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27spoons · 2 days ago

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CRUSH | ACT ONE: DO I WANNA KNOW?

pairing: natalie scatorccio/fem!reader

summary: You're studying on a Friday. Natalie doesn't like that.

wc: 4200 (blaze it) (im not funny)

warnings: none. I think.

a/n: happy birthday 2 me. here is another chapter. lowkey i wasnt planning on have two chapters in a row with a ? in them but oh well yolo and all that fun stuff. anyways this chapter is basically just two losers yapping (next one will b longer promise)

ao3 / masterlist

PREVIOUS - ACT ONE: HOW CAN I MAKE IT OK?

NEXT - ACT TWO: (idk yet titles are hard) (WIP)

The thing about Natalie Scatorccio is that she always seems to find you when you least expect it. It’s like she has a sixth sense, some radar that tells her exactly when you’re trying not to think about her—and then she shows up, smirking like she knows all your secrets.

Today is no different. You’re sitting on the steps outside the library, flipping halfheartedly through a history textbook, when her shadow falls over you.

"Studying on a Friday, Princess?" She lets out a low whistle, "Now, that's tragic."

You roll your eyes and let a scoff fall from your lips, "Listen, not everyone can afford to just… throw caution to the wind or whatever. Some of us actually need to study."

Nat snorts as she fishes a cigarette out of her pocket, bringing it to her lips and lighting it, "I do study, just not on Fridays, like a nerd." She gives you a pointed glare, but it lacks any actual heat.

Without giving you a chance to object, she throws her duffle bag down on the steps next to you and sits down with a grunt. "Seriously, though." She ashes her cigarette, "Why're you sittin' alone out here, head in your…" She glances at the cover of your textbook, "history book when you could be doin' anything else?"

You shrug and close your textbook with a sigh, "I dunno. I guess it's just… the way things are, or whatever. Never really been the type of person who goes out on Fridays." Nat nods in understanding as she takes a slow drag from her cigarette, "Yeah, I get that. Nothin' wrong with that. But it gets boring after a while, yeah? Doin' the same thing every week, set in some constant routine?"

"I guess," You sigh and move to put your textbook into your backpack, "But don't you have routines? I mean, soccer and all that?"

"Yeah, I got some routine. Some days, I get up earlier than others to make it to practice. Some days, I spend some time after school kicking around a ball in the field. But that's not my point." Another drag of her smoke, "My point is that you can have some routine, but life is so fucking boring if that's all your life is." She rolls the end of the cigarette between her thumb and pointer finger for a few seconds before looking at you, squinting against the harsh light of the sun that beats down from behind you. "You gotta have something to shake it up every now and then, yeah? You don't gotta go to a party every week, but what's stoppin' you from goin' to one now and then?"

"It's just never been my scene, I guess. My friends and I don't really… do parties, you know? Like, we have small get-togethers or whatever, but we don't party. Never really seen myself as a party person, either." You shrug, zipping up your bag and moving it to rest on the step in front of you, "I dunno. I guess the…" You wave your hands around as you think of the proper words to use, "loud music and annoying people isn't exactly what I consider fun." A fond shake of your head and a gentle laugh, "But, hey, all the power to you if that's what you do find fun."

"You ever been invited to a party?" Nat chimes in after considering your statement for a few seconds.

You have to think about that question for a few seconds. "Yes." You finally manage, which earns you a skeptical look from the woman sitting next to you.

"Then why'd you have to think about it?"

"Oh my God." You roll your eyes, "Because it's been a while since I got invited to one, alright? Like I said, I don't hang out with the type of people that go to parties. So…"

Nat hums at that, seemingly accepting the answer you've given her. "Alright. So what do you do on Fridays? Or the weekend? Or whenever you aren't with your nose in some book." She gestures to your backpack and the textbook inside of it by extension. "Nothin' wrong with it, but you gotta do something else, yeah?"

A huff leaves your mouth before you can stop it, "Well, you've caught me sketching once or twice, yeah? I'm a pretty big fan of that. Uhhh…" You think for a few seconds, feeling like this is an awkward first date where the person is asking, "What do you do for fun?" and it takes everything in you not to give out the most generic answers possible. "I think I mentioned meteor showers to you before? I, uh, I like stargazing. And I guess I kinda play games sometimes? Although it's usually just… simulation games or whatever. The mindless stuff."

"Right." The girl smirks to herself as she muddles over your hobbies in her head. "Drawing, stargazing, and simulation games. Yeah, you, my friend, are a walking funfest, you know that?" One last drag from her cigarette before snuffing it out on the step, "That stuff is fun and all, but you need some more excitement in your life."

"What? Like… stealing BuzzBalls from corner stores?" A faint smirk tugs at your lips, "Or taking joyrides in stolen Maseratis?"

"First of all," Nat cuts you off before you can continue, "It was a Mazda. There's a huge difference. Second of all…" She hums and leans back, resting her elbows on the next step up.

She looks over you in a curious sort of way, appraising your form and being. "You could skate. Could convince Kev to teach you a thing or two at the skatepark, as long as you aren't gonna cry if you fall. If you play simulation games, you might not be half-bad at pool or darts. Hell, even thrifting or something. Refresh your wardrobe. I swear, every time I see you, you're basically wearing the same thing, just in different variants." Then, a sly grin. "But the fun stuff? Bet I could teach you to tag stuff without getting caught. You're already an artist; you should leave your mark on some places, yeah?" Her grin widens, "Maybe I could even convince you to bust into an old factory with me." A beat, "Unless… you're afraid of ghosts?" Then, she's laughing to herself.

You try to fight the grin on your face, but it's hard when you find her smile to be one of the most contagious things you've ever seen. "I'm not afraid of ghosts, thank you." A dramatic roll of your eyes earns another laugh from Nat, her smile wide and plastered on her face like she's having the time of her life. "But, also… I dunno. Maybe I could be convinced to try something new." "Maybe?" Nat parrots, still half-laughing. "Nah. I will convince you to "try something new"; you just haven't seen how convincing I can be yet." A self-satisfied grin replaces the smile she was wearing, and she leans in slightly, lowering her voice. "And I can be real convincing, Princess."

And… yep. You're blushing again. Nat, of course, notices this. Her grin gets ten times toothier, clearly satisfied with herself, and she leans back again. "But," She shrugs—as if she didn't just fluster the shit out of you with a single sentence. "That's for a later date."

Before you get a chance to respond to that, you catch sight of two girls wearing practice uniforms approaching—a simple grey shirt with the mascot's name on it and some shorts. You've seen them around before; it's a small town, after all.

Jackie Taylor—homecoming queen and captain of the girl's soccer team. Beside her, Shauna Shipman—who you… honestly don't know much about. You're pretty sure the two of them are best friends despite the fact that they seem like polar opposites.

Something something opposites attract, or whatever.

"Nat." Jackie stops in front of the two of you, regarding you with a half-assed smile for a fraction of a second before turning back to Nat, "You will be at practice today, right? You aren't gonna ditch again to do—"

"Yes, Jackie. I will fucking be at practice, alright?" Nat cuts her off with a scowl and a roll of her eyes. You swear she's gonna add something else but opts against it.

"Well… good." Jackie nods, then glances at you for much longer than she did initially, a curious expression on her face.

You don't have to guess why the expression is there, either. You aren't that dumb. You don't really look like the type of person Natalie Scatorccio hangs out with—not with your textbooks, sketchbooks, and meekness. No, you've seen the people she hangs out with. Misfits, mostly. There's that one goth kid, that guy with curly hair, and the redhead chick—who also plays on the soccer team with Nat. Then there are the… less than savoury characters. The people who she isn't seen around as much, but everyone knows she is around. Not hardened criminals per se, but people who are very, very rough around the edges. People who have longer rap sheets and far more "experience" being criminals than Natalie does.

Either way, Jackie doesn't comment on the stark difference between Natalie's usual crowd and you.

You give the team captain a tense smile as she looks at you, which she quickly returns before looking back at the girl sitting next to you, "We start in thirty."

"Yeah, I know, Princess." Natalie rolls her eyes, "I'm well aware what time practice starts, thank you."

"I was just trying to—" Jackie huffs and crosses her arms, "Whatever. Be there." Then she walks off, seemingly pouting, and Shauna gives Nat a shrug in apology before following.

Once the pair are out of earshot, Nat groans and pushes a hand through her bleached hair, "See, that's someone I call a princess in a derogatory manner."

You snort, "But it's not derogatory with me?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, "With you? It just… feels right. Dunno. Like that one chick we called "Crystal the Pistol" a few times. It's an affectionate nickname, or whatever." She waves a hand dismissively, "Not my point. Point is, when I say it to you, it's…" A beat of hesitation as she tries to find the right words, "Ugh. I don't know. I'm not good with words. Just know it's a good nickname, not a bad one."

"Right." Your eyes narrow slightly at that, but you don't push the topic further.

Which Nat seems grateful for, anyway. "Anyways. What the hell were we talking about?"

"Uhhhhh… hobbies, and how mine are, apparently, drastically boring?"

"Oh. Right." She nods, thinking about the previous conversation for a minute, then she gives a fond roll of her eyes and turns to you with a soft grin, "I mean… you said it. Not me. I just said you need some excitement. I'm not the one that goes stargazing for fun."

"Right. And most of your suggestions were…" You hum in mock thought, "Illegal, no?"

"'s only illegal if you get caught, actually." Nat shoots back, "And where's your sense of adventure, huh?" She nudges you with her elbow, "Gotta live a little, Princess. I know that BuzzBall was probably the first time you've ever… partaken in something illegal."

You roll your eyes and lean your back against the railing as you turn at the waist to face her, "Sorry, I don't willingly rob stores for fun in my free time. My bad."

You think you see Nat's jaw twitch at the comment, making you think you said the wrong thing, but before you can dwell on it too long or too hard, she lets out a hollow laugh. "Yeah, well, certified adrenaline junkie and all that. What can I say? Robbing stores gives me a rush." But the words come out slightly strained—like she's not telling you the whole story.

She clears her throat, clearly eager to move on from that particular line of conversation. "Whatever. Still. Like I said, I can… get Kev to teach you how to skate. Or… hell, you ever kicked a soccer ball around before?"

"In PE, yeah. But that's about it."

"Hmm." The blonde considers this, "You any good at it?" You snort, "Hardly varsity material, but I'm not, like, terrible at it or anything."

