#please help me decide i cannot choose between them all | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wildestdreamsblog · 1 month ago

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Might as well be drunk in love: 3 of 3

Pairing: OT7 x Reader (CEO AU)

Summary: In which your friend thought it would be funny to give you a love potion, and in which seven CEOs accidentally drank it.

Warnings: Love Potion, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: HAPPY HOSEOK'S DAY! We made it! 2/7!!

Part 1, Part 2

Your smile was genuine when you met Kim Taehyung’s eyes.

Unlike the others who were punctual, he was a minute late. He was grinning though like he had a secret he couldn’t wait to share to you.

“You seem happy, Taehyung,” you remarked as you stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking with each heartbeat. With his hands tucked into his pockets, he waited eagerly for you to reach him. The only indication of his bubbling excitement was the way he bounced slightly on his feet. He looked so much lighter in this light, you noticed, the usual darkness in his eyes was nowhere to be found.

He looked truly happy like the sun had decided to shine just for him.

“I am,” he said, his grin widening even more. His eyes sparkled with anticipation. How can he not be happy when you were near? “You’re here with me. With us. How can I not be happy?” he murmured, gently pulling your hand into his and clasping your fingers tightly.

You blinked, surprised by his blatant statement. The potion was indeed so powerful that even the cold Taehyung turned into this kind of person you would want for you own had it been a different circumstance. You thought that whoever he would choose to love after all this fiasco would be the luckiest person.

However, you chose to not dwell on his statement. You were extremely happy with the good news your friend shared with you. There would be a cure soon, and you just knew that you would be nothing to him and all of them after this but a fleeting memory. You decided to hold on for a little while longer, and maybe just lived in the moment where this was a possibility. Sooner rather than later, they would go back to not knowing and caring who you were.

You cleared your throat, “So, where are you taking me?”

Taehyung took a sip from his coffee, the takeout food laid on either side of you on the bench. A smile tugged at your lips at the peculiarity of it all—here was one of the richest men in South Korea, someone with immense influence, choosing to share a simple day in the park with you. It felt surreal, the laughter of children and rustling leaves wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

“This is really good,” he hummed appreciatively, his eyes lighting up as he sampled one of the dishes from the food truck. “And it’s really cheap. I cannot believe those fancy restaurants charge so much when the food is just so-so.”

“Right? Finally, someone from the rich admitted it!” you laughed, your voice mingling with the sounds of the park. “I always wondered if the taste buds of the rich are just inherently different from us. There’s no way you guys are satisfied with those little servings of dishes. Also, is this your first time eating here?”

“Yes…” Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the pond sheepishly. “I always wanted to do this with a girlfriend. You know, those TV dramas show how romantic this is.”

You couldn’t help but grin at his confession and the innocence in his voice. The sincerity of his confession made him endearing, if not more. “So, here we are, living the drama, huh? Too bad you didn’t do this with your real girlfriend.”

He glared at you, his expression mock-serious, before playfully snatching your hand and fully enclosing it with his. “You’re my real girlfriend,” he grumbled childishly, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Your heart raced at the sudden intimacy, warmth flooding through you. “Oh, really? Guess I should start practicing my dramatic sighs and longing gazes then,” you teased, squeezing his hand gently.

“Absolutely,” he said with a grin, his earlier shyness melting away. “I expect nothing less from my leading lady.”

It was a nice lunch out which should have ended as nicely as it started.

But you should have known your wish was too good to be true.

You were walking with him on your way back to the office when he randomly decided to go back and buy his brothers takeout food. He claimed that since he thoroughly enjoyed it, his brothers should too so that they would know just what they were missing. He asked you to wait for a little while before he turned back. And you did. You were contented with scrolling through your social media when you were interrupted.

“Excuse me, miss?” A man called for you, his smile was warm as he looked at you. “May I know what time it is?”

“Oh uhm, it’s 1:37,” you replied, glancing at the screen of your phone.

He thanked you politely before resuming his walk when he abruptly stopped. He chuckled sheepishly, looking at you over his lashes. “I really don’t need to know the time. I’m sorry, I’m really bad at this. You’re just so beautiful –”

“May I help you?” Taehyung’s voice suddenly cut through the air, firm yet protective as he reappeared, a bag of takeout in hand. He stepped in front of you, effectively blocking you from the other man’s view. His face was void of any emotion, yet he managed to terrify the man.

The man straightened, clearly caught off guard. Taehyung’s presence shifted the atmosphere, his expression a mix of confusion and an underlying feeling of intimidation. “Uh, I was just… asking the time,” the man stammered, taking a step back.

Taehyung’s gaze narrowed slightly, a hint of a challenge in his posture. “Right. And now you’ve got the time. Anything else?”

“Man, I’m not looking for any trouble. I-I just really thought she’s single. I meant no harm!” the man protested, his voice shaky.

“Why are you still here?” Taehyung whispered, the sound of irritation was heavy in his tone. “Why are you still looking at my woman?” He asked, the words coming out as a low growl, each syllable deliberate and heavy.

The air between you crackled with tension as the man’s face blanched, realizing he had crossed a line. He raised his hands defensively, backing away further. “I—I didn’t know! Sorry, I just thought—”

“Thought what?” Taehyung pressed, taking a step forward, his stance unwavering. “That it was okay to interrupt her? To make her uncomfortable?” He was too close to the man, his hands closed to a fist as though he was just one look away from exploding. “That you can steal her away from us?!”

How could you ever think that he was something other than the darkness that was caging his heart? How could you ever be so naïve? “Hey, it’s fine. He didn’t bother me at all,” you interjected gently, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated further. “Let’s just let him go.”

Gone was the sweet man you perceived him to be not long ago, and in his place was the darkness you always knew him to be when he slowly turned around after the man swiftly escaped the situation. “Remember this, little one,” he started, his voice grave yet commanding, a blend of promise and threat. “We are the only one for you.”

You couldn't shake off the discomfort that Taehyung's interaction had stirred within you.

You were deep in your thoughts, terror and anxiety in your heart. He was the third in the schedule and you still had four to go. All the interactions you had with the boys so far only made you see the warning signs flashing in your mind. This was a wrong decision. You should have heeded your friend’s warning about spending time with them and avoided skinship as much as possible.

You should have focused on finding the cure. However, you couldn’t just turn your back on them, not when they all acted like they were on their deathbeds as though you were the only cure, badly needing you to take their next breath. The weight of their dependency tugged at your conscience, making it harder to escape the turmoil that surrounded you. Hence, your predicament.

Taehyung’s reaction was too much. The potion was turning them into jealous, possessive men, their natural temperaments amplified into something almost unrecognizable. It had only been three days since the potion had taken effect, yet it seemed to amplify their emotions, turning them into jealous, clingy versions of themselves. You felt a chill run down your spine as you recalled the way his eyes had darkened, how intense his gaze had been, as if he saw you as something he needed to protect at all costs.

Consumed by these unsettling thoughts, you almost forgot about Jungkook entirely. His presence had slipped into the background amidst the chaos Taehyung’s behavior had caused. That is, until the hurried sound of footsteps interrupted your spiral. You turned, startled, to find a group of Jungkook’s guards, their expressions tight with fear. Wide-eyed and breathless, they approached you swiftly, the urgency in their movements sending a wave of panic through you.

“What—what’s happening?” you stammered, confusion mixing with dread.

“Mr. Jeon… he’s not well,” another guard murmured, his tone serious. “It’s bad.”

Your heart sank as the weight of their words hit you. Jungkook was not well. If Taehyung’s possessiveness had shaken you, the thought of Jungkook in a similar state terrified you even more. Without hesitation, you followed them, a knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

As you neared his floor, the muffled sounds of destruction reached you—sharp crashes, the unmistakable sound of something heavy being thrown, followed by a guttural, enraged grunt. The noise alone made your skin crawl, but you pushed forward.

“Go in,” one of the guards pleaded, his voice quiet but urgent as you hesitated. You could hear the familiar voices of Jin and Namjoon on the other side of the door, their tones strained as they attempted to calm him.

“Jungkook, breathe,” Namjoon was saying, his voice low, trying to inject calm into the chaos.

“Come on, it’s okay,” Jin added, though the strain in his voice betrayed the calm facade he was trying to maintain. “She’ll be here. She didn’t leave… relax.”

The guard beside you pushed the door open, leaving you no choice but to face your oversight. Suffice to say, the scene before you sent a fresh wave of fear through your body.

Jungkook’s office was a mess. Papers were scattered across the floor, a desk chair lay on its side, and the corner of the large wooden desk had a jagged crack running through it as if something—or someone—had hit it too hard. A shattered vase lay in pieces, its contents scattered across the floor.

In the center of the chaos stood Jungkook. His back was to you, his broad shoulders heaving with labored breaths, fists clenched tightly at his sides. Even from where you stood, you could feel the tension radiating off him like a living thing. His stark, dark hair was disheveled, his usually sharp, precise appearance completely undone by whatever storm was raging inside him.

You knew you caused it. You were aware of you effect on them, but heavens, you didn’t know it to be this bad.

Namjoon was the first to notice you. His draconic eyes, once calm and calculating, now burned with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. The second your startled gaze met his, you saw it—the darkness swirling in him, consuming him. He hadn’t seen you since last night, and the distance had frayed his already strained control. His jaw clenched, muscles tensing as if he were holding himself back from lunging at you. He needed you. Desperately.

But the leader in him fought against the urge, restraining the primal hunger clawing at his insides. He knew he had to hold back—for now. The others needed you just as much as he did. He could wait. He had to wait. His fingers twitched at his sides, betraying the struggle within him.

He could wait until tonight.

He had to.

“Thank God,” Jin breathed when he noticed your presence. He stepped away from Jungkook.

Jungkook’s head snapped up the moment you stepped further into the room. His body froze, as though sensing your presence before even turning to look at you. Slowly, he turned around, and the intensity in his eyes when they locked onto yours was nearly suffocating. His dark eyes, wide with emotion, bore into you, his lips parted slightly as he struggled to catch his breath.

The room went still as Jungkook’s gaze never wavered from you. You could feel the raw intensity behind his eyes, the same kind of possessiveness you had seen in Taehyung but magnified tenfold in Jungkook. It wasn’t just desperation; it was obsession, need, something far more dangerous than mere jealousy.

“You…” he stammered; his voice rough from all the screaming he had done. His words were laced with desperation and disbelief. “Y-you didn’t leave us, Noona?”

The room was too silent as though their stability rested entirely on your next move. You knew you had to thread extremely carefully.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest, your knees locked. You brain was screaming for you to run away from him. “Jungkook,” you whispered, his name fragile on your lips.

It was him who decided for you.

He hated the distance. It gnawed at him, fraying what little control he had left. He took a step forward, his fists still clenched, muscles tense as if he were fighting some invisible restraint. “Don’t leave me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was a command beneath the words. His hands caressed your cheeks and tilted you face to meet his eyes. “You… you can’t leave me. You cannot leave us.”

He didn’t let you leave. And you couldn’t as well, not when he was visibly distraught. Most especially, not when his arms were wrapped around you like a vine. Before you knew it, you were lying on the sofa in his office, Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you like vines, pulling you impossibly close. His body pressed against yours, seeking warmth, seeking comfort. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of his emotions was palpable. His grip on you never loosened, his head buried in the crook of your neck as if he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

The only reassurance he seemed to accept was having you there, physically close to him, where he could feel you, touch you, and know that you hadn’t disappeared. But as comforting as your presence was to him, it left you uncomfortable, stressed by the weight of the situation. Jungkook was too close, his grip too tight, and the intensity of it all made your mind scream for space, for distance. But you couldn’t move—not when each time you tried to shift even slightly, he would hold on tighter, and the quiet, broken sobs would return, muffled against your skin.

Your unlikely savior came at exactly 3 in the afternoon.

Min Yoongi opened the door in a relaxed manner as though he was the owner of the office, his bored eyes finding your form on the sofa. His relaxed demeanor was a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the room. Jungkook hadn’t noticed him yet, but you softly calling Yoongi’s name alerted him of his presence —more a sigh of relief than an actual greeting—it was enough to pull Jungkook’s attention. Yoongi raised his brow at Jungkook, his expression impassive as ever, a silent question if the younger man was finally okay. Jungkook’s only response was the slight untightening of his grip on you. The shift was hesitant, reluctant, but it was there. Slowly, his arms loosened, though his body still remained close, not quite ready to let you go entirely. His possessiveness had dulled, but it was far from gone.

Yoongi’s gaze softened when he turned it back to you, his expression warm and unexpectedly gentle. He knew what you had endured, the strain it had caused you, and for once, the sharp edges in his usually indifferent demeanor softened into something close to tenderness.

"Good afternoon, darling," Yoongi said in his low, easy drawl, a hint of amusement dancing behind his words. “I’ve come to save you.”

Yoongi knew how overwhelming and overstimulating things could be sometimes. For the life of him and despite the instincts screaming in his head to have you close, he chose to silently walk beside you. You had been through enough for today.

You didn’t even question where the two of you were going. It was like all the energy you had was drained from you. You were silent even as he closed the car door for you, was speechless even when he expertly drove away from the building. Min Yoongi was just exactly what you needed after the conundrum being with Jungkook brought.

“I know it was tough,” Yoongi said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you two. His voice was low, steady, as though he had been waiting for the right moment to speak. His hands gripped the steering wheel loosely, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, but you could feel the weight of his attention on you. Even without looking at you, Yoongi had this uncanny ability to make you feel seen, like he was always aware of what you needed before you even realized it yourself. “But still, thank you for calming him down.”

The soft hum of the car filled the space, and though you didn’t respond immediately, you knew Yoongi didn’t expect you to. From the short time that you were with them, you noticef that he had always been like that—patient, never pushing you to speak before you were ready. His quiet understanding was something that set him apart. There was no rush with him, no urgency to force words or explanations from you. Just his presence, calm and grounding, allowing you to gather your thoughts.

You nodded slowly, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. The memory of Jungkook’s desperate grip on you, the way he had refused to let you go, still lingered, and it was too raw to put into words. But Yoongi didn’t push. He never did. He was just… there, giving you the space to process, to breathe. “I owe it to all of you. This was all my fault…”

Yoongi’s gaze shifted toward you, and for a moment, he looked at you as though you’d just said something utterly ridiculous. His brow furrowed, and the corners of his lips tilted into a frown of disbelief. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head. “This isn’t your fault. How could you have known? Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Min Yoongi was just the reprieved you needed. Where the others seemed consumed by their need for you, Yoongi remained steady, unaffected by the storm raging around them.

He took you home and told you that he already took care of your supervisor and said that you were needed for a meeting. A wave of gratitude washed over you, and you couldn’t help the small, tired smile that tugged at your lips. You didn’t know how to thank him properly, but it seemed Yoongi didn’t need grand gestures. His way of caring was quiet and understated, but it spoke volumes.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, but Yoongi’s small nod told you he heard it.

Your schedule with him was calm, much like his demeanor. The kitchen felt like a small sanctuary, the aroma of garlic and herbs wafting through the air as you chopped vegetables together. The music of your choice filled the space, a playful backdrop to the evening.

You smiled to yourself, caught up in the moment. Suddenly, a chuckle broke your reverie. You turned to see him shaking his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Bad Romance by Lady Gaga?” he teased, but there was no edge to his words—just a warm acceptance of your quirky taste. You shrugged, a grin spreading across your face. It felt domestic, this shared moment, and you savored it. And yes, Bad Romance was truly a banger song.

But then, the atmospere shifted. Lost in thought, you almost missed his sudden remark. “I heard from Hoseok that your friend found a cure for the love potion.” His voice was steady, almost indifferent, yet you caught the tension in the way he gripped the counter, knuckles whitening against the cool surface. His eyes were focused on his task, a deliberate action on his part.

You nodded, surely this was good news for them, right?

“That’s…good.”

It did not sound like it was good. You considered asking him, pressing for clarity, but you hesitated. This was Yoongi, after all. He wasn’t a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve, and pushing too hard might cause him to withdraw further. But your instinct, the one that had kept you grounded in moments like this, told you to be careful. You trusted him, both him and Seokjin, but trust was a fragile thing—especially when it came to the men who surrounded you.

After you two finished cooking, he found you sitting on the sofa, mindlessly searching for what to watch when he lied down, his head resting on your legs. You looked down, surprised but not displeased. You noted how he refrained from physically touching you the past hour, his control and thoughtfulness of your situation did not go unnoticed by you. “I tried to hold off as long as I could,” he murmured, his eyes drifting closed as he settled in.

You chuckled softly, brushing a hand through his dark hair. “Thank you for being considerate, Yoongi.” The weight of his head on your lap felt grounding, a connection that made the world outside seem distant.

It was five in the afternoon when you decided to freshen up. The entire day, despite it being only being afternoon, left you exhausted. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion that clawed at you; it was the emotional toll of navigating conversations that felt more like tightrope walks than exchanges. Each word had to be measured, each response carefully calculated. It was like it would only take one wrong word for them to crumble. Each of them just as needy as the others.

It did not come as a surprise when you stepped out of the bathroom and found the one and only Park Jimin in your bedroom. His head was hanging low as he sat on your bed, his form slouched as he stared down. Gone was his suit, and his necktie hung loosely around his collar as though he had spent the entire day tugging at it.

“Jimin?”

Slowly, he looked up. His dark eyes were impassive, the usual glint gone. He looked so far from the sweet persona he usually had, and in his place was a man that was emitting dangerous vibes. “Little one,” he called, his voice low and toneless. “I heard your...” he trailed off, his scoffed a telltale sign of what exactly he was feeling. “-friend found us a cure.”

You blinked owlishly, caught off guard with how displeased he looked. He raised his brow at your prolonged silence, “What’s wrong, honey?” He stood up and sauntered to you, his faux concern so thick that you could almost choke at it. “All seven of us are sick from that love potion, right? So it’s only correct that we get the ‘cure’, right?”

You looked up to meet his eyes as he neared you, his chest almost touching yours from his proximity. “Are we sick to you, little one?”

“I—” you started, your heart beating fast from his line of questioning. The intensity of his line of questioning made your pulse quicken. He tilted his head, his finger catching droplets of water that had escaped from your hair, trailing slowly down your neck.

“Hmm? You what?” His voice was low, teasing yet laced with something darker.

“I just want you all to return to your normal life,” you answered truthfully. “I know everything happening is not normal for any of you. Your life does not involve around…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “This chaos. You deserve to be free.”

He paused with his ministration, his hand hovering near your chest. A flicker of something crossed his face and you failed to decipher whether it was from amusement or annoyance. He stepped even impossibly closer. He looked down at you and whispered something that terrified you. “Did you ask us if we want to go back to how it was? Little one, did you even ask if we need a cure?”

Involuntarily, your foot took a step back. The weight of his words came crushing down on you. You were shaking your head even before he could finish saying his piece. You thought that it was a ridiculous thought anyway. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Park Jimin. None of what you’re all feeling is real,” you implored him, willing his true self to understand what you were saying, and not the version of himself that was ‘in love’ with you. “This potion-it’s not who you are.”

His gaze held steady, dark and penetrating as though what you said set off something in him…something they all tried so hard to contain. “And what will you do if this is who we want to be? What if we want these versions of ourselves that are so utterly in love with you, little one? What then?”

You felt your breath hitched at every word and expose he was telling you. “But it’s a lie. You can’t love something or someone that’s been forced upon you. This isn’t love. You have to know that.”

It was a little while before he even responded again as silence enveloped the room. The only indication that he heard you was that subtle tilt in his head. “I see you still see all this as lovesickness and not destiny.”

“Because it is!” you insisted, the desperation for him to see the truth made your voice rose. “You can’t really believe that this is meant to be!”

Jimin shook his head, strands of his hair cascading on his forehead, breaking the carefully gelled up appearance of his. “You’ll get sick, too,” he whispered as though it was an omen, as though foretelling a fate that even you couldn’t comprehend.

But you would later on.

You heard him wrong…right? There was no way he said that.

“What?” The word came out as breathless gasp, disbelief flooding your senses.

He smiled innocently, the sudden playfulness in his expression felt like a mask. “Let me dry your hair before you get sick, little one.” His tone may have seemed so casual, yet it sent a shiver down your spine. You knew you couldn’t talk sense into him, not when the seven of them were neck-deep in the effects of that love potion. Furthermore, you knew that insisting that what they were all feeling was far from reality would only leave them feeling abandoned by the supposedly love of their lives: you. You couldn’t make them see reason, at least not now.

Right now, the only way to calm down the simmering annoyance and angst in him was to let him do what he wanted to do. Jimin was gentle and thorough as he dried your hair, his touch so soft as though you were made of porcelain, something he feared might shatter.

“See how good I take care of you, little one? How good we all treat you?” he murmured, his voice particularly low and soothing as he worked the towel through your damp locks.

You felt your heart ache at the sincerity in his words, even if they were colored by the potion’s influence. “Jimin…” you started, but the protest caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you. He met your eyes through the mirror, his chin resting on your shoulder and rush of warmth and happiness passed through him. He fucking loved you, he thought to himself as an even fiercer conviction took root. You would see it soon.

“You are our queen, my love,” he continued with fierce intensity. “Don’t you see?”

But if this was love, then it felt like a prison to you. The sensation of his arms wrapped around you felt less like an embrace and more like shackles, binding you to a reality that terrified you. The walls felt as if they were closing in, the weight of his affection pressing down on your chest. You felt it even more when he placed his plump lips on your neck.

“And we will always sacrifice everything for our queen.”

