressing room. “Baby, come back! You look smoking!” Overall helpfulness: 9/10. 

- Matt knows absolutely nothing about fashion. He tries his very best to help, but he’s at a loss. Only if something very obviously doesn’t suit you will he be able to veto it for you. “I dunno… maybe it’s a little awkward in the arms or…. something?” You’ll have to take a few breaths. However, if something looks good, he can absolutely be a hype man! His eyes light up, he takes your hand, makes you do a spin. All the attention is enough to make you kick your feet and giggle. He can compliment you all day long. To his credit, he can compliment you specifically enough on what looks good. Even if it’s still a little vague. “The color of this makes you look really… wow! You know?” You’ll be able to figure out he means jewel tones make your skin look glowy one of these days. For now, at least you know your boyfriend thinks you’re gorgeous no matter what you wear. Overall helpfulness: 5/10.

[14dayswithyou]

Ren's favourite letter is S! How would REDCATED, Teo n Olivia be like on a plane flight?:0 would they try and sleep, watch the in flight stuff or smth else!

⌞♥⌝ hehe :3 Got a bit silly with this one

[REDACTED]

Rawdogs the entire flight — but only because Angel is next to them. He doesn't want to waste his time sleeping or watching movies when it could be better spent by looking at Angel and watching them sleep instead. He'll upgrade their seats to first class if that's something Angel would want, and he'd happily offer to give them the window seat if they so much as glance in that direction. [REDACTED] also steals keeps Angel's pillow, blanket, toothbrush, etc., after the flight.

Teo

Assuming he's sitting in first class and not using his private jet, Teo would likely spend the entire flight scrolling through his phone and blatantly ignoring Angel's ping request to play Battleship with him. If you let him stew in silence for a few hours, he'll eventually grow bored and consider the idea of visiting you in economy class. At best, he'll do it to cause a commotion, get the opportunity to kick someone out of their seat (for the hell of it), and sit next to Angel so that he can annoy them even more than usual.

Olivia

Realistically, she'll want to put on her headphones, listen to her personally curated plane playlist, and try to catch the eye of her Designated Airport Crush™️. But I like to think that if she were travelling with Angel, then she'd probably want to sync up a movie so they can both live react at the same time instead. If Teo was on the plane as well, then sorry to say but Liv would be begging him to upgrade her to first class and probably wouldn't give Angel a second thought T_T

[saphiccarma]

- Sweet Thing Pt.3

pt.2

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary - And sometimes, you don't think Rio and Agatha are all that bad, like when they comfort you after a nightmare. Other times they are the people you hate most.

Warnings: kinda sexual content (not really?), lil' bit of gore, side character death (kinda)

A/N: When I say i spent an hour searching for some sort of mermaid anatomy.... also i have started to slowly develop and entire freaking lore for sirens in this au sooooo good for me Reblogs and comments make me happy :>

The water swirled around you, powerful and familiar. You were home. Elation burst in your chest and you tried to swim forward. Key word: tried. Seaweed held you in place, keeping you firmly trapped and unable to move. Your home was so close. It was right there. That little cave you lived in with your parents. Where you braided your sisters' hair and wrestled with your brothers. The safe place where your mother tended to any wounds you could while exploring and your father would fondly tell stories of his youth.

It was right there.

Movement in the corner of your eye forced you to look away and you did so reluctantly. Something dark lurked between the different structures, other homes and coral. It could easily have been a bigger fish or a turtle, but you knew it was something else. Eyes narrowing, you gasped at what you saw. Perhaps the largest shark you had ever seen, a great white that weaved through the gaps in the coral and was heading straight for your home.

You opened your mouth to shout a warning, but nothing came out. Your mother passed through the doorway of your house as the shark got nearer. It swam with intent, getting closer and closer to your home without moving. Tail flicking frantically, you tried to propel yourself forward, find a way to save your mother. And then you saw another small little figure. It was your sister. She was only a few years old, just learning how to talk, and she trailed after your mother with a toy in her hands. The toy was something you had found for her, a shell shaped in an odd way that she adored because it looked like a fish. She always tried to catch the fish.

Tears welled in your eyes, and you could feel it mingling with the salt water. For the briefest of moments, your sister glanced in your direction, her hair drifting in a small braid and her head tilted curiously. Hope filled you as you thought she noticed you, but then she shrugged and turned around to follow your mother. The shark swam closer, and you swore there was dark intent in its eyes. Beady eyes that were trained on your little sister. She was too innocent. Too small. She didn’t deserve to die. Not like this. She deserved to live a long life where she found someone to be happy with and had her own kids. Not to die by a stupid shark.

Where was your father? You looked around for him, he was never far, not while your sister was still so young, but he was nowhere to be seen. He was always there to protect you. To keep you and your siblings safe, no matter what, even if it hurt him. But he wasn’t there. One moment you were scanning for your father and then the next you were screaming, one filled with pure pain and shock, as the shark bit down on your sister's tail. Her voice was shrill as she shrieked, tiny body thrashing around in the shark's hold, but her attempts did nothing. With one solid bite, her tail was gone. Blood flooded the water around her.

Your mother rushed forward, grabbing at your sister who was crying, staring at her tail in shock and terror. It was bloodied, the end ruined and torn. The shark didn't waste a moment before surging forward again. You were forced to watch as it ate your sister, swallowing her small body whole. Shock prevented you from doing anything but stare as your mother sobbed, her body hunched over as she sunk to the floor of your home. You tried to call out to her, tell her to move before she met a similar fate. Even if it worked, the shark got to her first, biting her head off in one swift chomp.

And finally, you could move, and you surged forward, bolting through the water. Once it caught sight of you, for some reason the shark swam away, blood trailing out of its mouth. You cradled your mother in your arms, her neck spewing blood out and onto you, but you hardly cared.

That was all you saw before your vision went black.

A shriek died in your throat as you jolted upright in bed. Sweat beaded down your forehead as your hands fisted into the bed sheets and panic kept you locked in place. Your breathing was heavy as the images flashed in your mind, your sister with her tail bitten off and your mother's head following. They replayed over and over as you stared into the darkness. It was all you could see. Your body trembled violently. The sun slowly began to rise behind you, the light shimmering faintly through the window, but you couldn't focus on that.

Your sister. Her blood, flowing out into the water, red mingling with clear blue. Her little scream echoed sharpy throughout the sea. You would hear that sound forever. Then followed by your mother. Her head - her kind face that had looked at you with so much adoration, so much love and tender care - was just gone in the blink of an eye. You hardly noticed the tears streaming down your cheeks, a constant flow, and the heaving of your chest as sobs racked your entire body.

"Y/N?" Agatha's groggy voice didn't even reach your ears as your knees came up to your chest. You rocked back and forth. All that you could process was your dream. They couldn't be dead, right? There was no way. It was just a dream.

A hand landed on your arm, and you flinched away, your back hitting the wall, and a feral hiss leaving you. For once, Agatha didn't berate you for it. Maybe it was the crazed look in your eyes and the sweat that dripped down your face. Or maybe the way your body shook as if there was an earthquake. Rio was standing behind Agatha who sat on the edge of your bed. You whimpered as the older woman scooched closer and you tried to move further back.

"Stay back!" you cried, hardly recognizing the woman in front of you. Your sister. A shark. Blood. Your mother. Agatha wasn't there. Rio wasn't there. They were out of the question. To you, they weren't even here. You were still underwater, stuck in place, blood everywhere. Your teeth slotted out and you hissed at Agatha once again, your mind clouded with distress.

Rio tapped Agatha's shoulder lightly before she sat close to you. Her movements were slow giving you time to react and she ignored your distressed sounds, noises of defense that were meant to keep her away. She only hushed you softly instead of leaving you alone like you wished. Curling her fingers around your shoulder, Rio tugged you close. For a moment, you struggled as she held you close to her chest, earthy scent flooding your nose.

For a brief moment, you struggled against her chest, your protests loud. She made that hushing noise again her hand stroking your hair softly and running down to your back. Slowly, your movements stilled, and cries quieted. Rio mimicked your rocking motion from before as she held you in her lap, her touch oddly comforting. And as time passed on all visions of your mother and sister's death faded into the back of your mind. They were still there, still present, but quieter now.

She shifted so that the two of you were leaning against the wall, and your legs bracketed Rio's waist and you buried your head into her neck. Her arms were wrapped around you, and you felt like a little seahorse, tail wrapped around its father's. And then Agatha started to hum softly, the tune lighter than you had ever associated with her. That, combined with Rio's fingers gently tangling through your hair and tracing down your spine, it lulled all the loud thoughts.

Once again, your vision went black, but this time you felt a bit more at peace.

^___________^

Fingers prodded around your scales, rubbing against them and pulling them back. You hissed every now and then, only stopping when Agatha glared at you from the corner, her eyes sharp and daring you to do it again. Each time you met her with a harsh look of your own. To which Agatha would only smirk and scoff a little as if you were a child. In turn Rio pushed down harder on your scales and drawing another annoyed sound out of you. It kept repeating.

You were laid out on her desk, tail dangling over the side, and the wood digging into your skin. Agatha had swiped everything off and placed you on the surface with a surprisingly gentle touch. Then she promptly demanded for you to turn into your "fish" form, and it took some threatening, followed by sweet praises, for you to do so. Turns out Rio wanted to examine your tail, a first, and it wasn't like you had any choice. Rio tapped on your scales once again, her nails scraping on the smooth surface.

For an odd reason, her touch warmed your scales which were normally cool to the touch. That was another thing you learned was that it was often warmer on the ship than in the ocean. The water down there was cold, freezing if you went deep enough, and you nearly hated the heat of the human land.

"Turn over," Rio's words weren't negotiable, even as much as you wanted to, and her hands turning you over only reinforced her command. Her nails dug into your waist, Agatha's shirt ridden up slightly on your skin, and she flipped you over. It was your cheeks turn to dig into the harsh wood and if your scales weren't there to protect you, then you were sure there would be splinters in there. Running her fingers down your spine, Rio stopped right above where scales met skin.

You shivered beneath her touch. Faintly, you heard Agatha getting up from her chair in the corner and her boots hitting the floor smoothly, but you were too focused on Rio as she trailed down. She hummed above you, her fingers pressing lightly. Your hand came to clamp over your lips to muffle an embarrassing sound when Rio's fingers reached your sensitive spot. Scales covered your reproductive system, only opened when given proper stimulation - it was part of the mating process. You could feel heat pool in the pit of your stomach and blood rush to your face.

A hand grasped your own, gently pulling it away, and you could feel the scales on your cheek turn an embarrassing shade of green. Agatha chuckled. She held your hand in her eyes, sapphire eyes shimmering with amusement as she took in the odd coloring that ran over your scales.

"Your scales change color?" she asked, almost perplexed, but also dripping delight, "Aww are you embarrassed?" Her tone was the embodiment of teasing, a single eyebrow raised in faux question.

Every light spotting of scales on your upper half was now tinted pale green, a common sign of embarrassment amongst siren folk. Your scales would change color to match strong emotions, a light pink being happiness, or deep blue being sorrow. Although the shades varied between each and everyone, the general concept was the same. And right now, you felt like something small, merely a toy to them, nothing of value, just something that they could play with. A subject.

You had half a mind to curl your teeth at Agatha and snarl, but you stopped yourself, well more like Rio stopped you. Her fingers pushed down right near your entrance. You could feel your scales loosening beneath her touch and her nails dug beneath them. Unwillingly, you whimpered slightly and Agatha's small smirk grew.

"Is someone sensitive there?" She cooed, her tone mocking. You hated it. You hated your body for reacting this way to Rio's touch. This type of reaction was meant to be reserved for your mate, not the pirates who had kidnapped you and forced you to be on this ship. Agatha gripped your chin, squeezing your mouth open, and her thumb brushed against your lower lip. Your fins twitched nervously. As much as you loathed to admit it, you enjoyed it.

Scales loosening further, slowly revealing your entrance, you could hear Rio let out a surprised gasp. The two pirates exchanged a look over your head and the one above you poked at your entrance. An obnoxiously loud noise escaped you, unable to seal your mouth shut with how tightly Agatha was gripping your chin.

Before Rio could dip her fingers any further in, the boat rocked harshly and there was a deafening sound that echoed. You squeaked and could feel your scales tighten just like your muscles locked up and tensed beneath the humans' touch. Agatha stood abruptly and you were grateful for her nails to be gone from your face. There was hardly a moment between the boom and now before Agatha and Rio were both rushing out the door.

The former turned around, fixing you with a stern look, "Stay here. Turn back into a human and stay that way until we come back, understand?"

You wanted to protest but there was no time before you heard the telltale click of the lock. Panic surged through you and you turned yourself around, sitting up on the desk. Your tail turned into legs, leaving your lower half bare, but you didn't care as you scrambled for the door. Frantically, your hands wrapped around the handle, but it didn't budge as you tugged. Footsteps pounded above deck, and you could hear frantic shouts and Billy's panicked voice above all of them. Agatha gave sharp orders, her voice recognizable even though you could hardly make it out, and Rio's soft steps that were just barely audible, the quietest of them all.

You couldn't stop the amounting worry in your stomach when you heard more people board the ship, not at all sounding friendly based on the harsh shouts. Heart beating loudly in your chest, you scrambled back into the corner of the room when you could tell someone was coming down the stairs. Covering your mouth in an attempt to hide your distressed breaths, you waited with increasing anxiety as doors were slammed open followed by thudding steps.

Somehow, you had half enough thought to grab Agatha's dagger from where it sat next to you. She had left it on her chair. The weapon shook in your grip as you kept yourself pressed into the corner, but it was better than nothing. Even if you didn't know how to use it properly. All you had seen was Rio twirling it between her fingers or Lillia preparing food with a knife or Billy using one occasionally or Agatha when she nicked your cheek to teach you a lesson. But you had never actually held one yourself.

The door handle jiggled, and your breath caught your throat. You hoped whoever it was would leave, think this room had nothing in it, but you didn't have such luck. Something hit the door, hard, and you jumped slightly. It happened again. And then once more before the door was kicked open, a man storming in. He had scruffy hair that ran over his face and covered his eyes, dark ones that locked onto you. Fright clouded any rational thought as he made his way over to you.

You scrambled to your feet, swinging the dagger around rather pathetically. It did nothing but make it easier for him. He grabbed your wrist as you tried to hit him, and you shrieked when he tugged you close. The knife clattered the floor and out of your grip. Thrashing around, you kicked your feet and tried to get out of his grip. It did nothing as his strong arms, muscles flexing against you, held you close and dragged you out of the room.

He seemed to get tired of dragging you because he swung you over his shoulder in a similar way to when Rio did it. And while you hated it the first time you hated it even more when it happened again. Your fists hit his back over and over and you were proud to hear him wince at least once. Still, he did not let go as he carried you out and above deck. Although you didn't know human customs very well, you could hear the distinct sound of fighting. Swords clashing and Billy's hurt cry that made your heart hurt. Rushed and garbled orders shouted over the heat of the fight.

You craned your neck to try and catch a glimpse and instead you caught Agatha's eye. Her blue eyes were flashing with anger, but once she saw you it changed to something almost like concern. Then you did something you never thought you would do. You cried to her for help.