"Yeah? Well, maybe I can show you how to be junior varsity material. Shouldn't be that hard to play better than a few freshies, yeah? Maybe I'll even teach you some soccer tricks." She grins to herself, "Teach you the basics of freestyling soccer balls."

"Mm, promising a lot here, Nat. First, you're saying that you'll teach me to play good enough to beat some "freshies" in soccer, then telling me you'll teach me tricks?" You click your tongue, "How do I know you aren't gonna completely bail on me?" "Oh, make no mistake, I don't go back on my word. If I say I'm gonna do something, then you can bet your sweet ass I'm gonna do it, yeah?" A toothy grin, "And that's the Scatorccio guarantee."

You snort, "Yeah, you say that like your last name holds a lot of value when it comes to trust—"

The words are meant to be teasing, they come out in a teasing tone, but you still feel like a piece of shit the second they leave your mouth.

"I… I didn't mean it like that. Sorry. I wasn't thinking—"

"Nah, no," Nat shakes her head and waves her hands, "no. Don't worry about it. I'm not mad at you or anything." A grin, likely to ease your nerves, "You're not exactly wrong either. But I'm giving you my word anyway. Which… you should take."

"Hm." You take some mock consideration to that, "I will take it for now. But I make no promises for whether I keep it or not."

"Won't regret it." Her grin becomes slightly more genuine, "Promise."

You spend the next… ten, fifteen minutes? talking to Nat on the steps of the library, actually getting to know each other, rather than those single-minded adventures that the two of you have been on the past little while.

You trade off on the typical "first date" questions: Favourite food (Hers is apparently pizza, which you said was boring, then she rolled her eyes and dropped "Ribollita" and refused to actually tell you what that means.), fast food (Said "Taco Bell" immediately.) music (Matches her. Veruca Salt, Blondie, Nirvana, The Pixies… you get the idea. You asked her if she played the music on tape decks. She said yes. You don't know if she's joking or not.), books (She called you a nerd. Then proceeded to say, "The Anarchist Cookbook".), least favourite teacher (Mr. Miller, who teaches Auto Shop and keeps telling her repair work is sloppy.), and most importantly: the meaning of life ("ask me after I've had a tab or two"??).

After spending the past three minutes trying to convince her you don't get straight A's in every class, you decide just to show her your most recent in Physics and you… realise you left your binder in your locker.

"Crap." You sigh as you peer into your backpack, "I think I left my Science binder in my locker."

Nat snorts, "Didn't you open your bag earlier to put away your textbook? How didn't you notice it then?" "Because I wasn't thinking about it then." You sigh and close your bag, "I need to grab it from my locker. I don't—" "I'll come with you. Need to head to the locker room and change into practice gear." She cuts you off, pushes herself off the stairs, and, much to your surprise, actually waits for you before she starts walking. You try not to act surprised by this as you grab your backpack and throw it over your shoulders. When she does catch you acting surprised, because of course she does, she grins and rolls her eyes. "I said I was coming with you. Which means I am following you, and you aren't following me. Therefore, I have to wait for you. I still don't wait for people to follow me, Princess."

You can't fight the way your eyes roll and lips purse at that comment, "Right." Once you're standing, the pair of you head off in the direction of your locker.

"Dude, your locker is all the way in the old science hall? Who the fuck goes here anymore? There are zero classes near this place anymore. It must take five minutes to walk from class-to-fucking-class." She mutters, more to herself than you, and shakes her head as you two reach your destination. "Yeah, if I could have chosen my locker, it would be in the English hall. Right in the center of all my classes. I'm also pretty sure I'm the only person who has their locker in this hall." You sigh as you start to fiddle with the lock, "I've basically only seen the janitor up here. I don't know what I did to piss off whoever assigned lockers, but here I am." A sigh leaves your lips as the lock clicks open, "Admin won't even let me move lockers." Nat snorts and leans on the locker adjacent yours, "Yeah, sounds about right. They don't actually give a shit about the students here. I mean, for all the money going into athletics, you'd think they'd give us uniforms that don't chafe." An exasperated roll of her eyes, "So stupid."

"Sounds about right. Didn't the money go to the boy's baseball team or something?" She seems slightly surprised you know that but gives a nod of her head. "Uh, yeah. That's right. Which makes no sense considering we won states last year, and this year we actually have a good chance of—"

Her eyes zero in on the binder you're grabbing. "Holy shit. Is that colour-coded?" Her jaw drops in awe (or shock?), and she takes it from your hands, flipping it open. "H-o-l-y s-h-i-t. It is."

"I like having things organized by unit, whether it's a worksheet or notes!" You defend yourself, grabbing the binder back from her with a huff, "Sue me, okay!"

"Shit, I should." She lets out a low whistle, "Damn. All this for a…" She peers at the test you were going to show her, "B? Damn, Princess. That's unfortunate."

"You're making fun of me." You murmur petulantly, slamming the binder shut and shoving it into your backpack, "What's your GPA then, huh?"

Nat hums as she considers that answer, "Three point three."

"Wait." You turn to look at her, "Seriously?"

She laughs, "Yeah, seriously. I can't play soccer if I'm failing all my classes. Just because I don't show up to class doesn't mean I don't do the work for them." A roll of her eyes, like it was an obvious answer.

"Mm. And do you do the work for them, or do you pay some unsuspecting nerd—"

"What makes you think I have the money to pay anyone to do anything?" The girl cuts you off with a snort and crosses her arms, "Trust me, I do all my work myself."

"Hey, who said anything about money?" You grin at her, "You have… dubious tendencies. For all I know, you're paying them some other way." You offer a teasing shrug, "Like stolen BuzzBalls or…" A faux gasp, "Oh my God. Am I the unsuspecting nerd?" Nat scoffs once and looks away, "Yeah, right." Another scoff. Then another.

…wait. Is she blushing? Did you just fluster Natalie Scatorccio? On accident?

Between the way she won't meet your eyes, fiddles with the hem of her shirt, her usually pale cheeks now with the faintest hint of colour in them, and she swallows nervously? Wow. You think you did. How the tables…

You don't get too long to reflect on that before she's seemingly recovered and trying to act unaffected. "What if I am, nerd?" She leans into your personal space, "Maybe I'm looking for an unsuspecting nerd to do more than just my homework."

Now you're the flustered one. Again. "Uh—"

"I mean, think about it." She licks her lips, "The unsuspecting nerd and the resident burnout. Talk about opposites attracting. I could show you so much shit." A feral grin crosses her features, and your entire body heats up without your consent, "I could make you feel real—"

You take a step back, putting up both a metaphorical and physical space between you two. "Natalie. I don't—"

"Don't what? Oh, come on, Princess. Don't act like you haven't been thinking about it. I'm not dumb. I've seen the way you've been looking at me. Don't act like—"

You look visibly uncomfortable. Flustered, yes, but also uncomfortable. You're wringing your hands together in a subconscious act of anxiety, and whether that's because of her proximity or the situation, you aren't quite sure. Either way, Nat notices this.

You swear you see something like guilt flash behind her eyes once she realises she made you uncomfortable, but no outward attempt at an apology is made.

Natalie clears her throat and takes a small step back, the bravado dropping in an instant. "Whatever." She crosses her arms again, "Whatever. Let's just…" Her jaw tenses, and she shakes her head. "Nevermind."

There's some very tense air that passes between the both of you as you awkwardly close and lock your locker, neither of you bothering to glance at the other, letting the awkwardness fester.

It probably would have kept festering, too, had the sound of Natalie's phone vibrating not broken the silence.

"Goddammit, I swear to God if Jackie is—" Her mouth snaps shut as she looks down at her phone, and a slow grin finds its way onto her mouth. "Ooooh, fuck yes." She looks up at you, "Say, Princess, you doing anything tonight?"

"Uhhhh…" You shake your head, "No? I was just planning on staying at home and…" You shrug, "I dunno. Relaxing, or whatever."

"Mm. I have a better idea. You should come to a party tonight."

"Oh."

"Oh? That's it?" Nat rolls her eyes, "Come on. What was it I said about needing to get out of your comfort zone? A party is the perfect time and place to do it!" She shakes her head (and hands), "Look, it's a bonfire. If things go poorly, you can just… sit and stare at the fire and ignore everyone."

An unsure breath leaves your lips as you consider all the possibilities in your head. Of course, your mind heads to the worst-case scenario first, like a completely normal person would.

"Dude, seriously." She says, softer this time. "No pressure. It's just… a bonfire party… no, get-together, with some friends. That's it, yeah? Not like the entire town is gonna be there." She reiterates, throwing some emphasis on the fact it's "just a bonfire get-together," as if that will soothe all your nerves.

More hesitation on your part, but you can't deny the curiosity that seeds its way into your mind at the idea of seeing Nat in her element for once. "I… I don't know, Nat. It really isn't my scene—"

"It doesn't have to be your scene. It's just gonna be the place you spend a single Friday night. That's it. Don't ever gotta come to one again if you decide you hate it. Won't even bring it up again. Promise."

Even more hesitation. Even more curiosity you can't shove down and hide, for better or worse.

You don’t belong in the scene she frequents. Not really. But the way she grinned—like you were some project she couldn’t wait to take on—made you want to, even if it was just for one night.

"Come on. Drinks are free. Maybe they'll have more coolers you can try. Really dip your toes into the world of alcoholic beverages." She snickers.

Man, peer pressure does work, doesn't it?

You’re not a party person. But then again, Natalie Scatorccio isn’t just a person—she’s the reason you’re even considering it.

"I can't believe I'm gonna say this…" You shake your head and sigh, "But… fine. Fine. I'll… I'll go to this stupid party."

A wide grin crosses her face. Wide and very pleased with herself. "Perfect. Good choice. Best choice, really. Won't regret it, promise." She pushes herself off the locker beside yours, "I gotta get to practice. But I will… see you tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah. Yes." You sigh reluctantly, "I will… see you tonight, Nat."

"Hell yeah, you will. Maybe I'll even convince you to crack a beer or two. Smoke a cigarette. Real delinquent shit." She laughs at that as she begins walking off toward the gym, "See you tonight, Princess!" Nat calls from over her shoulder, "I'll text you the address!"

You watch her leave, blinking a few times in shock that she was able to convince you to go to a high school party so quickly.

"Well." You mumble to yourself, "Guess senior year isn't the worst time to go to your first party." You rub your forehead, mildly frustrated with yourself and your ability to say no, "Goddammit."