As soon as the clock hit 7 in the evening, you tore yourself away from his embrace and ran down to the living room, already typing down on your phone to call for a meeting with the boys when you saw them already sitting there. They seemed to be in a deep conversation, their voices low and their faces serious. Sitting in the middle of them all was Kim Namjoon who had his eyes closed and his head resting against the backrest of the sofa. He looked similar to how he was when he trapped you in the elevator. He almost seemed to be sleeping had it not been the slight tremors in his hands that gave it away.

It was as though they were attuned to your presence when they all turned their heads to where you were, sans Namjoon, their conversation coming into a halt. It was eerie, you thought. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the synchronized movement, as if they were all part of some unsettling choreography.

“There she is,” Hoseok said brightly his face lighting up with a happiness that seemed almost out of place in the tense atmosphere. On his lap was your cat who was sporting a new collar. And was that gold?! “How was your day, little one?”

“We need to talk.”

“Uh-oh,” Taehyung plainly commented, his hand absentmindedly playing with Jungkook’s hair. His carefree gesture was a complete contrast to the seriousness in his face. “I already don’t like this.”

“Park Jimin, what did you do now?” Yoongi quipped, raising an eyebrow as he caught sight of the mentioned man entering the living room behind you. There was a teasing lilt in his voice, but the underlying concern was palpable.

Jimin smirked, holding your hand briefly when he passed you and sat down beside the quiet Namjoon. “Nothing. I just…dried her hair.”

Jin shook his head, shooting the maknae line a look of disappointment. He just knew that they did something today. Afterall, he thought that the younger men didn’t know the meaning of control and working in the shadows. He would talk to them later. They should have known how much of a flight risk you were. They were just banking on the kindness of your heart and how they used it to play with your conscience. It was that and Namjoon and Hoseok’s tactics that got you here, after all. They should all play smartly if they wanted this to last forever. And for now, making you happy was the way to that. He stood up and walked to you. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I heard from Hoseok that there is a cure. Is this about it, my love?”

“Let’s hear it then, noona,” Jungkook said with a smile on your face. It was a deceitful smile, you noted to yourself. How he could turn his playfulness and innocence on and off was terrifying, and the evidence of it was staring right at your face. You looked down and saw his bandaged hand from the breakdown from earlier.

Yoongi offered you an encouraging smile and you were only too thankful for his quiet support. You didn’t think twice to sit when he tapped down the empty space beside him. “A-as you all know, my friend’s grandmother knows of a cure in the mountains-”

Taehyung’s sharp scoffed interrupted you. “You’re tired of taking care of your mess when it’s only been a day?” His tone may be playful, but there was an edge to it.

You took a dee breath, “I know this is all difficult for all of us. But if she knows something, if there is even a small chance that there is really a cure, then shouldn’t we go for it? If this can help-”

“Help us?” Jimin interjected, his tone softer but laced with frustration. “Help us how? By running off to the mountains while we’re all here struggling with these feelings?”

“And how will we even know that you’ll come back to us?” Hoseok added, his anger bubbling to the surface. “What if you just leave?” he voiced the heavy question everyone in the room had been thinking about, not that they would let you, anyway.

The atmosphere grew tense, and you could feel the weight of their accusations pressing down on you. “It isn’t fair,” you retorted, your voice trembling slightly.

“Well, it was never fair to the seven of us,” Taehyung shot back, his tone sharp. “We were minding our own business when your negligence caused us this situation. You are to blame, and all you want is to escape from it.”

You could no longer take all the blamings, you realized. You were not the only one to blame in this, right? You were just as victim as they were! And the oldest should also share the blame! “But he knew!”

Seokjin blinked owlishly, attention now on him as you pointed your finger at him. “Knew what?”

“You knew that that pink tumbler wasn’t yours! You said so yourself that you knew it wasn’t yours because yours had coffee in it! You knew and you kept on drinking!”

“Ah, right” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he offered sheepish looks at the other CEOs who were all looking at him with seriousness and disbelief in their eyes. “What? It was delicious, right?!”

“Well, yeah it was,” Yoongi approved, his voice low. He looked like he was already long done with this conversation with the way he was leaning against the backrest and you knew with just one push he would already be lying down and dozing off. However, his attention was still on you as he played with the strands of your hair.

“So, if you are all blaming me, shouldn’t you put blame on him, too? He offered you the drink knowing that it wasn’t his! And he didn’t tell you all!”

Jungkook nodded, completely agreeing at whatever you were saying as long as you kept talking. Your voice was melody to his ears, like a siren, he thought. If he was a cartoon, you were sure that he’d already have heart coming out of his eyes from the way he was looking at you. He was giggling like a child, his chin resting on his palm, his body turned to you. “You’re right, noona. It’s Jin hyung’s fault. We should kick him out of the house or exchange him for ice cream…Speaking of! What’s your favorite flavor, my love?”

“Fine! Then sue me! Arrest me! But lock me with her forever!” Seokjin exclaimed dramatically, throwing his hands in the air.

“Seokjin, for the love of all that’s good-“

“I love it when you call me that,” he said with sincerity in his voice.

“I literally just called you your name!” you shot back in exasperation.

“Yes. That. I love it.”

“Oh my God, we’re getting off track!” You exclaimed in frustration. “The cure. It’s worth pursuing, don’t you all think? Isn’t that why I’m here in the first place? To alleviate the effects of the love potion?”

You knew you had them when they looked at each other in silence. “And what’s more alleviating than actually freeing us all from the effects of that potion?” you continued, your voice steady, determined. “If we have a chance to break this spell—if we can find a way to return to our normal lives—shouldn’t we take it?”

“You’re not going alone. We are coming with you,” Kim Namjoon broke his silence for the first time that night. You couldn’t help but notice the strain in his voice despite the firm way he delivered his demand, a telltale sign that he needed you now. It was already past seven, and he was the last one in the schedule. It was already way past his schedule, and he had been patient and enduring enough. He just knew that anytime now he would break. He opened his eyes, and his gaze locked onto yours, “Tomorrow. We go to the mountains.”

Before anyone could respond, he stood up swiftly, his long legs carrying him away from the eruption of chaos and disagreement that erupted from his statement. The others began to voice their objections, a flurry of protests filling the room.

Yet, he never stopped.

“You know you have to come to him, right, noona?” Jungkook said amidst the chaos. “Namjoon hyung is suffering…”

“He has been patient,” Hoseok added, admiring the strength and resolved that their lead CEO had. “But he needs you, too.”

The walk to his room was long despite the reasonable distance. It must have been because of the rapid beating of your heart as you walked to the unknown. The six of them all showed their dark side, the possessive, obsessive and jealous side that terrified you. You wondered what the last member would show you tonight.

But they were right.

Despite your fear and restlessness, you had to honor your responsibility with them.

Your knuckles had barely grazed his door when it opened from the inside, revealing the disheveled lead CEO.

Kim Namjoon was breathing hard despite the cool air inside his room. The usually composed lead CEO looked disheveled and visible exhausted. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead, strands of his dark hair tousled as if his fingers had raked through them in frustration. He had already donned out his dark suit, his white and crisp shirt was unbuttoned. His muscular chest was glistening with sweat. Your eyes traced his form and found him barefooted.

This was as unmade as you ever witnessed him to be.

You were right, you realized. Kim Namjoon suffered the most today as he was the last one in the schedule. The way he was looking at you made it seemed like you were nothing to him but a prey, one that he had been desperately hunting the whole day. His silence only made you more tensed. "Namjoon," you began softly, concern evident in your voice as you stepped closer despite wanting to run away. "Are you alright?"

Instead of a reassuring answer, his demeanor shifted. His answer was pulling you inside his lair. His movements were quick. Desperate. Frantic. The sound of lock clicking loudly in the quiet of the room. This wasn't the controlled man you were accustomed to—this was someone else entirely, someone driven by raw instinct and need.

Every step he took towards you was a step you took backwards. He was sauntering to you like a predator would, his movements slow and deliberate like someone who knew had you trapped. His muscles were tensed like he was barely holding onto his control. His eyes, usually so warm, now bore into you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the tension radiating from him, his body coiled like a spring about to snap. You had an inkling that he wasn’t okay, but you never expected him to be this intense, this desperate.

"N-Namjoon, please," you stammered, your concern growing as his presence overwhelmed you, "You’re not okay. Let me get some help, okay?"

He scoffed softly, a sound that dripped with frustration and desire. The truth was plain to see—he wasn't just physically spent; there was something deeper unsettling him, something that demanded your presence, your touch, as if you were the anchor he desperately needed.

He knew if he didn’t have you in his arms in the next second, then he would truly lose it. He was desperate for you. And so, for the first time ever, he damned the consequences.

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?! No-“

“I need to feel your skin or I will fucking lose it, little one,” he gritted, his hands formed into fists in an attempt to ground him. He didn’t want to scare you, that was the last thing he wanted.

But he was scaring himself. The dizzying need for you was terrifying him. Dark thoughts were swirling in his mind: all of them were of losing you. He didn’t know what would happen if they lost you. He didn’t know what they would be capable of if you had someone else.

The only thing that could calm him down was you. But you were stubborn, weren’t you? He saw your eyes darted to the door behind him, assessing the probability that you could escape him. It wouldn’t happen, he was certain. Not in the state he was in.

“Don’t,” he whispered with a shake of his head. “Don’t test me tonight, little one. I am barely holding it in.”

“You’re scaring me,” you whispered in admittance, your eyes begging him to be sane, to at least reach the Namjoon inside him that knew this was a grey area.

He paused in front of you. he was breathing hard and his eyes seemed to be all dark. His voice was low as he explained his need for you and his promise that the two of you would only be sleeping.

Tonight, he claimed that you would be safe.

“I won’t ask again, little one,” he whispered as he looked down at you. “Remove your clothes and get on the bed.”

“And we’ll just sleep?”

“Yes.”

“You promise?”

He nodded. What he didn’t tell you was how he wasn’t sure if you could still be safe from the monsters you woke up inside them tomorrow. But that was tomorrow’s problem.

His eyes followed your every reluctant movement as you walked near to his bed. This was all so sudden, and the darkness of the room didn’t help you observe his personality that was reflected in his room. However, you were thankful for the darkness because it gave you the courage to do as he bade without the full weight of his gaze on you. Shadows danced across the walls and with a shaky breath, you finally sat on the edge of the bed, the sheets soft and inviting beneath you. The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains, seemed to wrap around you like a comforting shroud. It was easier to let the shadows obscure your uncertainties.

You began to remove your shirt, your heart racing as you felt his eyes on you, the intensity palpable. The fabric slipped away, leaving you feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated.

“The shorts, little one,” he ordered quietly, his eyes still on you as he shrugged of his white shirt. He raised his brows when a flicker of stubbornness crossed your face, a silent warning that he was at the very edge of a cliff. With shaky hands, you pushed off your shorts before quickly getting under his thick blanket, hiding your exposed skin from his eyes.

Your heard the buckle of his belt coming undone, and the sound of zipper following next was too loud in the silence of his room which made you shut your eyes closed. But the prolonged silence made you take a peek. And there he was. He was stalking to you, his muscular chest bared for your eyes, his thighs so thick and strong. The only thing he still had on was his black boxers that leave nothing to the imagination.

You shrieked when he got on the bed confidently and flipped the blanket to the side, baring your body to him, both his arms encasing you as he hovered above you.

“N-Namj–” your words left you when he settled his weight on you, every ridges and corners of his body was touching you. His nose was on your neck, breathing in your scent. His hands moved from the side of your head down to your wrist, and everything he touched left goosebumps on your skin. “Don’t fight this,” he whispered as he pulled your wrist above your head and kept them prisoned there.

“Y-you told me we’re just going to sleep,” you reminded him, your voice shaking slightly as you felt the heat radiating from Namjoon’s body. The tension in the air felt electric, and your heart raced.

“I told you. You are safe with me tonight.”

His hard member certainly did not make you feel safe. You could feel his hardness poking your stomach, and you were no saint to not know what it meant. You were certainly not that innocent to not be affected by this. You were embarrassed with how you could feel your arousal seeping to your underwear, and you hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

You jumped when you felt his tongue swiped at the expanse of your neck. You were trying to free yourself away from his hold when he nipped at your skin, sucking at it hard enough to know that it was going to leave a mark. All the while, his hips were slowly thrusting to you as though he was barely holding onto his thin control.

“Do you not feel safe, little one?” he taunted, his voice deeper than you ever heard of him. He lifted his head from your neck, his dark eyes glinting with something akin to an animalistic desire to have you. “Is the pleasure too much for you?” he asked in faux concern before thrusting his clothed cock directly to your heat. And by heavens, a moan escaped you. “Or is it not enough?”

“F-fuck, Namjoon- please!” you gasped as his hand pinched your nipple over your bra. His lips hovered over yours, so impossibly close that you knew one wrong movement was enough to make yours touched his. His cock was brutal as he humped you.

“Don’t you feel safe with the desires you are feeling?” he whispered directly to your ear, his hot breath leaving tingles down your spine. “Don’t you feel safe with just one cock? Do you want me to call the six of them? I bet they’d be happy to make you come. I know Yoongi does.”

“S-stop!”

He chuckled, his thrust stopping altogether. “Little one, you’re free. You can push me anytime you want. But you don’t want to, do you?”

It was only when he pointed it out that you realized he was no longer holding you down. In fact, he hadn’t for a while. You were too drunk with the sinful desire and his primal need to be with you that you didn’t notice that you had the choice to push him away.

And the horrifying realization that you deliberately didn’t want him to stop came crashing in.

“Don’t you just want to give in? I promise…no one will know. It’s just the two of us,” he whispered seductively, his breath warm against your skin. The way his words wrapped around you felt almost hypnotic, stirring something deep within. “Turn that mind off, darling. You’re so fucking wet,” he growled sensually. “I can feel your wetness in my thighs. You deserve this, little one. You deserve to be worship. All you need to do is to move.”

Your heart raced at the intensity of his gaze, each word wrapping around you like a vice. There was a part of you that yearned to give in, to surrender to the pull between you.

And you did.

Your hips lifted slightly to meet his, and it was all he needed before he rutted on you, the control he had snapped like a twig when you took the first step. You could feel you were getting close, his movements were all unforgiving and sensual.

“See?” he growled, his voice low and intense, sending shivers down your spine. “I just want to take care of you, little love. We all just want to give you all you desire.” He stepped closer, the heat radiating off him like a tangible force, drawing you in. “I told you. You are safe with me. But you aren’t safe from your own desires.”

You could feel something hot, something with urgency. And it wasn’t long until you shuddered, you trashed with your back arched. And just like clockwork, Namjoon’s warm essence spurted out and onto his boxers.

“That’s it, little one. Good girl.”

And as he held your body in his arms that night, he lied awake with thoughts of how to keep you. You were so beautiful. And perfect for him. You were perfect for them. He was sure that all of his brothers were thinking of the same thing: how to keep you forever.

Day 4, morning

It didn’t come as a surprise when he woke up and found you gone, nor did it come as a surprise when you couldn’t meet his eyes when he came down early in the morning ready to leave for the mountains. Seokjin, ever the observant, noticed the tension between the two of you. Actually, it was more so from you as you tried your very best to stick with who you thought was the safest among the seven, Seokjin and Yoongi.

Seokjin, with his soft smile and easygoing charm, had managed to pull the wool over your eyes. How could you have known that Seokjin was a wolf in a sheep’s clothing while Yoongi was only patient until he wasn’t? How could you have known that they were truly far from who you thought they were?

The maknae line were already waiting by the door, talking animatedly among themselves as though all of you were just going to the mountains for a fun fieldtrip and not for the love potion cure.

It was Hoseok that broke the silence, “How was your sleep, little one?”

“G-good,” you stammered, your eyes lifting to meet the lead CEO’s gaze, only to find him already looking back at you with an intensity that made your heart race. You quickly looked down, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “L-let’s go? It’s quite a far drive.”

You swallowed hard, trying to shake off the knot of tension in your stomach. The closer you got to the mountains, the more real the journey felt, and the more daunting the implications of finding a cure. You turned to Namjoon, who stood nearby, arms crossed and expression unreadable. “Are we ready?”

It took him a moment to answer, as though weighing your question with care, his eyes lingering on you in a way that felt too heavy for casual conversation. The air between you felt thick, charged with something unspoken, and the silence stretched on, longer than it should have. “Always ready,” he replied, though the weight of his gaze suggested he had more on his mind than just the drive ahead.

You sat quietly the whole journey. The feeling of freedom was so near, yet the implications of what happened the past three days weighed down on you. You knew things could never go back the way it was. You knew you had to leave your job and move someplace else. Despite the possibility of a cure, you knew that everything that transpired was far more complex that a simple remedy couldn’t fix.

You glanced around the van, taking in the familiar faces of the men who had turned your world upside down. This was probably one of the last times you’d be in their proximity, and that thought sent a shiver down your spine. You felt both relieved and terrified at the prospect.

It was as though Seokjin, the designated driver, could hear your thoughts. He glanced up into the rearview mirror and met your eyes, concern flickering in his expression. “You okay back there?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with something deeper, an awareness of your internal struggle.

You offered a small smile, not quite reaching your eyes. “I’m good,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You looked down at the address your friend gave you. The mountains loomed in the distance; their imposing silhouettes framed by a clear blue sky. You could hear the faint rustle of leaves in the cool breeze, a stark contrast to the tension that had built up during the drive.

Namjoon was off to the side, deep in conversation with an elderly man. You couldn’t help but catch snippets of their dialogue—words like “cure” and “love potion” floated through the air, drawing your attention. You watched as the man gestured toward a narrow, winding path leading deeper into the woods.

After a few moments, Namjoon turned back to you, a satisfied smile on his face. “We have to walk. The car cannot pass through,” he shared the information with the group.

You nodded, feeling a mix of anxiety and excitement. “How far is it?”

“Not too far, just a little hike,” he assured you, though his eyes held a glimmer of seriousness. “Are you ready?”

Taking a deep breath, you glanced at the rest of the group, who had gathered around. The maknae line looked eager, bouncing on their feet as if they were about to embark on a thrilling quest. Yoongi leaned against a tree, his expression contemplative, while Seokjin was busy checking the supplies they brought along.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt. “Let’s do this.”

It was almost an hour into the hike, and your little group was nearing the top when you saw it. “That must be it,” Hoseok said, pointing excitedly at the small house perched on the summit. It looked quaint, surrounded by trees and flowers, with smoke curling from the chimney, hinting at warmth and life within. For a moment, the sight was serene—peaceful even. But there was something about it that made your skin prickle, a sense of wrongness you couldn’t quite shake. The beauty of it felt... too perfect. Like an illusion meant to distract. A narrow pathway led to a flight of stairs, and just as you felt a rush of exhilaration, a pained gasp broke the tranquility.

You turned around to see Jungkook wincing, his hand clutching his ankle. “Jungkook!” you exclaimed, rushing to his side. He was sitting on the ground, his face contorted in pain, his doe eyes looking up at you as though he was asking for help. Beside him, Jimin crouched down, his innocent-looking face betraying none of the tension in the air. He looked concerned, but there was something about the calmness in his expression that made you pause—something about the way he was sitting too still, too perfectly for the situation at hand. How he hurt himself when the path was no longer steep like before, nor was the ground slippery was lost on you. You foolishly thought that you were out of the danger zone.

"Jungkook!" you repeated, kneeling beside him, your voice trembling with concern. "What happened?”

“I think I twisted it,” he admitted, his voice strained. “It hurts so bad, noona. P-please stay with me.”

You blinked at his request, your heart aching at the sight of him so vulnerable, but a wave of doubt swept over you. You had to make a decision, and fast. The cure was still ahead of you, and the house at the summit was growing nearer with every step you’d taken. But now, Jungkook was down, and his injury looked serious.

You glanced around, unsure what to do. You could stay with him, of course, but you weren’t the only one in the group, and there were others who might be able to help him. Maybe someone else should stay with him while you continued on to the house? Just as you were about to ask Taehyung, Namjoon stepped near you and interrupted your thoughts.

“Stay with Jungkook,” Namjoon urged you, glancing back at the house. “We can take care of the cure. Don’t worry.”

You hesitated, torn between the urgency of reaching the house and your concern for Jungkook. His face was twisted in pain, and you felt a pang of guilt for even considering leaving him. But the reassuring nod from Seokjin was enough to convince you that the men could handle the cure without you.

“Okay,” you finally said, your voice steadying. “I’ll stay here with Jungkook.”

As you knelt beside him, your focus solely on his ankle, you completely missed the meaningful look shared between Taehyung and Yoongi, a silent conversation that hinted at something more.

“Just take a deep breath, Jungkook,” you said, gently placing a hand on his knee. “Let’s see if we can wrap this up.”

The six men trudged up the pathway leading to the small house in companiable silence when Seokjin suddenly stopped, halting the progress of the six men following him. They were almost near the house that his sudden pause caused confusion to the maknae line. It was a moment before he turned to face the group.

“Hyung?” Jimin asked, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Seokjin and Yoongi shared a meaningful look, their jaws set in stone and expression serious. “Taehyung and Jimin, I think you should stay guard here,” he said, his voice low and firm.

“Hyung, what if you need us there-”

Namjoon, who was quick to notice the peculiar seriousness in their eldest placed a reassuring hand on Taehyung’s shoulder and faced him. He flashed him a dimpled smile as though assuring him that everything was fine. “I think what hyung means is that this way, you can look out for little one and Jungkook.”

He tilted his head slightly, catching sight of you and Jungkook, a little ways down the path, peering curiously at the house.