"Agatha!" You thrust your hand out, reaching for her as if she could reach you from all the way across the ship. She blinked slowly for a moment, processing your words before slamming the blunt of her sword into her opponent’s stomach. She raced towards you, but it was no use. Most of the enemy pirates had retreated to cover the man carrying you, and they held your crew at bay while you were hauled onto the opposing ship. Frightened tears welled in your eyes and your struggles increased tenfold.

Rio looked ready to murder every single person who stood in her way, and she would have if not for the plank lifting and the ship begging to sail away. You heard Agatha shout orders for someone to get moving, but it was too late. This ship was smaller, faster, and was already zipping away. Despair and pure terror, unfiltered terror with no hope in sight, flooded your system as you watched Agatha's ship slowly disappear from view.

Taglist: @vigilante24ish

[wandasslut3000]

Welcome home

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, fluff, mommy!kink, semi-clothed sex, pet names, sub!reader, praise, hair tugging, scissoring, cunnilingus, fingering, marking, teasing, choking, long distance relationship?

WC: 2.4k

                 ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Lizzie was coming back home today. She'd been out of state for the past few weeks for her new movie, and although you couldn't be more proud of her, you’d missed your girlfriend painfully.

She'd FaceTime you every night before bed and wake you up with a good morning text.

Sometimes she'll call just to ask how you've been or if you'd eaten yet, always making you smile for how much she cares.

Lizzard🦎💚: Good morning princess, I'm boarding my plane. I can't wait to see you <3

Y/n: Yayy I'm so happy! Text me when you land baby, have a safe flight!

You bring your phone up to your chest, a wave of excitement flowing through you. You head into the kitchen and decide to make yourself breakfast, a simple eggs and toast.

Tapping your feet on the tile floor, you munch happily on your food, humming your own tune and thinking about all the things you'd do once you're back in Lizzie's arms.

Your mind starts to drift off into more explicit train of thought, imagining how her slender fingers would feel around your throat, how sweet she'd taste on your tongue, how fast she'd make you cum after so much time apart.

You blink rapidly, trying to ignore the growing wetness between your legs and regain your focus back to your eggs. You finish them in record speed, popping hints of toast into your mouth with each bite.

Once you finish, you wash your dishes. You then leave the kitchen and grab your keys, making your way outside and down the stairs of your complex. You get inside your car, start it and back out of the parking lot.

You drive yourself over to the nearest flower shop, parking your car in front of it and stepping out.

Heading inside the store, your nostrils are instantly flooded with the smell of all the surrounding plants.

You go straight for the roses, Lizzie's favorite, also making sure to grab some gardenias, mixing them in with the bouquet to help it pop.

You ask the florist to have a custom tag written on the side of the bouquet, a smile on your face as you wait patiently for him to make it and ring you up. 

Once you pay, you drive over to your local grocery store, grabbing a shopping cart and pushing it to the candy section. You grab a large chocolate bunny, and the cliche heart shaped box and put it inside.

You notice a wooden basket in the aisle across from you, grabbing it, you continue shopping till you're left with a stuffed teddy bear, a card, a fluffy blanket with little dogs on it and the chocolates from before.

You check out and drive back home, starting to set up your gift basket. You put the everything inside and start writing in the card you bought.

I'm so proud of you for being the big beautiful star I knew you'd always shine to be. I love you Lizzie.

You sign it, drawing a little heart next to your name, putting it in with everything else.

You grab your flowers, "Welcome home" written on the ribbon wrapping it, and place them next to basket on the table for the moment.

Your next task is getting yourself ready. You rush into your bathroom, stripping yourself of your clothes and going to take a shower.

As you make quick work to shave and keep yourself clean for her, the thoughts from earlier start coming back, a blush tainting your cheeks as you feel your core tingle.

Still, you regain your composure, finishing your shower and drying yourself off. You take a quick glance at your phone, knowing the flight from New York to L.A is only a few hours, and you'd already spent a good chunk of them shopping.

You find yourself a pair of white underwear with a tiny pink bow on it and decide to not to wear a bra, knowing that if anything were to happen, she wouldn't want to waste time on the pesky garment.

You throw on her burgundy NYU sweatshirt, and grey sweatpants, smiling when you realize her shirt still smells like her.

Sitting at your vanity you start to do your makeup, nothing too much, just a natural look.

You couldn't look a mess for the love of your life now could you?

Just as you finish up, you get a text from Lizzie telling you she'd landed and was in an Uber on the way home.

Your heart flutters, that rush of excitement returning to you as you feel butterflies in your stomach.

You sit on the couch, facing the door, the flowers in your hand as you wait for her like an obedient puppy, clutching your phone as you fight the urge to call her and ask how much longer she'd take.

As if right on cue, you hear the front door handle jiggle, Lizzie stepping inside with her luggage, your first instinct is to run up and practically pounce onto her.

"Baby!" You squeal.

She gasps, letting go of her bag and catching you as you wrap your arms around her, the flowers almost falling out of your grasp. She presses a kiss to your cheek, making you blush before you turn to kiss her.

"Well hello to you too." She grins, pecking your lips a few times, closing the door behind you two with her foot and setting you down, noticing the gifts you'd gotten her.

You hand her the bouquet and her smile widens. "Is this for me?" You nod, suddenly feeling shy as you notice the adoration in her eyes. "Got you presents."

Lizzie sniffs the flowers and her smile widens, she steps further inside your shared apartment, she makes her way up to the coffee table, her mouth opening slightly as she notices all the things you put together for her.

"You're so good to me." She turns to you, tears welling up in her eyes as she pulls you into a hug, kissing the crown of your head.

"You work so hard Liz, you deserve it." Gently, she backs away, turning to examine your gift basket.

The first thing she picks up is your card, opening it and a pout forming on her face. You look down at your feet bashfully, waiting for her to see the rest of her treats.

Slowly, she takes each out one by one, the chocolates, the bear and the blanket. She bites her lip in thought. You look up, "I would've gotten more but.. I didn't know if I had enough time."

She shakes her head, turning to you with her arms wide. She pulls you into her and picks you up again, your legs wrapping around your torso as your arms wrap around her neck, foreheads pressed against one another.

"This is more than enough babygirl, you make me feel so special. I only wish I'd gotten you something."

You shake your head, "You being here is a gift in itself, I'm so happy you're home." You kiss her again, leaving little pecks all over her face, making her giggle.

Lizzie walks the two of you over to your shared bedroom, laying down in bed together with your arms still securely around each other, you straddling her lap.

You start to press kisses onto her neck, sucking at the skin at the column of her throat, little marks forming in their wake.

Lizzie groans, pushing your head closer as she feels your hands slip under her shirt, your cold hands on her hot skin making her shiver.

"I missed you so much." You murmur against her, "Wanted to feel you everyday."

Lizzie backs away for a second to unbutton her blouse, revealing a gray laced bra. You moan at the sight, looking up at her for approval before you reached behind her to unclip it, discarding the fabrics.

You leave your marks on the tops of her breasts, moving downwards and circling your tongue around her areola, Lizzie throbbing at the feeling.

Just as you switch to the other breast, you're flipped onto your back, pinned underneath her as she kisses you, tongue swiping your lip, asking for entrance.

You grant it to her, whimpering into her mouth as she takes over. Your hands go to her hair, tugging the silky brown locks as you wrap your legs around her to keep her close.

She breaks the kiss, slipping off her pants and panties, leaving her bare in front of you. She shifts down between your legs, spreading them and rubbing up and down your thighs.

"So pretty like this, in my shirt all precious, my gorgeous girl." You blush at her praise.

"Lizzie please-"

"That's not my name is it now?" She mockingly pouts at you, tilting her head

"I'm sorry.. mommy."

"Much better." You're practically plead for her to give you anything, begging her and trying to reason that it's been too long without her, you'd missed her touch, her hands on you.

You needed her.

Lizzie finally gives in, bunching the sweater up and pushing it past your breasts, revealing them to her. You try to pull it off but she grabs your hand.

"Don't. Keep it on." You obey and lay back onto the pillows.

She takes a nipple into her mouth, the other getting twisted by her slim fingers. Your body quivers, little moans escaping you at the feeling of her toying with your chest.

Still, you craved more. "Mommy touch me... please I need it so bad."

She chuckles "Am I not touching you right now darling?" She pinches your nipple, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

"Yes.. j- just need you down there." You tilt your head downward trying to gesture what you wanted.

"Down where princess? C'mon you can tell mommy, use your words." Your face flushes red in embarrassment, taking her hand and bringing it between your legs.

"Need mommy to play with my.. my big girl parts." She lets out a faux gasp, almost taunting you, tugging at the hem of your sweatpants and pulling them down.

She notices your underwear and bites her lip, fiddling with the little bow. "Such a pretty princess." You whine, bucking your hips up towards her as your wetness made the fabric almost transparent.

Lizzie rubs your slit through your panties, teasing you with two fingers and watching as you writhe underneath her, a dark smile drawing itself onto her face at your whimpers.

"P-please don't tease, I need you."

She pushes your panties to the side admiring your glistening cunt. Finally she makes contact with you, making you throw your head back, moaning at the feeling of her fingers on you.

"F-fuck." You groan when she dips two fingers into your entrance, not even giving you a moment to adjust as she pumps them into you.

"God I love this tight little pussy, no matter how many times I fuck it, it still grips mommy so good." You whimper, your hand reaching down to grab onto her forearm as she keeps a steady pace.

"Unh- mommy.. please don't stop." She smirks before bringing her head down, taking your clit into her mouth. "Oh my god."

Her tongue swirls around your bundle of nerves, your hand moving to grip onto her hair as she takes you. Your hips grind against her tongue while your legs tremble, the feeling of your climax approaching quickly.

"Fuck m’gonna cum, gonna cum on mommy's pretty face." Lizzie takes this moment to nibble on your throbbing pearl, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as you let out a guttural moan.

You feel the waves of your orgasm rush through you, your walls clenching around Lizzie's fingers as you slowing come down from your high.

You feel her press her lips to your pussy before trailing back upwards. Leaving quick kisses up your stomach and chest.

She pulls her fingers out of you, bringing them to your lips and watching as you suck the digits clean. Moaning at the taste of yourself.

Her free hand reaches down to wrap itself around your throat, gently squeezing the sides of your neck. Her tongue melds with yours when she kisses you.

Lizzie positions her wet heat onto yours, grinding against yours, making your nails dig into her forearm as you convulse in pleasure.

"M-mommy.. s-still sensitive..." She shushes you, licking a stripe from the column of your neck to your earlobe before taking it into your teeth.

"Take what I give you princess, good girls let their mommies handle them as they please."

You whine, your folds fluttering as you feel yourself getting closer. Lizzie's sloppy wetness brushing against yours in the best way, making you see stars.

"Mmph- ah.. fuck mommy!" You cum, your body trembling. She follows soon after, both of your breathing heavy and ragged as you come back down to earth.

"I love watching you fall apart." She cups your cheek making your heart flutter at her endearment.

"Mommy?" She looks down at you adoringly, raising her brow. "What is it baby?"

"Can I.. Can I taste you?" Her smile returns, nodding her head. She positions herself above you, your mouth watering when you notice the build up of her arousal between her lower lips.

You grab onto her thighs, pulling her down as Lizzie grabs onto the headboard. You start to lap at her cunt, her eyes rolling into her head as she praises you.

One of her hands reaches down and tugs on your hair, pulling you closer to her as feel yourself get drunk off her juices.

"Oh there you go angel, so fucking good." That last bit comes off in a growl, her body rocking against your face as she feels her climax wash through her, a blissed out grin on her face.

Lizzie drops back into bed, kissing your puffy lips, the both of you moaning into eachother's mouths.

She finally takes this time to take off the sweater, pulling your now naked body into her arms and cuddling you.

She traces invisible lines onto your back and the two of you sigh happily at the skin to skin contact. She presses a kiss to your forehead as you slowly start to feel yourself drift off into sleep.

Your eyes start to shut as you lose yourself in the safety of her arms. "I love you." Is the last thing you hear her whisper before you fall in a deep sleep.

[skrunklyshrimp]

Succulent - Kinich

Spiderman AU, where Kinich is Spiderman and you are the Gwen Stacy.

Kinich unknowingly explores the same suspicious temple as you, saves a few Saurians, saves you a few times, confesses his love to you. The basic stuff.

Notes: I have had major Kinich brainrot, especially with the sunflower edits of him on tiktok. So I took it upon myself to make a spiderman AU where he's spiderman! Yay! He's definitely OOC but I tried my hardest so please try to enjoy :3

(P.S. this stuff was written before he was released so this is not cannon!)

You were a simple researcher, wandering into the depths of Natlan. There was some elemental disturbance in some uncharted land underground, not wanting anyone else to get ahead of you, you embarked on your journey alone.

“Maybe I should've hired a mercenary.. Kinich would’ve been great.” you mutter. Kinich, a great mercenary, has such a cold demeanor yet he always stares at you and gives you such a warm gaze. You shake off the thoughts of your tiny crush as you slowly make your way through rough terrain. There were lava geysers all around and a hint of evil in the air, perhaps it was the abyss order.

You carried on, almost slipping into the multiple geysers all around. Thankfully you finally reached a safe point and decided to set up camp, just a simple tent and some traps in case enemies attack.

“Just a simple salad today, I have to preserve the meat for the hardest part of the adventure.” You say to no one aloud. 

You decide to mark down some observations of the cave you're in. So far you haven't come face to face with any enemies which is quite odd for an area with a highly condensed elemental energy. Perhaps someone has come before you. You mark off any important landmarks, different rocks, ancient markings. Sighing, you place your notebook down and shake your sore hand. 

“Time to sleep.” You stand up and stretch before heading into your tent for the night.

.

“Log number 18. I've still been searching for the cause of the elemental disturbance. Many enemies have appeared so I've done the reasonable thing and wiped them out. I do see a temple in the distance that radiates high elemental energy, so I will be checking that tomorrow but, right now it's time for me to rest.” Click. Kinich places down his recorder. 

“I’m not even getting paid for this gig. Why am I even doing this?” He sighs, leaning up against a nearby wall. 

See but Kinich knew exactly why, it was because of you. See Kinich had two jobs, one as a mercenary, one as a hero. He was known as Spiderman in Natlan, the way he would effortlessly swing with his grappling hook, and kill enemies of Teyvat as quickly as a black spider. He wore a mask in this identity, nobody knew who he was. Yet as he was weakened from an enemy far too strong and there he laid on the ground. You walked up, and instead of finding out who this mysterious Spiderman was, you kept his mask on, only pulling it high enough to wipe blood off his mouth. From then on he continued to have encounters with you, it always occurred whenever he got injured in battle, you were there by his side to patch up his wounds.

“I still don't even know your name.” Kinich reminisces about the moments spent together. “I'll get rid of this and protect you.” His promise fades away in the giant cave, nobody but himself to see it true. Kinich sets up a small sleeping bag, finally deciding to get some rest.

.

“New day, new adventure!” You say, trying to be optimistic. Although the truth is you could be farther from it. The elemental energy feels even more condensed than before, and there's this feeling of impending doom following suit. You quickly pack up your supplies not wanting to waste anymore time on this research trip. 

After what feels like hours, but in reality was probably no longer than 30 minutes, you see a temple in the distance. 