Well. Guess you have a party to prepare for, huh?

a/n: can i be so real with yall for a sec

every time i type in "natalie scatorccio" on pinterest i start feeling weird after the first few minutes cus I'm like "damn I'm fr just staring at photos of sophie thatcher rn" but I suppose it could be worse. could be staring at photos of (insert ugly celebrity name here)

#natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x you #nat scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio x you #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets showtime #(brief)#shauna shipman #jackie taylor #spoons (fics/blurbs)#butter knives (sfw)#crush #from the cutlery drawer #taco bell was a heretic reference btw teehee

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hishighnesstheprincess · 6 months ago

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Guys I'm gonna be so fucking fr with you if this turns out to be real I'm fully giving up on these movies

#sonic #sonic movie 3 #scu #sonic critical #negativity #sonic posting #first off time travel is a dogshit idea. second off replacing one of the few important female characters with gerald robotnik is insane #when we dont even know amy or rouge are going to be in this thing and the only important female character is one who dies #so a male character can develop. putting a man into a womans role in the story is so gross to me #if theyre going to change things this drastically i would honestly prefer it if they let maria live #so at least she and shadow can have a happy ending #im so fucking tired of these movies man. all the social issues and lack of basic respect for the stories theyre adapting is so tiring #why even make these adaptations theyre just superhero flicks at this point #and also time travel is a fucking STUPID idea bc that will just make people question why they dont save maria #or anyone else who has died. they could save longclaw/knuckles dad and tribe #hope my gerald moots appreciate his extra screentime ig. big naturals forever

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nicoliine · 11 months ago

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About the times when Alastor touched you and when he expected you to do it back.

☆彡 How in the world does the radio demon, who doesn't really like physical contact, end up looking for any excuse to have his hands on you?

☆ Reader is g/n; no pronouns or y/n are used.

☆ Warnings: not really. Does a mental breakdown count as a warning? Alastor is a warning itself yk.

☆ English isn't my first language, so if there's any mistake I sorry-

You noticed that Alastor didn't like people's proximity when you first arrived at the hotel and he didn't even try to shake your hand. There, with your hand on the air, you stand waiting for his shake as you observe his ramblings about a whole different subject—not that you mind about all the weird souls that can be met in hell—watching him around the other hotel staff, you confirm it.

After a couple of days in the hotel and witnessing his power display, you made a mental note to not mess with him. That being said, you didn't really want to touch him.

You were a very touchy person, content to hug Pentious when you first saw him around in the morning or cuddle on the couch with Angel before he started to make a lewd comment about his job and you just ended up leaving him alone. Nifty seemed to enjoy being all over you, sitting on your shoulders while you were reading or just playing with your hair.

Another one who was happy about your touchy personality was Charlie, but she is just happy about everything.

☆◦•◦☆

It started a month from your arrival.

Alastor, being a self-proclaimed gentleman, didn't seem to be aware of your not touching Alastor rule, he started holding the door open for you then creating a shadow to lift up that heavy box that you needed to move, and you ended up—it was hard for you—just trying to move up your body away so you didn't end up too close to him, but he seemed to love your personal space so much.

One time, you were in the hallway, not really aware of your surroundings, until you felt an arm around your shoulders. When you heard his static voice, you froze on your steps, slowly turning your head to see him there, standing with that so-known smile of his. When he started to walk, still holding you, talking about that great idea for the hotel, you just couldn't pay so much attention. Your mind is running on thoughts about his proximity.

This wasn't the only time he ended up having you close to him; being honest, it seems to have a personal liking to your presence. You doubt he was like that before your arrival (as you already spoke with Charlie about it), but he could be found anywhere you were. If you ended up helping fix the balcony fence, he was there behind you—you're glad he's at least silent—or when you are in the bar just scrolling through your phone and he is watching you from the other side of the room, not wanting to be near your technology artifacts, is he just trying to drive you mad? Even though that look of his seems to be asking for something you don't know, you won't ask what it is. Just wait to see how it goes.

His touch soon became more frequent. You often end up with your own theory that it's something involuntary, like something he doesn't even notice by the way it feels, like deep in the end he just wants to be touched but don't know how to ask for it. But with that demon, nothing is sure; everything he does used to be planned. That's why you found yourself confused and don't want to test your luck.

When you are in the lobby in the middle of one of Charlie's activities and his arm ends up holding you by his side.

Or when he just kisses the back of your hand every time you first see him in the morning and every time he leaves, no exceptions, that confusing look of his is always there.

Just about that, your hands—he often takes your hands. While you are in the kitchen and waiting for the pasta on the stove, one of your hands is resting on the counter as you hold a recipe book, reading the next steps. He's by your side the whole time; one of his hands takes your free hand, making you pause your reading and look at him in surprise for the sudden action. He says nothing, and both of you are standing there in silence until you have to go back to cook. However, he doesn't seem to want to let you go yet because he will follow you as you move around the kitchen.

From them, it seems that everyone is aware of this weird Alastor thing.

Nobody talks about it though—you are surprised as they have stayed out of the subject, just making silent bets about the cause of this behavior of his—but you know it wouldn't take long for someone to talk about it.

☆◦•◦☆

The last time he put his hands on you, you were scared. So much has passed since the last time you felt this way. Anxious and terrified, everything around you was spinning; you had to run away from the hotel activities all day.

When Alastor found you in your room, you were a mess, all your stuff scattered around the room. You saw him from your seat in a corner on the other side of the room; the only candle in the nightstand seemed to be dead soon. He just stood there in front of you; you didn't even try to look up at him, just his shoes. You can tell so much about someone else by his shoes; his shoes seemed almost perfectly clean even after destroying his enemies. He's such a collected person that it scares you.

"Why, dear, would you look at me?" Alastor surely doesn't enjoy being ignored; you know that. You just couldn't find the strength to move when he spoke to you. It passed almost 5 minutes before you turned your head up, and he was so patient with you the whole time. "What is that troubling your mind, dear?"

You didn't respond right away; you're not sure how much time passed until you did it.

"It's just... everything." Your hands run around your face as you try not to have an attack right away in front of him. "I'm so scared, Alastor."

He just smiled; nothing was said; he didn't even try to touch your shoulder or hold you; he just smiled with that now so common smile of his, —you could swear it was the biggest smile you had seen on his face —one of his arms extended to you.

You have no idea why you did what you did; maybe he asked you directly, or you imagined it all, or his eyes showed what he wanted, or the candle in your room was one of Angel's drugs, or you just simply had a death wish. You don't know.

But you hugged him—just a hug—so hard that you could break his bones. When you took conscience about what you were doing, you tried to back down, not knowing how he could react to your contact.

But he didn't let you; his arm took you by the waist, and his staff was forgotten on the ground when he held your head against his shoulder.

You now understand why he always touched you. While you hands grabbed fists of his coat, he held you so tight, like it wasn't enough, and you just needed to be closer to him forever; he didn't want anything else.

So he did, he didn't let you go for a single moment that night; even when you were in bed, he held your hand the whole time. He just let you go the next morning when Vaggie insisted he needed to go do his job, even so he wouldn't forget to kiss your hand before he left. The ghost of his touch accompanied you all the time; it was like your body grew so used to his presence and his touch that you could feel it as a part of you.

Touch Starved! Alastor folks!!! Alastor is such an interesting character to write! I want ro respect him so bad.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated 💞

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #istg this man smells like wood and coffee #nicolines

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mayasaurusss · 29 days ago

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Hello, I really liked the way you write about Jinx, can you please write about how femme! the reader and Isha fall into a trap and as a result, while protecting Isha, the reader is injured and Jinx goes into her killer mode (you don’t have to write if you don’t want to) you can just write aftercare if you want

A helping hand

A/N: and here it's finally done! I could have made this oneshot quicker and shorter but then I got chaught up in writing it... and I woke up eight days later with this in my drafts😂. I don't ususally like how I handle stories, but I think that this one turned out pretty good. As mentioned in another post, it's very heavily plot driven and it's a wopping eleven pages worth of writing. My grammar, as always, might not be the top gamma. I hope you guys will enjoy it! Also this was mixed with something someone suggested on ao3!

Contains: female reader, violence, murder, mentions of saliva and vomiting, hurt and comfort, very heavily plot driven, happy ending with a happy family. Lenght: 6k/ 11 pages.

The limited air inside the vent makes you choke on your breath, chemicals and smoke filling your lungs and hollowing your brain. A loud sound echoes inside the metal hull, alerting every one of your senses. "Isha! Be careful!" you whisper-yell at the kid, who's crouching in front of you, placing her hat back on.

She just huffs in response, rolling her eyes before continuing her tour inside Zaun's vents. Isha has not been too fond of you since you entered her life; one reason could be that she thought she had to compete with you for Jinx's attention. The other reason, maybe, is that you were from topside. Piltover, The City of Progress. The city who exploited and hurt the poor citizens of the Undercity. Avid hands commanding from atop marble skyscrapers, grinning smiles sucking away the air of the lanes.

It's no wonder you're not Isha's favorite; Sevika too seemed to have a disdain for you, either because of your privileged position or for the way Jinx was distracted and dreamy when you were near.

To ingratiate yourself into Isha's favours and to make it at least somewhat pleasant for both of you to be near each other, you agreed to follow her in a walk through the lanes.

Jinx had invited you into her own private lair, after much convincing on her part. One day, she just swept you up and brought you down with her, making you walk through fissures, alleys and neon lit streets.

"You should have a tour of The Lanes, y'know, to learn how life's like down here" a flicker of a spark reflecting in her goggles as she made some of her obscure machine-thingies. "So give me one" you said, prompting Jinx to hum in thought. "I am busy today, and Sev' is too. Besides, I don't think you'll enjoy each other's company" she glanced at Isha, who was drawing Stinkmaw on her notebook. "You'll just have to settle for Isha" the kid propped her head up at the mention of her name, already looking with stars in her eyes at Jinx, not aware of your previous conversation. "What do you say Isha? Want to have fun with your new friend? Give her a tour of the Undercity?", Isha sized you from head to toe with a snarl on her lips, eyes moving between you and Jinx while her face became more and more agitated. "Come on, she's not that boring" Jinx moved back to her work, sparks flying and lit up her face, "I should know". Your face grew hot with her words, remembering what happened between you two just weeks prior. Isha gave a disgusted 'ew', before Jinx turned her head to watch the kid, a shadow of anger in her eyes. "No excuses! Come on, just go around a bit, become friends!".