“Don’t worry, we can handle this,” Hoseok assured the two age-mate with his charm. He gave a playful nudge to Taehyung as he stepped past them, confidence radiating from his every move. “Just keep an eye out, okay?”

With that, Hoseok entered the house, the door creaking softly behind him. The rest of the older members followed, leaving the maknae line standing in the fading light.

You didn’t have to wait long before the six of them descended the path, their expressions were mixed of triumph and satisfaction, and something that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It wasn’t even that long when the six of them walked down to you. Yoongi led the way, a confident stride in his step, and in his hand was a small bottle filled with a shimmering pink liquid.

Your heart raced as you caught sight of it. “Is that—?”

“It’s the cure, little one,” he confirmed, holding it up to the light. The liquid sparkled, catching the sun in a way that made it almost mesmerizing, almost tantalizing, almost too hypnotic that you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it.

You felt your heart leap in your chest. The weight of the world seemed to lift off your shoulders, and a wave of disbelief rushed through you. You could barely comprehend it, but there it was. “We’re free…” you said with disbelief in your tone. You were too happy that you jumped up and hugged Jungkook. “I cannot believe it!”

“Well, almost, little one,” Namjoon said, his expression shifting to something more serious. “We’ll take it at home where we can safely observe the effects. We can’t risk anything happening here.”

The words hit you like a splash of cold water. For a moment, the excitement faltered, and a small knot of worry tugged at your stomach. You had been so caught up in the euphoria of it all that you hadn’t stopped to consider the reality of it. There were still risks, still unknowns.

“Aren’t you just a little too excited about leaving us, little one?” His words were offhanded, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something you couldn’t quite place.

Your eyes darted to him, surprised by the sudden comment. Jimin’s gaze was still fixed on his nails, as though the conversation were of no consequence to him. But there was a subtle tension around him, something in his posture that didn’t quite sit right.

Instead of dwelling too much in what he was enunciating, you decided to face Namjoon. “Right, of course,” you said, stepping back from Jungkook and if you noticed the reluctant way he let go of you, you didn’t mention. You rationalized that they were still under the influence of the potion. You just had to hold on a little bit more.

Seokjin clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. “Then let’s get moving! The sooner we’re back, the sooner we can celebrate properly.”

The ride back to the civilization was filled with different vibes, it was quiet yet there was a profound peace within the group. This time, it was Jungkook who was driving while Taehyung was in the front seat with him. Seated next to you was Yoongi who was quietly contented in engulfing your hand in his, both your hands resting on his thighs. On your other side was Hoseok who was uncharacteristically quiet until he caught you looking at him.

“J-Jin, this is a lot,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you took in the lavish spread laid out on the table. Plates piled high with vibrant dishes, each one more mouthwatering than the last, sparkled under the soft glow of the lights. It was hard to believe he had managed to prepare all this while looking like he just stepped off a magazine cover.

“I want to celebrate us,” Jin replied, his smile warm and genuine.

You blinked owlishly, caught off guard. Us? What did he mean by that?

“You know, how we…survived this.” His eyes sparkled with sincerity, but confusion washed over you. You opened your mouth to ask him to elaborate, to clarify what “us” really meant, when suddenly, Taehyung appeared beside you. He leaned in so close that his lips almost brushed your ear, his voice teasingly conspiratorial.

“Hyung is so dramatic. He wants to do a big toast before drinking the cure.”

You missed the look the two men shared over your head when Jimin walked in and tugged you to sit next to him and Yoongi. “Come on, little one. I’m starving.”

One by one, the four other men took their seats around the beautifully set table. Directly across from you was Taehyung who was watching you intently, and beside him were Hoseok and Jungkook. On the other end of the table was Namjoon, manspreading like a king sitting in his throne. Seokjin moved gracefully around the table, setting down seven glasses that glinted like jewels, each filled with the pink liquid of the cure slushing around with every step. Your breath caught slightly as he approached, and when he stopped behind you, leaning down close, a shiver ran through you.

“And of course, for the lady. Only the best of wines,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You turned slightly, catching a glimpse of his serious and dark expression before he straightened, and just like that, he transformed it into a sweet smile that lit up the room. You wondered if it was just the light playing tricks on you.

“Hyung, ready for the toast?” Jungkook asked, his eyes on you even as he directed his question to Namjoon.

“I think it should be our little one that we ask,” Yoongi spoke for the first time that night, his tone unexpectedly serious. He turned to you, his eyes piercing through the moment, as if trying to read your thoughts. “Are you ready for what comes next?”

You felt a knot form in your stomach, a mixture of excitement and anxiety churning inside you. “Are you ready… for the rest of your life, love?” Taehyung voiced, his expression uncharacteristically solemn as he toyed with his glass, tracing the rim with his fingertip.

You blinked owlishly, wondering why there were too many questions from them as though they were asking something else. But they weren’t, right? They weren’t implying anything more, were they?

You wanted your old life back.

You wanted your freedom back.

With a steadying breath, you raised your glass of wine, a quiet resolve settling over you. “To our freedom,” you declared, your voice clear despite the whirlwind of emotions.

Namjoon smirked, a fondness in his eyes as he confidently raised his glass in response. “To you, little one.”

“To us,” Seokjin added, his voice warm as he joined the toast, and one by one, the others followed suit.

You all drank to the last sip of your drinks, the sweet, fruity flavor of the wine lingering on your tongue. Seokjin’s gaze remained fixed on you, his watchful eyes never leaving your face as he set down his empty glass. There was an intensity in his stare, an unspoken question hanging in the air, as if he were waiting for something to unfold.

And he waited.

And waited.

Until it happened.

You felt the warmth of the wine spreading through your body, a comforting buzz that made everything feel lighter, more vibrant. But in the back of your mind, there was a nagging sensation, a whisper that something wasn’t quite right. The room began to tilt slightly, chatter of the CEOs was fading into a soft murmur. “S-something’s not right,” you whispered, turning to your ever dependable Yoongi, the one who never put you down.

Your hand was clutching his sleeves, yet he paid you no mind. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the liquid in you, and that nagging sensation began to twist in your gut. The wine—was it the wine? The warmth, the lightness, the almost too comfortable feeling that was settling into your bones—had it been too easy? Too perfect?

“W- what was in t-that w-wine?” You asked shakily, barely a whisper, your eyes finding Seokjin’s apathetic ones.

He waited.

“Seokjin…” you breathed out, your voice barely a whisper, as the fear settled in your chest like a stone.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he simply stared at you, his expression unreadable as his fingers lightly drummed against the table, almost too casual, too relaxed.

The realization hit you like a gut punch: This wasn’t a celebration. This was a trap.

Your vision blurred, and you struggled to focus, the faces of Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Namjoon becoming indistinct. Slowly, your world faded to black.

The seven men watched you as Yoongi wrapped his arm around you, securing your head to his shoulder as though he didn’t do anything.

“Why… why would you do that, hyung?” Jungkook asked, his voice a mix of confusion and disbelief, eyes wide with shock as he processed the scene.

Yoongi remained focused on you, his other hand gently caressing your face, a gesture of comfort that felt surreal. It was Seokjin, however, who broke the silence, his voice calm and measured as he quietly sliced his food. “She was going to leave us.”

Taehyung’s shock morphed into something deeper, worry etching lines on his forehead as he glanced between the two of them. “We can’t just keep her here!”

“She belongs with us,” Seokjin replied softly, an edge of finality in his tone as he continued to slice his food, unbothered by the tension brewing around him.

“But there is a cure—” Jungkook started, his voice rising in protest.

“There is no cure, Jungkook,” Namjoon interjected smoothly, his form relaxed as he poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the glass like a tempest. “There’s no cure because we aren’t sick.”

“The hyungs are right, Kookie,” Jimin said, his expression softening as he held your hand close to his face, as if trying to draw strength from your presence. “We just love her so much.”

“And now, she’ll love us too just as much,” Hoseok smirked, his gaze darting to the wine you had drunk.

A phone beeping continuously rose Seokjin from his slumber. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked down to find you snuggled peacefully in his arms, your face nestled against his chest. On your other side, Jimin had draped his leg over you, a content smile gracing his lips in his sleep. It was only four in the morning, yet the incessant beeping of your phone pierced the quiet.

You must have been too exhausted to not notice, he noted. Of course, why wouldn’t you be when the seven men showed you just how much they loved you. And this time, you were only too enthusiastic to show them how much you adored them. With a sigh, he reached for your phone and opened your messages, curiosity piquing as he scrolled through the frantic texts.

You have to get out of there, Y/N. The effect of the love potion only lasts for 60 hours!

Y/N, honey, I’m fucking serious. The potion won’t even be effective if they have no feelings for you.

These men are insane. They know you before this, Y/N. You’re in danger there!

Where are you?

Seokjin scoffed, irritation bubbling up within him. He glanced down at your serene expression, blissfully unaware of the turmoil outside this moment. With a few quick taps, he deleted the messages, each one disappearing like smoke. You didn’t need to know.

It didn’t matter how you got here because you were here now.

And they would never, ever let you leave. As you nestled deeper into his side, he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, determination flaring within him. They would make you see that this was where you belonged, that you were one of them now. There would be no turning back.

More so now that they had access to that love potion. With just a few drops, they could weave the very fabric of your feelings, ensuring you remained anchored to them. They tasted heaven with you. What fool would let that go?

END

688 notes · View notes

sanguinesky-if · 27 days ago

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[Dev Log] November 2024

Hello, happy belated Halloween to you!

This dev log includes announcements of upcoming release dates and a brief overview of what was accomplished over the past month, so you might find it interesting to read to the end.

Announcement [Patreon Members]

With the start of this month, changes have been made to the Patreon tiers [Civilian $1 and Inspector $7].

If you haven't familiarized yourself with the updates yet, please be sure to read this post. Thank you for your support! ♥

Announcement [Release Dates]

Here's the release schedule for the upcoming updates:

Demo Expansion: November 9 [Patreon]

L's Side Story: November 30 [Patreon]

Demo Update [Chapter 3 Part 1]: December 7 [Public]

The full list of changes in the expanded demo will be included in the release post, but you can get a preliminary look at them here [in the "About my plans for the current month" section].

Regarding the public demo release: I had planned to release it earlier, at the end of November, but with L's Side Story release, I just won't have time to compile all the files.

Thank you for your patience and for waiting, I hope you'll find it worthwhile!

What was accomplished last month?

Refined the prologue and most scenes in Chapter 1, as well as some in Chapter 2 [especially I's scene].

Besides fixing grammar, I smoothed out parts of the narrative that felt choppy or awkward to improve the overall flow. Some elements in Chapter 1 still need polishing, but for now, my main focus is preparing the Expanded Demo for release. I would also like to thank everyone who submitted error reports. They were incredibly helpful, and I truly appreciate your time and support in improving my story!

Implemented height difference variables.

I've been working on how to best address the height difference between the ROs and the MC since I want the narrative to be responsive to these changes. However, since the two versions of the same RO differ in height depending on their gender, I had to implement 7 new variables to avoid writing multiple *if statements all the time.

A very simple example of usage: @{M_tall 1|2|3|4} = @{M_tall much shorter than you, around|shorter than you, around|around|taller than you, around} Mentions of height differences in the narrative will mostly if you choose flirt options.

Added additional customization for moles.

Thanks to the MC pictures that readers sent me [created with Picrew and drawn], I've decided to add this option for the MC customization. This option won't be mentioned in the narrative, but I thought it would be nice to give readers this choice, hoping that including it in character creation will help some of the players feel more connected to their MC.

About my plans for the current month.

This month will be entirely dedicated to preparing for the demo and side story releases.

In addition to that, the bonus content on Patreon that will be released this month will include:

T's NSFW Alphabet.

A short story [featuring I].

A detailed content release schedule for Patreon can be found here.

Author's Note.

Due to a heavy workload, I unfortunately cannot be active here and answer asks as often as I used to, and I apologize if you did not receive a reply.

I hope to have more time in December once the public update is released, especially since it will also mark one year since the demo was first released! ☺️

Thank you for reading to the end and for your support! Have a wonderful week and days after that! ♥

#interactive fiction #sanguine sky #sanguine sky if #ss general #dev log

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thelikesofus · 8 months ago

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Buddie Fic Recs

This is my 5th Buddie Rec List! I started compiling this list last April and omg looking back through them now I desperately need to reread them all. Highly recommend all of these fics, also please show the authors some love in their comments xx Happy Easter lovelies <3 REMINDER TO CHECK THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

where our eyes are never closing by @rewritetheending | T | 6k

After the lightning strike, Buck asks Eddie to take candid photos of him to help prove to Buck that he still exists. Absolute PEAK Softness. Buck through Eddie's eyes! I was a mushy puddle by the end. 10/10 would recommend.

i got all my sisters with me by @useramor | T | 6k

Established relationship Buddie. Eddie’s sister has a baby and they travel down to Texas to meet the baby. DIAZ SIBLINGS UNITE! Seriously though the sibling dynamic in this is off the charts and Buck and Eddie are sickeningly in love, it is quite beautiful.

meet me where the tide comes in by @iinryer | G | 4k

A 3+1 fic about Eddie getting kissed on the head. FOREHEAD KISSES PTSD MORE HEAD KISSES AND BOYS IN LOVE!! Need I say anything more??

The one where Buck gets turned into a dog by @911onabc | G | 9k

Law Suit era BUT WAIT WAIT….DOG BUCK!! I am a sucker for fic where one of them gets turned into an animal. They are much more free with their affection when they think it's just a dog, or just a cat, and the bond between Eddie and "Boy" is so so wonderful. And I do love a happy ending xx

can't do this anymore (do it anyway) by @chronicowboy | T | 2k

Short and sweet but GOD this packs a punch. Eddie starts dating after the lightning strike and Buck is feeling Big Bad about it. He is so sad it truly breaks my heart but all works itself out in the end and Eddie proves Buck’s fears wrong.

We Found Each Other (Over There) by @thekristen999 | T | 46k

Buddie WWII AU. A combat medic and a G.I. meet during one of the world’s greatest battles. This fic is a legitimate masterpiece. I cannot describe to you the quality of this fic because it is beyond words but I will tell you I stayed up until 3:30 am to finish it in one sitting and was left broken but made so so whole again.

the mortifying ordeal of being known by @the-amber-raven | G | 60k

AU where Bobby is Buck’s adoptive Dad and Eddie is dating Buck but Eddie and Bobby think they are talking about two different people. Buck is training at the fire academy but hiding it from Bobby. This fic is the most beautiful tangle of miscommunication, love and family.

like all good things are by @try-set-me-on-fire | T | 7k

Perfect, amazing, soul-destroying, magical, healing Fic. This literally covers all the bases. Chim and Bobby both get injured. OH! and Buck and Eddie were secretly dating all along. READ THIS FIC PEEPS!

find a way to you (if it kills me) by @eddiediazes | M | 19k

The one where Eddie decides to start dating again, Buck figures out his own feelings just a minute too late, and then he spends a week going through the five stages of grief. BUCK PINING LV.10000000!

and i’d choose you (in a hundred lifetimes) by @monsterrae1 | E | 16k

Amnesia Exes fic by the wonderful Rae. Buck and Eddie fall in love via a penpal program and then Buck vanishes. This fic is set four years later. I literally could not put it down. I was reading it in class and then sat in my car for who knows how long just to finish it because I could not continue my day without knowing how it ended.

he never thinks of me (except when i'm on TV) by @loserdiaz | M | 18k

APRIL'S FAMOUS!BUCK AND ARMY!EDDIE FIC!! In which Eddie finds out years later that his unrequited feelings for his high school best friend were not actually unrequited, Buck is stupidly famous now and they pine. OH THEY PINNNEEEEE! It’s delicious.

every time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) by @chronicowboy | M | 21k

Alternative S7, Buddie Divorce Era Pt.2. Buck does something reckless and Eddie gets angry about it but these boys cannot communicate effectively to save their lives! This fic is peak angst to a happy ending and I felt like I had a hole in my chest OMG.

left your mark on this heart by @chronicowboy | G | 5k

Buck gets medically diagnosed with butterflies and the doctor makes him write in a notebook every time it happens. Surprise, surprise, the cause and effect is Eddie-related. The notebook entries kill me in the best way, the happiest happy ending

ALSO, YES THIS IS THE THIRD FIC BY THE SAME AUTHOR ON THIS LIST WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?? READ IT IS WHAT! COS THEY'RE SO DAMN GOOD.

endless numbered days by @cal-daisies-and-briars | G | 13k

Buck and Eddie's wedding but from Bobby's POV as Bobby reflects on the family he lost and the one he gained. Absolutely beautiful, I cried.

don’t wanna let you love somebody else but me by @shitouttabuck | T | 14k

Chris wants dating advice so obviously Buck and Eddie decide to Fake Date for research purposes. This fic is PEAK adorable, sappy, and awkward Buddie. They’re idiots but we love them and the certainly love each other. READ THIS FIC!

#buddie #buddie fic recs #buddie fic rec list 5 #buck x eddie #eddie diaz #evan 'buck' buckley #911 #911 fic recs #meegs rec list

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drowning-rat73 · 4 months ago

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To everyone who voted that i should post the quotes, here you go :)

Perfection is reached, not when there is no longer anything to add, but when there is no longer anything to take away.

Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.

A moment on the lips, forever on the hips.

Thinner is the winner.

You can never be too rich or too thin.

Hunger hurts but starving works.

The flat stomach is nice, but a concave one is perfect..

You will be tempted quite frequently. You will have to choose whether to enjoy yourself wholly for those 20 minutes or so that you will be consuming excess calories, or whether you will despise yourself cordially for the next three days.

Eat to live, but don’t live to eat..

Quod me nutrit, me destruit (What nourishes me, also destroys me.)

It’s simple: You decide once and for all that you aren’t going to eat, and there are no further decisions to make.

It’s not deprivation, it’s liberation.

Being normal is over rated.

Food is like art, to be looked at not eaten.

Every time you say no thank you to food, you say yes please to thin.

You have a choice to make, do you want to be “Normal” and overweight like the rest of the world, Or do you want to be unique and be that girl every overweight person wants to be? It’s all up to you.

I do eat normally: only what is needed for survival. I can’t help it that we live in a piggish society where gluttony is the norm, and everyone else is constantly stuffing themselves.

Think higher of yourself, your too good to put that in your body.

Anorexia is not a self-inflicted disease, it’s a self-controlled lifestyle.

When I wake, I’m empty, light-headed. I like to stay this way, free and pure, light on my feet, traveling light. For me, food’s only interest lies in how little I need, how strong I am, how well I can resist, each time achieving another small victory of the will.

The difference between want and need is self control.

I’ve come too far to take orders from a cookie.

They always say they’re concerned with me, about my health, when all they want to do is control me.

They want to pin me down and force-feed me with lies, with what they call love.

The greasy fry, it cannot lie, its truth is written on your thigh.

They say I could die if I get too thin and I tell them I could die getting too fat also. The difference is dieing thin is a challenge and I am not one to give up one a challenge.

I want my collarbones and hips to be as sharp as my mind.

You can learn to love anything I think, if you need to badly enough. I trained myself to enjoy feeling hungry. If my stomach contracts, or I wake up feeling nauseated, or I’m light-headed, or have a hunger headache or better yet, all of the above, it means I’m getting thinner, if feels good. I feel strong, on top of myself, in control.

Denying yourself food is not true deprivation – never being thin is.

There is no try, there is only DO.

I have a rule when I weigh myself. If I’ve gained then I starve the rest of the day. But if I’ve lost, then I starve too.

Re-measure, reweigh, try harder.

Your body is the baggage you must carry through life. The more excess baggage the shorter the trip.

You have such a pretty face, why don’t you try dieting?

Pain is temporary; Pride is forever.

An imperfect body reflects an imperfect person.

Don’t give up what you want most for what you want at the moment.

I’m a teenage drama queen, I’ll throw my guts up for self esteem.

Empty is pure, starving is the cure.

Be like a postage stamp. Stick to one thing until you get there.

Feed the soul; let the body fast.

If you close your mouth to food, you can know a sweeter taste.

The less I swallowed, the more I declined, the more I hope to pare things down to the essentials.

The more they give me, the less I’ll eat.

Eat less, weigh less.

Thin has a taste all its own.

Happy or sad, rich or poor, it’s better being thin.

I don’t care if it hurts, I want to have control, I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul.

If it tastes good, It’s trying to kill you

The word is control. That’s my ultimate – to have control.

I want to be the smallest I can possibly be…when I see bone, that’s the day I will finally feel free…

Giving in to food shows weakness, be strong and you will be better than everyone else.

I’m not starving myself. I’m perfecting my emptiness.

I, the hunger artist, rarely disappoint my audience.

How many pounds till I am happy? How many pounds till I get thin? Three more pounds till I am skinny, three more pounds and I win!

Anorexia is not a disease. Anorexia is not a game. Anorexia is a skill, perfected only by a few. The chosen, the pure, the flawless.

Anorexia is like a game; you play, you win, and then it’s over. Or you keep playing.

Nothing. Nothing is wrong. And asking is against the rules. Crying is against the rules. Your strong, don’t let them break you. They’re trying to destroy you.

When it comes to losing weight, those who can, do; those that can’t make excuses.

Don’t eat. If you want to see food, look in the mirror at your thighs.

What’s in your fingers today is on your hips tomorrow.

The only freedom left is the freedom to starve.

Blessed are the starving, for they shall teach us not to want.

Don’t eat anything today that you’ll regret tomorrow.

Craving is only a feeling.

Bones define who we really are, let them show

Note- none of these are mine, i found them all on a 2010 pr04n4 blogging site.