“This…” You stare at it from afar, shocked to even say a single word. The elemental energy that is pouring out from there is outstanding, there is definitely something suspicious going on. This is the first time in this adventure where you had second doubts, you definitely should've hired a mercenary, maybe Kinich. It's far too late for that now you decide as you begrudgingly step towards.

.

“These puzzles are definitely different from the ones we see around Natlan, right Ajaw?” Kinich looks at the strange mechanism.

“You really do suck if you can't get us through here. Wanna impress your lover researcher right? Right? Also why are you wearing that stupid mask, nobody is around.” Ajaw teases and questions the poor Kinich as he starts to get pissed.

“One I don't have a lover, two, this is for Natlan’s sake, something you must not understand, and three, I’ve gotten used to wearing it.” Kinich shoos away the now red Ajaw. “Finally figured out how it works though.” As he says that a door that was previously locked opens up.

“I see you've come to stop our plans once again traveler- ergh?!” A flame welding abyss lector pauses mid speech.

“Traveler? Do you mean the blond haired saviour going around helping people?” Kinich asks, recognizing the famous traveler.

“You're kinda totally ruining the plan I had dude.” The abyss lector says in defeat.

“What do you mean ruining the plan, huh!?” Ajaw yells, still upset about earlier.

“Well, the traveler and I were supposed to fight. After all, I totally ran away from our fight last time, heh. Just didn't wanna die you know?” The abyss lector laughs off his misfortune. “Nevermind that now I have to kill you, after all I can't have you leaking our information out and about.”

“Let's win this Kinich!” Ajaw says, trying to pump up his dear servant.

“Whatever you say I guess.” Kinich responds.

.

“These puzzles.. They're complete, someone had to have been here before.” You conclude. When you arrived at the temple you saw numerous doors open. There were many unfamiliar marks covering the temple head to toe, you only recognize a few as abyss symbols. Through careful observation you notice an odd placing brick on the wall, not wanting to inspect it with your own hands, you opt for a nearby stick. You take a deep breath in and push against the suspicious brick, allowing a secret passage downwards to open. 

“Thank god that wasn't a trap.” You breathe a sigh of relief.

After finishing writing down all the information you need about this current room you decide to explore this secret passage, it's basically just a bunch of stairs leading downwards.

.

“Shit you're one slippery guy, and what the hell is with that skill you're seriously like a spider.” The flame bearing abyss lector complains, definitely aggravated from the injuries inflicted on him.

“Yeah I tend to go by Spiderman, don't let the name wear out.” Kinich says, quickly using his skill to cover his eyes with his grapple, reducing his eyesight.

While covering the abyss lector’s eyes he uses a secondary grappling hook to start to spin himself, effectively wrapping the enemy up. 

“You damned brat! You'll pay for this!” The abyss lector yells while using his pyro skills, effectively destroying the web like wire that blocked his vision and disabled his movement.

“Too bad you weren't paying attention.” Kinich mutters, slicing his claymore against the back of the abyss lector, leading to its defeat.

“Ajaw, find anything of interest on his body, I'm going to check this machinery out.” Kinich orders Ajaw around, to which Ajaw complains but compiles.

In this room there's multiple computers showing different results, many different files of interest, and… a tube? Leading to where. Kinich is left to wonder. He takes a closer look at the tube to see a purple substance flow through it.

“Ajaw, find out where this tube leads, we'll switch jobs.” Kinich says, shoving Ajaw away from the flame abyss lector's body.

“Meh meh meh meh. Mr. Bossy-pants.” Ajaw mocks but goes right to finding where the location of the purple substance is coming from.

.

“I should've turned around.” You can't help but complain. You had been walking down these stairs for god knows how long, with barely any light, and no clue if there's enemies at the bottom.

“I'm so dead aren't I.” You cry. In the middle of you trying to accept your fate you see a brighter light. Hopeful that it's the bottom you pick up your pace only to be met face to face with, prison cells?

There were glass cells, no, chambers filled with Saurians, a purple substance being sucked out and pushed into a hole in the middle of the room. You take careful steps forward, heartbroken, shocked at the sight you're seeing. The dragon's that inhabit the lands of Natlan, being sucked dry of their elemental energy. This has to be the work of the abyss order, you conclude. You look at the seemingly bottomless pit in the middle of the room. 

“This is… despicable. How could they do this to innocent creatures?” You mutter, looking down into the pit with sadness.

“Oh? What's my number one fan doing here?” A familiar voice echoes in front of you.

“Ah, Spiderman-!?” You look up only to be met face to face with an upside down Spiderman.

“I'm not surprised you're here, but why are you here alone? You don't have a vision so this place is draining you of your energy.” A slight bit of concern covers Spiderman's voice.

“I had to explore. This cave was uncharted and I wanted to resolve this issue as soon as possible.” You answer his question, “Not to mention you're hurt yourself. When did this happen?” He just scratches the back of his head.

“Just had a fight just now I'm alright though. Had to win to see you once again.” Spiderman admits. “It looks like I'll have to have another fight though. Please stay back alright.” He says while pulling down his mask, just enough to show his mouth. He moves forwards enough to give you a light kiss against your lips. He gives you a smile before putting his mask back on and jumping right into the fight.

You stand there for a few seconds processing what just happened. Not only did the Spiderman just say he wanted to see you again, but he also just kissed you? You hear the noise of abyss mages getting hurt and remember what Spiderman told you to do, so you try to walk over to the other side, away from the fighting.

You watch in awe as the amazing Spiderman uses his webs to his advantage, dodging the attacks from abyss mages and using them to weaken the shields so he can do heavy damage with his claymore. You’re so enamored by his performance you don’t realize how close to the edge of the pit you get too.

“Finally done with these abyss mages.” Kinich mutters, turning to you only to see you dangerously close to the edge, with abyss mages behind you. “Watch out-!” Kinich tries to call out to you but it’s too late, the abyss mages push you into the pit.

Kinich is quick to react, quickly using his grappling hook to connect and grab you, which ends successfully. Only problem now? He had two electro abyss mages in front of him, his grappling hook unusable at the moment. The panic that Spiderman was going to lose his battle, and someone he holds close to his heart.

No, he thinks. He can’t let it happen again, he can’t. The few times Kinich opened his heart it was left broken, with the death of his father and now soon to be you. He can start to feel his arms weaken and-

“How did you beat me here!?” A scream comes from up top. Kinich’s eyes open in surprise, then his lips curve into a small smile.

“Ajaw, could you please get these mages out of their shields, I need to get our friend out of this pit.” He orders, no, commands Ajaw, to which he slowly complies. Ajaw begins to attack the abyss mages, holding his own as Kinich quickly pulls you up to the top, hoping you were still alive in his grappling hook. 

“It’s funny really, I don’t understand why a simple researcher like you caught my eye.” Kinich mumbles to himself seeing your body appear from the purple smoke filled pit. Admittedly Kinich was scared out of his mind when you weren’t moving, but a simple pulse check let him know that you weren’t dead, but unconscious. A huge wave of relief flooded Kinich knowing you were safe. That’s when he swiftly grabbed his claymore which he had disregarded and landed the final attack on the abyss mages.

“We’ll report this to the warriors in Natlan. They’ll free the surviving Saurians.” Ajaw suggests which Kinich agrees.

Kinich reaches up and removes his mask, his face covered with scratches, blood, and sweat. Yet even so, he smiles warmly knowing that you were safe.

.

Your head is spinning. You can’t see anything. You’re asleep. You have to just wake up. Wake up.

“Ugrh.” You groan, slowly opening your eyes to a recovery room. “Where am I?” You manage to speak out loud.

“You’re awake! I’m glad. See Kinich here found you in a temple and apparently you were all passed out, if he were later you might’ve died.” The doctor explains to you. Kinich? He found you but the only one who was at the temple with you was- oh. 

You quickly sit up surprising Kinich and the doctor who was at your side. You smile, “Thank you for the update doctor, but I need to speak with Kinich alone, if that’s alright.” You say weakly, nonetheless the doctor understands and leaves the two of you to your business.

“So, you’re Spiderman.” You state, waiting for him to deny, after all it can’t be true the the mercenary Kinich can also be the amazing Spider-

“Yeah.” He answers. Your thoughts pause, you freeze, and you just stare at him in shock.

“Why?” You ask, and he just tilts his head in confusion. “Why would you tell me your secret? I'm just a regular researcher, I don’t even have a vision.” You question, confused on why he would reveal his identity.

“It’s simple. Out of every fan I meet, you’re the only face I can remember, if I see you in a crowd I always tend to go into that direction. I may not even know your name but you show me with such care despite not knowing who I am.” Kinich confesses, a slight blush covering his cheeks.

“It’s right to be nice to everyone, even unknown identities.” You say.

“I guess you’re right, so will you humour me for a while and go on a date with me?” He asks you, looking at you with a warm gaze and a loving smile.

[springcourtrose]

Please, stop... | Part 2

Pairing: Helion x reader (x Nessian)

Warnings: abusive relationship and descriptions of SA - MINORS DNI

Prompt: you’re Nesta and Cassian’s mate and yet you are so different from them. From day 1 you tried to be a good mate and do as they wanted and liked but they like it rough and you just don’t. Not only is it not enjoyable for you, it is actually painful. And not just in bed. You always excused their behavior as being overprotective but recently you started calling it something else: controlling. And one night, all changed as you uttered the words you had tried so hard never to say, but always thinking if you ever did they would listen. But they didn’t. And that night, everything broke.

(A/N: thank you to everyone who left comments on the first part, I haven't written in a long while and it was very encouraging 🩷 - English isn't my first language)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Azriel waited for dawn.

And he hated himself for it. He hated himself for a lot of things.

But he waited. For the day to come.

Memories haunted him as he stood on Rhys and Feyre's rooftop, his back leaning against the chimney, his eyes towards the starry sky. Memories of you. Of the first time he saw your bruised skin, when you were still trying to hide it. Of the first time he saw you flinch as Cassian raised his hand to cup your cheek and leave a kiss on your temple. Of the first time he saw you cry in the kitchen at night.

Of the first time he had run into you in that same kitchen one evening, barely clothed, tears and spit and cum staining your face. And you hadn't bothered to hide or feel embarrassed. You were too busy trying to be a good mate. For them, you would take it. And for his brother, he wouldn't say a thing. He walked away that night. He walked away from you, as they all had.

They had failed you.

So when dawn broke and chased the night away, Azriel entered the townhouse and woke his High Lord.

The sun shone bright high in the sky when you awoke.

You felt sore and heavy. Like you had been crying all night before finally falling asleep. The aches were familiar, from your neck to your wrists to the headache pulsing through your skull. And yet... relief. Relief that you weren't in their bed. Relief that you weren't in that house. Relief that you were alone.

Slowly, you rose from the bed. You knew these chambers. Large, gold, warm, homely and bright. You had spent several evenings there with Helion, having dinner, chatting, gossiping, laughing, talking about spells and books... Some of the best memories of the recent months.

It all came crashing back into you, the memories of hours ago. What you had done. A painful ache in your chest shook you to your core and you lied back down with a whine.

You had left your mates.

As painful as a physical blow, your heart twisted inside of you. The bond cracked in a billion pieces. You cried out as you felt it shatter. It left you shaking on the mattress.

A warm hand gently came to cup your wet cheek. You opened your eyes to find Helion kneeling before you, the worry on his face brought a foreign feeling to your chest.

"You're withering," he said in a whisper, wiping the tears off your skin with his thumb. You frowned for only answer. "You broke the bond."

The sound that came out of you broke his heart. More tears found their way onto your cheeks as you shut your eyes.

"They hurt you, didn't they? The bruises..." he clenched his jaw, trying to tame his anger, "they did that."

You grabbed his hand, his gentle, soft hand that had never caused you any pain, clinging onto him, onto the promise of safety. You tried to take a deep breath, then another, and another... But failed each time. He couldn't take it. Seeing you like this. You were usually so full of life and light. He had always said you didn't belong in that dark court. But they had done that to you. Let you waste away. They had taken that light from you.

He sat on the edge of the bed and took you in his arms. He held you as you sobbed, and cried and wailed. He didn't have the words to comfort you. There were no spells to fix this for this was the most unnatural thing. A broken bond could be deadly. But he wouldn't let you wither away.

"Tell me what happened."

He had to know. Had to know what had been done to you. Had to know what he would say to Rhys and your mates when they undoubtedly came for you. Had to know how to make it better.

"They hurt me, Helion," you whined. "I tried... I tried to be a good mate, I did, I tried... but they don't care," you hiccuped. "I was a good mate, Helion. I was, I tried, I swear!"

"I know, I believe you," he soothed. "I believe you."

"I really tried," you whimpered. "But it hurt too much. I thought they would... I wanted... but they didn't..."

"It's okay," he whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead, a hand running through your hair, another resting on your lower back.

"I asked them to stop." He froze, your words barely a whisper, like a spell to stop time. "I asked them to stop... Please stop. Please stop. Please stop," you repeated over and over again, like you had the night before, "I swear, I asked them to stop, I did, I swear!"

"I believe you," he said, tightening his hold on you. "I believe you."

"She called me a brat," you wailed, and he swore to himself he would make them pay for each broken sob and each tear, for everything they had done to you. "I did everything they wanted, I gave them everything, and they called me a bad girl."

Helion had to hold back a growl. He would make them pay for all of it.

"I was a good mate, Helion, I was."

"I know. I know."

"I asked them to stop and they didn't."

"I know."

"I... asked them... to stop... and they didn't."

You couldn't help the cry that escaped you, the echo of your broken heart as it exploded inside of your chest and left you in pieces. Helion lifted you off the mattress and brought you onto his lap. You buried your face in his neck as the words lingered in the room. The truth, a spell to break an unbreakable bond, cutting your ties to your mates, as painful as cutting off a limb.

They deserved death for what they had done to you. But perhaps the broken bond would be punishment enough. If they even cared.

He would tell Rhys. Tell him what a hypocrite he was. Promising a court of dreams, a better court, a better future, and yet here you were. Mistreated by his own brother, by your own mates. He had expected better of them all. What a fool he had been for believing in the Night Court.

What a fool they had been for letting you go. For not protecting you and your light, your joy and smile. He hated them all for destroying it, for destroying you.

He made a vow then to one day make them pay for all of it. And he promised himself he would one day see you smile again. He would bring joy back to your life. He would bring that light back into your eyes.

Nesta fell to her knees on the kitchen floor with a gasp. She felt a blow in her chest, her lungs, her heart. She heard Cassian beg from where he sat at the dinner table where Rhys, Feyre and Azriel had gathered them.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. You had left them and broken the bond without even talking to them first. Were they really so horrible? Was she really so unlovable you would risk death to break your bond to them? She couldn't believe it. Would not believe it. All she knew was that her mate was gone, and the person who had taken her away was sitting right there.

"How could you?" she growled at Azriel, silver fire burning in her eyes. "How could you leave her there?"

"How could I?" he echoed, nothing but outrage in his eyes and in his tone.

"She formally asked Helion for refuge and he granted it, Azriel had no choice but to leave her there."

"He had a choice to bring her there in the first place!" Cassian shouted at his brothers, a hand resting on his broken chest.

"She asked me to take her."

"You should have come to us!"

"She wanted to get away from you!"