"Jinx I, I don't think this is a wise idea. I mean, Isha is just a kid: what if something happens? I-" Jinx interrupted you, her voice almost lost between the screeching sounds of metal scraps flickering sparks between each other. "You'll both be fine. Isha is a smart kid, she'll get out of any situation. As for you..." she turned to you, a teasing glint in her eyes, "...will you be able to keep up with her?".

'No, not at all' you answer to her mental image, struggling to keep your pace behind Isha. The kid is fast inside these tunnels, and your body is not accustomed to their narrow spaces and to the flow of smoke and waste. The metal feels light and shaky under your weight, giving you the impression that at the slightest of pressure, you will sink beneath and break your ribs into the concrete of just another of Zaun's alleys. You steady on, carefully applying your weight where each border of the metal tubes meet, following the shadow of Isha.

After what feels like ages, you finally spot the end of a tunnel, light shining on the dirty buildings giving it a green hue. Isha crawls towards it, leaving you behind in the dusty tunnels, prompting you to follow her quickly. The kid has already jumped in the street below, adjusting her hat on, turning her back to you while she begins to walk away. You take in a deep breath, calculating the height of your jump, before falling messily on the concrete.

"Ack, shit" Isha gives you a dirty look, "What?". She just rolls her eyes, before continuing on, not waiting for you. The Undercity is just what you expected: crowds of people fill it's street, smoking and squaring you up; sellers shout to lure in buyers, presenting their merch of metal husks, hundreds of different flavours of tobacco and pieces of meat that you'd rather not know from what they came from. At the far corners, gang groups threaten and push against each other, their blades glinting with a malicious look. The streets are lit by bright neon signs, filled with all possible smells and gasses, overcrowded to the point that you're short of breath. Distantly, you can hear the sound of machinery evermoving, of water and air and of shipments departing from shore. The city itself beats and pumps, like a living heart.

Everything is suffocating; too loud, too much. And what's worse is, everyone knows that you don't belong. Their eyes are envious, angry, a dangerous hate barely hidden beneath their scleras. Hell, Isha, the kid who is known to have a kind heart, can barely hide it. For a moment, too caught up in your mind and it's worries, you miss Isha turning around, entering a dark hallway. You follow her blue locks until you're far from people, now only surrounded by high walls and some couples making out in a corner. On one wall there are signs of damage: claws and dents and what looks to be a... strange green goop staining the bricks, along with scraps of metal of an exoskeleton.

You find Isha sitting at the corner where the street opens, back against the wall. You are not too sure what she is doing: after all, she has proved to be rather uninterested in you. What you don't realize, not at first anyway, is that she had run through the crowd into the alley to lure you away from that noisy hell so you'd have time to get used to it. Sliding down next to her, your clothes drag down the dirt and dust of years behind them. Silence feels heavy above your head, the distant sounds of the crowd the only thing keeping you at least a bit sane.

Isha has found a pastime in rolling the hem of her hat on the ground, trying to make a perfect spin with it. The sounds of metal against concrete screech inside the hallway, attracting more than just one pair of eyes. You can feel Isha's reluctance to begin so close to you, probably thinking to herself that it was a mistake waiting for you. When the silence feels too heavy, then you finally speak. "Isha...listen" the hat spinning stops abruptly, it's hem catched between Isha's thumb and index finger. "I know you don't like me" she's surprised that you decided to face the problem right away; it's not something your people are known for. "You've made it all too clear these past days. I know you are wary of me; I know the Undercity is wary of us". The kid's eyes are now on you, studying, squaring you up, detecting any lies that you may hide under your sweet words.

"But... I am not my city. I know what you have been through and I am..." you falter for a moment, thinking that you're starting to sound a little too guilty and invested in this, and that she may recognize this as insincere. "What I meant to say is... I would like to be your friend, if you want to".

Isha doesn't answer you right away, but you see a small smile spread on her lips. You breathe a sigh of relief at successfully bringing down her walls.

She jumps back up, extending her hand to yours, palm open and a curious smile on her face. You take it, careful to not push your weight down on her before you too stand up.

"Come on, let's go home. This is good enough of a tour for me today", you take Isha's hand, ready to walk back to Jinx's, before something clutters inside the hallways, spreading its dull, hollow metal sound everywhere. The sound gets closer and closer, the item of its origin stopping its course at your feet. It's a cylinder shaped, stubby looking object; drawn on its surface are what you recognize to be Jinx's drawings, imitating a grinning gaping mouth of some evil creature. The red light you are so familiar with, the one which with Jinx blows her enemies to bits, is off.

"Well, look what we have here. The runt of that crazed bitch and Piltover's finest trash". From under the fuming tubes, a tall, scruffy looking man shows up. His hair is in a buzz cut style, thin muscles tightly attached to his bones, making him look starved and unkept. Black tattooed run over his forehead and cheeks, giving his sulken eyes even more of a crazed look. His goons all show up after him, exiting from their hidden spots. "What do you want?" you try to sound though, but the wavering of your voice only gives away your fears. Isha hides behind you, clutching tightly at the fabric of your pants.

"Oh we don't want anything from you. But you see..." he reaches to fish something out of his pants. You see it before he shows it: the hem of a knife. He slides the blade out of its sheath, glimmering dangerously in the dark. "...that darling bitch of yours took something from us. Well, to be honest, someone. Someone very dear to our group" you look in between you and Isha, then at the distance between you and the goons, trying to think of an escape.

"What do you mean? How do you know Jin-" he laughs creepily, a little too high for your tastes, echoing between the walls. "How do I know Jinx? Everyone knows Jinx!" he gesticulates with the knife still in his hand, dangerously close to hitting himself in the eye with it. He inspects the blade with something dark inside his thoughts, dulling the colour out of his eyes. With a creepy and disturbing smile on his lips, he runs his finger along the line, blood trickling down its shape. He seems to take a sick kind of pleasure from seeing red staining the metal. "I gotta give it to her though, she really aimed high: fucking someone from Piltover is something none of us would dirty ourselves trying to".

A vein under your skin pumps blood into your brain faster, giving you the prospect of an annoying headache, "Watch that tone-". "Never thought that that small, smart runt would become what she is today. Powder really outdid herself", you don't miss the cruel smirk which paints his lips, enjoying infecting your relationship with Jinx. "Powder?" the name doesn't ring a bell, and you're left with the man's ominous eyes peering into your heart, telling you that 'you don't know anything'.

"Oh look, trust runs so deep between you two that you don't even know her real name! Did you really think a parent could ever name their child 'Jinx'?" the rest of his group laughs and mocks you like their leader is, like a hoard of sheep follows their shepard. "I don't need to know her name. If there is a reason why Po- Jinx is keeping her real name a secret from me, I am not gonna pry it open from her" you can feel your heart pump blood faster into your veins, that small headache becoming stronger and stronger as anger takes hold of your actions. "Mhm? Just like she kept her family's deaths a secret?" those words feel heavy when he speaks them, clearly holding some truth behind them. You try to remain calm but anger and fear are affecting your judgment. "W-What? What the fuck are you talking about?" their ugly laughs fill your ears, only aiding in alimenting the fire at your heart. "After our little...fight, he changed. He started to hang out with the wrong people, doing the wrong things..." slowly, ever so slowly, all of them start to circle around you. One, two, four, six of them, sporting grinning smiles, stalking you like hyenas.

"But he would have been the same has always, even if he had become dumber than he was. He would have been alive too, at this moment, if Vander hadn't intervened". None of what this man is saying makes sense to you. He's talking to you, but his words are meant for others: for his friends, for Isha, for Jinx. You, once again, are reminded that you're not welcome here. In their eyes, hate and hunger swirl, creating a whirlwind that sucks away at your courage, "Just...what do you want from me?!".

"Jinx and that sister of hers took our friend from us. Our boss. Now-" with mastered precision, he makes the blade jump from his hands, now it's tip pointing towards the ground. Something that you can only describe as burning hatred and killing intent paints his features, before he screams a rallying cry, "It's our turn taking everything from her!".

That is enough for the whole lot of them to pounce. One moment, and they are all on you; punching, kicking, twisting your hair in their grasp, snarling and mocking. In the confusion you lose Isha, not being able to distinguish her blue locks in between all that green and grey. For a split second, after they consume their gloves on you, no one is holding you down. You take the occasion to slip away from their grasps, falling backwards into the opening street. You take a second to choose what to do, and as you run towards the crowd once again, following where you assume Isha went, a feeling of anger rises in your stomach. The sound of the busy street echoes, a distant reminder that you have a life to return to, but something tugs at your heart to look at them in the eyes. Blood pumps fast in your veins, alerting every muscle, every bone, every fiber that danger is near, you need to go, but your heart, brain, the pride you take in begin still alive overtakes your judgment. You stop to look at them, the prospect of a challenge in your eyes, of saying 'Look at me!' and incite them to follow 'I am still alive!'.

They look like ravenous beasts, hunched backs and gleaming eyes, angry snarls on their faces, hate coursing through their veins. The leader of the group, the scruffy looking one, fishes something from his back and places it on the bottom of his face: it's a mask, made with grey metal and sprayed with fake golden accents to give it a more classy look. On the side there's a circular opening with a single point in the centre. He takes a syringe and inserts it in the hole, pushing the top down and filling the hollow cavities of the mask with purple gasses. He takes in a deep breath, eyes rolling backwards, before his body goes through a strange change, twitching and moving like he had been shocked. When he looks back at you his eyes are a deep, neon pink, the same shade of colour that paints Jinx's eyes. He moves towards you, pushing and snarling at his friends like a dog with rabies, breaking their bones on the walls, before, with all the air in his lungs, screams, "I'm going to enjoy skinning that piltie's clean skin away from your body!".

You don't make it far before, with an uncanny precision, he throws his blade towards you like a spear, metal sinking inside of your left side, dangerously close to your kidney. A gasp leaves your body before you fall on the floor, blood oozing from the wound. Hundred of needles pierce at your flesh, blood paints the concrete and your mind fuses with the flesh of your brain. Then it all stops; you're back in the alley, cold spreading from the wound throughout your body, followed by a unbearable heat. The blade is snatched from your side, an ear shattering scream erupting from your throat. He is on top of you, already inching the knife to the base of your neck, planning to stab you there, wanting to see the life leaving your body in the most gruesome way possible. "I can't wait to see the look on your girlfriend when I am going to bring her the eyes of her most loved!".