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antianakin · 10 months ago

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I think I'm able to perhaps put a few words to why I really dislike that the Ahsoka show had her choose to come to the conclusion that Anakin was GOOD, that he was a good person and good teacher to her, rather than having her refuse to forgive him and just having to let go of him entirely.

Ahsoka is a character who has been, for her ENTIRE RUN on Star Wars, defined by Anakin and her relationship to him. She's never been able to escape that. She was created as an explanation for why Anakin "matured" over the three year gap between AOTC and ROTS, but her lack of existence in the films means she can have no greater impact on Anakin than that. She is wholly irrelevant to his character but she does not EXIST without him. In Rebels, she is only in one season where all of her appearances are fixated on her discovery of Anakin's betrayal and how that impacts her, leading up to their final confrontation where she appears to die fighting him. She comes back only so her relationship with Anakin can be used to help Ezra let go of Kanan. In TOTJ, she has an entire episode dedicated to explaining that the only reason she survived Order 66 was because of some kind of special training Anakin gave her that made her stronger, better, faster than any other Jedi. In The Mandalorian, her appearance was full of subtext about her trauma regarding Anakin and the way she reacts to other Jedi as a result of that. In The Book of Boba Fett appearance, that subtext is still there, primarily in her conversation with Luke where she even tells him how much he reminds her of Anakin. Which leaves us with the Ahsoka show itself and how it REVOLVES around that relationship, from Sabine being turned into Anakin 2.0 to everything in episode 5 to Ahsoka claiming she'll support Sabine in everything because this is what Anakin did for her to Anakin literally showing up in ghost form to Thrawn predicting everything Ahsoka will do because he has some familiarity with Anakin.

Ahsoka CANNOT escape this relationship, she cannot move out from this particular shadow and become her own person because her character seems to ONLY EXIST to be "Anakin's student." She can almost literally not stand on her own at this point. If her story doesn't revolve around Anakin in some way, it doesn't seem to really exist (please keep in mind here that I am mostly looking at HIGH CANON appearances for this because that's what I am familiar with; I'm sure that some comics have probably managed to move away from her relationship to Anakin a little bit sometimes but I haven't read any of them so they're not being counted in this analysis, especially since I don't think they're really impacting her higher canon characterization anyway).

It's even just visible in how other characters perceive her. She is constantly being COMPARED to Anakin, we keep hearing how like Anakin she is. The only time I can think of that she is compared to anyone OTHER than Anakin is when Trace and Rafa tell her that she acts like a Jedi even if she isn't currently calling herself one (bless their SOULS for this moment, they deserved so much better than the hate they got and one single appearance on fucking TBB). We never hear anyone say she reminds them of Obi-Wan, or Yoda, or Plo Koon. It's ALWAYS Anakin even though she's known Yoda and Plo Koon longer and she seems to spend almost as much time with Obi-Wan as she does Anakin.

By having Ahsoka decide to deal with her feelings about Anakin by just... setting aside all the bad shit he did and focusing ONLY on the good moments that he had and letting that define him, it makes it nearly impossible to separate her from him. If he's good, then it's a GOOD thing to compare her to him. If he's good, then his influence on her HAS to have been a good one. For me, it ruins ANY nuance that could have come from going the opposite direction and recognizing that while he had some good moments, he was in fact an overall bad person who was a terrible teacher to her. He betrayed her, he tried to kill her (and only failed because she was saved by someone else), he abandoned her. I don't care WHAT he did before this, this automatically makes him a BAD TEACHER.

And recognizing that Anakin was a bad teacher would force Ahsoka to look at HERSELF more critically, too, to recognize the places where she has made the same mistakes perhaps, where she's started leading herself down a similar path to his, and then choosing to NOT BE LIKE HIM. Anakin should be (like he is with Luke) the personification of her own darkness. Palpatine represented Anakin's greatest demons and personifications, Anakin can represent something similar for Ahsoka. He is an indisputable part of her now, but she doesn't HAVE to become him, she doesn't have to let that CONTROL her. And by making that choice, she frees herself from being defined by him for the rest of her life.

But now, the narrative has bound Ahsoka to Anakin forever. She'll never be anything more than Anakin's student because this has become what defines her as a person and a character. And it just... it sucks. Ahsoka deserved better than that.

#star wars #ahsoka tano #anti anakin #anti anakin skywalker #anakin critical #anakin skywalker critical #anti ahsoka show #ahsoka show critical

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margowritesthings · 6 months ago

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The French Are Glad To Die For Love

A Bridgerton x Moulin Rouge crossover

pairing: Colin Bridgerton x ? word count: 2.1k words warnings: 18+ minors DNI, un-beta'd, mentions of sex, spitting, lots of debauchery authors note: surpriiise! i have been sitting on this since part 1, so to celebrate part 2 tomorrow here's my new mini-series! i have never written for Colin before, so i'm nervous, but i loved writing this.

i also need your help! i cannot decide if this mini series should be Colin x reader or a Polin fic, where Penelope is Satine. I have created a poll here for you to vote, so please let me know!

and as always, enjoy! it's been a hot minute since I last published, so thank you if you're still here.

Bridgerton Masterlist

The stars sparkle especially brightly tonight, the crimson lanterns guiding Parisians and tourists alike through the winding streets, and Colin Bridgerton stands in awe of it all.

He’d read stories, heard tales of this place during long nights at Whites, but nothing could have quite prepared him for what lay ahead of him, a long string of lights hanging in the sky leading the way to his destination.

The Moulin Rouge.

A house of debauchery and sin, of freedom and truth, filled to the brim with bohemians and artists and beautiful women unlike anything or anyone he’s ever seen before. Even now, 30 feet away from the illuminated windmill, he can hear the music and the joy spilling out from the building. His senses are filled with the perfume of hundreds of women passing him by the minute, all with real, toothy grins he rarely has the pleasure of seeing back home. It is far too impolite to be so happy in London society.

Colin steps forwards, his boots crunching against the gravel and his coattails flying in the breeze. His shoulders brush more wonderfully merry, positively inebriated partygoers on his way in, catching odd fragments of conversations that would have scandalised him and his whole family were he elsewhere.

But he wasn’t elsewhere. He was here, in the city of love, away from anybody who had ever known the name Bridgerton. His clean slate clutched close to his chest, waiting to find out what will be written on it next, Colin feels the fresh air on his face for the last time before his life is changed forever.

The heat hits him first, a symptom he knew all too well of too many people packed into a small space. But unlike every ball he’s been to, this doesn’t feel claustrophobic or fusty. It feels alive.

There is a feast for the eye wherever one looks. Burlesque dancers showing off stockings and garters by kicking their legs up, toes pointing towards the aerial hoops holding acrobats hanging from the ceiling. Gentlemen, if you can call them that in this state, wearing top hats, arm in arm with their glasses raised high, spilling their contents all over the wooden floor.

The music blasts loud from each instrument the band masterfully pluck or blow or bang, but laughter and conversation buzzes amongst the melodies. It is a near overwhelming amount of joy, one Colin certainly could use a drink to wash it down with.

If he could just find the bar…

Bodies fill his view, so entangled in each other it is difficult to tell where one starts and another ends. Frilly skirts flow over the knees of suits as ladies dangle from the necks of patrons, sharing cigars and passing around bottles of an unknown green liquid. Rosy cheeks as far as the eye can see, wether from too much of that green stuff or the exertion of all that dancing, Colin can’t be sure. Between them all, in tiny empty spaces, he can just about make out rows of bottles and glasses.

Weaving through the crowd is like treading through water, but their energy and joy seems to rub off on him. There isn’t a dance card in sight, women choosing their partners themselves whenever they like with a freedom Colin isn’t sure he’s ever seen before. Is this truly what people are designed to be when they are free?

Eventually, his hands find the sticky wood of the bar, quickly lifting themselves back off it on instinct at the sensation. When Colin looks to his left, he sees a woman pouring a shot of liquor between her breasts, a man knelt below her waiting to lick it back up, and he quickly realises why the bar feels so tacky- every surface here seems to be host to someone’s revelry.

“Welcome to the Moulin Rouge, monsieur. Can I get you a drink?”

Colin’s attention is quickly pulled by the welcome, his gaze snapping to a tall French woman dripping with red jewels that compliment her rich brown skin perfectly. She is captivating to be sure, deep hazel eyes commanding Colin’s attention, competing with the most incredible curls of hair he has ever seen. Ladies of the ton are welcome no matter their race back home, but Colin has never seen a lady allowed to wear her hair so beautifully natural before. The Afro framing her face has more tiny rubies that sparkle under the cabaret lights, and Colin is speechless.

“I…uh, pardon me, Miss, I-“ he sighs, giving up entirely at his failed attempt at decorum, “Is it so obvious I have never been here before?”

She laughs, gems twinkling as her head shakes with mirth.

“Not at all, but most gentlemen who have been here before know to wear a top hat. And there’s that look in your eye…”

As she speaks, she pours out one finger of the green liquor Colin has spotted a few times already, sliding it along the wood towards him.

“Wonder. Drink this. It will help with the nerves.”

Colin looks down, finding himself fascinated with a drink that seems to glow of its own volition. He has smoked blends and meditated with world weary travellers from across the globe, drank tea containing unknown substances that left him staring at blades of grass as if they held the worlds secrets, and yet this… whatever it is, seems to terrify him.

The barmaid laughs again, that melodic sound with the real joy Colin very much enjoys.

“It’s only absinthe, monsieur. Loosens the inhibitions, relaxes the body…” she explains, pouring a second out for herself and lifting it to him as if to prove her credibility.

“Santé.” He toasts to health.

“Amour.” She toasts to something far greater.

It leaves no room for argument, and all Colin can do is lift his own glass and tap it against hers.

It burns his tongue, leaving a fiery trail down his throat as he swallows and tries not to cough and splutter. A bitter yet herby anise flavour fights with his taste buds and seems to seep straight into his mind, teasing at those tense knots that held him back from fully immersing himself here.

When his eyes eventually reopen, he finds the barmaid beaming at him, unphased by her own potion. Rather used to it, if she shares a glass with every newcomer, he should think.

“Be careful, though, monsieur. Many a man has spent a night with the stuff and swears he fell in love with a fairy dressed all in green. Ruined him for any other woman for the rest of his life…” She speaks words that belong in fairytale, with a tone containing such severity Colin is inclined to take every single one of them as gospel.

“I dare say I should be careful, then. I do not think this green fairy would want to join the rest of my travels when she can instead entice all of Paris’ men to sin…”

The residue of the liquor smells just as strong as the full measure, which Colin tries to blink out of his senses when he puts the glass back on the bar.

Almost as if society itself had cleared its throat at him, Colin remembers himself, remembers just where he is. Undoubtedly the most unique establishment he had ever set foot in, but an establishment all the same.

“I beg your pardon, miss, I seem to forget myself. How much do I owe you for the drink?”

She considers him.

“Hm, the absinthe I think… for you, a kiss.”

Colin, already pulling coins from his breast pocket, pauses, a little grin tugging at the corner of his lip. The francs clink together when they fall back to the bottom of his pocket, a long forgotten currency of the past. It’s a perfect reminder of just how different things are here, how easily walls crumble between strangers and connection is offered so freely. He has never kissed a woman he has not paid for back home, so afraid of getting too close to another in case they ruin each other. Here, a beautiful woman leans over the bar, offering her flushed cheek for him to softly press his lips against.

And he does.

And it is lovely.

“If any more handsome men capture the eye of Mademoiselle Belle, I will surely be out of business!” A loud, hearty voice pulls Colin from one blissful moment back into the party.

He regards a rather large man, clad in a red tailcoat and stunning golden waistcoat. His top hat, near the same to all the other gentlemen in the room but somehow grander, tops wild orange curls that match a fantastic handlebar moustache. A true ring leader to this wonderful circus of debauchery Colin has found himself in.

“Harold Zidler, at your service. Welcome to the Moulin Rouge.”

“Colin Bridgerton.” He replies, offering a hand that Harold seems bemused at. Unsurprising, considering what passes for currency around here. Nonetheless, Harold shakes the offered hand.

”I must say, your establishment is rather…” he hesitates, unable to find a word in any language he has picked up along his travels that quite captures the Moulin Rouge. Perhaps he could blame the absinthe, or the intoxicating hedonism he feels rooting its way through his mind, hidden in the brass notes from the band and thrown with each cancan kick of one of the dancers that surrounds him.

Luckily, Harold seems well used to this phenomenon.

“Isn’t it? And you have seen nothing yet! I assume you are not from around here?”

”It is rather obvious, I have been told.” Colin adds a glance to Miss Belle, who’s skirt frills bounce in the lights while she shakes up a cocktail. He adds, “London.”

”Well, Monsieur Bridgerton, I promise you that what we have here in the Moulin Rouge is unlike anything you have back home in London.”

Colin’s eye is caught again across the room, as a beautiful woman with blonde tumbling waves spits a drink into a man’s mouth.

“I am inclined to agree with you there.”

It truly is unlike anything back home. Colin has travelled across Europe and back again, seen incredible sights and met wonderful people. He has felt that ease that distance from London society and its unwritten laws and social rules that bind him back home can bring. He’s seen beauty and felt freedom and thought he might have found truth somewhere along the way, but it pales to whatever is contained within these four walls.

In truth, it couldn’t be farther from London society.

”Just wait until you see my Diamond, Monsieur.”

… Perhaps not.

Intrigue hits Colin as Harold pulls out a pocket watch on a brilliant gold chain.

“Your diamond?”

”My Sparkling Diamond. The main attraction of the Moulin Rouge, my most sought after little chickee.” He speaks proudly, with a mist in his eye Colin normally finds on ambitious Mamas at grand balls, secretly trying to auction their daughters off to the highest rank.

“I do not believe she is booked yet for tonight…” Harold adds, that mist darkening, disappearing, leaving a shiver stuck between Colin’s shoulder blades.

Not because this Diamond is a courtesan. Colin is hardly a stranger to the profession, and he bears no judgement. In truth, he admires the women he has been known to spend the night with, finding the courage of living outside society so freely quite brave indeed. No, that shiver came from Harold entirely, Colin just cannot figure out why.

Harold excuses himself, though makes sure Colin knows to stay for the show, and Colin orders a whiskey on the rocks, insisting on paying in cash this time. Though singular in person, he has never felt less alone in his life. Looking around, there isn’t an empty chair in the house. If there were, there wouldn’t be room to put it down for all the dancers and patrons enjoying every ounce of the world they can. Music played straight from the soul ringing in his ears, Colin could make out every instrument. The lights dazzled in his eyes and the spot caught him every so often, lighting his drink up in his hand like golden ambrosia.

And then, darkness. Silence.

A single spot, though the mirrors scattered around catch the light and illuminate the faces of the people around him. Everybody is looking upwards, as if they all know she is coming.

Even if he did know, Colin could never have prepared himself for what he saw when he looked up.

Who he saw.

The Sparkling Diamond, shimmering high on a swing hanging from the ceiling.

The most beautiful, breathtaking, person he has ever seen. In any city, on any continent in the world.

Crimson lips part as each and every person hangs on the breath she takes.

”The French are glad to die for love…”

don't forget to vote in the poll for your fmc!

#bridgerton #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #colin x penelope #polin fic #bridgerton fanfic #colin bridgerton fic #colin bridgerton x you #moulin rouge #moulin rouge x bridgerton

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so-long-soldier-writes · 1 year ago

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Always & Forever

poly!mikaelsons x reader (kol, elijah, & rebekah)

summary: a slip of tongue confession leads to a world of trouble between the mikaelsons and the salvatores. but little do any of them know, it's exactly what was needed to promise a perfect future.

tags: smut, love confessions, mild exhibitionism, lingerie, blood drinking, begging, foursome (no incest), praise kink, choking, vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering, blowjobs, overstimulation, dirty talk, cuddling

word count: 6k

“I think my girlfriend is falling in love with my brother,” Kol says, with a look to each of the Salvatores, “but unlike you two, we’re actually quite capable of sharing women.”

Both scoff, and Stefan rolls his eyes. Damon takes a long sip of bourbon before smirking. “Prove it.”

Three days later, the brothers show up unannounced on the Mikaelsons’ porch, ready to find the proof themselves. Their conversation with Kol didn’t really end; the man just smiled and gave a wink, but didn’t offer any proof to his statement. He left the grill soon after that, too, convincing the Salvatores that he was just a cocky liar. Determined to prove their enemy wrong, they planned a surprise dinner in the other’s own house, specifically choosing a day they know you’ll be there.

It’s a Sunday, and Klaus has been in New Orleans all weekend doing who-knows-what, leaving you alone with the other three siblings. You were originally a loyal friend of Elena’s, until she fell for Damon and you fell for Kol. Ever since then, your friendship has been in shambles and the two of you barely speak. The only reason the brothers were even talking to Kol about you is because you all ran into each other at the grill. You were playing pool with Elijah, while the younger watched from afar. Stefan and Damon approached to pester him about it, only to receive the answer they did.

Now, they were going to prove Kol wrong. They had been through this before with both Katherine and Elena. One woman cannot love both brothers; she will always pick one, and the two will become divided over it. It was only a matter of time for the jealousy to seep through, and neither brother could wait to see it happen.

When they ring the doorbell, it’s Elijah who answers. “What may I help you with, brothers?”

Damon smirks, “we’ve decided to invite ourselves over for dinner. How does that sound?”

“And whatever has given you this idea?”

“Just a talk we had with your little brother the other day. Nothing bad, we promise.”

“Convincing,” he mutters, not at all convinced. “Well, I guess then, come in. I’ll find Kol.”

Kol isn’t hard to find. When Elijah walks into the living room, trailed by the Salvatores, he finds you and your boyfriend curled up together on the couch. Elijah clears his throat, grabbing both of your attentions.

“Oh, look who it is - the less famous brothers,” Kol greets with an attitude. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You don’t say anything, but tense up at the sight of the two. Neither have been pleased with you lately, and their sudden appearance can’t be anything good.

“They have come by for dinner,” Elijah supplies. “Which, luckily enough, should be ready now.”

Just as he predicts, Rebekah comes into the room, hands in oven mitts. “Did I hear the Salvatores are coming over for dinner?” She looks over to them, “oh, and they’re already here. What fun. Y/N, darling, would you please help me carry the dishes to the table?”

You nod quickly, happy to get away from the men.

“You make your sister cook for you?” Damon grunts as you and Bekah disappear.

“No, no, we all take turns. Kol was yesterday. I have tomorrow.”

“But sometimes none of us do and we just sip on blood all night.”

“You feed Y/N blood, too?”

“Well she’s not here every night, unfortunately. But if she is here on a sipping-night, we’ll still make her something,” Kol says sternly, not liking Damon’s tone.

Stefan decides that now is a good time to interrupt. “So what’s Rebekah making?”

“We’ll have to see. Shall we?”

Five minutes later, the six of you are sitting around the table enjoying a steak meal, just red enough to satisfy both vampires and human. The seat you’ve chosen has you between Kol and Rebekah and across from Damon and Stefan, while Elijah, per usual in Klaus’ absence, sits at the head. You can tell he likes sitting there; the head of the table always gives the sitter a feeling of power. Dominance. Like how he dominates the conversation despite Damon’s numerous attempts to try.

“I was just curious about your brother’s whereabouts. What exactly is he doing in New Orleans?”

“It isn’t your place to know about what he’s doing, and frankly, I don’t know every little thing he does either. I’m not his babysitter.”

“But you’ve got to know something.”

“Who am I to tell? It’s not my business, nor yours.”

“So if-”

At this point, the three of you zone out entirely. You have been pestering Kol the whole dinner, but now you’re really starting to bug him, rubbing your foot up and down his leg. The action makes him squirm in his seat, which only encourages you further, and now Rebekah’s giggling at the both of you. In return, Kol lands a hand on your thigh, squeezing it ever so often. You then poke him in the side where you know he’s ticklish.

Little do you know, Rebekah wants to join in, but doesn’t want to cross a line with her brother. Little does she know, you want her to join just as badly.

Meanwhile, the discussion between the others is growing intense. Damon is getting more aggressive; Elijah, more defensive; and Stefan, more anxious.

“This conversation isn’t going anywhere,” he tries, “maybe we should-”

“Klaus goes in and out of Mystic Falls way too often. I like to know where my enemies are, so if he would just stay in one place, that’d be great. He-”

Finally, Stefan cuts his brother off completely. “What I would like to know is if Kol’s words have any truth in them.”

The room silences immediately.

“That’s why we’re here, right, brother?”

Damon stiffens at being interrupted, but then relaxes, a smirk on his face. “Yes, actually.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Elijah cocks his head. “Kol?”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Oh sure you do? What was it? At the bar?”

“We go to the bar fairly often, Damon, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“You don’t remember? Y/N and Elijah were playing pool. You were watching, telling us what was on your heart…”

Kol raises his eyebrows before scoffing. “That.”

“Yes, that.”

“First of all, I wasn’t spilling my heart out to you two dumbasses. There was no heartfelt moment there.”

“Oh, really? I thought we were having a moment.” Damon frowns with a sad puppy dog look. Fake, of course.

“You thought wrong then. I was only sharing an observation.”

“So? Is there any truth in what you said?”

Kol shifts uncomfortably, not liking being on the spot like this.

“Aw, Damon, he’s shy. Let’s give him space.”

“No, hold up,” Kol stops them, “not shy about anything, I just don’t like to put my girl in situations like this.”

At the mention of you, you look up in question.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t talk about ‘your girl’ when she’s not there to hear it.”