"Enough!" Rhys ordered as he stood up. "She left this court and broke the bond, I think her intentions are pretty clear. If you want to write to her I will send the letters to Helion but under no circumstances are you to try and get her back from the Day Court, am I clear?"

Cassian and Nesta looked at the High Lord like he had two heads, like they couldn't believe what they were hearing.

"She's our mate, she's ours," Nesta reminded him.

"Not anymore," Feyre said softly to her sister. "And it's our fault too," she murmured to her husband. "We should have said something, we should have done something. But we didn't. We let you hurt our friend because she was your mate and you were supposed to know best."

Cassian growled.

"What are you saying," Nesta demanded as she rose to her feet. "We would never hurt her."

Azriel's eyes narrowed. He knew they were oblivious, but they had to start fucking realizing what they had done.

"She's had bruises ever since she joined your bed over a year ago."

"We all have bruises," Nesta spat back.

"Not like this! How could you not see it? We did! And maybe that makes us worse for it," the shadowsinger muttered. "We saw how miserable she was and we did nothing. She was your mate and you didn't even know!"

Another blow to their chest had them lean over the table. Nesta rested a hand on the surface and sat near Cassian. The bond. It had shattered. Now only a thin thread remained. Fragile. And quiet.

"What happened last night?" Rhys asked softly as he sat back down in his chair.

"Nothing," Nesta said, finding it painful to breathe.

"Something must have happened," Azriel accused.

"We just... nothing unusual," Cassian shrugged, searching his memory for anything that could explain your sudden departure.

"She was trying really hard to make you happy, all this time, ever since that first night you left bruises on her. She took it for over a year and never complained, never said anything about it. She let you control every aspect of her life, she let you lock her up in this house, she did everything for you, she gave you everything," Azriel told them, every single word laced with disgust and shame. "And last night she came into my room and begged me to take her to the Day Court. Something must have happened."

"Well... maybe we were a little rough, but she never said anything," Nesta shook her head.

"She shouldn't have had too!"

"She asked us to stop," Cassian said in a whisper, his face pale with realization.

The silence in the room condemned him. He had a mind to let that one last thread go. He didn't deserve you. He had no right to hold onto it, onto you, after what he had done.

"No, she didn't."

"Yes, she did," he looked up at her with teary eyes. "Yes, she did."

"She never asked us to stop, never."

"But last night, she did. She fucking did, Nesta!"

And he could see it on her face. She had heard it too. And she had chosen to ignore it, just like he did. They hadn't even thought twice about it.

"She didn't mean it."

Azriel slammed his hand on the table and Nesta jumped on her chair. His form was surrounded by dark shadows, nothing but ice in his eyes and his voice as he said:

"Apparently, she did."

"Your mate asks you to stop and you don't?"

The look of shock and disgust on her sister's face had the last thread of your bond shake in Nesta's chest.

"She never asked us to stop before, I didn't know!"

"Nesta!"

"I'm sorry!" the female cried out. "I should have known, I should have," she admitted as tears fell down her cheeks. "I never meant to hurt her."

"Fuck," Cassian breathed, his eyes hollow as he looked up at his brother. "I fucked up, Rhys."

The High Lord stared at him in silence for a moment before he nodded.

"Yes, you did."

"We have to tell her we're sorry."

"It's too late for that, I think," Azriel muttered.

"She has to know we didn't mean it," Nesta begged.

"She believed that, for over a year. Last night proved her wrong."

"Fuck you!"

"Don't take it out on Azriel, Nesta," Feyre scolded. "We all failed her. This is on all of us. But you failed her most of all."

In five centuries, neither of his brother had seen Cassian broke down in tears. Ever. He ran a hand over his face, as if he could hide, as if he could disappear. The shame alone could have killed him but the look in his friends' eyes finished him.

They had lucked out, the both of them, with you. A second mate. A family of three. You were kind and caring, gentle and loving. They couldn't have asked for a better mate. And they had ruined it. They deserved worse than death for it. And he would live the rest of his life with that shame and regret. He deserved to spend the rest of forever with Nesta and the look of disgust in their friends' eyes.

"I didn't mean it," Cassian whispered.

Nesta shook her head.

"We didn't mean it."

Tags: @chessebookgirl @impossibelle

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 2 - Hell to Raise

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: I also love putting men named Sam in the middle of places where they're third wheeling like crazy and full of regrets. Enjoy!

Chapter Title from Sleep to Dream by Fiona Apple

Word Count: 10.9k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Against his will, Bucky crashes your dinner with Sam. Contains usual tags.

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3

Read on A03!

“Where are we going.”

“I don’t know.”

Bucky frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t know. You’re driving, Sam, you should know-“

“I’m using the GPS, genius.” Sam snapped. “I just punched in the address she gave me-“

“She gave you? I thought you were choosing where we were going-“

“Don’t know why you did, cause I never said I was-“

“You said you were getting dinner with her-“

“And we are-“

“How do you know we’re going to get dinner?” Bucky crossed his arms, glaring at Sam in the dim light of the car. “Maybe we’re going to her apartment, or a warehouse, or a damn club or something-“

Sam snorted. “We are not going to a club, you paranoid asshole. She ain’t exactly the club type.”

“Her file would suggest otherwise-“

“Her file is her on paper. You know better than anyone that people aren’t always as they appear on paper.”

Sam raised his brows, shooting Bucky a smug got you there look, and Bucky’s frown deepened to a scowl. He did know that. He still didn’t fucking trust this. Any of this. 

He’d spent all day trying to find a way to go back on his agreement. He’d sent Sam a dozen texts about how he’d be more useful out in the field—filled with examples about how he knew Hydra and how they operated better than any computer, hated them more than any person, and had a tendency to throw himself in the line of fire that Sam called stupid but Bucky called helpful when fighting monsters—only to have almost all of them ignored. 

The only response he’d gotten had been two hours ago, and it hadn’t been the calling it all off text he’d hoped for.

Sam Wilson

B ready when i get there

wear a nice shirt

Bucky had glared at the message for about ten minutes. He didn’t want to wear a nice shirt for this stupid dinner. He didn’t want to go to this stupid dinner. It was a waste of his time, and it was a waste of his body. He was meant to be a weapon, not a shield. This was, if anything, a Captain America job. Righteously protecting someone who probably didn’t deserve it.

He was the destroyer, not the protector. If Sam wasn’t being so stubborn, the asshole would’ve realized that Bucky’s body should be used as the gun or the fist, and nothing else.

But Sam wasn’t going to cave to that. And the only reason Bucky hadn’t locked his door and ignored Sam when he shouted from the hall for him to get moving—apparently they were, somehow, already going to be late—was because he knew that he had to do this.

That was the other thing he’d done all day. Found reason after reason that he needed to at least meet Her. He’d read Her file five times, failed to crack Hydra’s code after nine attempts, and studied her apartment and office layouts until they were branded onto his brain. 

And Bucky didn’t trust anyone to handle the properly. To handle Her, and whatever She was hiding, with the appropriate vigilance. And that wasn’t because he was paranoid, it was because none of this made sense, and Bucky wasn’t blinded by some previous care like Sam was. He’d be able to see through cracks and facades Sam couldn’t. He was trained to find them.

And he knew they were there.

Because nothing about Her made sense.

Her history had odd holes and tears that seemed sown and patched and pieced together with gauze instead of glue. Covered so that Bucky couldn’t figure out what was being hidden, but not done well enough for him to not notice that something was off. 

She was a community college dropout, and She ran the Stark Foundation. Her parents were both dead, but that didn’t track either because She’d never been in foster care. Her entire childhood seemed like it had been taken out of some picture book instead of lived. She was so beautiful Bucky had been forced to tape over Her photo, and he was a little worried he wouldn’t be able to breathe if he saw Her in person. 

Everything about Her seemed designed. Fabricated. Made.

It stirred a strange feeling in Bucky’s gut that had pulled at him in Romania, before the whole accords mess. It had tugged him before the snap, and every time he’d spoken to John Walker, and it was made of years of knowing what wrong felt like. When something was unjust or important, but he didn’t have the power or strength to change or alter it because he was only Bucky.

He’d never known how to really change anything at all. 

Another stupid reason for him to do Sam this favor. If She really was up to something—if that gut tug was what Bucky thought it was, and the unjust thing was how She might be manipulating Sam or working with Hydra—this would be a shot to try. To make further amends, only with a name he hadn’t put on his list because he hadn’t known it before yesterday. 

And he wouldn’t tell Sam, but he’d tried to remember Her. To see if She was lost in the fog of Hydra, to push the mauled and weakened pieces of the Soldat to the top of his head and test if he remembered Her.

He hadn’t. Neither Bucky nor the Soldat—in more fogged memories Bucky usually was more than okay with smothering—had any sort of recollection of that name before Sam said it, and if She was Hydra and this was a ruse, it was a well-crafted one, and She was going to be a clever, careful woman. 

She seemed like She could be, if Her file and how Sam had spoken of Her were any indication. She didn’t seem like some sort of docile creature, and when Bucky had peeled back the tape over Her picture one last time—checking that She was still there, still beautiful—that strange thing was still shifting and humming around behind Her eyes. It still seemed dangerous.

And that was another thing that clashed about Her file. If it had been presented to Bucky without a photo or explanation, he would’ve pinned Her in his head as sweet, a little shallow, and bright like a crystal on a chandelier. 

Grabbing the glow from a candle and casting it out with color. More decoration than person, and happy with it. A history of moving up the ladder with soft smiles and innocent words, good but in the way that was easy. Non-complex.

Good because they’d never known real pain—not the kind of pain that haunted Bucky, with blood and iron and an infection over his heart—so good had never needed to be a struggle.

And he didn’t know why She wasn’t that. Why She was someone Sam spoke so highly of, when by all logical conclusions she should be a spoiled brat or entitled little girl.

Bucky didn’t like not knowing something. Not being able to work out this puzzle, and being stuck in a loop of that gut feeling. Having to trust Sam, but Sam trusted Her, and Bucky didn’t believe a single thing about Her. He could see that there were massive gashes and stains on whatever painting She’d turned herself into, and it set his spine rigid and his head on edge.

So he’d kept pushing himself further, and further, and further, all of last night until he had a migraine, and the air of the world was suffocating. 

He’d spent the earliest hours of the morning—the light in his room gray and shifting through the blinds like prison bars—glaring at the ceiling and playing his silent, grounding game until every single nerve in his body felt like it maybe had the right to exist. 

His name was James Buchanan Barnes. His phone was dead, and his lamp was off. He liked the chirp of the birds outside his window, because it reminded him that there was life around him that he hadn’t broken, and there had never been birds in Russia. He hated that he’d had to cover all the mirrors again, because when the world got this weighted and painful he couldn’t stand to look at his reflection. He needed to sleep, because everyone kept saying it was good for him, but he wasn’t going to, so instead he needed some coffee. He wanted not to do this, because even if he had to, the whole point of wanting things was to know that they were possible, but not promised.

And Bucky fucking knew that. Another reason to keep the wanted part of the game was practicing the possible part. Things could be possible now. And Bucky never got what he wanted, so he was already very good at the not promised part.

It was why, in the car as they hit a point of no return—being too close to the end of the drive for Sam to ever agree to turn around and let Bucky go home—he didn’t expect any sort of relief as he gave one last protest.

“You could still hire a group of guards.” He grunted, narrowing his eyes at Sam in the dark. “You’d get a discount, if you use the Captain America thing.”

Sam snorted. “What kinda bodyguard company is givin’ discounts to Captain America-“

“You got a discount from a hotdog stand last week, this would be like that-“

“That was Carlos. I saved his cat once.”

Bucky frowned. “Since when are you saving cats-“

“Didn’t mean to. Just happened.” Sam shot him a wide, mocking grin. “I’m just that great of a hero, Buck. Lookin’ out for the everyman-“

“Every cat.”

“Animals are people too-“

“No, they’re not. They’re animals.”

“People are nothin’ more than beasts, man. You need to take one of your college courses on biology, think they might have missed some stuff back in your cinderblock shoe days-“

Bucky rolled his eyes. “We were poor, not street urchins. And,” he sat up a little straighter, grabbing the opportunity. “I’ll get the time to take that course, if you let me out of this-“

“Nah, I’m good. You’ll find the time yourself, Buck, it’s not like it’s a consuming gig. You’re just gonna have to sit in her office and make sure nobody gets murdered.”

Bucky scowled, sinking back down into his seat. “You’re the one who’s been on my ass about furthering my modern education.”

“Yeah, but that online college shit is a scam, man. I told you that-“

“I am not doing that veteran GED group. Stop suggesting it.”

“But the teacher is hot, Buck.” Sam wiggled his brows, and Bucky was going to punch the grin off his face. “Just your type.”

Bucky gave Sam a flat look. “What exactly do you think my type is, Sam.”

Sam paused, and Bucky regretted asking the question in a second as Sam’s smirk split into a shit-eating grin.

“Warm body, nice face optional?”

That was it. They were only going about 40, this wasn’t a highway, and Bucky had survived much worse than jumping out of Sam’s Jeep-

He froze, and pulled at the door handle again. It didn’t budge.

“Sam-“

“Child-lock.” Sam shrugged, his body far too casual in the seat for how he was almost certainly about to be stabbed. “Knew you’d try to jump ship, and we shook on this. You’re stuck here until I got this whole mess sorted out.”

Bucky blinked at him in disbelief. “We didn’t shake on it-“

“Yeah, but it’s about the principle-“

“Shut the fuck up-“

“Look, man. I need you for this. And if you break my door, you’re fixing it and paying me for emotional reparations.”

The glower on Bucky’s face didn’t waver, but he did stop pulling at the door. He had a feeling that, even if he did get out of the car before they reached the restaurant, Sam would still track him down and make him go through with this.

“I hate you,” he grumbled, and Sam only laughed.

“I hate you, too.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You never responded to my suggestion.”

“I saw all the texts. She’s got a job, she can’t just go on lockdown.” Sam frowned at the road. “Wouldn’t work anyway. She’d get around it somehow.”

“Get-“ Bucky shook his head, and added another thing to his list of facts about Her. Clever or slippery enough for Sam to be worried that she might, somehow, get out of a locked down and monitored Stark apartment. “Not that. I mean the group of guards. I’ve heard about this thing called Craigslist-“

Sam snorted. “We are not hiring bodyguards of fuckin’ Craigslist. Who the hell even told you about that-“

“Google. And if we’re not using that, there’s gotta be something else so I can focus on helping you, Sam.” Bucky sighed, running a gloved hand over his face. “I’ve told you, I’m not going to be good at this-“

“Yeah, you are.” Sam dismissed him with a shrug, his words flat and firm. “You got the whole brooding, stoic guard thing down. You’ll be great, Buck, you just gotta believe-“

“I’m not talking about guarding. I’m talking about your friend.” Bucky said Her name, and it sounded different than when Sam said it. Sam had said it like it was a name or a poem or something important. Bucky said it like it was a code-word, but to him, that’s all it really was. Needed to be. 

If he couldn’t get out of doing this, he’d probably have to learn to say it like a least a real name.

For now, he had bigger problems.

“I told you, Sam, I read the file. Just because you two are close or whatever, doesn’t mean we’ll be-“

“Damn, here I was thinkin’ you’d made her a friendship bracelet.”