"Bye bye, piltie" you brace yourself for your end; you can almost already feel the knife lodged in your throat, but nothing happens. You hear the sound of a metal hulk resonating in the hallway, before he is knocked down by something thrown with force against his face. You recognize it to be the exoskeleton of the arm you saw before, lying around. The rod which was the building foundation for its making has been thrown on the man's ugly bat-like nose, making him bleed red.

Isha stands behind you, still in launching position, before she runs over to you and tries to help you up. When you do, white behind your eyelids blinds you, pain making your head spin. He gets up again, an animalistic wild look in his eyes. He moves again, muscles hardened with purple veins running along them, drool falling down the space between the mask and his skin. Before he can assault you again, Isha throws something at him: the bomb he himself kicked before, the one Jinx had made, moves through the air, soon to be the second object to hit his ugly face today. He recognizes the object and pales when he sees a red light zipping faster and faster, its grinning mouth inching closer to him.

A colorful light shines on the walls, paint of blue and pink shades falling down like rain; sparks of fire following the natural course of an explosion, fading out of existence a moment later. You run with Isha, hand in hand, away from this horrid place. This time, you don't look back.

A trickle of sweat falls down Jinx's temple while her eyes are focused on connecting two tubes of plastic together. Electricity flows through them, sending sparks flying dangerously close to her skin, before they are connected by the metal snaps on each of their ends. Jinx smiles as her creation takes its first movements, loudly clapping two copper coloured, round, small discs together, before stopping once again. Her fingers twist the key positioned on its back and the mechanic monkey comes to life once again. When her work is finally done, she puts it next to the other one she made hours prior.

The one meant for Isha is coloured with golden accents and decorated with graffitis all over. When turned on, it quickly smashes the plates against each other and plays an off-tune punk song if the button on its right leg is pushed; its eyes are golden, mimicking Isha's own. The one meant for you is far softer than the first: soft shades of pastel mix together with Jinx's characteristic pink, swirling your colours together. Instead of plates, it has a small, roughly knitted red heart in its hands. The left eye shines bright pink, while the other mirror's yours. There are no graffiti on it, except for a small heart on its chest, one near 'your' eye and a 'Jinx' on its left side.

She can't wait to see the look on your eyes when you will see it. She could never quite well express affection like other people do, so giving you gifts was what she did best. Just as she dreams of your face, she hears quick, loud steps coming closer and closer to her. "If you are Caitlyin, I appreciate your obsession with me, but I am in the middle of-" she recognizes Isha's laboured breaths and your pained groans before she can finish the phrase. And when she turns around, her face pales and her blood freezes. Isha has a panicked look to her face, one that she had never seen before; and you? Sweat falls with heavy tears down your face, the shade of your skin so much paler than it usually is, making you look almost dead. Your hand is tightly clutched on your side, where your hand is stained with...blood?

In a fraction of a second, Jinx is on you, hands checking at every curve of your body, focusing on places you might be hurt, while she asks question upon question, filling the air with a sense of urgency. You can only describe the look in her eyes as pure dread. If you didn't groan with pain every few seconds, you'd think Jinx was the one to have gotten hurt. The next few minutes are a whirlpool of movements and colours, making you spill your lunch on the floor. Soft fabric meets your back, suddenly naked with only your bra to cover your chest. Blood oozes faster out of you and you can feel your conscience leaving. Nothing else besides the red on your skin and the blurred shades of blue and brown exists for you.

"...ont worry, I al... got m... sis...er out of ...ble". When after wetting your wound with water, Jinx presses gauze on your body, you are suddenly brought back to life, violently. It feels like someone is crushing with all their might on you, despite Jinx applying the right pressure to the wound. If someone were to walk in right now hearing your screams, they'd think you were begin murdered. After what finally feels like an eternity, you are lying again on her bed, almost lifelessly. You don't have time to answer Jinx's questions, before you fall into a deep slumber.

Half an hour passes by, and the world seems sealed in a bubble of silence. Nothing moves. nothing makes noise, nothing happens. The only thing that does make noise are the voices in Jinx's head, screaming loudly at her for having let you go alone. 'You should have been there', 'See what happens when you let people into your life?', 'She is hurt. She might die. It's your fault'.

Their loud screams are enough to make one go crazy, but despite how confused she is, Jinx finds a will in herself to speak, to silence them. With her hand, she nudges Isha, getting her attention, and mouths "What happened?".

Isha doesn't answer. Her eyes burn holes into the metal of the helix, bottom lip tightly sealed under her teeth, before something in her breaks. She rushes in Jinx's arms, hiding herself into her chest, crying until the tears are gone and her throat is raw. They stay together, tangled into one another, for a while, until their bodies are cold. "Isha, what happened?" Jinx repeats.

Isha gets up, running over Jinx's desk and returns with two different coloured pencils. On the ground she draws a scene: you and her, hand in hand, with frowning faces; behind you six grinning figures, one taller than the rest. Green splattered on the ground and high walls. Jinx recognizes this place immediatley; she's been there just a couple of weeks prior.

Walking to her desk, she grabs her trusted gun and more than a dozen of bullets. A deep, hateful scowl paints her features, eyes shining brighter than usual.

Tonight, the undercity shines and roars with fervor. Its lights shine bright and the shouts of its inhabitants brings it to life, beating strong, like the heart of a dragon. The city seems to sway in tandem with Jinx's white cape, almost bending to her will but also shielding her, hiding her in its crowds. This is home. This is all Jinx has ever known and ever will. She knows it's streets like the palm of her hand: where to leave her mark, the highest places she can reach from which she can put a bullet in between her enemies eyes, which vents and tunnels will take her back home.

She knows exactly where you had been hurt, and if her predictions are correct, they're waiting for her there. And she's gonna give them what they want. The allway is far too serene to be one of the city's main ways out to the perimeter where steel factories and shipments are. It's uncharacteristically quiet, and by Zaun's rules, that means danger.

Jinx steps on the green gooey substance, observing the dripping of your blood leading to the city's main street, and anger boils inside her at that view. The square is empty, except for a series of tubes and a pitfall to its left. Just as she thought, she begins to hear steps coming into her direction. They had been expecting her.

"If you weren't trying, and failing, to ambush me, I'd say you have a crush" the man behind her simply scoffs, his breath coming out ragged and metallic from under his mask.

Jinx turns around to see a tall man, breathing through what she recognizes to be a mask that henchmens of shady organizations wore to enhance their physical abilities. After a moment, she recognizes blood staining the man's pale skin, half of his left hand blown off, rudimental replaced with a metal prosthesis at the last minute. She can ignore that just fine, but the exposed muscle of his left cheek makes her want to puke. "Wow, and you're even more grotesque than I thought" a cruel anger swirls inside her eyes, her lips curling up in a snarl. "What? Were you so anxious to try to kill me that you couldn't even let your wounds heal?" he laughs at her words, men closing in on her much like they did hours prior to you.

"We were waiting for you, Powder" the mention of that name pangs at her heart. Subtly, she touches the top of her gun, ready to draw it at the first sign of danger. "I figured. How do you know my name?" "A man can know much...if he is in the right place, at the right time" he falls silent when Jinx laughs at his words, anger making a vein in his head pop. "Damn. I thought you were pathetic already, but this whole 'supervillain' talk only makes you seem more of an ass than you already are" much like Jinx, he grabs the death of his knife. At the sign, his men form a half circle around the blue haired criminal, directly closing the only way out. "You won't talk all that shit after I sink my blade in your throat" she can't help but feel compassion for these poor bastards. Faintly, she can already feel their blood falling on her skin while putting bullets between their eyes. "I would like to see you try" she changes her body stance, right side facing them while she takes out her gun with her left hand, making a show of placing the bullets in. Unlike what she thought, they do not follow her; instead, the leader seems relaxed as ever. His dark eyes reflect hers and for a second Jinx can see a dangerous, maniacal glint in them and a cruel grin on his lips.

"Oh I did try, and succeeded, with your little piltie bitch-girlfriend" her breathing stops, heart missing a beat, and time seems to stop for a moment, before it all starts to spin again, faster and faster as she gets angrier and angrier. "You should have heard her screams. The sweetest I've ever heard" she imagines you, clutching at your side, tears in your eyes and spit falling off your mouth; begging for him to leave you alone, to let you go. His features are lost under a black veil and painted over with a red open mouthed smile and tight eyes, not unlike the monsters that she has to fight with every night, as he raises the crimson blade and-.

"Don't you fucking dare" her throath feels raw when she speaks, almost as if she's spewing pure black hatred with each word. "Or what? What are you going to do?" 'He thinks he's the shit, huh?', she thinks, loading the storage to the brim and finally raising the barrel of her gun to aim on his forehead. "I am going to enjoy blowing your brains out"

'No one hurts the people I love'.

The next few seconds are a blur of colours and movement. Her body moves before her mind can understand what is going on. She ducks under something coming at her, kicking at the figure and sending them flying a few feet away from her. Someone pulls at her braids and she yelps, momentarily confused; in a fraction of a second, she blows their hand off, crouching and punching in the face a second figure. The blood on the ground, spilling from the screaming man gives everything a shape again and she's back to the alley. Three men are down, two unconscious and one debilitated. The remaining ones look at her up and down, before the leader nudges them, kicking their shins.

One of them takes a metal rod from his side and swings wildly at Jinx, paying no attention to where he hits. She dodges him with no effort and when he stops momentarily to rest his arm, she knocks his weapon from his hands and hits him in the neck with it, white replacing the colour of his eyes. The other, after seeing the bodies of who used to be his companions, runs away, leaving his leader behind; but before he can make it far, a bullet runs fast through his chest and he falls to the floor, lifeless.

He is the last one standing. "Heh, you call yourself a leader, but you couldn't even save your men". His teeth grind harshly against each other, sending jolts of pain through his mouth, "Shut the fuck up".

But Jinx doesn't. No, she's going to enjoy torturing the life out of this fucker like he did to you. "You didn't even lift a finger. I didn't know Zaun could have such a coward walking through its streets".

He finally snaps, spit flowing out of his mouth as he screams, staining the mask inside "I said shut up!". He breathes in the chemical Jinx is so familiar with, huffing purple clouds out of the mask with a metallic sound. Once again, he feels the rush of the substance in his lungs, blood circling small purple bubbles throughout the body, strengthening his muscles and blanking his mind. But this time, his body starts to twitch and shake, slipping out of his control.