By now, Rebekah’s had enough, “whatever are you two daft dimbos on about? Kol would never do anything to hurt her. He loves her. Speaking of which, we all do, so you better not say anything bad.”

“Oh I bet you all do,” Damon smirks again.

“Say what you want and be done with it,” Elijah tenses, “or get out.”

“You want to do the honors?” Damon turns to his brother.

“No, you’re good.”

“Alright.” He stands up as if he were making a speech. “Kol told us that he thinks his girlfriend over here, Miss Y/N, sweet little Y/N, is falling in love with his brother. Then he tried to tell us that you guys are good at ‘sharing women’.” The man laughs, “as someone who’s shared a woman with my brother, that never ends well. One, or all of you, are gonna be real sad when she either picks one and divides you from your family, or leaves you all and never looks back. So I say, pick your poison now, ‘cause it’s gonna happen someday.”

Damon sits back down looking very proud of himself. Kol, on the other hand, looks mortified. You, Bex, and Elijah have no idea what to do with that information. It’s dead quiet for too long.

“Darling,” Kol finally says, “can I talk to you?”

“Of course.”

You leave the table with him, but no one picks up any conversation as you go.

As soon as he gets to the kitchen, he runs the sink water so the vampires in the room over would have a harder time overhearing. He then puts his hands over his face and avoids eye contact with you.

“Darling, I’m so sorry. I hadn’t meant for that to come out the way it did, nor to say it to those two, and I certainly didn’t expect for them to reiterate it straight back at you. I can’t believe I could be so stupid. I’m so sorry. I understand if you hate me for it. I-”

“Kol,” you call him for the fourth time during his rant. This time, though, you take his hands and make him look at you. “You’re not stupid.” He finally looks at you, but doesn’t reply. “And I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. You don’t have to apologize.”

“But I subjected you to their vile jokes. Made you look like a groupie or something to my family.”

You have to stop for a second and giggle. Of course, he’s immediately confused. “Why are you laughing?”

“Did you just use the term, ‘groupie’? That’s so seventies, Kol.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

“No, no, I’m just- I’m sorry. It was just funny to me.”

“What word was I supposed to use?”

You laugh again, “I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, I shouldn’t have used any word, because you’re not that, but I made you look like that to those bloody idiots.”

“Kol, it’s okay. I’m not upset with you. With them, yes, for doing that in front of everyone. But only for your sake, not my own. And besides, I can live with being an original groupie.”

He nods, hearing you’re not upset, but then narrows his eyes. “Wait…”

You swallow hard. “It’s not entirely wrong. I don’t like admitting it, but I’d be lying if I said there was nothing there.” You pause, giving him time to react. He only nods for you to continue. “I know Elijah’s liked me to some extent ever since we started dating. At first, I brushed it off, but the more I’m around you all, the more I find myself starting to like it.”

Not sure how to answer the latter, he starts with the first. “To some extent? Darling, he’s in love with you.”

You half smile, “I know.”

“But?”

“I don’t know how to say this, Kol. It’s weird.”

In one fell swoop, he picks you up and sits you on the bare counter. He stands to be in between your legs, then cups your face with his hands. “It’s alright, Y/N. Tell me.”

“I love you. There’s no doubt about it. I would die for you.”

His heart races. Sure, he’s heard those words a thousand times, but each time, his heart acts the same way. “I love you, too, darling. Nothing you could say would make me love you less.”

“Good, because I don’t want to lose you. I want to love you for eternity. But… you’re right.” You take a deep breath. “I’m also falling for your brother.”

Kol doesn’t seem fazed by this. If anything, he seems relieved.

“Are you okay?”

“I was afraid you were going to say you wanted him instead.”

Your eyes go wide, “no! Baby, no way. But… if it’s something you’re okay with, I wouldn’t mind being an original groupie.”

He laughs at your choice of words. “That is certainly something I am okay with. You can love whomever you like. I’m just glad you still love me, too.”

“I will always love you, Kol.”

He kisses you deeply, bringing a hand to your back to steady you. “And I love you. And like I said, I am willing to share my girl if it makes her happy. Plus, I trust my brother to keep you and your heart safe.”

You smile, then bite your lip.

“What is it?”

“One more question.”

“Hm?”

“Do you trust your sister, too?”

“You’re in love with Bex, too?”

You can only shrug. A blush rises to your cheeks.

He shakes his head playfully. “Of course I trust my sister. Let’s say this: I trust my family with my girl and her heart.”

“Sounds good,” you peck his lips, then his nose.

“Soooo… do you want to go back out and prove to Damon and Stefan that my family can both share and protect women better than they can?”

“Certainly,” you pop off the counter with Kol’s hands on your waist. “And I can’t wait to see the look on Bex’s and ‘Lijah’s faces when I kiss them unexpectedly.”

You little troublemaker,” he grins as he turns off the faucet, “you fit into this family perfectly.”

◇◇◇◇

A chat about the weather is the only conversation happening when you re-enter the dining room. A big sigh of relief comes from everyone when they see you.

“I hope you’re willing to pay the water bill next month, Kol, because that was a long time to have it running.”

“Relax, brother. Y/N and I were just having a little chat.”

“Oh really?” Damon smirks, “did she slap you for what you said about her? Because that would be well deserved.”

“On the contrary, Damon,” you say, returning to your chair. Kol sits in his, though you only stand behind yours. “It actually gave us time to talk about some things that probably wouldn’t have been brought up otherwise.” As you talk, you make your way to Elijah’s side, putting your hands on his shoulders.

“Ah, and what would that be, Miss Y/N?”

You grin, “why talk about it when I can show you?” Before Damon can answer, you trail your fingers along the man’s face to his chin, feeling the stubble along his jaw. The group sees your eyes roll back in your head, then they watch you move to stand in front of him. “Hi,” you say, blushing mad.

He mouths, ‘what are you doing?’

You’re too giddy to answer; it’d probably come out in a stutter. So, you only smile instead. Then, bending slightly, you lean forward, grabbing and pulling on his tie in the process, and kiss him passionately. His body goes limp immediately, satiated by your kiss after wanting it for so long. The fact that you have him by his tie, dominating him just a bit, doesn’t help his case. Your other hand rises back to his jaw, holding him in place. After a second, the reality of the matter kicks in and he kisses back, bringing his own hands up to your face gently.

Seated directly behind you are Kol and Bex, half of their attention on the scene, and half on the lingerie peeking out from under your skirt. Kol knows damn well you did that on purpose, and he feels himself getting hard at the thought. As for Rebekah, she’s conflicted. She’s not sure if she’s allowed to feel the warmth in her core that you’re making her feel, or if she’s allowed to steal a glance at the black garter adorning your thighs. She tries to poke her brother to ask, but every time she moves her finger, one of the Salvatores glance over to see the younger two’s reaction.

After about a minute, you let go of Elijah and lick your lips. You then stand up and smirk at the brothers. “What would that be, you ask? Well, it gave me a chance to tell my loving boyfriend,” you’ve made your way back to Kol now. Once you’re behind him, you turn his head toward you with a finger on his chin, then kiss him with the same intensity. “That, not only do I love him, but also that I’m falling in love with his brother, as he suspected.” Then you grin again, “but what he didn’t know, but also just learned, is that I’m also falling in love with his sister, too.” After confessing, you bend over to kiss Rebekah as you did Elijah, with your lace set partially on display for the man. His eyes catch it instantly and become locked on you. Meanwhile, Kol, in touching distance, grabs onto your thigh. His hand almost disappears under your skirt completely. The sudden feeling makes you moan into Rebekah’s mouth, causing her to grab the back of your neck and kiss you harder.

Eventually, a cough from Stefan pulls you out of the make-out session. You stop and take your seat back, though Kol’s hand doesn’t leave your body.

“Wow,” he comments with nothing else to say.

Damon, of course, has a reply. “Since you’re sharing, you can give us a kiss, too,” he mocks.

“Nu uh,” you wiggle a finger, “I’m reserved for Mikaelsons only. Plus, I don’t think your girlfriend would like that too much.”

He rolls his eyes. “Only playing.”

“So,” Stefan starts, rather awkwardly. “Dinner was great, Rebekah. Was I wrong to assume you’d be serving dessert tonight, too?”

“Not entirely,” she stands, “I did make one for us. Though it seems you’ll be the only ones eating it, for I already had mine just now.”

She’s on her way to the kitchen when you chuckle, “there’s no way that filled you up, Bex. That was just an appetizer. Trust me, dessert’s way better.” You give her a wink.

The girl’s knees nearly give out. “Is it now?”

You’re about to answer when a squeak leaves your lips instead. Kol’s moved his hand from your thigh to having a finger on your clit. He puts the lightest bit of pressure on it, then says, “she’s right, sister. Dessert’s much better.”

Rebekah goes completely red and hurries to the kitchen to hide her face. Elijah, on the other hand, swallows hard. He’s not sure how he feels about doing something like this with the Salvatore brothers watching. He knows that Kol is, and always has been, rather wild, but this? And if he’s going to be allowed to touch and pleasure you for the first time, he doesn’t want them there. Nor should they be so honored to see your body unclothed; that should be a sight only for those chosen by you.

Elijah’s tempted to pull Kol aside and bring up these concerns, but that would require leaving you alone with the Salvatores. That is something he’d much rather not do. Luckily, Rebekah comes back just in time.

“For you two, who don’t get to share the beautiful Y/N,” she smirks. “Please, feel free to take it home with you so we can get on with private business here.”

Elijah relaxes at her words, but then stiffens again at Damon’s.

“Oh no, we were promised that you could maintain a four way relationship and not fight. We are going to see this through.”

“That was never included, Damon,” Kol snaps, “all you were promised was that we could, not that you could see it. All you’re allowed to see of my girl is what she allows you to see.”

“Your girl?”

“Don’t push it. You’ve already pushed it by welcoming yourselves here anyway. And yes, she is my girl. Just because she shares her love doesn’t mean she’s not still my girl.”

“How do you feel about that?” The man nods to you. “A family of vampires sharing you?”

You giggle as Kol pulls you into his lap. “I don’t know if this has escaped you, Damon, but I gave in before either of these two did. I love them all as much as they do me.”

“Until you fall more in love with one and break the rest of their hearts.”

“I am not Katherine. I’m fully capable of loving them without hurting them. Just you see,” you challenge, a glint in your eyes.

The brothers look to Elijah, knowing he’s been through the ringer with Katherine as well. To their dismay, he’s smiling. “The girl is right. She isn’t Katherine. She has a similar fire, yet is much more kind. Maybe if you two had been so lucky to stumble upon her first, you’d learn that not all women are like Katherine.” Before Damon can argue, he continues, “fortunately for us, and rather unfortunately for you, she’s ours.”

Stefan’s about to comment, but then he sees you smirking. The glint in your eyes, still apparent, and sharp like a dagger, as if daring him to try to convince you otherwise. At that moment, he decides it’s not even worth it to try. He turns towards his brother. “Well. Guess we have to let them figure it out on their own.”

“Guess so.”

Not long after that, the Salvatores are finally out the door, Rebekah’s pies in hand. Damon makes it very clear that if he isn’t allowed to see the action, that he is certainly taking the dessert he is allowed to have. And, he isn’t going to make any effort in returning Rebekah’s pans, either.

“Whatever, don’t care about the pans, go away,” you say, pushing them out the door. “Bye now!” You lock it the minute they’re out. Then, you turn around to face the three vampires looking at you. “Hi.”

“Hello, darling. Quite a pickle you’ve found yourself in,” Kol smiles at you.

Rebekah takes a step towards you. “Are you sure you can handle all three of us, love? It is a lot to handle.” She seems more like she’s challenging you into submission rather than actually asking you the question. You’ve proven you want all of them, now it’s just a matter of seeing if you can catch up.

Your answer is on the tip of your tongue - an equally sassy reply that will tell her everything she needs to know. But then Elijah approaches you with a comment before you can say it.

“Maybe we should talk about this first. Y/N-”

“Oh, enough talking,” you walk over to him, “haven’t we been talking all night?”

His lips curl into a smile, “guess we have. Is this really what you want?”

“Yes, ‘Lijah.”

“Then you shall have it.”

You give three seconds. Three seconds to search his eyes for any hesitation. Three seconds for anyone to speak up with a counter. Nothing. Not a second after is wasted as you rise to your toes to kiss him again. He kisses back deeply, tapping your waist for you to jump. He holds you in place with strong arms, fighting everything to not push you up against the wall. He knows if he does, his siblings will protest.

The protest comes anyway.

“Elijah, you’re stealing the girl,” Rebekah whines.

With a sigh, he speeds you over to the nearest room and sets you down on the bed. As he catches his breath from the adrenaline, Rebekah wastes no time rushing to you and peppering you in kisses. Kol’s not far behind, laying you down the minute Bex comes up for air. Your head rests in his lap while he plays with your hair. Elijah quickly comes back into play, feeling the fabric that is the only thing separating them from seeing you wholly. You make eye contact and nod to him, and instantly, your clothes are torn from your body.

“Gorgeous,” you hear him mutter, running his hands from your stomach down your legs.

“Say,” Kol snickers, “what about this lingerie, darling? Was that on purpose?”

You bite your lip, “knew I’d get you by the end of the night. Didn’t think this would happen.” You nestle your head into him, “but I’m not complaining.”

He grins, “was a lovely surprise to a boring dinner.”

“I’ll second that,” Rebekah bounces her eyebrows at you, making you giggle.

“Kol,” Elijah calls to his brother.

You and the boy look up.

“Switch places. She’s been with you, knows you best. For her first time with all three of us, let’s give her something familiar.”

The boy nods, and you’re secretly thankful for the man’s suggestion. As much as you’re loving this, it’s all very new, and something familiar is greatly appreciated.

“Thank you,” you mutter to Elijah as he takes Kol’s spot in supporting your head.

“Of course, baby. I love you.”

You smile, “I know. I love you, too.”

“You know? How, may I ask?”

“I’ve known since the minute I met you.”

His eyes soften from shock as everything sinks in. You knew he loved you, yet you were dating his brother. But now, they both have you, and Bex, too. Bex, who, at the moment, is giving you a hickey on the neck.

Elijah realizes this and immediately chides, “don’t bite her, Rebekah.”

“Relax, it’s only a hickey. People do it all the time.”

You giggle, “it’s true, ‘Lijah. But I don’t mind if you bite. Kol’s fed from me.”

“He has?” The girl stops her ministrations to read your face.

“Mhm. I trust him, and eventually, he started to trust himself.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” She jokes.

“I’m right here, Bekah.”

“You’ve fed from her?” She asks again, still shocked.

“Show her, Kol,” you smile up at him. During the last minute of your conversation with the two, he’s been teasing your entrance with his cock, making sure you’re wet enough to fit comfortably.

He bites his lip, debating it, but can’t say no to your face. “Alright, darling. Count of three.” He lines himself up, then covers your body with his own, positioning his teeth right at your neck. “3… 2… 1.” At one, he sinks his teeth in and pushes his cock into your heat at the same time. Your eyes roll back into your head with pleasure as he begins to rock inside you, finding a pace. Kol only drinks for a few seconds before detaching, because he knows Bex will want to try too, if you’ll let her.

“Not long enough, baby,” you say immediately.

“Give Bekah a try,” he nods to his sister, sitting back up.

Rebekah’s still in shock at her brother’s self control, but snaps out of it when you give her the ‘okay’.

“‘Lijah, you too.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“I need it,” you beg.

“She’ll beg you all night,” Kol warns. “Better to give in than deny what you know you both want.”

The argument is convincing. Elijah gives in, taking your wrist. At the same time, he and Bex bite down - her at the other side of your neck - and begin to drink. Kol slows his pace as they do, taking a minute to look into your eyes. I love you, he mouths. You mouth it back.

Seconds later, they come off, too. Elijah wastes no time bringing his own blood to your lips, healing your wounds completely.

“Thank you,” you smile at him.

“Mhm, thank you, girl,” Rebekah interrupts, “you’re bloody amazing.”

Elijah returns your smile, nodding to you.

As soon as you meet his eyes, Kol picks up his pace again until he finds the one you usually like. Though Bex beats him to rubbing your clit, so he uses both hands to hold onto your waist instead. Elijah takes to kissing you hungrily, his hands digging into your scalp. You’re so overstimulated with pleasure, yet it feels so good.

After a bit of this, you start to pant, running out of breath.

“What do you like, baby?” Elijah asks, not wanting to tire you out with kisses.

“Play with her boobs,” Kol suggests, “makes her crazy.”

“Does it now?”

“She’s cum just by me sucking on them at times.”

“Kol!” You whine.

“Don’t get shy now, darling! Little late for that, don’t you think?”

You shut your mouth tight as the three smirk at you. Elijah then repositions his body to sit more to your side, giving him better access to your chest. He makes sure to put a pillow under your head where he had been sitting, then wastes no time playing with your tits, holding, cupping, and squeezing them. The feeling is so good it makes you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Darling,” Kol mutters, swiping your lip and putting his finger in his mouth, “don’t hold back your pretty little sounds from them. Let them hear what I get to hear from you.” As soon as he says that, he pounds into you hard without warning. You cry out in a strangled moan before you can stop yourself. “Just like that, yes,” he praises. “Good girl.”

Bex immediately picks up on how you react to Kol’s praise and tries it for herself. “Hey, girlie, can you do that for me, pretty please?” She puts more pressure on your clit, touching you exactly how you like.

“Awh,” you moan, “like that, keep doing that. Feels so good, Bex. I- I’m close.”

Meanwhile, Elijah’s transitioned from using hands to using his mouth to stimulate your breasts. He tugs on a nipple with his teeth while pulling the other between his fingertips.

“Fuck, ‘Lijah. Shit. I- I-” whatever you were going to say is cut off by another moan. This spurs the man on, Bex too, and they continue at their paces.

You then turn your attention to Kol. “Right- right there. Perfect. Close. I’m close. Kol?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Cum with me, okay? Please, please, please.” You know begging will do it instantly. Another thing that will make you both cum fast- “and here,” you point to your neck. “Please.”

“Which one?”

“Pick.”

“You pick this time.”

“Kol, I can’t.”

“Can I put them up to the challenge?”

You nod ferociously, desperate for anything.

“Choke or bite, she wants.”

The siblings go still. Neither feel good about choking you, and they’ve already fed.

“Kol, please,” you beg again, “I’m so close.”

“Okay, darling.” He thrusts deeper to crawl back across your body, then holds you in place by the neck as you get closer to your high. In the midst, Bex continues her pleasure on you, while Elijah keeps at his. Then, mere seconds later, you cum hard. A string of curse words that ends as a moan falls out of your mouth. Black spots cloud your vision, due to Kol’s hands on your neck, or the overstimulation, or both, you’re not sure, but you love it. You whine all the way through your orgasm, legs shaking and heart beating rapidly. Shortly after you, Kol cums too, and it takes everything in him not to collapse onto your body. After the two of you ride out your highs, everyone begins to ease up in their pleasuring.

“Not done,” you pant, out of breath still. You crawl up a little ways on the bed to lean against the headboard and its numerous pillows.

“What do you mean, ‘not done’? Girl, I’d think you’d be tired,” Bex says, incredulous.

You answer her by slipping your hand into her pants, feeling for her heat, and inserting a finger. You then unzip her jeans for better access, making her melt instantly.

“Fuck, Y/N,” she whines. When you curl your fingers, she moans louder.

Once you have her where you want her, you move your other hand to the man beside you, rubbing his hard-on through his suit pants. “‘Lijah, come here.”

“You don’t have to pleasure me, baby, I’m alright.”

“Again,” Kol interrupts, “she’ll beg you all night if you don’t let her.”

You smirk up at Elijah, proving Kol’s words true. The man tries to fight it, but desire takes over him. He’s slow to pull himself out, still a bit unsure. You gesture him closer and closer until you’re able to pleasure both him and Bex at the same time.

“I’d rather you straddle my head, ‘Lijah, so I can get you wet, and more comfortable,” you say in between breaths. The man goes red in the face. Never have you ever seen Elijah embarrassed. Neither, apparently, have his siblings.

Bex grins, “brother! You’ve gone shy to Y/N’s dirty talk! I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t seeing it.”

You giggle, the girl egging you on now, “I promise it would be much better. Come on.”

Again, he hesitates, but ultimately gives in. You smile as he moves in front of you, not exactly straddling you, but comes at least close enough that you can take him in your mouth. Immediately, you circle your tongue over his tip, sucking slightly in certain places. He lets out a breathy moan which makes you crave him more. Soon, you find a vein on his underside that is especially sensitive, so you tease him by dragging your tongue along it, before finally taking him in full once he’s wet enough.

When you find your pace with Elijah, you refocus your attention back to Rebekah, continuing the curling of your fingers, but also stimulating her clit. You’d love to put your tongue on her, too, but in its absence, you move your fingers inside her instead. Wetness drips from her, pooling onto the bed. Hers, thankfully. She rocks her hips against your hand, holding onto your hip for support. Little whines leave her lips, one after another.

Meanwhile, Kol’s attention is on your clit, driving you to overstimulation yet again. He flicks his tongue against it while keeping two fingers buried inside you. It’s only a matter of time before you all explode from the intense pleasure. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d probably place a bet on it.