“I don’t know what that is, but-“

Sam cut Bucky off with an almost offended expression. “How’d you not know what a friendship bracelet is-“

“Believe it or not, I’m still a little behind on the past eighty years-“

“But I played you that Taylor Swift song-“

“When?”

“In the car last month!”

“I wasn’t paying attention.” Bucky shrugged, narrowing his eyes. “And I’m being serious, Sam. If she tries to make me her butler or something, I’m out-“

Sam waved him off, his voice flat. “She’s not gonna make you her butler. That’s not who she is.“

Bucky sat up in his seat, watching Sam carefully. Another opening, this one for more information. “How’d you know who she is, anyway? You never told me how you got into a crowd of New York socialites. Doesn’t really seem like you, buddy-“

“Don’t call me buddy.” Sam muttered, frowning at the road. “And she’s not a- It’s complicated. But she’s not like that, I promise.”

“You sound sure-“

“I am sure.” That was a snap. Sam had snapped. It was serious. “She’s a good person, Bucky. One of the best I know, she’s just got a complicated past.” Sam gave him a side-eye, and Bucky did not fucking appreciate it. “Not like you’d know anything about that, though.”

He scowled. “It’s not the same-“

“No, but it’s more similar than you think-“

“You gonna tell me how-“

“No.” Sam shrugged. “Not my place. But she’s more than that file, and I’m just tryin’ not to let my one of my best friends die at the hands of Hydra, Buck. You don’t need to love her, you just need to keep us from attending another damn funeral.”

Bucky’s hands curled into fists as he glowered out the window.

He hated when Sam was right.

“I thought I was your best friend.”

“Aw.” Sam smirked at him. “You jealous? Gonna wear a friendship bracelet if I make it for you?”

“I still don’t know what those are,” he muttered, and Sam hummed.

“They’re like, letters and beads. Don’t really know, I’ve just seen them online. And you don’t have anything to worry about-“

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’m not worried-“

“Yeah, because I’m reassuring you.” Sam grinned at him. “You’re my best friend, Buck. She’s more like the sister I never had.”

Bucky paused. He hadn’t seen Sam hit his head, but he still needed to check.

“You have a sister, Sam. I’ve met her. Sarah.”

He kept his words slow, cautious, and Sam just scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“I know that, man. That’s why I said she’s the sister I never had. Sarah is nice to me.” 

Bucky grunted as Sam turned into a small, clean parking garage, and added another fact. She might be mean. Not a bitch, and likely not cruel—at least on the surface—because Sam’s tolerance for truly bad people seemed to start and end with Bucky, although Sam would insist that Bucky wasn’t a bad person.

And he wasn’t right now. But he knew he had been. And he knew that he had the capacity for it.

And everything had still been off about Her past, so it was another thing to keep an eye on Her about. She was beautiful, Sam liked Her—enough to compare her to Sarah, which was higher praise than Bucky had thought She’d be offered—but nothing about Her made sense, and She might be mean.

Bucky scanned around the mostly empty garage, placing about five, fancier cars, at least seven cameras, and not a single flickering light or abandoned piece of trash on the pavement. There was a glowing, smooth and golden sign over the entrance to the restaurant, which meant they wouldn’t have to go outside at all. There was jazz playing over a speaker from inside that wasn’t horrible. He could see the velvety, rich colored furniture through the glass doors, and the carpet had those weird, fancy swirl pattens. The only people besides himself and Sam were a woman standing near the entrance—wearing an obvious uniform—and a security guard who was fidgeting with his belt.

No threats.

“This the place?”

“Seems like it.” Sam muttered, shaking his head as he looked around them with a frown. “Motherfucker.”

Bucky blinked. Everything was fine, as far as he could see. The unsettling gut instinct was dormant, and this place looked fancy, which meant it would have good security. But Sam looked tense, almost stressed, and his was sitting too tall in his seat as he grabbed his phone and started swipe at the screen with a glower, so something was off-

“She always does this,” Sam muttered, glaring at the restaurant. “And I never- This one is on me, I should’ve checked the damn address-“

“Sam-“ 

Bucky’s slow words were cut off by Sam grabbing his bag from the backseat, shifting through it with a scowl. “I’m gonna kick her ass,” he muttered. “Gonna tell Happy she’s been stealing papers from the office-“

“Stealing papers-“

“They’re her papers. She won’t get in trouble. She can’t. She freakin’ runs that place.” Sam scowled between his bag and the phone, angled on his lap where Bucky couldn’t see the screen. “Shit, Bucky, how many credit cards you got on you-“ 

Bucky frowned. “I don’t have a credit card, Sam. I barely have a social security number-“ 

“Cash then. You got cash?” 

“Why would we need cash-“

Sam grunted Her name, dropping his head back on the seat with a long groan. “She’s tryin’ to kill me. Need to start vetting these places-“

“Sam.” Bucky hissed, making his voice firm. “Are you going to actually tell me what the fuck is happening?”

Sam sighed, and passed Bucky his phone without a word. Bucky scanned over the screen with a tight frown, and it was just a menu. Italian food, which Sam usually liked, and a lot of different options, and-

Bucky’s grip on the phone tightened, and he felt his eyes widen as he turned to stare at Sam.

“That had to be a misprint.”

“It’s not.” Sam muttered, glaring at the roof of the car. “For her, it’s actually on the cheaper side.”

“This,” Bucky pointed to the phone, shaking his head. “Is not fucking cheap, Sam-“

Sam shrugged. “For a Stark associate it is-“

“It’s insane, that’s what it is-“

“I know that, Bucky, but-“ Sam ran a hand over his face, his words slightly muffled by the gesture. “Hell, man, this is what she does.”

“What, pick a place so fucking expensive it’s going to make us bankrupt-“

“Yeah, so we can’t pay.”

Bucky paused, frowning back to the phone, then Sam. “What.”

“You saw those prices, man, ain’t no way we could afford that-“

“I’m got that, I’m asking what you mean so we can’t pay-“

“Means what it means.” Sam shrugged. “Since she made it in the big game, she always choses somewhere stupid fuckin’ fancy to meet so I have to let her pay for everything. It’s real annoying.”

Bucky frowned, and couldn’t really find a place for that fact to fit into his internal log about Her. He didn’t even know what he would be logging. Annoying to Sam, even if they’re friends. ‘Made it’ in the big game, which Sam didn’t say the way Bucky thought he would. Doesn’t like making Sam pay for things, even if he wants to, which would imply some sort of antagonistic virtue Bucky didn’t have a name for.

“Least we managed to get here first.” Sam muttered, tugging his phone back from Bucky’s grip and flicking to what looked like his contacts. “Fuckin’ finally.”

“What-“ Bucky looked back around the empty lot, then to Sam. “I thought we were late?”

“Nah, I just wanted to beat her-“

“Beat her- You dragged me out the door like the world was ending-“

“She’s always insanely early, Buck. Didn’t wanna make her wait for your geriatric ass.” 

“You make me wait all the time-“

“You scare me less.” Sam sighed, lowering his voice slightly. “And she’s already gonna kill me. Don’t need to give her more reasons.”

Bucky frowned. “What’d you mean, more reasons-“

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I am worried about it. I wasn’t, but then you said not to-“

“So don’t.” Sam frowned at his phone. “We probably don’t got a lot of time, but if I call her before she-“

Sam’s words dropped off as loud, distant music filled the garage, and their heads both shot up on instinct. Headlights turned the corner, a very normal, boring looking car moved past them into one of the spots—further from the exit, parallel to where Sam had parked the, and closer to the restaurant itself—before the headlights dropped off.

The music kept playing. Really fucking loud, to the point that Bucky could almost feel the bass roll in his own chest, even as he was in Sam’s car and far down the lot. 

That was Her. The driver of the deafening car. Her face was shrouded slightly in shadows, her head was slightly tipped back, and Bucky could mostly only see her side-profile, but that was Her.

Bucky had spent enough time last night staring at and memorizing Her picture to know it was her.

And even if he hadn’t, the way Sam sighed and dropped his phone back into his lap was a dead giveaway. 

“Damn it.” He muttered, and Bucky grunted, mostly just focused on Her in the car.

She wasn’t getting out. Just sitting in the driver’s seat, Her hands tapping on the wheel. Her head was either bowed down in a motion like she was praying, or she was a hunchback, but it was hard to tell through the tinted windows. 

“She religious?” He asked, keeping his voice flat, and Sam frowned at him. 

“I don’t know, man. That important to you?”

“No.” Bucky muttered, his eyes still trained on Her. “What the hell is she doing.”

“Uh, wait-” Sam paused, angling his head slightly. “Ah. Song’s not over.”

Bucky ripped his gaze away from Her half-silhouette—She’d leaned slightly forward, and he’d been able to see the slope of Her nose and shape of Her lips, but one of his rules was supposed to be don’t look for too long—and frowned at Sam.

“What.”

“She’s gonna finish the song,” Sam waved a hand vaguely over Bucky’s body, towards where She was still unmovingly parked. “But I know this one, looks like we caught it at the beginning. Gonna be a minute.”

“A minute?”

“Yeah.” Sam shrugged, shifting in his seat. Like he was getting comfortable. “You don’t wanna interrupt her, Buck, she’ll reign blood and murder or somethin’.”

Bucky glanced back to where Her car, curling his hands into slightly fists. “What’d you mean, or something.”

“Don’t know. Haven’t tested it since I made the mistake myself.” Sam shot him a sharp look. “I’m warnin’ you, man. You don’t wanna do it.”

He very much did. Bucky didn’t even want to be here, let alone wait for this lady to finish up Her loud, long, impossibly fast-paced and disruptive music so they could have food at the stupid expensive restaurant She’d chosen, so that Bucky could spend a portion of his life protecting Her beautiful ass- 

He assumed it was beautiful. He’d never seen it, but something about Her photo and the almost revenant way Sam had spoken of Her—like She was more wrathful god than breakable, mortal woman—made his imagination run wild and picture Her as beautiful in every possible way, but that didn’t matter. He’d told Sam he wouldn’t be Her butler, and he’d meant it. This was a damn favor, and She should be respecting that, and he didn’t care if Sam called him an old grump for this, he wasn’t going to wait around. The sooner they got started, the sooner they could be done.

“She made us come here.” Bucky muttered, scowling out the window, and Sam shrugged in his periphery.

“Technically, I made us come here-“

“Shut up. You know this song?”

“Think I do, yeah-“

“How long is it?”

“I don’t know, do I look like Spotify to you-“

Bucky flipped him off, not looking aware from where She still wasn’t getting out of the car.

He put his hand on the door handle, and gave Sam a firm, expectant look.

Sam sighed. “Bucky, I tellin’ you-“

“And I heard you. Open the door.”

“You’re gonna regret it-“

“I have bigger regrets.”

Sam smirked slightly. “You takin’ a philosophy course too?”

“Door, Sam.” Bucky grunted. “Now.”

“Alright.” Sam rolled his eyes, and reached for a button that better remove the child locks, or Bucky would break the window. “Your funeral, man.”

Bucky heard the click of the door, pushed it open before Sam had even leaned back and stomped out of the car. 

He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t want to do this. The music was so damn loud, and this was so fucking stupid, and it might be another thing to do. but She was still the reason Sam wasn’t letting him really help—really be fucking useful—so Bucky would not sit around as if he was waiting for Her goddamn permission to move. 

He banged a fist on the window when he reached her, She jumped in her seat, and looked up at him with wide eyes through the glass. 

Bucky’s tongue caught in his throat. He’d been ready to spit words about hurrying Her ass up, but they were gone. Turned to dust and wind as their eyes met. Sam had been right. It was his funeral.

There was nothing about Her that was obviously worrying or terrifying, but Her grip tightened on the wheel, then Her eyes narrowed, and Bucky felt… odd. Frozen. Not in the cold, stasis way Hydra had trapped him, but like he was being hung up on some sort of wall. Like a piece of art She was analyzing as they stared at each other through the glass, as Her eyes pierced and carved right into his soul. 

Then She rolled down the window, and Bucky had to drag his every bit of will and resolve together to keep his face set and angry. 

She was more beautiful in person. By far the most beautiful person Bucky had ever seen, quickly rivaling most everything else for the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Rocketing past sunsets in Wakanda and the view from the top of mountains where he’d felt amazingly small and human. Clashing with the night sky in the coldest parts of the world that few men dared to tread, but where Bucky had spent long days and nights, watching the stars shift and pass above him and glow off the snow. In front of him, Her beauty was that same impossible and strange and inhuman kind from the photo, where every divet and crook and bump on Her face looked as if it had been purposefully placed there. Bucky’s mind was already flipping back to his enhanced by Hydra to be extra beautiful for some reason theory, but his head moving slower than normal, because most of what he was able to do right now was hold Her gaze. 

Her eyes weren’t blank. They seemed to be painted over or covered with something, like a firm layer of ice over whatever was trapped inside Her that she didn’t want Bucky  to see. Her entire face seemed have that same element, like She was wearing an invisible mask that made Her seem more like a canvas than a person. She held Herself too tall, too still, like a statue. 

She was younger than he’d thought She’d be. In the photo, something in Her eyes had made him think She’d seen longest and harshest and darkest corners of the world—whether she’d been running from them or sought them out—and that would’ve required time. That combined with being a CEO made him put her in a margin of at least being around Sam’s age, but She wasn’t. 

He couldn’t tell how old She was. He couldn’t tell most things about Her, and that spurred his body into tension, because that wasn’t normal. 

Nothing about Her seemed normal. Not quite artificial, not quite human, but something in-between that tugged at Bucky’s gut and told him to stay alert. To be careful, because something about this was wrong.

He added a rapid fire list of things to his log about Her, as they glared at each other and he forced himself to get his shit together—this was exactly why he couldn’t look at Her too long, She was dangerous just by existing even if She wasn’t Hydra, and Bucky couldn’t afford distractions—so that he could finally do what he’d come for, and snap at Her over the music, still blaring in the background.

Her car wasn’t expensive, but the tires weren’t muddied, so She didn’t drive often, or She cleaned it frequently. It was likely the former, because the interior of the car was filled with trash. Her nails were neat, but not painted, and Her hair was done to stay out of Her face. Despite choosing the fancy restaurant, She was not dressed up for the occasion. She didn’t have any weapons that he could see, and her hands were gripping the wheel with white knuckles. She was making no movement to turn down the music, only watching Bucky with a silent challenge. Daring him to move first, and confident She would lose whatever game they were playing. She sat too tall not to be, and watched him with a dry boredom that could be taken for anger. 

Her eyes seemed to be brimming and boiling over with that thing, even as the veil remained, and Her breathing and heartbeat were casual. 

She was not threatened by Bucky leaning against Her car, glowering at Her and scanning over her face. She was either incredibly confident, or had no idea who he was.

She should know who he was. His hair was longer again, so he was more recognizable, and if She worked at the Stark Foundation she’d likely be expected to keep up with the news.

She seemed like someone who would keep up with the news.

She still wasn’t reacting to Bucky.

And he caved first.

“Turn your music down.” He grunted, and She raised Her brows, but still didn’t speak as She leaned back without breaking their eye contact. 

The music turned off.

Bucky didn’t know why Sam had been so worried about him. That had been easy-

“Why are you here?”

Bucky blinked. She had a distinctive voice. It would be easy to memorize, once he got Her speech pattern.