The heart beats faster, the lungs lose their air and move erratically, blood flows freely through his body and bones morph, stretching and breaking and strengthening. His muscles cannot be sustained by the bones anymore, and he falls to the floor. The space inside his ribcage feels tighter, his lungs can only provide so much until finally, his body stops changing and he can stand up, much taller than Jinx now.

The blue haired criminal looks incredibly unimpressed with her opponent's new shape, her eyes studying his moments and planning the next few seconds. That grotesque creature lunges, pushing his whole weight on the top of his body, falling messily when Jinx dodges him. She ducks under a clawed swing, rolling through the space between his legs; then, while he is confused and looking for her, aims at his neck.

The bullet lodges itself into the skin, remaining snugly fit between flesh. The scream that leaves him could have woken up the dead. His nails dig into his neck, trying desperately to yank the bullet out, but to no avail. He turns and turns, like a cat chasing its tail, before dizziness gets to him and he falls to the floor, spilling saliva all over the concrete. When he looks around once again, he is face to face with Jinx's gun, staring at the black hole of the barrel. "You made a mistake crossing me, today. Let this be a lesson" she tilts the gun until it's flat against his forehead. He is not capable of forming words anymore, they die at the base of his throath, leaving only emptiness behind. For a moment, she can see in his eyes something that resembled her, many years ago: a scared animal, one that does not understand what their fate will be. But when her mind reminds her of how viciously he attacked you, and how you are lying in her bed, with no assurance that you'll wake up, anger bubbles once again behind her eyes, clouding her thoughts.

"I'm sorry" is all that he hears, before his body falls to the floor, life leaving his eyes.

Her heart feels cold, as well as her body and mind. Jinx, in her own kind of weird way, is already trying to make peace with the fact that, once she comes back home, you might be gone. All too often in her life she had to come to terms with the death of her loved ones, and all too often, she was directly involved with their demise. She can already picture it: you on the bed, blood staining your clothes and the mattress, Isha on her knees, crying her heart out. She, coming home, seeing your dead body lying on what used to be your little shared creek, shielded by the world, falling to her knees and her heart finally giving out to pain, soon to follow you.

From the crack inside the wall, she can spot the helix of her home, the one she'll soon walk over to reach you. She tries to move, but to no avail: her body doesn't let her. Her muscles are reduced to mush, her legs feel like lead and her heart heaves on her rib cage so much that she had to bend down, clutching at her chest to try and ignore that pain. She could stay here forever, stalling time to this single minute, winding it back over and over and over again, all for the purpose of pretending she's still with you, back in your apartment in Piltover, laying naked on the bed with serene smiles on your faces.

But she can't. Even if she could stop time, right here and now, what could she do? Nothing would change. You'd still be dead, she'd still be heartbroken, the bed would still be cold on your side.

She slips inside the crevice, body molding to its shape, before she is face to face with the entrance to her home. She's so lost in her dread and fear that, for a moment, she doesn't hear the sound of laughter from the inside. When her mind recognized the sound, the pitch of the voice she so longed to hear, tears prickled at her eyes and hope filled her heart. She rushes towards the sound, almost tripping down the helix and falling to her death.

There you are. Laying on the bed, laughing weakly as Isha gesticulates and shouts loudly, imitating some sort of monster. Every little light inside her home has been placed near you, probably by Isha, and lifts your figure with a myriad of colorful shades. You look like a living painting to her.

You can't even process seeing her when she's already on you, touching you everywhere, checking your pulse, grabbing onto your legs to assure herself, to make sure that you...

"Are you... really alive?". You could crumble right here and now under those tearful eyes of hers, so soft and beautiful, looking almost powder blue. You stretch your arms to reach down to her, hugging her close to you; "I am, I am". Jinx takes a moment to process your hug and your words; and when she does, when she's certain that you are alive, that you are okay, her walls crumble away.

She pulls you down towards her, wanting to reciprocate the hug, but impatience gets the better of her and instead pulls herself on the bed, halfway reaching you. Her head rests on your belly, tears staining your clothes when she feels your hand on her back. "I thought-! I thought you-" her words die in her throath when she feels your fingers cupping at her cheek, pulling her to rest on her knees and look into your eyes. "I know, I know. I am okay".

Tears fall freely down her cheeks once again, her bottom lip wavering before she takes refuge in your body, hiding her tears on your lap. "I am so glad! I am so glad...".

Once her tears dry, she pushes herself to look at you, eyes puffy and red. "You are okay" she says, and you're about to assure her once again, but something tells you that she's really talking to herself. She climbs on the bed with you, quickly resting her head on your chest. You can't help but smile at her, ready to cuddle together when you realize you've let someone out of the picture. Isha looks at you both with those big eyes of her, pouting. She knows exactly how to push your buttons.

"Come on kid, get in" come Jinx's words, quickly followed by Isha tangling herself in between your bodies and closing her eyes, sleep already overtaking her. "Man, she sure takes a lot of space" you chuckle, placing your hand on Isha's head and stroking her locks between your fingers, hearing a small contented sigh from her. "Yeah, but she deserves it". A heavy silence fills the space, one that you usually pair up with tranquillity, but who you quickly realize is loud for your lover. "Jinx... I am okay" stopping them from screaming in her ears is hard, but when you are with her, they vanish off of existence. Your voice brings her back to reality, as well as reminding her that you have gotten hurt. Letting herself relax after the storm is something she's not used to. "I know" but she can try.

Starting this conversation will be a pain, you think to yourself, but you need to tell her.

"...He told me your real name, Jinx. And, what you did". Quick snapping sounds, mixed with hushed voices and distant screams fill her head in a second, getting louder by the second. She doesn't find in herself the strength to answer, too tired from the day's events; but nevertheless, listens. She leans on the bed, eyes dark and attentive. The scent of your skin fills her nose and she braces herself for your next words. "But...I don't care".

What?

"I don't know what you've been through, but... I don't need to know. You will tell me if you want to". It all stops. Every sound, every shout or whisper, every heartbeat or pulse of electricity. It seems, for a moment, that all becomes white and quiet, before the world starts to spin again. You feel her strong fingers push you more towards her, one cold hand under your clothes, right where your wound is. "Thank you toots, that means a lot".

Less than twenty seconds of silence later, she's already pestering you with her worries again, "Does it hurt? Do I need to give you som-" you interrupt her, taking her hand in yours. Normally, you would be a little annoyed by her continuous train of words, but she needs to be reassured. She needs to hear it from you, how many times it takes. "I am okay. I just need you here with me".

That seems enough to let her finally bear down her worries and she quickly rests on the bed, eyelids heavy and a yawn in her throath. "...I made you a monkey...gift" she slurrs over her words, already slipping in and out of conciousness. "Oh really?". "Yeah...". You too are about to follow her shortly, and before you let sleep overtake you, you reach behind and place a kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight Jinx" she smiles, catching your lips in a quick peck and pushing her nose in the crevice of your shoulders; "Goodnight toots".

Bonus ----------------

When Sevika came home that night, after her usual gambling and drinking out in Zaun's bar, she certainly did not expect to find the messily tangled body of limbs that were you, Jinx and Isha.

As quietly as she possibly can, she takes the chair Jinx sits on while doing her evil scientist machineries and sits next to your bed. Placing a cigar in between your lips and lights it, blowing the smoke away in the opposite direction. She looks back at the bed, multiple coloured lights shading your peacefully sleeping figures. She stays silent for a moment, before she crouches on her knees and shakes the tip of the cigar, firing crumbling pieces of tobacco down on the floor. "They do look pretty cute".

#jinx arcane x reader #arcane x reader #jinx x reader #arcane x you #arcane x female reader #jinx x fem!reader #no smut #violence tw #fluff

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 9 months ago

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DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

#dpxdc prompt #dpxdc au #dpxdc memes #dpxdc crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dead on main #dead on main ship #alcohol

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cressidagrey · 2 months ago

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It's a Love Story - Chapter 11 (The End)

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Racism against Illyrians/Lesser Faes?

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

I could write more, but quite frankly, I think I would kinda drag it out and the first major arc is tied up with a neat little bow! There are definitely be threads left dangling for me to pick up whenever I want to write more about Sky and Azriel, but I think around 50k is a good place to stop for now ❤️

Even the Spymaster of the Night Court paid taxes.

That was the only reason why Rhysand even found out where exactly Azriel‘s home even was.

Azriel’s home was in the outskirts of Velaris, near the mountains. A little lake cabin. Rhys hadn’t even known that Azriel owned it but apparently he did.

Rhys shouldn’t go there. He knew that.

Rhys should be giving his brother space. That was probably the least he owed him. But he couldn't stop himself. He needed to know Azriel was alright. That he was happy.

Rhys needed to apologise. He needed to make amends…

And Azriel was ignoring him. Mental shields as shored up as they ever had been, shoving back at Rhys at every opportunity…

He had never seen Azriel's mental shields like this before, and it concerned him. He knew Azriel was angry at him, had ever right to be angry, but Rhys hadn't expected his brother to shut him out so completely.

Reports were still arriving on his desk punctually as always. But Azriel seemed utterly uninterested in actually talking to Rhys.

It was a small comfort, knowing that Azriel was still working, but Rhysand couldn’t shake off the feeling of guilt that had settled deep in his gut. He knew that he had hurt Azriel deeply, and he couldn’t blame his brother for shutting him out.

Rhys wished he could turn back time and fix things, but he had messed up terribly. He knew he had to give Azriel space, but the silence between them was deafening . It was a constant reminder of just how much damage he had caused.

As the days went on, Rhysand found himself consumed by thoughts of what he could have done…should have done… He tried reaching out to Azriel mentally, only to be rebuffed each time.

Cassian showed up alone for debriefings and if Rhys showed up at the House of Wind for Valkyrie Training, Azriel was nowhere to be seen.

So finally…Rhys had enough. So he showed up at that house.

It was a nice house too, a secluded cabin at a mountain lake. Rhys knew that he wasn’t welcome, not after everything that had passed between them, but he had to see Azriel.

Rhys raised a hand, knocking gently on the door. He could hear the faint sound of movement inside. Rhysand sighed. He should leave. He knew he should leave. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

And then suddenly, to his surprise…the door opened.

“…C…Can I….can I h…help you?“

She was brown haired and short… with deep blue eyes and freckles smattering over her nose.

Rhysand looked at the woman in front of him, taken aback by her appearance. He didn't know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't a small, curvy, freckled brunette.

"I, uh..." Rhysand stammered, his mind blanking. "I was looking for Azriel." he finally brought out.

The small female studied him carefully, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Az…Azriel's n…not h…here," she stuttered.