Not two minutes later do the second round of orgasms come, and they do in quite a domino effect. Kol blows cool air on your clit and immediately, it sends you into pleasure. You start shaking again, well beyond satiated. Bex is then triggered by your orgasm, having her own not a second after, and having it be just as intense. Her mess is made bigger, cum obvious on the sheets, and she can’t help but giggle. Bex giggling causes the same reaction out of you, to which Elijah’s final stimulation is the vibration from your mouth, and he has his own orgasm. He tries to pull out, but a shared look of eye contact comforts him, knowing you’re okay with it. Once you’ve swallowed it, you loosen your suction from his cock and allow him to pull out completely. He can’t help but to kiss you when you open your mouth to prove it’s all gone.

As soon as you all come down from your highs, one-by-one you collapse on the bed, exhausted. Bex and Elijah are on your sides, while Kol’s between your legs, his head on your chest.

“That was,” Elijah pauses, catching his breath.

“Perfect,” Rebekah finishes for him.

“Quite the girl she is,” Kol says, kissing your tits.

“Need to take care of her back,” Elijah tries to get up.

You hold him down, though, “no, no, stay with me. We do that later. Cuddle for now.”

“Y/N-”

“No, we cuddle for now. I need that more.”

“Okay, baby. We’ve got you.” He settles back down into your side, letting out a long, peaceful sigh.

A second later, a camera snaps.

“Who’s that?” Everyone peers an eye open, except for the one who’s guilty.

“Whoops, sorry.” Kol smirks, “going to send Damon proof that not only are we capable of sharing, but also, that we have the best bloody girlfriend in the world.”

“You’re such a little shit,” you ruffle his hair because he’s too out of reach to kiss. “But I love you. I love all of you.”

“I love you, too, darling.”

“Me too,” Bex yawns.

“We will love you, Y/N, always and forever.”

And you all did love each other, always and forever.

#poly!mikaelsons #poly!mikaelsons x reader #kol mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x reader #rebekah mikealson x reader #tvd fanfiction #i'm not crazy about the summary #but i can promise you it's smutty

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sunkiss3dlily · 10 months ago

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to you, i'm just a man (to me, you're all i am) part three | joel miller x reader

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3604

Summary: You find yourself in trouble with David and his people, and you decide to sacrifice yourself for the ones you love the most.

Note(s): Okay, you guys are gonna hate me but I decided to make it four parts as, once again, the third part became too long, but I promise, the fourth will be the last part! I hope this sets you up for the grand ending we are all waiting for haha! Thank you for all the support! And as always feedback is appreciated, but please be respectful! Please give me any (detailed, please!) requests in my inbox or comments if you have any, I would love to hear them! Thank you so much for reading! ♡

Taglist: @wonwoosthetic @paleidiot @orcasoul @slut4mascss @paqerings @missladym1981

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

Fiery orange embers adorned the stack of logs before you. David sat just behind them, opposite you, while the lifeless form of the prized buck lay on the floor, maintaining the distance between you and David.

"You weren't kidding about being a good shot," David complimented, rubbing his hands together by the fire he had made in the centre of the abandoned shack where you two had taken shelter while waiting for James to return with the medicine. "You must've had a lot of practice with a weapon like that, huh? Someone in your group teach you?"

You, for one, did not appreciate his attempts at small talk and straightened up, keeping your rifle balanced on your lap, aiming straight at him just in case. You rolled your eyes slightly, keeping an eye out for the other man, James, in case he tried to sneak up on you.

"You're not one to trust easily; I get it. I've been there." He nods, and you narrow your gaze back towards him. His attempt to relate to you did little to ease your skepticism. The flickering flames danced across his face, casting shadows that only deepened your suspicion. He let out a breath. "Do you believe in God?"

You let out a scoff of disbelief that he was asking you that question.

"I know, I know," he chuckled. "Weird time to find religion, especially with it being the end of days and all, but I've... I've seen and felt things—things that cannot be explained. It's like there's a force out there guiding me and protecting me." He notices your unamused expression and shrugs. "Call it what you want, but I choose to believe in God and his will, and by acclaiming that faith, he has shown me that everything happens for a reason."

An odd chill that isn't just the breeze of the cold wind rises on your skin, multiplying the goosebumps by a hundred. You shift uncomfortably in your seat.

"Like us, meeting in the woods today—maybe, just maybe, our paths crossed for a good reason. Perhaps our meeting was for a greater purpose."

You raise your eyebrows, yeah right. "What, like some divine intervention?"

David nods, his eyes filled with a glimmer of excitement that unsettles you to the core. "Exactly. Like some sort of divine intervention. Call it coincidence if you will, but I believe there is a plan in motion, and our meeting is a part of it. Maybe we are meant to help each other in some way. It may sound far-fetched, I know, but sometimes life surprises us in the most unexpected ways."

An exasperated sigh passes your lips, and it is evident that you are not playing into David's hand by opening up to him.

He clears his throat, sitting up, and this grabs your attention instantly, your hands tightening once more on the rifle. "I can prove it to you, if you like."

"Prove what?"

He smiles and gestures aimlessly: "I can prove that everything happens for a reason, that you and I were meant to meet each other this way."

You gaze back at him with a stoic expression, clearly unamused by the direction of the conversation. However, beneath the surface of your irritation, a subtle pulse of unease begins to intensify, growing more palpable with each passing second in this man's presence.

David leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving yours, as if trying to imprint his words on your mind. "You see, we didn't expect this winter to be so cruel. Nothing'll grow. The game's been hard to find, but I'm sure you know all about that." He paused, letting the weight of his words linger before continuing. "So I sent four of our people to a nearby town to scavenge what they could."

A shiver ran down your spine, and you tightened your grip on the rifle, sensing there was more to this story.

"And only three of them came back." David's eyes gleamed in the flickering firelight, his voice taking on a sinister edge. "The one who didn't make it was a father. A man with a daughter, just a teenager. Can you imagine the pain of losing your father in these times?" He let the question hang in the air, studying your reaction.

Your heart raced, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach as your thoughts unconsciously wandered to Ellie and Joel.

"You see," he continued, leaning back slightly but maintaining an unsettling gaze, "it turns out he was murdered. Murdered by this crazy man."

Another heavy pause lingered in the air, his words sinking in, and you could sense the direction this conversation was taking, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

"And get this." David's tone took on a chilling cadence. "That crazy man was traveling with a little girl and a woman that looked just like you."

In a swift motion, you rose to your feet, rifle poised, and aimed squarely at him, your finger coiling around the trigger.

A contented smile painted itself across his face, and he playfully shook his head in amusement. "See? Fate has a way of guiding us."

Your heart raced, a symphony of adrenaline orchestrating its frantic beats as the thought of Ellie having to defend herself and Joel against who knows how many of those men right now consumed you. "You've been watching us all this time?"

David casually brushed aside the notion with a nonchalant shake of his head. "No, not at all. Just you, just today, just by chance. You see, it wasn't planned, but here we are nonetheless."

The panic inside you was something you hadn't felt in a long, long time. You felt utterly terrified, though your tone was angry as you gritted out, "Where the fuck is your friend? If he's so much as—"

David's eyes glinted with calculated charm as he interrupted your brewing anger with a sly smile. 'I told you, we are not here to cause you or your little girl any harm. We can protect you, both of you. Isn't that right, James?'

You turn rapidly, only now noticing James standing in the doorway, rifle raised and trained on you. You wish you'd had the common sense to remove the bullets when he left. Taking a step back, you aim the rifle back at David but keep your eyes trained on James. "Shoot me and I'll take your fucking preacher down with me."

James glares back at you, though his hold on the rifle is shaky. "You killed Alec."

"She didn't kill anyone, James," David calls, redirecting the taller man's attention back to him. "Lower the gun."

James looks as though he is going to argue, but David shakes his head, and so James concedes.

"Did you bring the medicine?" You ask, keeping your gaze flitting between both men equally so neither of them can catch you off guard. James nods his head once under the watchful eye of David. "Toss it over here."

To your surprise, the bag is tossed your way almost immediately, and you clutch it desperately in one hand, feeling the bottles and syringe against your icy fingers as your heart races. You take a few steps back, watching them both cautiously.

"He's sick, isn't he? The man?" David speaks with a feigned sincerity as he moves to stand up. "You know, he's the only one we need. You and the little one can make it out unscathed if you just hand him over. It's not like he's going to make it out anyway."

You ignore his words, stepping back slowly, the snow hitting you almost immediately as you make it out of the shack. You gesture your gun towards both of them, "I'm leaving, and if I ever see either of you again, I'll fucking kill you."

"It doesn't need to be like this," David calls, still trying to persuade you despite your threat. "You and your daughter can join us, no questions asked. You still have a chance."

You fire a warning shot at James' boot, the impact jolting him with pain. His rifle reacts, rising in response, but you're already hurtling back through the trees. Desperation fuels your every step as you race through the clearing, the silent prayer to any deity echoing in your mind – a fervent wish that Joel and Ellie will still be alive when you reach them.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

You descend the basement steps with ragged, labored breaths, catching Ellie off guard as she tends to Joel's semi-conscious form, gently offering sips of water.

"Where the fuck were you?" Ellie demands, her red-rimmed eyes reflecting her worry. "You were gone for hours!"

You shake your head, having no time to properly respond, dropping to your knees beside the mattress where Joel lies. You lift his coat and shirt, revealing the wound that looks even worse than before.

Ellie abandons her attempts to moisturize Joel's lips, watching as you retrieve a syringe and a bottle of penicillin from the bag James gave you. "What is that? Where did you get it?"

"Penicillin. It'll help with the infection," your breathing is shaky, and you can tell your demeanor unsettles Ellie. Ignoring her second question, you are too panicked to care. "Shit. Where do I put this?"

Ellie looks at you, dumbfounded, before turning to Joel and shaking his shoulder gently. "Hey, man, where do we put this? Joel? Joel!"

You draw liquid into the syringe while Ellie attempts to wake Joel, desperately wracking your brain for any inkling of an idea on where to administer it. However, the looming threat of David and James has put you on high alert, making it challenging to think straight. With an unsteady breath, you declare, "Okay. I'm gonna put it in the wound."

"Yeah, o-okay," Ellie nods, not entirely confident in your idea. "You got this."

Her words, albeit sweet, do nothing to reassure you.

"Fuck," you mumble, reaching over to clasp Joel's limp hand in yours. "Please don't let this be the thing that kills you."

His hand twitches slightly as you make contact, but you are too preoccupied with angling the syringe correctly to notice.

You press down onto the plunger as the syringe makes contact, and Joel's hand tightens on your own, weakly, yet the first proper sign of life in so long you could weep. "I'm here," you murmur, more for your own assurance. You made it in time."I'm sorry," an apology for the pain you are causing him physically, but secretly an even bigger apology for him being the injured one. If it had been you, you wouldn't want them risking their lives like this for you. You'd want them to move on, but you couldn't, and wouldn't, stop trying for him. For him and Ellie.

He groans faintly, and his grip on your hand loosens entirely as you finish plunging the medicine into his wound, steadily retracting the syringe and covering him back up, tucking him under his coat carefully. You lay a hand over his forehead and feel he is still quite hot, but hope that the medicine will start fighting against his fever soon enough.

As you settle down onto your knees beside the mattress with a shaky breath, you look up to meet Ellie's eyes. "No one came here while I was gone? You didn't hear anyone outside?"

"No," she shakes her head, her eyes filling with that familiar fear that you've only seen a few times in her usually bright eyes. "We're not safe here, are we?"

You breathe out shakily, debating on whether to lie or be honest. You slowly shake your head, deciding that it was best for her safety if she knew what was really going on. "I met two men in the woods. They knew who I was, what Joel did to that man. They were members of his group."

"They want to kill us?" Ellie asks after a beat of silence, looking down at the floor to avoid your gaze and to avoid you noticing her fear.

"Not us," and that is all you need to say for Ellie to understand.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

You administered another dose of penicillin to Joel's wound after a couple of hours, fumbling blindly in the dark. As you repeated the motion of clasping his hand in yours, you felt the familiar warmth of his grip in return. This time, it seemed just a little bit stronger, though that might have been your exhausted and desperate mind playing tricks on you.

"You'll wake me if anything happens, right?" Ellie's voice cut through the darkness, causing you to visibly flinch as you were checking Joel's temperature, your hand tensing against his cool skin. She seemed to sniffle before speaking again. "You won't just leave?"

Clearing your throat softly, you replied, "I won't just leave, I promise. But you need to get some rest. We might have to start moving tomorrow, whether Joel is ready or not. We'll have to make our way back to Jackson to get him some proper help."

Silence followed, and you found yourself lying down beside Joel, shuffling as close to him as the floor allowed.

"Are they going to come for us?" Ellie's voice startled you a few minutes later. You did your best to calm your racing heart before responding. "I don't... I don't know. They might try, which is why we need to start moving as soon as possible."

"You didn't kill them? The two men."

You sighed, closing your eyes. "No, I didn't."

"Why not?"

You didn't know. Something niggled at you with the realisation that maybe you should've.

"Goodnight, Ellie."

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

Sleep eluded you that night, despite pressing close to Joel and feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your palm. Even the reassurance of your rifle's presence, just a quick flex of your fingers away, failed to bring the peace you sought.

As the morning rays beamed overhead, the burden of exhaustion settled throughout your body. Yet, giving up wasn't an option—not now, not after everything.

Drawing another dose of penicillin into the syringe, you administered it into Joel's wound with an exhausted expression. Closing your eyes, you pressed slowly down on the plunger, dozing for a moment until you felt fingers wrap around your wrist.

It was so gentle that it barely phased you until you finished pressing the plunger down. Opening your eyes, you found a large hand clasping your wrist. Without much hesitation, you wrapped your free hand around Joel's hand and looked at his face, relief blooming in your chest.

'"Joel," you whispered softly, careful not to disturb the sleeping Ellie next to him. His eyes were half-lidded, maybe even less, but they remained fixed on you. Squeezing his hand gently, you observed as his lips parted, though no audible sound emerged. "It's okay; you're okay. Just rest. We're right here. I'll get you through this, I promise."'

After covering his wound and tucking the coat back around him, you released his hand and settled back down beside him. His head turned in your direction, eyes still open, and he gazed at you with an expression that eluded your understanding. Yet, you could discern a softening of his features as he looked in your direction, as if looking at you brought him some comfort.

His fingers twitched in the corner of your eye, and upon closer inspection, you found them almost outstretched. Gently reaching down, you intertwined your fingers with his, and he responded with a reassuring squeeze.

Tearfully, you lowered your head and pressed it against his shoulder, your hand still intertwined with his on the mattress. "Thank you for holding on," you murmured into his shirt. "Just a little longer, okay? Just until I can get you back to Jackson."

You feel him nod, and as you look up, you notice his eyes are beginning to close fully once more. You squeeze his hand, and for a moment, you feel his cold thumb gliding along the back of your palm in a soothing motion until he falls back to sleep, his hand still in yours.

Smiling faintly into his shoulder, you follow him into the realm of sleep.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

The frantic call of your name jolts you awake, tearing you from the easiest slumber you've experienced in days. Instantly, you sit up, watching as Ellie races down the staircase, mirroring the urgency you displayed just the day before.

"Ellie? What's happening?" Your voice, thick with sleep, responds, momentarily forgetting the looming threat of David and James.

She clutches Joel's rifle, urgency etched across her face. "They're here, the raiders. There's a whole group."

Panic courses through your veins as you quickly shake off the remnants of sleep, your mind racing to formulate an action plan. "Did they see you?" She looks too panicked to respond, her gaze fixed on the staircase. "Ellie? Focus! Did they see you?"

"No, no, I ran back here before they could." Ellie blurts out, her eyes flicking back up the staircase. "They've got guns and—fuck, my footprints. They're going to track us here."

You know she's right.

"I'll lead them away," you decide almost immediately, moving to stand up but stopping when there is a light tug on the bottom of your coat. You turn, seeing Joel looking up at you with an intense desperation in his eyes. He struggles to speak, just like before, but with the way he shakes his head, you can already tell what he is trying to convey. "I have to, Joel. I have to! I'll... I'll lead them away, and if... if I don't come back, then that'll give you both enough time to get on Callus and start back to Jackson."

His eyes plead with you, but you turn away, and Ellie's face is panic-stricken in the same way.

"They'll fucking kill you!" Ellie argues. "We need to stay. We can't go without you!"

"You have to, Ellie. You have to."

Another firm tug on your coat, and you turn back to look at Joel. His eyes are watery, and his mouth opens, but all he can utter is, "Stay."

You shake your head, fighting back your own tears. "It's going to be okay. I'll... I'll find my way back to Jackson somehow."

He shakes his head, and you bite your lip to hold back a sob. You reach down, intertwining your fingers. He holds them without a second thought, and then you squeeze.

Once. I.

Twice. Love.

Thrice. You.

Through your tears, you manage a smile as his body tenses in realization. Before he can react, you gently pull away from his grip and stand up, taking your rifle in stride. You can't bring yourself to look back at Joel, even as you hear him attempt to utter your name numerous times in a hoarse voice. It's torture, but you force yourself to hold back.

"Ellie." You stand in front of her, and she avoids meeting your eyes until you gently place a hand on her shoulder. That's when you notice the tears swimming in her eyes. "It's going to be okay, okay?"

Her lip wobbles, but she nods, replying shakily, "Yeah."

"You're so special, Ellie. You're going to change the world; I already know it." You assure her softly, cupping her cheek. She leans into the touch—the gentlest she's ever known. "But do as I said, alright? Don't you dare follow me. Stay with Joel, give him another dose of the penicillin, and get both of you back on Callus if I don't make it back. Then, just get the fuck out of here. Don't look back, okay? Not for a second."

She attempts to say your name in a pleading tone, but you silence her with a shake of your head.

"Promise me, Ellie," you implore. "Promise me that you will not follow me, please."

She nods, and her lip trembles so much that you can't resist pulling the teenager into your arms. One of your arms wraps around her shoulder, while your other hand rests against her ponytail, running your fingers through her dark locks as if for the last time. Neither of you had ever embraced each other before, but it feels right now. Ellie means something to you now. Joel means something to you now. You have to do this for them.

"I have to go," you murmur, gently pulling away from the hug. Ellie frantically wipes away the tears sliding down her cheeks as you smile sadly at her. Without finding the strength to turn around and say a proper goodbye, you rush up the staircase, closing the door behind you. Leaning against it, you let out a soft sob, grappling with the thought of never seeing either of them again. Yet, you'd rather have them lose you than for you to lose them. You scan the room hurriedly, searching for something to block the door and buy them some time.

Your eyes land on a heavy-looking wooden table pushed against the wall. With a surge of adrenaline, you grip the table's edge, your muscles straining as you drag it towards the door. The weight feels immense, but you refuse to let it defeat you. Sweat beads on your forehead as you finally position the table in front of the door, wedging it against the frame as best you can. It may not hold for long, but it's all you can do in this moment.

Pressing your hand against the door as a silent goodbye, you make your way out of the house, determined to end this.

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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remembrancer-of-heresy · 5 months ago

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The desire to possess (Part 2)

Summary: In the darkest of times, there is nothing more terrible than choosing between duty and love. And Rogal Dorn has to see it.

Perturabo/fem!Reader, Rogal Dorn/fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, possesive behavior, obsession

Word count: 1961

Song: Rammstein - Rosenrot

As you can see, if I'm not writing yandere, then I'm doing angst. I also realized that I wanted to write as much as possible about this trio. There will be no ending as such. There will be a part 3 - reader's POV (but not in this week). In general, I want to write drabbles around this triangle. Dorn and the reader love each other, and Perturabo suffers for her. Perturabo “loves” the reader, and she and Dorn suffer for each other. Every time inspiration comes, I will write based on them. Good plan? Good plan.

Rogal didn't mind the remembrances. They did their job, recording the deeds of the primarchs to leave them in history. The Emperor himself ordered all his sons to take chroniclers with them after the Uralon Triumph. Many simply resigned themselves to “taking the rats on board” without paying much attention to them. As long as they don't interfere. Fulgrim and Sanguinius took a huge number of historians, composers and musicians under their protection.

Dorn was not against the remembrances, but did not want mortals to interfere too much. Therefore, not everyone could get into the Phalanx. And especially to become Rogal’s personal chronicler. The primarch himself wanted to select candidates for this position. He has already found a historian who can tell the deeds of the primarch dryly and impartially. If remembrances even want to express their feelings, then this can be done through other art.

It was with these thoughts that he walked around the Imperial Palace. That's when he met you. You did not have time to win the attention of all Terra. And yet your master patronized your talent. Many mortals did not know about you, but the primarchs saw your sculptures. Rogal liked them. He even took some of them in his chambers.

But seeing you babble in front of the Iron Lord, the primarch realized that he would have to find another sculptor. You told Perturabo in such detail about which fortresses and buildings amazed you, which military campaigns aroused admiration... Dorn even for a second, but only for a second, felt envy.

"I don't care."

Perturabo rejects your services. He goes home, which not surprised Dorn. Such behavior was in the nature of the Iron Lord. And yet the Praetorian could not help but notice the range of feelings flashing across the Olympian’s face. He was pleased with the praise. And yet he decided not to give you his attention.

The Iron Lord goes away and you are left alone. Disappointed and depressed. And Dorn cannot help but feel a pang of pity for you. And a personal base desire to egg on his brother whom he disliked so much.

“Miss” - The Imperial Fist stands right in front of you and you flinch from the seriousness with which he looks at you. - “I saw your sculptures. You have the honor of serving as my remembrancer for the Phalanx. Follow me. I’ll tell you all the responsibilities.”

You blink charmingly in surprise and bewilderment. And nod before almost running after Dorn. The primarch lays out a list of responsibilities for you, inwardly rejoicing that you accepted his offer.