“Dinner.“ He grunted, forcing himself to hold Her gaze. “You know who I-“

She gave him a flat look. It felt like it pressed right up against his ribs. “Of course I know who you are, I own a phone with internet access. Why are you here.”

He scowled. “I already told you, dinner. Sam invited me.”

Her eyes narrowed, and there was a long silence as She watched him, before something flashed in Her eyes, right through the strange mask, and the expression on Her face shifted. 

Bucky still couldn’t read it.

But it didn’t seem good.

“Where is he.” Her words were neutral. Cool. It felt like a trap, but whatever shit Sam was about to get he probably deserved, so Bucky nodded his head back to the car.

“Hiding.“

She sat higher in Her seat, glaring past Bucky to where Sam was likely watching them. 

Bucky couldn’t be sure.

He was finding it hard to look away from Her to check.

“Fucking pussy.” She muttered under Her breath, before raising her voice to a shout. “Samuel, get the fuck out here!”

Bucky added another thing to his log. She could be very loud—Her voice echoing around the garage like a haunting, furious choir—and incredibly angry. 

He highlighted that last point as She scoffed and stood out of the car, pushed right past Bucky with a second glance, and stormed across the lot. It was like watching a small bundle of fire and wind and fury rush through the world. She walked with a purpose.

Bucky would apprentice that, other any other circumstances.

Right now he was just a little worried for Sam’s safety.

Sam was grinning at Her, when Bucky came up behind them. It was his careful, charming, I’ve never done anything wrong in my life ever grin. 

They were in trouble.

“Hey,” he said Her name carefully, nodding to Bucky over her shoulder. “Looks like you finally met Bucky, I’ve always thought you two would get on great, you know-“

“Shut up.” She snapped—something different in Her voice then when She’d been speaking to Bucky—and Sam listened. Bucky needed to learn how to do that. “I told you I didn’t need him.”

“Yeah, but it’s Hydra-“

“It might not be. It might just be a fluke-“

Sam gave Her a pointed look. “I know you don’t think that, kid-“

“And I don’t need him.”She pushed on, Her voice rising over Sam’s as she pointed over her shoulder. To Bucky. “I told you no, Sam, I told you to fucking drop it-“

“And I didn’t, because you might be in danger,” Sam’s voice was firmer than before as he said Her name again, but it still didn’t match Her fury. “This is Hydra. I ain’t lettin’ you mess with your safety when it’s Hydra.”

She let out a dry laugh, and when Bucky shuffled at few feet to the side, he realized what was different. 

The veil had dropped. And under it, She was different. Almost raw and pure, but like the night sky. Visible, but unreadable. Forceful. Powerful.

And a realization very slowly started to creep over Bucky, rising into his head and falling to its place, shifting everything around him and making his jaw clench.

“I am not in that much danger-“

“You pretty fuckin’ obviously are-“

“Sam.” Bucky grunted, not bothering to hide the fury in his voice. “Did you ask her if she wanted my service?”

She snorted. “Service? Are you an escort-“

Bucky rolled his eyes, shooting Her a glare. “You can shut it, kid-“

“Don’t call me kid-“

“I’ll call you whatever I want, long as I’m the only thing keeping you alive. And you,” he glared back to Sam, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Caught in a fucking lie. “Answer my question or I slash your tires.”

Sam sighed, looking between She and Bucky wearily, and shook his head. “No. But it’s cause I knew you’d both say no-“

“I would’ve said yes to a rotating group.” She hissed. “And you know exactly why I said no, you dickhead-“

“And I think it’s a stupid reason,” Sam muttered Her name, giving her a pointed look Bucky didn’t understand. 

He didn’t understand most of what was going on. But this was more than his usual confusion. This felt personal, like everything was off kilter just to spite him. They were arguing in a weird, cryptic, half-code he couldn’t follow, and She’d said she didn’t want him. Didn’t want Bucky. Not a guard, period, but Bucky.

That should’ve been a relief. He could just leave, because he wasn’t about to force his presence on anyone, and this gave him a reason to tell Sam to shove his better on babysitting duty shit up his ass.

But it stirred something furious in his body. Bucky wasn’t a saint, but he was good at his job. He was effective. He would be able to keep Her safe better than any group guard, he just hadn’t wanted to. And She didn’t know him, not well enough to hate him. He would think it was the whole former Hydra assassin thing if She was afraid of him, but she wasn’t.

She just didn’t want Bucky.

And nobody wanted him. 

But for some reason that his body and mind were grabbing by the throat and running with, Bucky hated that. She had no right to dislike him, even if it was a reasonable conclusion. She had no right to think She’d just win this, that Hydra wouldn’t crush Her all the same as they crushed their other enemies.

And maybe She wasn’t an enemy to Hydra. Maybe She didn’t want Bucky around because She knew he’d catch onto whatever she was planning. Because he was a real threat to whatever game She was playing.

He wasn’t going to take the out. It was right there—shining and clear and leading him back into a routine and mundane life that was not good, but better than before—and he let it fade away.

She and Sam were still arguing, so Bucky crossed his arms and raised his voice. 

“Are we going to go inside.”

They both stared at him for a long second, and She spoke first. “What-“

“Inside.” He drawled, narrowing his eyes at Her. “It’s over there, under a roof. With the dinner Sam promised me.” 

She tilted Her head at him, and even with the mask off and the equally beautiful—but worryingly potent and loud—creature revealed beneath, Bucky could still see that secret. A layer just below this one, looking almost tucked away. Hidden.

He could see it because he knew it. He had one of those horrid layers too, trapped at the base of his skull.

But he never lied about it. 

And there was no way he was backing out now.

“You think we’re still doing dinner?” She asked, and Bucky shrugged.

“I’m still hungry. How about you, Sam. You want some spaghetti?”

Sam, for once in his life, looked stunned out of words. “Yeah. I’m, uh, I’m kinda starvin’. We can keep talking inside, but just remember, most restaurants have a no-murder policy.”

She shot Sam a glare. “I’m done talking. That,” She pointed to Bucky, and it was a little too much like being on the barrel end of a gun. “Isn’t happening.”

Sam opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Bucky had it covered. 

“You know,” he said Her name, and Her eyes snapped to his with an almost impressive glower. “I’d be offended, if I gave a shit about your opinion.”

Her lips tightened, but She didn’t waver. She didn’t really seem like the type to waver. “And that’s lovely for you, Barnes. Stay out of this.”

He shook his head. “My friend asked me for a favor, and we shook on it. I’m not gonna let your funeral be the reason I deal with Sam crying again.”

Sam’s expression of pure confusion waved slightly with a frown. “I wasn’t crying, Bucky, it was onions-“

“I am not going to die.” She cut off Sam with cool words, standing a little taller, like She was trying to tower over Bucky despite still looking up at him. “And I don’t know what Sam promised you to babysit me, but-“

“I wasn’t promised anything.” Bucky shrugged, keeping his voice flat and dry. “I’m doing it for the love of the job.”

There was a long silence as they glowered at each other—Bucky wondered, if he glared hard enough, if She’d just confess to everything and this would all end in one night—and it was cut only by Sam clearing his throat.

“So, uh,” he looked between Her and Bucky with a weary expression. “Dinner?”

She hummed, still not breaking the stare. “Fine. Sargent?”

He felt his jaw tick, something rearing its head deep in his gut, deeper than the instinct of strange, at how She said that. Mockingly sweet, right on the edge of a sneer, with beautiful pouting lips and an arrogance that made his whole body burn. 

“James is fine.” He grunted, and Her mouth curved into a smile. It was wolf-like, as if She was getting ready to pull him apart with only Her teeth and devour whatever piece of him She could find. 

If She tried to, he’d be ready. She might still be that strange kind of beautiful, but Bucky’s will wasn’t easily broken by something as simple as beautiful. 

So whatever She was up to, Bucky would stop it. 

He’d be right there, keeping that careful eye he’d promise Sam on Her, and everything would be under control.

Bucky could keep this under control. 

——————

You’re going to kill Sam. Captain America or not, he’s dead.

You’d told him no. You’d told him you’d be fine alone, because you know how to be. This was terrifying, maybe. You didn’t know what the hell was happening, certainly. You’d slept even worse than usual for the past two nights, your head spinning faster than you could keep up with as questions why, what did they know, what did they want, why you, why turned around in your head, absolutely.

But you’d be fine alone. It was probably an empty threat, and if it wasn’t, there wasn’t a single thing you have to offer Hydra. You don’t know any dark, secret information. You’ve never been a sole witness to any crime, or uncovered any conspiracy, and you’ve spent most of your life as nothing more than a bright accessory for people more important than you were.

And even after you became important yourself, it wasn’t as if you shifted the earth or rewrote political borders. You worked for a charity. You smiled for cameras and put on the show because you had to, then you curled right back up into your apartment with the Boy. 

Alone.

You could’ve been fine alone. Sam had said I’ll give you Bucky, to keep you safe, you’d very audibly and clearly told him you’d be fine, Sam, and he’d given in.

The sneaky fuck had just given in—which should have been suspicious, but you’d been too tired to care—and then brought his stupid super-solider friend to what was supposed to be a casual dinner, because he still sees you as a kid that needs protection.

You’d feel bad for Barnes, if he wasn’t spending the whole night staring at you with a scowl that felt unreasonably personal. Sam had told you once that it was just how he was, and that if you ever met him, you’d catch on quick that he’s really more bark than bite.

But Sam seems to have been full of shit.

Barnes seems like he’s all bite. Not because of the metal arm you can see peeking under a sleeve, or the broad, strong build of his body, or even the targeted glower on his face. 

It’s his voice. Low and commanding, well-suited to his overall face and stature, but firm. Unbreakable. Only low grunts and dry words and measured, careful contributions to your conversation with Sam, like he’s trying to test the water for poison, but still plans to drink it regardless of the result. 

He’s watching you the same way, and the bite there as well. In his eyes. Silver-blue and focused on yours, no matter who’s speaking. His attention seems to be threatening to swallow you whole. It feels as if you’re an army rather than one person, and Barnes is working out his best plan of attack. Boring into your heart and head, and then a little deeper. Looking for something you don’t understand, because all of you is on a platter for him to see.

The show had ended almost the moment you put together that Sam had pulled this shit. It wasn’t like you’d meant to do the show at all tonight—you never did the show around people that really knew you—but Barnes had caught you off guard and it had slipped over you on instinct alone. He’d interrupted your music and hurdled you quickly to a white-hot edge of off, now everything is off, and you’d been ready to make some very graphic threats when you’d looked up and seen Bucky Barnes glowering down at you, the words had died on your tongue.

He looked really human. Not like a phantom story or cautionary tale. Just a man.

A very handsome, angry man. 

You’d seen pictures of him before—museums, history classes, the general news—but none of it had done justice to how handsome he was. If you weren’t you—if you knew how to have fun and let go and be just the right amount of whatever you were made of—you would’ve smiled at him and introduced yourself.

But he threw you off. And asked you to turn down your music. 

And the show had been to easiest way to keep yourself together in fractured pieces. Then you seemed to have pissed him off just by speaking and thinking and feeling—understandable, but he didn’t know that—and any desire to try and salvage something had withered and died.

Now, the most important thing had to be finding a way out of or around this. Around Sam and his belief that you’re nothing more than a delicate little bird. 

Around Barnes, and his annoyingly attractive face. 

He’s sitting up straight, turning his head just enough to give the restaurant around you a sort of routine check, and you hadn’t missed the quick, assessing scan of every waiter that’s moved through the room. He’s gripping his fork like a blade. He’d taken the seat that faced all the exits. 

And he’s going to take this seriously.

Which was exactly what you hadn’t wanted. 

You’d been willing to take a detached guard. A guard that kept you alive because Sam was right, and Hydra was nothing to mess with—especially when you still don’t know what they want—but who wouldn’t report to him.

A guard that wouldn’t turn right around and tell Sam anything you didn’t want him to know, because Sam may be Captain America, but you were smart, acceptably attractive on surface, and rich. You could easily get a group of too-large, brooding, lonely men to flip and work for you rather than Sam. And even if they didn’t, you’d be able to find your way around them. You’d talk Happy and Sam into letting you choose the group, and pick out a selection that didn’t really care. That let you do whatever the hell you wanted. 

A group that would turn a blind eye to him. 

That was the big thing. You don’t want Sam knowing how bad it is. That the worst dangers aren’t in the shadows and stalking you through the city, they live your apartment and send a curling chill through your blood every they move. 

A random selection of men will keep their heads down and do only their explicit jobs, and long as you play your cards right.

Barnes will not be that easy.

He’s loyal to Sam. You don’t think bribery or extortion will work on his solemn, resolved everything. If he sees how horrid your life has become, he’ll snitch to Sam and you won’t even have time to cover the bruises or come up with a good lie. 

If he finds out that you’re trying to fix the Hydra thing yourself, he’ll shut you down. Probably grumble something about how you don’t know what you’re doing, and tell you to keep pretending everything is fine while he and Sam handle it.

Everything is very much not fine. And you trust Sam with your life, but you will not be useless. You can’t be useless. You can’t let someone else fix this for you, because they never have before. 

You have always clawed your way through everything alone, and it’s worked. You’ve surived. You’ve becoming whatever you needed to be in order to do what you had to do, and you already have two working theories, while Sam has a grand total of zero.

The likely one—the one that Sam will probably work out on his own—is that you’re not the target. You’re the path. The leverage or outlet of Hydra’s wrath on someone else. They have greatly overestimated your importance to the men who’d held and used you like you were a very pretty, shiny pair of cufflinks, and now you have to deal with this because you try not to even remember their names, let alone what secret information on Hydra they might have told you.

And it wasn’t like they’d ever actually told you anything. You’d been a chase, then a hunt, then a prize, then nothing at all. You don’t tell trophies about your secret fascist business dealings. That would require valuing their opinion, and you weren’t sure a single one of those assholes had believed you had opinions. 

Which had been by design.

But it still meant Hydra was going to be tracking you with the intent to hold you as a truly useless hostage, or trying to scare information out of you that you simply didn’t have. 

And that was the easier theory. The one that made you relax, because whatever you had to offer them was null, so you’d be fine. Hydra would either work out that using you to get to someone else—either for money or information—was pointless, and they’d be better off kidnapping a random rat and asking for ransom. People would probably come together to free the rat. The rat might have emotional community value, or a little rat family. You couldn’t be sure of the same for yourself. 

Nobody would trade anything for you. 

And if Hydra was really watching you, they would work that out themselves. 

But second theory wasn’t as easy. It was worrying, and haunting, and dangerous.

The second reason Hydra could be after you was because of you.

Because of the thing.

You don’t know how they’d know. You don’t know what they’d know, or what they’d plan to do, or why they’d care. 

Nobody knows. You’re always so careful to ensure nobody knows, because there’s really nothing to know, but you still don’t want to make yourself into even more of a prize or pretty little toy. If people knew, then you’d become even more of a vessel, more of a statue, more of a caged animal. You’re already barely a person. You don’t need another way to be alone in your own head as your body continues to mold and morph, to survive and please.

If the thing is what Hydra wants, they won’t be able to use you as a weapon unless they transfer the bond to one of their own. You can’t do anything without the bond. Without the bond, they’d just be kidnapping a random woman and asking her to perform miracles. 