Rhysand's heart sank, but he tried not to let it show. "Do you know where he is?" he asked, desperate for any information.

The female hesitated, biting her lip slightly. She seemed to be contemplating her answer, her brow furrowing in thought. After a moment, she finally looked back up at him, her expression unreadable. "He…He's...o…out f…for t…the d…day," she said finally, not giving him anymore than that.

Rhysand tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but it was difficult. He was so close to his brother, and yet so far away. "Do you know when he'll be back?" he asked sharply.

She nearly flinched away from him at that tone of voice.

He opened his mouth to apologise, but he didn't even get to that. Because some thing with wickedly sharp claws, launched itself at his head with a hissing sound.

Rhysand yelped as the mysterious creature swiped at his face, growling all the while.

"HECTOR NO!" The female shrieked.

Rhysand stumbled backwards, trying to dodge the sharp claws.

Just at that moment, he felt more than he heard his brother's arrival.

Azriel materialized between them with a loud flapping of wings, his siphons blazing. He stood protectively in front of the small female, his expression murderous.

"Hector to me," he snapped. The thing, a cat ...an incredible ugly , murderous looking cat let off Rhys with another growl and slunk back to Azriel's side, heeling like a dog. The woman quickly scooped him up in her arms.

Cassian's laughter washed over him, at that moment, as Rhys was still laying on the ground, bested by a cat .

"Taking down by a cat now, Rhysie?" Cassian asked him with a snort, offering him his hand to gain his feet.

Rhys already knew that he was never going to live this down.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Azriel hissed, his voice filled with anger. His wings were spread wide, and Rhysand could see the barely contained ferocity beneath his brother's cold facade.

Rhysand winced at Azriel's harsh tone. He knew he had messed up, and he didn't blame his brother for being angry with him. "I just wanted to see you," he said, feeling small under Azriel's penetrating glare.

Azriel's expression didn't soften at his words. "You had no right," he said sharply. "You can't just show up here unannounced, Rhysand. This is my home, and you're not welcome here. You terrified Sky!"

Sky. Sky. That was the name of his brother's mate...of the pretty brunette that was standing behind him, fussing over her murderous cat.

Rhysand glanced over at Sky guiltily. "I...I'm sorry," he said to her. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Sky hesitated, before nodding stiffly. Her face remained guarded, her arms still wrapped protectively around the mangy cat. Rhysand couldn't help but notice how small she looked compared to Azriel's imposing form…and the absolute massive cat.

"I am sorry," he turned to his brother, swallowing. The apology wasn't enough. he knew that. And it wasn't going to fix the fact that Azriel didn't trust him anymore or... *Az. Please.*

"How did you find this house?" Azriel demanded.

"I checked the tax reports," Rhys admitted with a grimace.

Azriel's expression darkened even further, and Rhys braced himself for a reprimand. Instead, his brother let out a harsh, bitter chuckle. "Of course you did," he said flatly. "Just can't stay out of my business, can you?"

Rhysand felt a pang in his chest at the hostility in Azriel's voice. He knew he deserved every ounce of resentment his brother felt, but it still hurt deep to hear it out loud. "I...I was worried about you," he said lamely.”I just needed to see you." he added. "To apologise."

"You don't even realise the lines you keep crossing, do you?" Cassian asked him flatly. "Ever thought about the fact that maybe you should have waited until Azriel was ready to hear you out?

Rhysand winced. Cassian's words struck a nerve, and he knew his friend was right. He had been rash and insensitive in coming here unannounced. "I...I wasn't thinking," he admitted softly.

Cassian shook his head, his expression still stern. "That's the problem, Rhys," he said bluntly. "You never seem to think these days. It's like you're so caught up in your own head that you don't consider how your actions affect those around you."

Rhysand's gaze dropped, shame washing over him. Cassian's words pierced straight through him, and he struggled to find a response. He knew he had been making mistakes, but hearing them laid out so bluntly still stung.

"What do you want?" Azriel asked him flatly. "Why did you come here?"

"I wanted to apologise," Rhys said weakly. "I...fucked up. I know that. I want to...fix things."

Azriel's face remained impassive, his eyes hard. "You can't just fix things with an apology, Rhys," He said curtly. "You crossed more than one line, and you shattered my trust. Do you really think saying sorry is enough?"

"Az," his mate said softly, her voice quiet. "H..He's blee..bleeding all over our front lawn after my cat at..attacked him. At least let him sit down and give him a healing salve…"

Azriel turned to look at his mate, his anger softening ever so slightly at the concern in her voice. He let out a heavy sigh, before nodding stiffly. "Fine," he said gruffly. "But no more than that."

Rhysand nodded gratefully, relieved that Azriel was willing to let him in, even if only slightly. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I...I really am sorry."

Azriel didn't respond, turning away from him and herded Sky and the murder cat into the house. Rhysand watched him go, feeling a pang of sadness. It was clear that his brother's anger was far from abated, and he knew it would take a lot more than just an apology to mend their fractured relationship.

"Come on," Cassian prodded him up.

The first thing that Rhys realised about the house Azriel shared with his mate was that it was absolutely stuffed full with books. The second was, that Azriel clearly doted on the Murder Cat that got a crystal dish with tuna on it put on the floor before Azriel even went in the direction of the healing salve, which he slapped down on the table in front of Rhysand. .

"I…I am so…sorry," Sky apologised to Rhys, bright blue eyes apologetic. "H…Hector has nev…never done anything like that before, I swear."

Yeah, somehow he doubted that. But he also doubted that it was going to help his relationship with Azriel if he was going to annoy his mate about her beastly cat. The thing had a worse personality than Amren .

"Don't worry about it," he said, with what he hoped he was a gracious smile. "I think your cat and I just got off on the wrong foot." He looked over at the cat, who was now happily devouring the tuna as if it hadn't just tried to claw his face off.

"Good Boy, Hector," Azriel said warmly.

Rhysand could just stare.

Azriel, the feared Spymaster of the Night Court, was cooing at a mangy cat like a proud parent. He never would have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

"Who knew the Spymaster had a soft spot for cats," Rhysand remarked with a faint smile. Azriel shot him a warning glare, but the sternness was lost at the tender way he was petting the cat. "I am really sorry," Rhys apologised again.

"You said so. Numerous times," Azriel shot back.

Rhysand sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He knew Azriel was still angry with him, but it was hard not to feel the guilt weighing down on him. "I know," he said softly. "But I want you to know that I mean it. I am sorry, Azriel. For everything."

Azriel's expression remained impassive, but Rhysand could see the flicker of sadness in his eyes. He knew his brother was struggling to forgive him, but he hoped that with time, Azriel would be able to find it in his heart to do so.

"I just want to make things right," Rhysand said earnestly. "I miss you, Az. I miss my brother."

"You'll need to decide one of those days," Azriel said sharply. "Am I your soldier or am I your brother?"

Rhysand flinched at the words, feeling the weight of the accusation hit him hard.

He had always tried to balance his role as High Lord with his relationship with his brothers, but he knew that…that he hadn’t been fair to Azriel for a long time. "You're right," he conceded quietly. "I have been treating you like my soldier instead of my brother, and that's not fair to you."

"You have been treating him absolutely deplorably," Cassian cut him off.

Rhysand hung his head, feeling the weight of his mistakes settling heavy on his shoulders. "I know," he said quietly. "I've been so caught up in my own problems and responsibilities as High Lord that I lost sight of what really matters. And I've hurt Azriel because of it."

"And you stuck your nose in things that are none of your business," Cassian continued. "I get it that you are tired of fighting, Rhys, we all are, but you can't keep conflict out of our family by ordering Azriel to behave in the way you would like him to."

Rhysand winced, knowing Cassian was right. He had been trying to control things, to make sure everyone was safe and happy, but in the process, he had driven a wedge between himself and his brothers. "I...I know," he admitted reluctantly. "I was…I was stupid. I am tired of war. Of fighting. And I was just trying to protect him, but I went about it all wrong."

" Protect me?" Azriel asked him, his voice dripping with disdain. " Protect me from what ?"

Rhysand looked away, feeling the shame rise within him. He knew he had overstepped, and he knew that Azriel was angry with him. "The consequences that would have arisen," he said delicately. He didn't know what Azriel had told his mate...didn't know how much she knew, but she was watching him with an expression on his face, he couldn't quite place.

"Well, I am an adult, Rhysand," Azriel snapped. "I am perfectly capable of protecting myself."

Rhys knew that. He knew Azriel was more than capable of taking care of himself. But he still felt the need to protect him, to shield him from harm.

"I...I know that," Rhysand said quietly. "I just didn't want to see you get hurt." He glanced over at Azriel's mate, who was still watching him warily. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being evaluated, judged for his mistakes.

Azriel let out a dry chuckle. "Well, it's a little late for that, don't you think?" he said bitterly. "You've seen to that already." Rhysand winced at the accusation, knowing that he deserved every ounce of Azriel's anger.

"I know," he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I am sorry for that. I see now that it was the wrong way to go about it." He looked into his brother's dark eyes, pleading for understanding.

Azriel met his gaze, his expression softening ever so slightly. "Protecting me by making decisions for me is not protecting me, Rhysand," he said quietly. "It's...it's suffocating. It's demeaning."

Rhysand nodded, knowing that Azriel was right. He had been trying to control everything, trying to make sure that nothing went wrong, and he had lost sight of what was truly important. "I understand," he said quietly. "And I am sorry for making you feel that way. It was wrong of me."

Azriel studied him for a moment, before finally sighing. "Just...stop it," he said simply. "No more interfering in my personal life, no more giving me orders like I am one of your soldiers."

Rhysand let out a shaky breath, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I promise," he said earnestly. "I won't do it again, Az. I...I'll respect your boundaries, and I'll never overstep again."

Azriel snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it,” he said gruffly. "And if you do...if you try to control me like that again, I swear Rhysand...it won't end well."

"You'll ha…have He…Hecctor to contend with," Sky said, her voice even.

Rhysand looked over at Hector, who had finished his tuna and was now licking his chops. Rhys swallowed. "He does seem to be a force to be reckoned with," he said carefully.

Sky gave him a small, tight-lipped smile. "You could say t…that," she said, her tone neutral. Azriel snorted a laugh, shaking his head as he watched his mate. It was the first genuinely carefree sound Rhysand had heard from his brother…in a long time.