***

Rogal was pleased. You performed your duties well. You felt when it was worth talking to the primarch and did not distract him with demands to meet. And if he agreed to pose, then you worked strictly according to the schedule. By persisting improving your talent.

You were too feminine and loved beautiful things. But they were practical. You did not have the usual arrogance among remembrances. To be honest, Rogal can count on one hand all the times you didn’t try to not work. All you had to do was pick up any stone or piece of wood and you immediately started carving on it. Even fruit seeds could not avoid such a fate.

Nothing special, nothing significant or important. And yet Rogal himself did not notice how every day he began to think about you more and more. Remember your image. Play your voice in his head. Your gestures. He liked a lot about you.

How your thin, graceful hands were covered with marble dust from your work. The way you blew your hairs away when it came into your eyes. And how you wrinkled your nose when a thought wandered into your head and you didn’t know how to express it in stone.

Grandfather told him about his first love. How he felt at these moments, how he behaved. Almost with displeasure, Rogal realized what he felt for you. It was... unexpected. Fall in love. A mortal girl who didn't really do anything. But during the time that Rogal spent with you, he realized that he had become attached to you. He felt the desire to protect and care only towards his adoptive parent. And now you have appeared.

As you later admitted to Dorn, his declaration of love was... awkward. Almost funny and somewhat terrifying. He simply confronted you with the fact that you were now his beloved. Although Rogal did not put such meaning into his words. But you just smiled shyly at his bewilderment. And at that moment Rogal realized that he wanted to be with you all the time. To spenе the whole life with you. He hasn't felt as calm as he does now for a long time. Next to you.

***

You hold back your tears and don’t give in to hysterics despite your wish. The only thing that gives you away is your clenched fists. But you stand straight and your voice hardly trembles. If something stupid upset you, he would roll you into his grandfather's cape. Well, if you were in a more intimate setting, Dorn would whisper in your ear what a good girl you are... But the conversation is serious and he wants you to understand the whole terrible fate in which Imperium apperead.

“You know I won’t get in the way. I will sit quietly and keep my head down. I’m not stupid, I know that I’m of little use. But at least I can help treat the wounded and” - you take a deep breath without shedding a single tear. You always wanted to appear strong with the primarch and he could not help but appreciate your tenacity. - “I don’t want to leave you. I cannot leave you and go to another corner of the Galaxy while you are fighting for Terra. I won’t even know if you’re alive.”

“My sons, brothers and the Emperor will be with me. We will defeat the traitors, you can be sure. But I must focus on this battle. Your presence... fear for you will distract me from this.” - Dorn gently puts his arm around your shoulders. And with all the gentleness of which he was now capable, he looks into the eyes. - “The Greyestone Fortress is well fortified and, most importantly, is located far from Terra. My brothers have no use for this world, they only need the Solar System. This means you will be safe. And this will give me confidence in the battle. I want to protect you, don't you see it?”

You look closely into the primarch's eyes before nodding uncertainty.

"Fine. If you say that... then I have nothing to worry about. But Rogal, please,” you purse your lips and look as if one more second and he will evaporate. - "Be careful. I will be waiting for your return.”

The primarch squeezes your shoulders slightly. He almost reaches out to kiss you... but pulls away. Later. When the Siege of Terra is over he will wrap you in his arms and never let you go. But first he must do his duty. And nothing should distract him from saving humanity.

***

The Emperor has fallen. Dorn failed to protect the master of Mankind. His ghost, seated on the Golden Throne, will haunt Rogal forever. The Emperor's Light, the Beacon for Humanity, was lost forever. They were left alone.

The primarch donned in black. Accepted a heavy burden and a new role. Rogal was not going to allow traitors to continue to rule certain parts of the Galaxy. No, he was going to destroy them all. Spew them into the warp to cleanse the universe forever.

Dorn has not forgotten about you. He sent one of his subordinate ships to Greystone. To replenish provisions and serfs. Bring the necessary equipment to the Phalanx. A few mortals who could help Rogal deal with some matters. And you.

Reuniting with you should have eased the primarch's burden. Bring light and hope back to life. But the Imperial Fists returned with almost nothing. Greystone has fallen.

Perturabo captured the fortress, leaving not even a stone left of it. The Space Marines brought meager supplies of provisions and serfs who could barely stand on their feet. Some mortals close to Dorn survived. Others died during the siege. The warriors learned all the details.

Rogal listened carefully to his sons, not allowing disturbing thoughts to take over his heart. First business, and then love. Duty and service to the Emperor. He assured his father that you would not distract Dorn, no matter how much he was attached to you...

If you're alive, he'll never let you go again. You will live in his chambers forever. You will have your own security. The best mortal warriors. No, Space Marines. Dorn will love you. For real, like he never allowed himself to do. Taste happiness. He will allow his fortress to fall and bare his full soul to you and only you.

But if you are dead... completely dead and your soul is still swallowed up by the warp... Then Rogal will devote himself to cleansing the universe of abomination. No pity, no mercy. All traitors will pay for what they did to you and the Imperium. He will go forward until the very end. Your sacrifice will burn like a beacon in his heart and he will never give up revenge justice.

But everything turns out to be even worse. You are alive. And you are in the hands of Perturabo. Rogal remembered. He remembered that night at the fountain. When he calmed you down. Silently kissed and hugged. How he wanted to show you that he was confident in his choice. That he wants to spend all the eternity with you that you had at the whim of fate. How you smiled happily at the unusual tenderness from Dorn. He is too did not expect this from himself. But this manifestation of pure love only strengthened his thought. You are linked.

And no one will separate you. Especially the Iron Lord, who was watching you from the shadows. Dorn only pressed your figure closer to him, looking into his brother’s eyes. He is already tired of his greedy envy and lack of confidence in his greatness. Perturabo can lament as much as he wants, continue to torment his Legion and mortals... but he will not take you. You belonged to Rogal. No. You both belonged to each other.

And now you are in the hands of a traitor primarch. Who can do whatever he wants to you. He may laugh at you. Revel in your separation from Dorn. He will torment you. Just like the desire to establish himself in war and architecture, Perturabo will certainly want to appropriate your love for himself...

When the Space Marines mentioned that the attack on Greystone happened months ago, he sends them away. Does the Iron Lord want war? Want to laugh in his brother's face? Well, Rogal was more determined than ever to end their personal feud. He had been hearing rumors about the Eternal Fortress for a long time. Now he needed to concentrate all his strength and time on destroying this nest of heretics. The Primarch and his sons would feel real pain together during this siege.

Rogal wraps the Pain Glove around himself like a second skin. The device delivers electrical impulses and the man winces from the tension. More. More pain. He must clear his mind of hatred, anger and revenge through self-sacrifice. If he wants to lead the Imperium to the light, destroy its enemies and bring you back, then he must be calm. Must be humble and reasonable. He must do this.

He has no other choice.

#primarch x reader #primarch x oc #perturabo x reader #rogal dorn x reader #tw: angst #tw: obsession

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softmeetscreatureplz · 7 months ago

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Okay fuck it more Chuuya brainrot ideas of mine because fucking hell I cannot think around this shit

Chuuya Nakahara is host to a god, there is a god inhabiting his body 24/7, who can (most likely) see and hear whatever Chuuya can, right?

It's a known thing in religions that swearing a vow in front of a god is how it's taken seriously, and especially in the past when people would swear alligances, servitude, or loyalties, that doing so in front of a god was a way to be taken 100% seriously for life, and that making vow(s) like that were also for life unless specified otherwise.

Now picture this with me, please.

Chuuya Nakahara, finding the sheep while living on the streets- they take him in and help him, and in his gratitude, he promises to protect and take care of them forever. Little does he know, that he signs his fucking soul away like this, because the sheep don't know what he's saying- vowing really-, and Chuuya doesn't quite realize either.

Then, he meets Dazai. And Dazai is annoying and he hates him but he's also a weird guy and seems like he might be a bit fun to mess with, so he decides to follow the bastard.

Flash forward a bit; they're at the arcade and Chuuya makes a stupid- stupid bet.

And he loses.

Now, again, at this point in time, there are quite a few factors. Dazai is the newer vow, and despite what it seems like, doesn't actually order him around much at all, despite his teasing. Not only that, but Chuuyas promises are fundamentally differnt in wording; one to protect and help, the other to "serve and be a dog."

In any case, Chuuya keeps more of his free will, as a servent and protector. He keeps the sheep safe, and ignores his growing bond with the mafia boy.

Then the sheep betray him.

Chuuya is left with his active vow, the final if unsaid order, to die.

He pulls the knife out of his side, and gets ready for death- but that's not what happens.

No, instead, along comes Dazai, who reminds him of their bet and, however intentionally, reclaims that part of Chuuya that had given in to death.

Then he brings Chuuya to the Port Mafia, and Chuuya swears his loyalty again- this time to Mori.

Once again, he's safer now, because he has two people with control over him, except now he's starting to catch on.

Not only that, but Mori has suspicions as well.

Flash forward again; Dazai leaves the PM.

The worst thing he could have done to Chuuya- Dazai thought he was doing Chuuya a favor by not making him choose between loyalties; sure in his heart that if Chuuya wanted to leave he wouldn't care about the consequences and would just follow Dazai.

Instead, he dooms Chuuya to a life filled by orders solely from Mori and the PM.

If it wasn't for Chuuyas steadfast denials, the very bond of servitude would have been long dissolved as a result of Dazais action(s).

And Dazai never actually knowing this, that he is the reason Chuuya is alive and also still stuck in the PM.

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b4b3tte · 1 year ago

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MAY THE BEST MAN WIN PART 2

꒰ ⊹ ˚ Summary — Erron black decides to test the waters by flirting with you in front of Kano, but with him having some slight possessive nature,, he cannot let that happen any further without going down with a challenge

Description on this part — Basically Another flirty remarks made towards you, but you,Erron,Kano are set on a mission but Kano is dead set on making sure Erron isn’t making moves on you. ( Also getting closer to Erron!)

Pairing — Erron!Black x GN!Reader X Kano!Mk11

My note — RAHH I’m so surprised people actually liked this!! I am so glad!! 2 people asked for a request so sorry if I couldn’t reply and edit this on the inbox but here it is, hopefully it meets up towards your expectations!! And to make it clear you can be female,Male,Nonbinary to read this I wanna make my works inclusive as possible, I’ve gotten a lot of nsfw requests so if you want to read my guidelines for it please let me know

Another night at the black dragon fighting club, Kano, never one to back down, leaned in closer to you, his voice dripping with mischief. "Y'know, luv, I'd hate to see that charming smile of yours go to waste. Why don't you give the dangerous life a break and join me for a night on the town?"

Erron Black, on the other hand, wasn't about to let Kano have the last word. He leaned in with an even smoother tone, trying to maintain his suave demeanor. "Or, darling, you can take a walk on the wild side with me. I promise you won't regret it."

Your eyes darted between the two men, both vying for your attention. It was clear that they were willing to pull out all the stops to win you over.

With a roll of your eyes and a corner smirk that matched Kano's characteristic sarcasm, you decided to play along. "Well, gentlemen, it seems I'm in quite the predicament. I'm afraid I can't choose just yet."

Kano let out a triumphant laugh, while Erron raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your response. It seemed that your playful banter only fueled their determination to win your favor.

Kano, refusing to back down, chimed in with a sly grin. "Smart choice, luv. Keeps us on our toes, it does."

Erron nodded in agreement. "Ain't that the truth. We'll just have to keep impressing you."

You replied with a smart “ have fun trying to fulfill that “ You proceeded to walk away leaving them only hearing the sound of your shoes/Heels clicking the floor

As the banter continued, it took on a playful and even absurd tone. Kano and Erron found themselves exchanging increasingly outrageous and amusing suggestions to win your attention, all while keeping their charismatic personas intact.

You couldn't help but be entertained by the entire spectacle. It was clear that this competition was far from over, and you were content to sit back and enjoy the attention. Despite the chaos and rivalry surrounding you, you found yourself in a rather unique and amusing position, with Kano and Erron Black both trying to capture your interest.

One day you, Erron, Kano, Sektor, and many robot replicas and trained men, you were all sent to capture Johnny, Sonya, or at least Cassie to gain something beneficial, you and Erron went alone first along the military base and caught a moment alone between you two

As the mission continued, you guys found yourselves stationed in a quiet corner of the underground facility, momentarily away from the action. The air was heavy with tension, but the two of you took a moment to breathe from the previous shooting of protection and exchanged a few quiet words.

Erron Black, his charming facade momentarily down, turned to you. "You know, darlin', we’ve never gotten a chance to talk like this in the middle of a mission."

You nodded, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. "That's true. it feels like we're constantly on the move, sometimes I wish I weren’t so involved in everything "

Erron's voice softened as he looked at you as he has never had a personal conversation before with someone he works with . "I know it's a dangerous world, but there's something about you, something that keeps me coming back for more."

You met his gaze, there was a moment were you both looked in each others eyes then lips, the connection between you deepening in that quiet moment. "It's not easy to navigate this whole process, but having someone like you during the process..makes it a little less…daunting."

Erron just slightly moved closer to you, you add your pinky finger on top of his hand making eye contact with him, Just as he was about to say more, Kano's voice erupted through the radio, dripping with jealousy and irritation. "Oi, lovebirds, we've got a situation here! Stop playin' around and get back to work, This ain't the time for touchy-feely nonsense."

Erron, unfazed, shot back, "Seems like someone's feathers are ruffled. Can't handle a little human connection, Kano?"

Kano's response was a low, menacing growl. "I'm watchin' you, Erron. Don't get too comfortable."

Erron Black let out a quiet chuckle, and the two of you returned to the mission at hand. Kano's tone didn't go unnoticed, and it was clear he wasn't pleased with the intimacy he had just witnessed.

As you moved forward, Kano's attitude became increasingly disruptive even at the slight normal conversations almost every one has . He couldn't hide the jealousy that coursed through him, and his comments through the radio were laced with irritation and impatience.

Another smart remark flashed the both of you, when you and Erron accidentally bumped into each other from you walking to fast and not looking where you were walking at, and your guys hand glided on top of each other sorta like this ( click on the link on the word “ This “ )

Kano's voice crackled again. "You two best be focused on the mission instead of holdin' hands. We're here to capture Johnny, not exchange sweet nothings."

Erron Black shot back, his own irritation evident. "You're just jealous, Kano. Afraid you're losin' your grip on your precious Y/n."

Kanos extreme annoyance just exploded “ you shouldn’t even be picking at what should be mine “

Erron leaned in, his voice a low murmur, "Seems our mate Kano is struggling with the concept of sharing."

You chuckled, the irony not lost on you. "I never thought I'd be the center of a love triangle in the middle of a mission."

Erron's grin widened. "Well, darlin', life is full of surprises. But you can bet Kano won't make this easy."

Kano rolled his eyes again as usual “ god damnit black, quit your gobsmackin with y/n We're not on a damn date. Focus on the mission!"

Erron shot back, his voice filled with mischief, "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Kano. Maybe you should try being a bit more charming like me."

The tension between the two men was palpable, and it seemed that the love triangle had reached a boiling point. You couldn't help but feel the weight of their rivalry and the complexities of your relationships.

The love triangle between Kano, Erron Black, and you continued to play out, each interruption and intimate moment adding to the complexities of your relationships. The question remained: who would ultimately capture your heart in the end?

Thanks for reading!! I really appreciate it!! Have any other requests? Put it in my inbox and I’ll start writing it!! Have an amazing day or night Besitos!!💋💋

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imgeekgirlfan · 2 months ago

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The Curse of Cassandra [EP : X]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings : Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader) [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+ Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary : At the Jedi Temple, everyone confronted a shocking truth about themselves, whether it was Sol, Yord, or yourself.

Status: just finished writing this fic! (It will end in Episode 14)

A/N : I'm not spoiling anything, but two things: First, Qimir's out of the picture for a bit after this, while the story shifts to the Jedi Temple, where you'll learn more about his and the reader's backstories. Second, there's a super important character here you won't want to miss.

Ps.If you enjoy my work, please reblog it. Just liking the post won’t help others discover it.

➡ Intro // EP : 1 // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 7 // EP : 8 // EP : 9 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 13 // EP : 14 (Completed)

Special OS : Phantom Thread

[Episodes 10] Hand of God be my witness; I am the voice from the outer world

They won't believe me.

The thought crosses your mind as you survey the interrogation room in the Jedi Temple on Olega. The room is nearly barren, with bare gray concrete walls and no windows, furnished only with a table and two chairs on opposite sides. You choose the inner seat, facing the door, patiently awaiting the arrival of another.

It isn't long before the steel door slides open, revealing the tall, gaunt figure of a middle-aged man dressed in a yellow Jedi uniform. Sol’s expression is grave as he takes the chair opposite you. Without preamble, he begins to speak. “I apologize for keeping you waiting. The things you’ve told us are... quite shocking.” He pauses briefly, then continues with a polite tone, “It will take time to verify the truth of all this, and we may not reach a conclusion soon.”

You reflect on everything you've revealed to them earlier. You told them all they needed to know—that Qimir was behind the Jedi slaughter on this planet and that he was a Sith Lord disguised as a harmless apothecary, hiding right under their noses for years.

To the Jedi, however, your account is just hearsay. After all, everything you said came from your visions, lacking tangible evidence to prove your story—no proof that what you saw was real and not some fevered delusion.

You know your fate hangs by a thread. There’s a strong chance the Jedi will deem you delusional and might even cast you out of the Temple. That is a risk you cannot afford to take, especially when Qimir knows you have escaped and is relentlessly pursuing you. Nowhere in the galaxy will be safe for you except under the protection of the Jedi Order. It's your only hope for survival.

“You don’t believe me either, do you?” You decide to test the waters, assessing Sol's demeanor behind his neutral exterior.

Sol clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable as he speaks. “I can't say I believe everything you've said, but I don't think you have a reason to lie, given that you admitted this man was your lover.” His gaze meets yours with sincerity. “But some parts don’t make sense...”

“It doesn’t make sense because you believe the Sith have long since vanished," you interject, interrupting him before he can finish. "But I'm telling the truth. I've told you everything. Qimir is a Sith Lord. His goal is the destruction of the Jedi Order, and he won't stop until he achieves it.”

Sol sighs. He remains skeptical of your words and seems caught between belief and doubt, but can’t help feeling concerned, aware that this issue is far too serious to ignore. The implications of your claims could threaten not just the Jedi Order but the stability of the entire galaxy. It is beyond the capacity of a single Jedi Master to decide alone. “The problem is we have no evidence to confirm the Sith still exist,” Sol says cautiously, his tone now even more guarded. “And the way in which these Jedi were killed doesn’t align with typical Sith methods.”

"But it aligns with Jedi methods," you murmur, though Sol hears every word clearly. "He kills Jedi in the Jedi way. That's why you initially suspected the culprit might be one of your own, or perhaps a former Jedi."

Sol's eyes widen in shock, staring at you as if your words are the most startling thing he has ever heard. "How do you know all of this?" he asks urgently, his voice laced with confusion. He clearly remembers that none of these details were shared with you. So where did you get this information?

You offer him a faint, mysterious smile, one that makes Sol feel unsettled in ways he cannot fully explain.

"I know what you know. And I know what you don’t," you say, your blue eyes momentarily distant and lost in thought. "Your suspicions aren’t wrong. Qimir isn’t his real name, and he was once a Padawan among you. As for the rest... you’ll have to find the answers from your own people—someone who knows him far better than I do."

Sol is taken aback, concern reflected on his face. For the first time, the words of this stranger evoke a pang of fear within him. "Who are you talking about? Who among us knows the Sith Lord?"

"Your friend, Master Vernestra."

Sol furrows his brow, thinking of the Mirialan Jedi Master, who is indeed his friend. At this point, Sol's doubts multiply as he struggles to find answers for himself. How does she know about Vernestra when they've never even met? he wonders.

Sol turns his gaze back to you, his eyes now filled with analysis and wariness. He's no longer sure how to feel about you—whether to be amazed or afraid.

"Who are you really?" he finally asks.

In truth, the more appropriate question would have been, “What are you?”

You sense the confusion and doubt etched on his face, making you start to wonder as well. "You really don't know who I am?" you ask, almost to yourself.

Sol shakes his head, not pausing to consider his response. "I don't know you, and I’m sure no one else here does either."

How is that even possible? You wonder; the memory is still vivid. When Qimir first captured you, he warned that the Jedi were after you too. You were certain their intentions were the same as everyone else's—to claim the power of the last Bene Gesserit for themselves. That's why you always avoided the Jedi. But when things changed between you and Qimir, you had no choice but to reluctantly seek refuge with the Jedi, knowing it was your best chance to evade Qimir.

You had prepared yourself for the possibility that your secret would be exposed here, which is why you dared to use your visions in front of Sol. Even though you hadn’t said you were a Bene Gesserit, you knew that the Jedi, who already held an interest in the Bene Gesserit, could easily piece the truth together on their own.

Yet, Sol’s response is not what you expected.

Confusion swirls within you as you meet Sol’s gaze. You desperately want to peer into his thoughts to understand what he’s truly thinking, but you can’t do that. Despite having prophetic powers, you lack the ability to read minds like a Force user. This limitation makes predicting the future so difficult—human thoughts are ever-changing, and so too is destiny.

However, Bene Gesserit training provides a solution to this weakness through a technique known as the 'Way of Perception.' This method focuses on observing every minute detail in your conversation partner’s movements—like the slightest twitch of a facial muscle, a shift in the eyes, or a swallow—each subtle gesture that reveals their true intentions. By employing this meticulous observation, a Bene Gesserit can analyze another’s thoughts, discerning truth from deception without relying on the Force.