And that’s the theory that means you will have to be careful. But it also means no one else is going to be able to handle this, no matter how many resources and contacts they have, because they couldn’t know to look in any of the right places. Places you’d purposefully kept hidden and contained, and that you’re not about to reveal now. 

So you’ll fix this yourself. Quickly, so Sam and Barnes can get back to things that matter more than you. 

All you need to do is get out of this whole Barnes situation, and you’ll be able to fix this. 

“You still workin’ on that community plan for the VA?” Sam asks, and his smile is wider than usual, almost plastered on his face. “Cause I got a few buddies down in DC who’d be willing to throw their weight behind it-“

You snort, raising your brows at him. “Since when do you have buddies in DC-“

“Since I became Captain America. Everyone wants a piece of America’s best patriot-“

“I think that might be an abuse of power.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “I’m tryin’ to abuse it in your favor, kid. You tell me to reach out, you’ll get endorsements so far up your ass you’ll be shitting them out until May.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I- That is not a saying-“

“Could be.”

“No, it really couldn’t-“

“You want the backing or not?”

You sigh, poking your food with the fancy, half-useless fork. “No. We wrapped that up last week, and I think if I try to add anything more to it I’ll get another call from the board about paperwork and going rogue.”

Sam frowns. “You can go rogue at a charity? What, you donating too many blankets?”

“No, I just have no respect for the precedent.” You shrug, leaning further back in your seat and crossing one leg under your body. “No work talk, Sam. You’ll get me in trouble.”

Sam gives you a disappointed look. “You broke into the office again?”

“Broke in implies that it’s not my office-“

“At the Stark Foundation.”

You pause, frowning at Barnes. He’s still staring at you, arms crossed and face unreadable, and his words hadn’t really sounded like a question, but you’re going to answer them anyway.

“Yeah.”

“How’d you end up with that?”

You blink. “With my job?”

Barnes gives you a tight nod and grunt, and you shrug.

“The old director died in the Blip. Tony offered me the role, I took it, and I still have it.”

“Why you?”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to find some sort of crack in his rough, firmly set expression that will tell you what exactly he wants to know.

“Why not me?” You snap, sitting a little taller, and Barnes blinks, but doesn’t back down.

“Don’t know,” he drawls. “Might be why I’m asking, kid.”

Your fingers dig slightly into the cloth of the table. “Well, James, I was just in the right place, at the right time, and it doesn’t really matter now, does it? I’m good at my job.”

Barnes just raises his brows. “And who’s told you that?”

“Everyone. For the past six years.”

“What about the old director?” He leans forward slightly, holding your gaze. “Where’d he head off, when everyone came back?”

You snort. “I’m pretty sure he just stayed in his coffin. He didn’t blip, he died.”

Barnes frowns. “But-“

“One of the many, many plane crashes that the Snap caused.” You hum. “Any other questions I can answer for you?”

“Yeah, actually.” Barnes says, and you’d been right. His voice is what’s telling you to be careful, because it’s rough and deep and almost sounds like a weapon of its own. “You know what type of security system your building has? I’ll need access to it.”

You scowl. “No.”

He gives you an almost taunting look. “No, you don’t know?”

“No, you’re not getting access to it. I said I’m not doing this, and I was serious-“

“Afraid that’s not really up to you, doll.”

Something prickles over your skin at how bored and flat his tone is, rooting around in your skull as you suddenly feel a little too small under his gaze. The same way you’ve felt for too much of your life. Not a person, too much of a person, better as only an accessory or art piece or oversaturated giggle and smile, better putting on the show and being the doll-

“Don’t call me that.” You snap, raising your chin as you hold his gaze, and his eyes narrow on yours, but he doesn’t say anything, so you push on. “I do not need a bodyguard, and I’m sure you’re not eager to do this either-“

“I made a promise-“

“And that’s amazing for you, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to break it. I’m sure Sam will recover from the emotional damage.”

“He won’t if you die.”

You roll your eyes. “I mean, yeah, but I haven’t died yet. Statistically, that means I might be unkillable-“

Barnes hisses your name, and it sounds strange when he says it. Not really like a name. Likely something either far more, or far less. “This is not a game. If Hydra really is after you, they aren’t going to be pulling punches or playing fair. You can get your group of rotating guards, or you can have someone who knows what the hell they’re doing.”

“You? I could have you?”

His blinks again. It seems to be the equivalent of a visceral reaction from him. “Unless Sam can find you another ex-Hydra super soldier, yeah, do you-“ He cuts himself off with another blink. “I’m what they’re offering. Take it.”

“Or leave it?”

“I didn’t say that.” he grunts, and you roll your eyes. “Take it.”

You’re running out of ways to get out of this. 

You’ll keep trying anyway.

“You know,” you drawl, spinning your fork between your fingers as you give Barnes a mockingly intrigued look. “I don’t think you count as ex-Hydra.”

He frown somehow deepens. “What.”

“Ex-Hydra implies a voluntary complicity to their actions.”

Two blinks. Progress. “Why are we talking about this.”

“Because,” you hum, and when you glance at Sam, you’d think he’s watching a tennis game the way his gaze is bouncing back and forth across the table. “If your pitch is that you’re ex-Hydra, and you’re not, then your pitch is invalid, and-“

Sam snaps your name, giving Barnes a strange look before turning back to you. “Stop tryin’ to Jedi mind-trick out of this. You’re gonna give poor Bucky a stroke before he even has a chance to save your ass.”

You scowl. “Nobody’s saving my ass, Sam. My ass is fine where it is-“

“I’m sure it is,” Barnes mutters, and you shoot him your most venomous glare.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean-“

“It means,” he sneers, and this time you get a nostril flare. He might be furious. “Like we’ve told you, Hydra isn’t going to play fair. It’s not going to matter how high profile or status you are, they’ll find you, and they’ll do what they want unless you stop being a stubborn fucking brat and let us help.”

You stare at him, the whole world suddenly a little too colorful. Bright. Loud. Hot. Everything in your body is burning and you don’t care that he’d swat you away like a fly, you’re going to launch across the table and strangle Barnes with your bare hands, because he doesn’t fucking know you, doesn’t have the right to speak down to you like you’re a child or little, dumb, naïve girl who doesn’t know that she is in danger. Who thinks she’s above danger, when you’re not above anything, you’re barely above yourself, you’re barely yourself at all and he doesn’t fucking know that, he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know what you’ve done and who you are and just how stubborn of a problem you can be for his stoic, hot, brooding, angry-

Sam coughs, his tone slow and cautious as he speaks. “Bucky’s being a rude asshole, which we’ve talked about not doing, but,” he shoots Barnes a stern glare as he says your name. “He’s right. We can’t afford to get cocky here-“

You shoot Sam a cold glower. “I am not-“

“I know, just-“ He sighs. “I know you don’t want Barnes, but you’re takin’ him. And I’m not asking. It’s an order.”

You gape at him. “Are you fucking serious-“

“Yeah, I am.” Sam’s jaw clenches, but there’s still something apologetic in his gaze. “You can do this easy, where you let Barnes follow you around until I sort this shit out, or I can tell your board that their CEO is bein’ threatened by Hydra, and that as Captain America I’m puttin’ a detail on you to keep you safe.”

“Sam,” you hiss through your teeth, leaning over the table. “I am not a child. I will be fine-“

“I’m sure you will.” He shrugs. “Cause Bucky’s gonna be keeping an eye on you, and he can be a grumpy dick-“

Barnes grunts. “I can hear you-“

“But,” Sam only waves him off, not breaking his attention from you. “He’s the best damn guy I know. And this’ll be a whole lot easier if you at least pretend you’re not gonna try and give him the slip everyday.”

You scowl. You don’t think you will be able to get past Barnes. Or hide things from him. Or keep your lack of sleep and disastrous private life or anything at all from him. 

Including, maybe, the thing. And definitely him.

But there’s no way out of this. You’ve been back into a corner, and your usual two ways out—gnashing and clawing like a feral animal, or talking in circles under you make an opening to flee through—won’t work here. Sam knows you too well. Barnes is like a fucking rock, and you can’t confuse and annoy a rock into doing what you want.

“What would he do.”

Sam’s face splits into a wide smile at your mumble, and hate that he knows he’s won. 

“You’re gettin’ the best of the best,” he says your name with a far brighter tone than only seconds ago, gesturing to where Barnes is still rigid in his seat. “This model comes with a metal arm, an inside knowledge of Hydra, personalized sarcastic comments, and handsome face that could charm the evilest of bad guys-“

“Sam.” Barnes mutters, still watching you. If he doesn’t look away soon, he’s going to lose an eye to go with his arm. “Shut up.”

Sam doesn’t listen, and you don’t know what Barnes expected, but his glower deepens as Sam plows on. 

“He’ll be shipped right to your office, and spend his days makin’ sure you don’t become Hydra-meat-“

You wrinkle your nose. “Meat?”

“I’m goin’ off the cuff. They’re not all gonna be winners. He’ll start tomorrow.”

“I’ll be at your office.” Barnes mutters. “I want full badge access, and a blueprint. Let your security know I’ll be armed-“

“You let them know.” You snap. “Sam will give you Happy’s number, but I will have work to do-“

Barnes scoffs. “You can’t take five minutes to make sure you don’t get kidnapped-“

“I thought that’s what you were supposed to be doing.” You snap, shooting Sam a pointed look. “Am I going to be explaining his job to him the whole time?”

Two blinks. Nostril flare. 

Maybe by the end of this, you’ll get a full and obvious sneer. 

Sam just gives you a look like he’s disappointed in you, before Barnes can even snap or grunt anything, and the conversation moves on.

You’ve lost. Just for now, you’ve lost.

But you’ve been in worse situations, and you’ve found more difficult ways out. So when you leave the restaurant—you paid, and ignored Sam’s glare because after pulling this shit, he doesn’t have a single leg to stand on—and Barnes scans you over one last time, you don’t flinch.

He’s just a man. Just a person. He can roll up the sleeves of his jacket all he wants—as if he’s trying to remind you of the metal arm, when it hadn’t been all that well hidden in the first place and you really don’t care—and glower down at you as imposingly as he can manage, using that deep voice to ask more obviously leading and stiffly formal questions about your past that you dodge with ease, but at the end of it, he’s a person and you’re more. 

You won’t have to do the show here. Not the normal one. You won’t be able to be everything but you can be as much as you need to be

So you can be as much as you want. 

And it won’t matter what experience he has, what warnings or cautions or files Sam has given him, or how prepared he may think he is.

Barnes doesn’t know what the hell he’s getting into.

End Note: Enemies to lovers is my safe space for romance I fear. They're about to be so mean to each other (until they're not).

Thank you so so so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[l00kingatthem00n]

can i ask for some medkit :3? something like tending to his wounds or listening to him complain after a long day, can be platonic

━━ IT WAS A GOOD DAY.

WARNINGS: self-deprecation [mainly from medkit] - let me know if there is anything else.

Working with the Church of the True Eye is exhaustive, even isolating. After days with little to no contact from him, Medkit finds himself a block away from the little diner you've said to meet him at. He could easily go in and see you, get this over with. But he finds himself hesitating, wondering if he really should go over.

MEDKIT PRIDES HIMSELF ON HIS PUNCTUALITY. Whatever time is asked of him, whatever is needed, he comes and does what is expected of him. Carefully, meticulously, he’s maintained this perception of workplace professionalism. However, with the dark rings beneath his eyes, the disgruntled expression across his features, and the disinterested lilt of his words, it’s evident that he doesn’t enjoy his duties. He used to help people, or he thinks he used to help people, but now he can’t even begin with what he does. Medkit knows he'd be buried for spilling anything about his work. It’s simply just exhausting, enervating. But, he knows if he wants to keep living within Crossroads’ streets even somewhat comfortably— Safely, too —He’ll have to continue with such efforts. 

That’s why the Church of the True Eye is a frequent employer of his at the very least, but that’s putting it lightly. His timeliness, abilities and efficiency are what promise him paycheck after paycheck. Nevertheless, Medkit never wastes his time. Each hour, each minute, and each second is spent doing his work according to his rigid schedule. Again, it’s not out of a fondness for the work he does nowadays but more of a necessity to ensure that he still gets the money that he needs. He’s paid for his time; He might as well do what he does with a slight sliver of hope that they’ll cough up spare change. Ultimately, he rarely ever makes any last-minute rearrangements, nor is he ever late. 

And so, it is beyond his comprehension that he decides to be late now on all occasions. It isn’t that he’s lost in downtown, the winding streets and stores are familiar. He knows that antique store with its ridiculously expensive prices. He knows that the laundromat with their barely functioning machines. He also knows that the boutique the more than pleasant cashiers. It also isn’t even because he’s behind on time from pressing work, all that has been attended to throughout the morning. Truthfully, he’s far from lost, and he’s far from busy. Medkit is across the street from the diner you’ve agreed to meet at, far enough out of sight from the window on the street. It's to ensure that he doesn't risk you seeing him there, standing and stalling. Despite everything, his punctuality, he can’t bring himself to walk over when it's a walk that's a few measly minutes of his time. Maybe, even a measly seconds.

It’s only a stroll along the crosswalk, weaving through masses of strangers. Then, what gives?  Maybe he can blame his bodily paralyzation on the particularly exhaustive day he had at the Church of the True Eye. That's not to say that they already treat him well. Swords, they don't even try to generally treat him well, if anything, his contracts with them only have him recognized as a “valuable asset” rather than a “valuable member.” Medkit is above the crude and unprofessional language, something he leaves with Sword and his friend, Rocket. But, if he were to use any of their crass sayings, the one that would accurately describe his day would be that:

The Church have been up his ass. 

Whatever reason for their miserable ministrations towards him is beyond him. From the Broker’s consistent monitoring of his personal matters, Scythe’s insistence that he update her on gear modifications, to even Father Overseer’s impromptu call necessitating that he remembers his service to them, Medkit doesn’t know why they've been so inconvenient to him. To say the least. He thinks himself a decent employee under their dubious standards. He hasn’t exactly gone out of his way to interfere with their plans. And he certainly hasn’t been a prominent and lingering concern for dissension and betrayal. He does what’s asked of him, and does what needs to be done. 

It could be that his already thin patience has gone thinner, scarcely tolerating their wants and demands. That’s unlikely, though. He thinks he woke up fine. A warm mug of tea by the window side as the sunlight cascades through. Maybe, it could be that he’d done something a while ago offensive to the Church’s practice. Except, if that were the case, they’d have made a demonstration out of him and not press him so passive-aggressively. He’s more than familiar with what happens to those who’ve wronged them. While he thinks he’s important enough that they’d be less severe with their punishments, he would know for sure if he’s done something. 

It also couldn’t be that he’s secretly scared of you. In all his years, within the winter confines of Blackrock, the towering labyrinths of Lost Temple, and the neon inferno of Crossroads, he’s met many inphernals. Some were unkind, some were cruel, some beyond that. From their poisoned tongues to their stained hands, to their unspeakable actions. He remembers someone like that so well, someone he knew so closely that they’re now engraved in the recesses of his mind. 