You use the Way of Perception on Sol, meticulously observing his reactions and analyzing them as you have been trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit. What you discover is that he’s telling the truth. Sol and the others here neither know of nor acknowledge the existence of someone like you—a Bene Gesserit.

In that moment, a realization hits you with blinding clarity—a truth you have never considered until now: Qimir has been lying to you all along.

You remember when he first approached you out of sheer curiosity, manipulating your fear of the Jedi to keep you from running. He worked to earn your trust, all in a bid to uncover your secrets. When Qimir finally learned that secret, he realized you were too valuable to fall into anyone else’s hands. So, he killed everyone who knew about you, all to keep your power under his control.

And what better way to control someone than through love?

That’s exactly what he did to you. Qimir tried to make you fall in love with him, to surrender yourself completely—body and soul—to serve his grander purpose. His ultimate plan was to resurrect the Sith and exact revenge on the Jedi. With the aid of a Bene Gesserit, he believed he could conquer the universe.

But what throws everything off course is that Qimir, instead of merely seeing you as a tool to achieve his goals, has become genuinely attached and has fallen in love with you.

Then, when you decided to drink the Water of Life, you allowed yourself to foresee the terrible future that unfolded, with countless possibilities and impossibilities stretching out before you.

You know that Qimir's plans will never succeed. Sooner or later, he will meet his end before reaching his goal. Even so, your bloodline and his will succeed nonetheless. Anakin Skywalker will become everything Qimir has ever aspired to be—the one to lead the Sith to greatness, the one who brings the Jedi to their ultimate demise.

And so it goes, you think to yourself. You expected to feel more sorrow, yet you find your thoughts and heart curiously cold.

As days pass, you lose more and more of yourself. It’s as if you’re no longer human but merely a data system, recording and processing the flow of events in your mind. Fate itself has become nothing more than a set of data inputs into a system, repeating endlessly until it loses all meaning.

You resign yourself, allowing your mind to swim once more in the currents of temporal data, hoping you can still alter those paths, even if only slightly.

And you decide to start with Sol.

"I know what you did on Brendok ten years ago, Master Sol."

Your voice comes out deeper and raspier than usual, almost resembling a man's voice rather than your own.

Those words hit Sol like thunderbolts. You instantly read his reaction, analyzing every movement. The tensing of his shoulders betrays the fear he's trying to suppress. Sweat beads on his temple, indicating pressure and dread. His lips tremble, momentarily rendering him speechless.

It’s a secret Sol has kept hidden from everyone. In the past, when he was still a Jedi Knight, Sol was part of a team assigned to explore Brendok after the planet endured a devastating natural disaster. There, he encountered twin girls named Osha and Mae—children born of the Force, raised by a coven of witches, a group of women attempting to mimic the ways of the Bene Gesserit, who had been hiding on this planet for quite some time.

The twins' strong connection to the Force sparked Sol’s hope that they could undergo training to become Jedi Padawans. However, the witch coven opposed him fiercely. Osha and Mae were the future of their coven; they wanted the girls to inherit the witches' path. They didn't want the Jedi to take their children away, as had happened to other families across the galaxy before.

Tensions between the witches and the Jedi finally reached a breaking point when Sol accidentally killed Aniseya, the twins' mother and the leader of the witch coven. This triggered a violent battle, resulting in the deaths of the entire coven, including the twins, who were trapped in a burning building during the fight.

That calamity has haunted Sol ever since, a nightmare and stigma he has carried to this day.

The entire story was covered up by the surviving Jedi, as this grave mistake could have led to their permanent expulsion from the Order. There's no way an outsider like you could know this secret, which is precisely why you bring it up. You understand that this is the only way to prove the truth of your words and make Sol fully believe what you’re about to reveal to him.

You lock eyes with Sol, unwavering, before unveiling your truth.

"I possess foresight. I can perceive all secrets and discern the fates of every life. That is why you must trust me."

What’s happening to Master Sol?

Yord ponders, watching as the once-calm Jedi Master suddenly storms out of the interrogation room, his face pale as if he has just seen something profoundly terrifying.

For a moment, Yord hesitates. He considers asking what happened but ultimately decides to stay silent. He remains where he is, observing from afar as Sol approaches. Yord notices that Sol seems entirely unaware of his presence, lost in his own thoughts and drifting past him as if he isn’t even there.

Yord's gaze follows the Jedi Master until he disappears down the hall. A frown forms on Yord’s face before he turns his attention to the steel door of the interrogation room where Sol had just exited.

Suddenly, Yord feels it—a deep, undeniable sense of certainty, as certain as knowing the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. He knows what's inside that room. He knows exactly what made Master Sol so shaken. He knows who is in there.

Yord bites his lip, torn between the urge to open that door and simply walk away. But curiosity wins over; he takes a step forward, tension rippling through his body. Cautiously, he pushes the door open and steps inside.

There you are, seated on a chair, with only a metal table separating you from him. You greet him with a faint smile, your demeanor calm, showing no surprise, as if you’ve been waiting for him all along, or perhaps you already knew he would come.

“It’s good to see you again, Yord.”

Hearing his name makes Yord freeze. It’s not just the fact that you know his name, even though he’s never told you, but the way you say it—your words and tone are exactly as they were in his dream last night.

There’s something eerily familiar about you, something Yord can’t quite shake off. It’s as if you and he share a connection that runs far deeper than the mere acquaintance, although he still doesn't know who you really are.

For the first time, Yord begins to suspect that he’s caught up in a mysterious and complex pattern beyond his understanding—something his mind can barely comprehend.

And he knows. The only person who can explain it all is you.

Yord takes a deep breath and moves to sit in the chair across from you, his hands clenching nervously in his lap. “This might sound strange, but... I dreamt about you before we even met,” he says, the words spilling out before he can stop them. “I saw your life. I glimpsed what has happened and what will happen to you. How is that possible? Why do I feel like I've known you all my life when we've just met?”

“Dreams are messages from the deep,” you reply. “They’re a form of prophecy, a sign of the gift we both share. But your family's lineage has abandoned the old ways, which is why your power is weaker than mine.”

Yord senses a hint of sympathy in your voice. Though you speak of it as a gift, he can tell you view it more as a burden—an inescapable curse.

His eyes lock onto yours, searching for answers, but when your piercing blue gaze meets his, it feels like you’re the one reading him instead. In that instant, he’s certain that those eyes can see straight into the depths of his soul.

"You mentioned my family... Do you already know who I am?" he asks.

"I do," you nod. "Our ancestors are connected."

With each word you speak, Yord’s confusion only deepens. "How do you know all of this? Did you see it in a vision?"

"I didn’t see it; I was there," you correct him. "I stood at the mouth of the cave the day my sister was born. I held her in my arms. That child grew into a woman, and eventually she loved and secretly gave birth to a daughter before she died. Your bloodline began with her."

"How is that even possible?" he argues, his voice growing tense. "How could you have been there thousands of years ago?"

"I’m not telling you this to make you believe. I’m simply informing you." You give Yord a gentle smile, a fond smile like an elder gives to a child. "If we’re counting, you are as much my descendant as she is."

Yord raises an eyebrow in surprise. He just notices that your choice of pronouns has suddenly shifted. Instead of using ‘I’ to refer to yourself, you now use ‘she’ as if you’re speaking about someone else.

And then it hits him. Yord suddenly realizes that the woman in front of him is no longer herself. Her spirit is tainted, like clear water muddied with black ink. Something is possessing her—something he both fears and cannot comprehend, like an ancient mystery sealed away for eons, only now unraveling.

“Who the hell are you?!” Yord shouts, one hand instinctively reaching for the lightsaber at his side, ready to strike if the person in front of him makes any sudden moves.

But you remain calm, unshaken by the threat of violence. "You know exactly who I am," you reply evenly. "Think carefully. Your mother warned you about my coming. You’ve always known who I am, just as I’ve always known who you are."

Your words send a shiver down Yord’s spine. His throat tightens, and he finds himself unable to speak.

He remembers clearly what his mother warned him about before she passed away. Her wrinkled hand gripped his tightly as she whispered the important secret of the universe that no one knew except him—the return of that person.

All his life, Yord had dismissed those words as nothing more than the ramblings of a dying woman—just imagination and meaningless superstition. But today, when he faced you himself, he finally realizes that it was all true.

As the truth crashes down on him, Yord unknowingly utters the words.

“Lisan Al-Gaib.”

A/N :

Yord when he know who you are

21 notes · View notes

kaimxri · 2 years ago

Text

Means To An End (pt II)

Lucien x Reader (she/her)

Part I

Warnings: ooc Azriel

Wordcount: 3K

A/N: Wow! Didn't expect that reaction for part 1! Here, I wrote this up this morning:) Oh, and sorry for the ending;)

Lucien

To deny a bond is to defy fate. To tell The Mother she was wrong in her choice.

My conversation with Y/N had left me sure of my decision. I cannot by led along by a female who does not want me as I am only hurting myself. I know what Elain wants, even if she does not wish to admit it to herself. She is in love with Azriel, and the only thing holding her back is me. To deny the bond would be the biggest gift I could give to my mate. A chance at her own happy ending.

It wasn’t hard to find the middle Archeron sister. She had been tending to her garden as she does every day. Just as she is in her usual spot, so is the spymaster. Standing over her shoulder as if to protect her soft skin from the sun’s harmful rays. My entrance to the garden is noticed by a loose shadow, scrambling to alert their master of his rival in love. Azriel’s shoulders tense as he turns to look at me, but his eyes lose their glare as he notices my downtrodden expression.

“Please,” I ask, “I wish to speak with Elain.” He could pick up on the low tone of my voice, and leaves without argument. I take this time alone with Elain to memorise all of which would no longer by mine by the end of this visit. Her fingertips grazing the silken petals, her blushing cheeks, her peach lips… I nearly changed my mind, but as she turns to lock her gaze with mine my doubts are quietened. There is no love in her gaze, only pity.

“I am going to reject the bond, Elain.” My words escape before my mind can stop them. My mind had taken over from my heart, as if it was the only thing conscious enough in her presence. Her eyes had widened slightly, and she almost looked worried. Her beautiful doe eyes start to fill with tears. I understood they were not of love lost, but of loss of me.

“I do not understand Lucien. Have I- have I not said that I am still making my decision? I am so sorry if- I haven’t decided between you both yet. Please, I haven’t decided.”

“That is why I am making the decision for you. One of my dearest friends has noticed a… decline, in my emotional state. She made me realise that I am worthy of a love that chooses me above all and anyone else. Please, take this as my final gift to you. You are free to love your shadow singer. Please, give me the gift of freedom in return, Elain. That is all I ask.”

A cloud of fury washes the tears from her face. Her cheeks flush with anger, her brows furrow.

“It is Y/N, isn’t it? She is the one who told you to deny the bond. Do not listen to her. She is just desperate to make Azriel love her. So deep in her own despair over not being loved that she wishes to cause others that same pain. She is a miserable spinster who is just jealous that no one will ever love her the way Azriel loves me.”

“How dare you say that Elain. Y/N helped me realise what you have been doing to me, she didn’t make me do anything. You knew of her feelings for Azriel and yet you kept pushing with him? I do not even know who you are anymore. I am rejecting the bond, and I am leaving. You cannot stop me. Nothing you can say will change my mind.”

“What if I told you I love you?”

“Then that would make you a liar. I wish you well Elain. Truly.”

With that, I had left behind my mate.

Y/N

Lucien returned to my chambers that evening with his own two bags. We spent the night in a platonic embrace. The soft kisses from the sun wake us from our restless slumber. A reminder of what loss we are going to go through. Lucien and I sneak through the house before any other residents rise and catch us. As we reach the hallway, I drop my goodbye letter on the table besides the porch. We turn and take in all that we are to leave behind. Memories good and bad.

My first time with Azriel.

My last time with Azriel.

My silent goodbye to Azriel is whispered across the empty hall, hoping it does not crawl up the stairs into the spymaster’s room. Before I can crawl too deep into the dark depths of my mind, Lucien takes hold of my clenched hand and leads us through the large oak door. We do not look back as the gold of Lucien’s winnow cascades over us like starfall.

The Day Courts warmth was starkly different to the cool temperatures of the Night Court. The blue of the sky gave me hope. A new hope that doesn’t revolve around my very being used for another’s dreams.

The golden doors of the Day Court palace are inviting. Lord Helion remains within the threshold of his home, large arms spread in welcome. A grin breaks across his face. I sprint up the marble stairs towards my dear friend, having not seen him for many months. With all the tensions amongst the courts it is hard to have clear entrance to and fro. As I reach his embrace, Helion’s calm aura falls upon me. My head soothes and my heart only thumps out of love for my friend.

“How are you my dear?” His deep voice rumbles. Warmth seeping through his tone. His hand falls to my cheek, thumb rubbing across my skin. I attempt to meet his eyes but it is hard to catch them with their constant darting over my flushed skin. I prayed to the Gods that my emotions had not betrayed me, however I knew that tear tracks had still left their faint marks amongst my skin.

“How do you think dear Helion? Is it often that females of other courts come rushing into your arms seeking solace?”

He chuckles.

“Are you sure you wish me to answer that? We both know I have many a female rushing to my arms. Males too.” His cheeky wink breaks the final piece of tension lingering in my body. I knew then that my decision was the right one. “I see you brought the lovely Lucien too! Perhaps we should be renamed the Lonely Hearts Court, no?”

Lucien finally reaches us at the entrance of the palace. I sent him an apologetic glance for leaving him with all our bags, though I’m sure the male didn’t mind the chance to show off his strength. Helion reaches his arm out towards Lucien, bringing us to a three-way hug. This was what I had needed. To feel wanted to by my friends, without any underlying needs.

“And you, my friend? I heard about your… situation. I wish I could offer some advice. All I can offer is the chance to breathe and hopefully move on from those who linger in your past.”

“I believe that is all I need, Helion. The chance to rest and move on. I know I will never forget, and my soul will always feel the absence of the other half, but with time I hope to dull the pain.”

“Dear Lucien… A mate is not the means to an end. Your soul will only remain empty as long as you keep it empty. Sure, the female is your soul-twined mate, but who is to say she is the only one to make you feel whole? I have not yet met my mate, but I do not live my life half living due to the fact. If I did meet my mate and they were to reject me, I would not feel sadness. I would feel content, for I have loved many times before. Each one a happy memory. My soul is full, I do not need another to make me feel whole”.

The more Helion talks, the more I see the relation between himself and Lucien. Of course, I had heard the rumours floating amongst the inner circle. Of how the High Lord of The Day Court had in fact fathered the son of Lord Beron of The Autumn Court. These were simply just rumours but standing amongst the two males show the rumours are founded on some truth.

As the conversation reaches its natural end, Helion gestures for us to follow him into our home for the foreseeable future. The grand staircases curved along the walls, outlining the magnificent foyer. Plush red sofas framed a mahogany table, adorned with a golden globe. We follow Helion up the left staircase and down a long hall. Picture frames line the walls depicting the Lords who came before Helion. As we reached the end of the hall, the area opened up to an open living space. A fire crackled away in the hearth making the space feel cosy. Books lined the walls from top to bottom. Two large sofas, and one armchair sit snug together underneath a golden chandelier, and on opposite sides of the room sits two doors. Helion simply gestured for me to go towards the door on left, Lucien to the right.

As I cracked upon the double door, sun rays catch in my eyes temporarily stealing my sight. Pushing farther into the room, a gasp is caught in my throat. The walls are painted a mixture of my favourite colour and white. A large walk-in wardrobe sits empty, waiting for me to fill it and call it my own. Even more books adorn the shelving dotted across the area. A comfortable, plush, tall-back armchair sits in the corner near the unlit fireplace. And finally, the large four-poster bed. A multitude of pillows decorate the blue-green blankets. Sheer curtains fall from the wooden frame of the bed. It calls for me to fall into the depths of its warmth, never to emerge again.

This place already feels like home.

Helion leaves us to settle into our new shared living space. I am grateful that he gave us our own area so we can help each other to heal. I’m not too sure I can face anyone but Lucien and Helion for the moment. As I sit on top of my new armchair the motions of the morning finally catch up to me. I have truly left Azriel behind without so much as a goodbye. Would he even notice my absence? Surely not if Lucien has denied his bond with Elain. She would have told him by now. Perhaps they are together, celebrating their own bond. Well, good for them, I guess. At least they get to be happy.

As evening falls, Lucien and I find ourselves in Helion’s private dining area. A smaller oak table sits in the centre of the intimate area. Whilst the food is served, light conversation starts. Small talk of places Lucien and I should visit. Helion’s plans for the next few days. How we feel as though we have settled in quite well. We almost feel like a family.

We leave the table that night feeling renewed. With a new sense of purpose.

Silently agreeing to spend the evening reading in silence with each other’s presence and the warm fire to keep us company. I almost reach for a romance book, before stopping short and selecting a mystery book. As I fall into the world of lies and questioning, I fail to notice Lucien’s eyes fall upon myself. The mystery dives deeper, answers coming forth. It’s when I reach the end of the book, still reeling from the reveal that it was the investigator who did it, that I hear Lucien softly call my name.

“Yes, Lucien? Are you alright?” He had looked almost faraway, lost in thought. I am a selfish female for I hadn’t thought once today of how he must feel. Sure, I left behind an unrequited love. But he left behind the one that was destined to be his.

“I am doing alright considering the circumstances. I feel free to be honest with you. Like the burden of the bond is no longer wearing my soul heavy. It’s almost like I can see things in a new light…” His face picks up slightly. His trademark grin comes shining onto his face, looking relaxed for the first time in months. This break will do him well.

“I understand, I feel the same way. It’s nice to not know what they’re doing, and to know they’re not going to hurt us unknowingly anymore. We are going to be happy here Lucien, I just know it.” I reach forwards to grab hold of his hand. His thumb brushes against my own. Despite the softness of the caress, his eyes harden a touch.

“Y/N, I must be honest with you. When I spoke with Elain this morning, she made it known that she does in fact know of your affections towards Azriel… I can only assume that he too knew of your feelings. I am so sorry that he was still with you, knowing that he was causing you pain. Anyone who could do that to someone is not worthy of anyone’s time, especially not yours. You deserve someone who puts you first because that is what you do. You could have told me to keep pursuing Elain, knowing in fact that our ‘relationship’ is to be a dead end. Knowing that whilst Elain is pre-occupied with me, the shadow singer would still fall to you. But you didn’t do that. Instead, you encouraged me to make my own choice to leave her, to push her in his direction. I truly admire you, Y/N. You mean a great deal to me.”

My eyes well up with tears. No one had ever spoken so highly of me. Truth dripped from every sweet word he spoke to me. His eyes dug deep into my own, searching for the opening of my soul to pour all the praise deep into its empty cavern. Perhaps I could have told Lucien to keep pursuing Elain, but I knew in the depths of my heart that would not be right. Everyone in this situation would remain suffering. It was best to remove those who stood as barriers between those who wished to be together. Lucien and I could re-build ourselves, whilst Azriel and Elain wallow in their love. We would be okay, and they would be happy.

“You mean a great deal to me too, Lucien. But I only mentioned something with which you already knew you needed to do. You said so yourself, if it weren’t for the bond Elain would be with Azriel. It was incredibly brave of you to take that first step, to break the bond for yourself and for them. I promise to be here for you every day. To build you back up, to be a shoulder to cry on… Whatever you need, I will be here.”

“And I too will be here for you.”

We squeeze our hands together yet again, sending love down through our intwined fingers.

“Perhaps it is time for bed, Lucien. It has been a long day and we seem to be rather weepy right now!”

“It seems it is time for bed. Shall I walk you to your door?” He jests. I take him up on his offer anyway and lead him over to the double doors that hold my new sanctuary.

“This is me,” I joke, “When can I see you again oh noble one? These hallways do not feel safe without your presence!”

“Whenever you wish to see me fair maiden, simply call my name and I shall be with you at the brush of a breeze,” His face falls a bit as a melancholy look glides across his eyes, “Elain never let me walk her home. I felt as if she would not let me perform basic duties of courting. She rarely let me see her at all. I never truly had a chance, did I?”

“Oh Lucien, come here,” I pull his body into my arms, “She is the fool in this situation. How could she not see the amazing male in front of her? No, you didn’t have a chance with her. Because she had no chance with you. I am sure you will fall in love someday, and she will love you more than life itself. Because you are the sun Lucien, and what is life without the sun?”

He pulls back from the embrace. Eyes gliding across my own.

His hands fall upon my hips. A moment of hesitation. His lips landed on my own.

Memories came surging painfully through my mind.

“Elain!” His hands were on my waist.

“Gods, Elain.” His lips on my neck.

“Don’t stop, you feel so good Elain.” His leg between my thig-

My hands were on his chest, pushing with enough force to make him stumble over his feet. Tears poured from my eyes, my arms wrapping across my chest to act as a barrier to my heart. Lucien looked startled. His face was pale as a sheet. He raised his hands to show he means no harm, but the damage is already done.

“What are- what are you doing Lucien?” My voice had betrayed my weakness, shaking against the face of the man who now blurs between himself and the shadows that haunt my dreams.

“I don’t know- Y/N please, listen to me. I got caught up in the moment. I am not him; I will never do what he-“

“I do not wish to be another males vessel to forget Elain Archeron,” I turn towards the door of the living area, “Goodnight Lucien.”

Lucien

My heart ached as I watched her door slam in my face.

For I had seen the world in a new light.

And that light shone upon her darling face.

Y/N.