But, some were kind, some were caring, some were too generous for their own good– Like you are. Once more, he’s not scared of you. It’s quite the opposite. For their society built upon conflict, you’re probably the most charmingly compassionate individual he’s ever met. Truthfully, someone like you should stay leagues away from someone like him. Medkit feels selfish for gravitating towards you. A guilt that settles in his chest for letting him be your friend. 

You’re good for him, too good for him. 

Now that he thinks about it, that’s most likely the reason why he’s stalling; So close yet so far from you. It’s been days, maybe weeks since he’s last seen you. Too preoccupied in the maddening world of work from the Church of the True Eye. He’d been kept beneath their watchful gaze for a long time. You’re kind, you’re patient, yet everybody has certain thresholds. As much as he wanted to call you, learn how you’ve been and what you’ve been up to, he knows the Church would be breathing down his neck for as long as he wasn’t attending to their pressing matters. Even then, when he returned to his apartment in Crossroads, he couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone and call you. It felt unpleasant. No, it felt wrong to contact you when he hadn’t spoken to you in so long. 

That was when you decided to call him. His phone had rung three times as he contemplated picking it up. The first time it had rung, he had clicked his tongue and aggravatedly wondered who it was. The second time, his eyes widened with realization and he considered letting the noise go on and on until you would call it an end. And the last time, guilt came over him again at the thought of losing you even more with his lack of communication, so he picked up the phone. On your end, it’s quiet. For a moment, he worries that you never even meant to call him until—

“Medkit!” You gasp, “Oh my Swords, sorry, I didn’t think you would pick up. Hey, how are you–?”

You talk to him like no time has passed. That he hadn’t left you in utter silence for days, letting you wonder and worry regarding his well-being. Medkit is not deserving of anything from you who is so tender-hearted, not your sympathies nor your condolences. He’s your friend, supposedly, but he feels he isn’t deserving of such an intimate title too. Now, because here he is, meant to see you in this little diner. But, he’s here; On the sidewalk, standing from afar. A sinking guilt settles within his chest. He should just move, just move his feet and walk over. Medkit is not scared of you, so what is he scared of? 

He hisses through the gaps of his teeth; Nothing, he has nothing to be scared of. There are lingering worries about the worst possibilities that could occur if he were to see you. Would you be disappointed with him? Would you see him and spit venom at him? Would you wish him the worst and finally put an end to this friendship? Medkit doesn’t know. Even if his scattered and stressed thoughts lead him to believe that the absolute worst will happen, finally he feels himself moving forward. 

Weaving between the passing inphernals; Frantic office workers, lazing cashiers, and chatting friends –he makes his way over. From the street window, he can faintly see you at the back of the diner through the smudge and grime across the glass. Your horn colour and its distinct shape make it noticeable among the others. Before he knows it, his hand grasps the steel knob and he opens the door. A faint ringing of a bell to signal his arrival. Some young server briefly welcomes him as they pass him to give orders. The quaint atmosphere of the diner allows him a moment of clarity before he hears your voice ring boldly. He snaps his head to the back, seeing you smiling widely. 

You wave excitedly at him, “Medkit! Hi”

Medkit swallows thickly. The worst hasn’t happened, it seems far from it. But, he’s still worried. Still thinking something bad could happen to him. He slips into the leather chair, scooting closer to the table as he quietly greets you. Still, you smile at him as you place your chin in your palm. 

“It’s good to see you!” You tell him.

“I hope this was an alright place. I know you have more—" You gesture vaguely "—Eloquent tastes.”

“No worries, it’s fine.” He glances around another time. “It’s quite nice.”

You seem excited at his agreement, nodding along. “Right? I love the colours, there’s a bunch of decorations too!”

Your enthusiastic presence is overwhelming. Yet, it's also pleasant. He doesn’t know why, but he soaks in your sunlight. You're smiling t him as you babble on and on. The words are blurred from your frantic tongue. But, at some point, Medkit can’t help but follow along too, and he finds the faintest of smiles gracing his usually rigid features. Every time he meets your gaze, he practically admires that brightness he is so absent of. You babble on about something he doesn’t exactly catch. It’s not particularly a grievance of his, but you tend to speak quickly whenever you are so elated. Regardless, something clear comes through your chatter. 

“Oh, by the way,” you click your tongue, snapping your fingers as you meet his gaze. “If you don’t mind me asking...” 

“What took you so long? Knowing you, I was expecting to be late.”

Medkit pauses. His lips pursing together as he mulls over what to tell you. To tell you about his trouble, that he had been a stroll away, letting the time pass by because he was scared to confront you, only to finally come in a moment of blind courage; That would not be worth the effort. One day, maybe he won’t feel much a drowning in his stomach when he tells you about what strife lingers in his thoughts. For now, he’ll tell you little white lies— It’s not like you’d know anyway, right?

“I was occupied. My apologies.” 

You raise your brow. “Occupied by?”

“Them.”

“Oh.” 

There’s a silence that hangs between the two of you. He wonders if he’s already slipped up, saying so much with so little. Though you dispel any doubts promptly, waving your hand at him. 

“Psh- Don’t worry about those guys, let’s focus on getting a bite! I’m sure you’re hungry, it’s lunch after all.”

Then, you move your hand high up, waving it absurdly to catch the attention of any available staff. Reflexively, he lowers his gaze, letting his visage be obscured by it resting on his palm. The server clicks their pen, patiently waiting for your orders. With a quick skim of the menu, he lets you order for the two of you. While he isn’t particularly a fan of burgers, obscenely gross with oil and grease dripping down his hands. Gods, the thought alone disgusts him. He supposes he’ll let you take a reign meal plans for today, as a treat for his distance behaviour. As the server bids their farewell, promising your orders hastily, you turn to him. 

“So, Medkit, tell me about your day.”

Medkit scratches the nape of his neck, deciding to keep up with his little white lies. “Uneventful, just uneventful."

"I have got bothersome and relentless work from them as usual."

"Geez, really? That's rough."

"Of course, but it's nothing that I can't handle."

You chuckle, "Just don't exhaust yourself like you usually do, Medkit."

Medkit blinks slowly; Once, then twice. He chuckles too, soft and almost uncertain. He dismissively waves his hand at you.

"Oh, please, it's fine. I’d much rather hear what went on with you, truly.”

You seem surprised. He’s unsure why. It could be that he’s a little more straightforward than usual. He hopes he isn’t coming off as curt and snappy, that’s the last thing he wants you to think of him. 

“Oh,” you blink; Once, then twice. “Really?”

“Really.” He drums his fingers against the laminated table, “If I remember right, you said you got a teaching internship recently. Could you tell me about it?”

“Ah! You remember!” You somewhat squeal, sitting upright, “Yeah, I got a student teacher job in downtown Crossroads. Uh, where to start?” 

You contemplate for a moment, then you smile, “Okay, so–”

This time, he tries his best to discern your tongue. Somehow, you’re even brighter than before. Your hands are wildly gesturing all over for emphasis. Your smile is wider than it typically is, letting the wrinkles of your face glow. Your eyes have a distinct twinkle that he feels nobody in this diner would miss. It feels like nothing has passed, that nothing has changed. It was the same as it always was and it always will be. He hopes, at least. 

Maybe, it was a good day. With you, that is.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: dude. I COMPLETELY MISREAD YOUR REQUEST. I TOOK IT AS LETTING MEDKIT LISTEN TO YOUR DAY. TS PMO. 🥀 I STILL nailed down some of the original request, but omg whoever you are, please feel free to request again because i feel SO bad 😭😭😭unless you actually enjoy this but OH MY GOD IM SO SORRY

ultimately, this was such a cute thing to write... i ave to admit that medkit isn't my favourite, but writing him is so fun!!! i decided to leave this relationship as ambiguous if you cant tell...So feel free to interpret it as platonic, romantic or something In between heh

[k0nanharv3y]

Robin Hood AU Part 6

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Tim didn't close the diner late. It was Gotham, folks, an open establishment was an invitation to burglary. Plus, he had work to do, because yes, he still stalk on people

That was also one of the reasons he opened the coffee shop, because here he heard everything from teenage romances to gang tracks on the move

The constant fear that one of the Bats would show up at the cafeteria one night had nothing to do with it, I swear

But today he had run out of time. He closed at 10:30, not so late that he would be mugged, not so early that people would complain. He would spend an hour refilling the supplies of coffee and tea and whatever else he had used, and then go upstairs to sleep until 2 o'clock, when Gotham's shadows would rise

But the coffee machine decided to break down that night and Tim was opening at 7am, he had to fix it now

The blinds were down, the closed sign was up but the lights were on. And Tim kept one ear up to listen for any movement outside the cafe

Except I only hear the bell

He jumped up, looking for anyone who had come in, holding a screwdriver in his hand

"I didn't train you to put my name on a plate" the firm voice slipped through the closed space, without threat, but not friendly either

"Shiva," Tim muttered, surprised by the woman's presence. "Master Shiva" he corrected himself. "I'd say it's nice to see you, but... what...? What are you doing here?"

"I came to see what my best student was doing. Now I realize that he is wasting my teachings on an unworthy life"

Tim slid his hand under the bar, feeling for the metal tube hidden there

"The news that The Young Detective, heir of the Devil, had killed him" Shiva walked around the tables gracefully, running his eyes over the tables with a disdainful look "I thought you were finally reaching your full potential"

Tim exhaled the air he didn't know he was holding. "What do you want?" He asked, more like a demand, raising his guard, but still not revealing the bō he was holding under the counter

"I trained you to be a warrior. This dishonors my teachings and your potential." She stopped, her eyes fixed firmly on the teenager's face

"I'm the one who decides that," he responded, with defiance in his voice, before becoming somewhat more tired. "I have spent my life fighting for others, and this is what I want to do"

Shiva frowned "You are a disgrace, to your potential, to your blood, to me. I told you not to make me regret not cutting off your head" he spat with venom

"I killed the devil, brought back Batman, destroyed the league of assassins. And opening a coffee shop makes you regret letting me live?" Tim's words were almost a claim to the woman

Shiva remained silent

Their heavy breathing filled the air

The woman crossed her arms and looked at her student disapprovingly

"Take my name off your restaurant, it's a disgrace" was the last thing she said before leaving the restaurant

And it felt like a victory for Tim, because a few seconds ago he thought Shiva would leave with his head in her hands, but now, the only thing hurt was his pride

He sighed and his posture relaxed a little, releasing the Bō from under the bar

The machine beside him creaked and began to drip thick coffee

Tim sighed again and looked at the machine with some suspicion

This is what he had chosen, and no one was going to take it away from him

Nobody was chasing him anymore

And then the bell rang again

Tim sighed exasperatedly

"If you came back to finish the job-" He turned to look at the entrance and froze

Because that was Nightwing

///

Dick was having a quiet patrol, Jason and Steph were talking about a movie review based on some book that in their words 'had ruined the Author's message', Damian was joining in to make annoying comments about the lack of silence, Barb had remained quiet about the lack of assaults and both Bruce and Cass were quietly listening to the conversation

Dick sat on the edge of a building and looked out at the street, wondering if maybe they could finish earlier today

And then I notice an elegant woman leaving a coffee shop with long, mad strides

Dick really wanted to let it go, that was just a woman coming out of a closed cafe

It didn't even look like there was a fight, just, an upset woman

And he remembered that this was the coffee shop Steph insisted on taking them to tomorrow, it was the same coffee shop his sister was frequenting at least twice a week and it was the same coffee shop people were commenting on for their names, jokes and notes about the Bats.

It didn't take more than a minute to get downstairs, stopping in front of the metal and glass door with a "Closed" sign on it. Through the glass he could see a guy leaning over a coffee pot with a screwdriver in it. He wondered if it would be disrespectful to go in

But surely he was a Fan and would be happy with Dick's arrival, right?

And he opened the door

"If you came back to finish the job-" the boy interrupted himself when he looked at Dick

And, contrary to what Dick thought, the boy didn't seem to get excited, but his whole body stiffened and he looked at the hero like a blindfolded man in the lights

"Hi" was what Dick said

"Hi..." he received back

"Is everything alright? I just saw a woman walking out of here, she looked mad"

The teenager shook his head and that seemed to bring him back to his position

"Ah, no, she... she was mad?" His face showed a confused grimace before he returned "Yeah, sure, I- I just told her we are closed"

"Oh" so Nightwing was just a gossip "Then you're okay?" He asked and walked a little closer, finally looking around

The cafeteria looked cute, cozy, and if you paid attention, there were little bats and birds clumsily tangled in the artificial plants on the ceiling. A cork board across the room with pictures of Gotham, people, some pictures of the Robins and Batman and other vigilantes. Lists with schedules and announcements for performances.

"Yes" the boy replied and finally noticed the awkward silence "Can I help you with something?"

Nightwing looked back at the boy and out of inertia glanced at the menu boards, smiling at the puns. The teen followed his gaze and seemed to grimace before composing himself with a calm smile

"You want something to drink?"

"I thought you were closed" He leaned a little on the bar

"As long as it doesn't have coffee and it's something simple, I can make an exception"

Nightwing ran his eyes over the board, discarding everything that had coffee on it and stopping on a name

"Chai-dentity Crisis(?" He asked, though it sounded more like a question, but he laughed at the name

The boy smiled and nodded, starting to move around the bar

"And... what's your name?" Dick walked away from the bar and began to wander around the tables, noticing the small details

A few seconds of silence almost made Dick's nerves rise, but the stopping of the machine that was beeping across the room calmed him because it gave him an answer

"My name is Tim" he heard

"Mine is Nightwing" He replied as if the boy didn't already know.

He stopped in front of the corkboard, looking at the photos

He recognized some from the internet, but others... others looked... real, like, like they were taken professionally and not like the absent-minded blurs of the others

"Nightwing!" Tim called out and Dick turned to look at him. "Your order." He slid a paper bag onto the counter and smiled awkwardly

Dick nodded and walked to the bar, taking the bag

"I'll be 4.50" Tim's smile was now bewildered

And Dick's broke down. Because people usually give free stuff to vigilantes, and yes, they used to leave a 50 bill all the time, but they never charged them

His face recovered and he began to feel his waist, searching for his wallet

"Ah! Yeah, sure, I just- Yeah" I take out a 50 dollar bill and hand it to him. Tim was about to open the box to take out the change but Dick stopped him "Keep the change"

The boy nodded and put the bill in his pants. "Have a good night." He smiled and said goodbye

"Thanks, have a good night too, If you need anything don't hesitate to call" He took the bag and started walking out of the establishment

///

Tim sighed as soon as the bell stopped jingling above the door, and jumped over the bar, running to the bulletin board and tearing off the Batman photos he took

Panic set in in his chest as he checked the photos for anything incriminating, ran back to the bar and stuffed them into a locked drawer. He debated whether to burn them or pretend nothing had happened

After a few anxious seconds, the alarm on his phone went off, with Bernard's voice cursing loudly as the sound

Tim turned it off and looked at the cafeteria

He wouldn't go out today to cover it up... And fuck off with the coffee maker, that was Tim 7am's problem, Tim 2am is sleepy

///

Dick a few roofs away opened the bag and carefully removed the drink, noticing something written on the glass, with permanent marker and drawings adorning the surroundings

'Everyone has a secret identity, sadly, I only know one of yours ;)'

And Dick's heart began to beat fast

///

Part 7.5 This ain't healthy anymore smone help

Part 8 im probably ended up makin a fanfic