Despite the earlier tension, Rhysand found himself smiling too. There was something about the way Azriel looked at his mate, the way he looked...happy, that made Rhysand feel like maybe everything would be alright.

Hector chose that moment to let out a loud meow, his voice sounding like a rusty hinge in the otherwise quiet room. Azriel looked down at the cat, rolling his eyes. "Alright, alright, I'll get you your second helping, spoiled brat," he said, a hint of fondness in his voice.

Rhysand chuckled, feeling the tension that had been weighing him down lift just a little. Things between him and Azriel weren't repaired yet, they had a long way to go, but for the first time in a long while, he felt hopeful.

“They do say the pen is mi…mightier than a sword,” Sky said suddenly. “You treat Azriel like that again and you’ll see just how mighty my pen is.”

Rhysand's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Sky's unexpected threat. It was clear that she wasn't messing around, and Rhys couldn't help but admire her boldness. He glanced over at Azriel, who was trying to suppress a smile.

"I'll keep that in mind," Rhysand said, trying to hide his amusement. "Though I have to say, I can’t imagine a pen being as terrifying as Hector."

Cassian snorted. “Oh you have no idea,” he muttered

Rhysand's eyes widened in curiosity at Cassian's comment. What on earth did that mean? But before he could inquire further, Azriel's voice broke through.

"Don't worry about it," he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Let's just say that you don't want to get on Sky's bad side, especially when she has her writing instruments within reach."

"Duly noted," Rhysand said, nodding seriously. He had a feeling that Azriel's mate was not someone to be trifled with, regardless of how harmless she looked, and he had no intention of finding out first-hand just how mighty her pen truly was.

Hector, having finished his second helping of tuna, let out a satisfied meow before padding over to Sky and rubbing against her leg. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears, smiling as he purred contentedly.

Rhysand watched the scene. He had never seen Azriel so relaxed, so happy, and it made him realize just how badly he had missed his brother. It was a reminder that family was more important than anything, and that he needed to cherish the people he cared about.

“Seems like you aren’t Sky’s favourite,” Cassian drawled.

Azriel snorted. “Nah, I come a distant third behind Hector and the shadows.”

Rhys watched with a swallow as these shadows that he had seen torturing people came over to Sky and twined around her hands. Azriel's words were said in jest, but Rhysand could hear the fondness in his voice. It was clear that Azriel adored his mate, and that the shadows had taken a liking to her as well. Rhysand tried not to let the slight sting of jealousy show on his face.

As he watched, the shadows danced around Sky's fingers, like they were alive and had a mind of their own. Rhys had seen the shadows in action, had seen how Azriel used them to fight and spy, but he had never seen them act this way before. There was a tenderness in the way they twined around Sky that was almost...beautiful.

Rhys turned to Azriel, who was watching his mate with a soft expression on his face. "They seem to like her," he commented, keeping his voice neutral.

"That's an understatement," Azriel said drily. "They're obsessed with her. They won't leave her alone."

Rhysand could see that clearly, but what surprised him more was how comfortable Sky seemed with them. She wasn't scared or even bothered by their presence...

It did make sense he supposed. The shadows were Azriel's weapon, his most trusted companions...that they would like his mate.

Rhysand watched as Sky looked up from where the shadows were wrapping around her fingers, a faint smile on her face. She seemed completely at ease with the strange entities, as if they were just another part of Azriel that she had accepted and embraced.

And it was also a sharp reminder of how much trust Rhys had destroyed through his actions. It was very clear who Azriel preferred, who he trusted more. Who he gravitated towards. Who even his shadows doted on, these strange, creatures that Rhys was quite sure would stop at nothing to keep their master safe.

The realization stung, but Rhys knew he had no one to blame but himself. He had caused this rift between them, he had pushed Azriel away, and now he was paying the price for it. But he was determined to make it right, no matter how long it took.

As he watched Azriel gently brush away a stray strand of hair from Sky's face, Rhys made a silent vow. He would do whatever it took to repair their broken bond, to regain Azriel's trust and respect. No matter how hard it was, no matter how long it took, he would make things right.

***

"You want to talk about it?" Sky asked him quietly, after Cassian ad Rhys had gone.

She was fine now. Content. No more pulling at the mating bond so harshly and pushing all her fear at him. It had shaved at least a century of his life, to feel that from her when Casisan and him had been sparring and he knew that she was supposed to be safe at home.

He had expected near everything…but he hadn’t expected to arrive to the view of Hector scratching Rhys’s face with all his might.

Azriel took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day's events bearing down on him. He wasn't sure if he was ready to put his tangled emotions into words yet, but he also knew that he couldn't keep it all bottled up inside.

"Rhys gave me some orders that I didn't agree with," he said drily. "Stuck his nose in things that he had no business to interfere with. He treated me...treated me like my feelings didn't matter. That I didn't matter....It took a really bad fight on Solstice for this apology to occur," he said with a grimace.

"You don't think he means it?" Sky asked him curiously, turning to look at him.

"No, he does mean it," Azriel said with a sigh. He did believe that. “He wants to fix things. to rebuild trust...And I do want that too. Regardless of how much of an asshole he can be on occasion he is still my brother ."

Sky was quiet for a long moment, watching him intently. Azriel felt the weight of her gaze, knowing that she was analyzing the situation, trying to understand what he was feeling. Finally, she spoke.

"You're worried that he'll disappoint you again," she said softly. "That he'll make promises that he can't keep. That he'll go back on his word and hurt you worse than before."

Azriel's throat felt tight. The words hit him hard, because Sky had put a voice to his deepest fears. "Yes," he admitted. "That'sexactly what I'm afraid of. I want to believe him, I do."

But it was hard to trust Rhys right ow. Especially with Sky. Trusting Rhys with the most important, the most precious part of his life...

"I can loan you Hector whenever he pisses you off again," Sky offered him seriously, and Azriel couldn't help but laugh.

"Thanks," he said with a small smile. "I might just take you up on that." He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. The scent of caramel and hazelnuts enveloped him, calming his racing thoughts and easing the tension in his shoulders.

"I love you, he whispered into her skin and she hummed. "Regardless of what happens, you have me," Sky promised him. "I'll be behind you, every step of the way. regardless of whatever you decide."

Those words were like a balm to Azriel's soul. The fear and doubt that had been plaguing him since Rhysand's unexpected visit receded, replaced by a sense of safety and certainty. He held onto Sky tightly.

"I love you too," she murmured, the words barely audible even in the still apartment.

They stayed like that for a long moment, simply holding onto each other.

*I don't think I ever thanked you.* he told the shadows softly as he held his mate in his arms.

The shadows fluttered around him, wrapping around his arms and shoulders like a comforting embrace. They didn't say anything, but Azriel could feel their response. They had been with him through thick and thin, protecting him, guiding him, and never once asking for a word of thanks. And yet, he knew that they understood his gratitude, that they could feel it…

*Thank you for finding her.*

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #it’s a love story

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ofstarsandvibranium · 2 months ago

Text

Feels Like Home

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Bucky's world is filled with a lot of blood, death, and danger. But when he's with you, everything is filled with love, light, and gentleness. It's a feeling he didn't know he craved until he met you.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky at home was a stark contrast to how he was out on the streets of Brooklyn. To the outside world, he was James Barnes, the fearsome head of the Barnes Family, the leading crime family in Brooklyn. But when it was just you and him, in your dingy apartment, he was your Bucky Bear, a soft man who loved to cuddle, cook you dinner, and watch rom-coms with you.

That's the Bucky you'd always see as soon as he was in your presence.

Right now though, he isn't your Bucky Bear. He's James Barnes and he's got death on his mind. In the shadows of the alleyway, you can see how he's pointing his gun at the man in front of him.

"You've given me excuse after excuse, Dalton. I'm sick of it. Where's my money?" he grips the man by the caller of his shirt, and pulls him in closer, the barrel of the gun staring him in the face.

"Buck," Sam murmurs Bucky's name.

You watch as Bucky looks to Sam and when Sam nods in your direction, Bucky follows. His eyes widen, "Sweetheart." He immediately pockets his gun and rush over to you.

"What're you doing out so late at night?"

Your dog, Taffy, jumps at Bucky's legs when he gets close. Bucky leans down and scratches the corgi behind her ears, "Hiya, girl."

"She had a lot of energy when I got home from work. So I figured a walk around the block would be good for her." Your eyes dart to Sam and the man in the alleyway, "Is everything okay?"

Bucky looks over his shoulder and then back at you, "Yeah. Just...business." He wraps a protective arm around you, leading you away from the alley, "Wait here. I'll walk Taffy with you and we have dinner."

He moves to pull away but you grip at his wrist, "Bucky, it's fine. I can walk the neighborhood by myself. Go handle business or whatever."

Bucky continues to walk back, "Stay there." At his command, Taffy immediately sits and he chuckles, "At least she listens to me."

When he heads back to Sam and the unknown man, they exchange a few words you can't hear. The man looks at you and that pisses Bucky off.

"Don't you fucking look at her," he says, forcibly turns the man's head to look away from you.

After some low words exchanged, Bucky walks away from them, with Sam dragging the man to the other end of the alley where a car waits.

"C'mon, baby," Bucky murmurs, his arm wrapping around your waist. Taffy is happy to continue her walk, as she prances a short distance ahead of you and Bucky.

There's a weird tension between you as you walk Taffy around the block and eventually back to your apartment. You shed your jacket and shoes, unleashing Taffy, and going straight to the kitchen.

Bucky follows you, leaning against the kitchen counter, "You okay?"

You nod, "Mhm. Sorry, I just-I forget sometimes that you're..you know."

"I see."

"I've never seen that side of you, so it was a little...jarring."

"Do you...want to break up?"

You look at him with wide eyes, "What? No! Do you?"

"No, but I told you who I was from the very beginning, baby. If what I do ever puts you off, I'll completely understand if you don't want anything to do with me."

You shake your head, "Bucky, that's not it. I still want to be with you. I just forgot who you are outside of here. I forgot that's actually who you are."

It was Bucky's turn to shake his head, "Nah, baby. That's not who I am. That's who I had to become in order to survive. But here?" he points to the apartment, "This is who I really am."

You hum, "So you're really a big lovey dovey teddy bear that loves to be the little spoon, cook me dinner, and cry at rom-coms?" Bucky playfully rolls his eyes at your teasing and you continue, "Okay, really though. Does anyone else know this side of you?"

He shrugs, "Not really because I never felt super comfortable to be myself until I met you."

You scoff, "Sap."

"Only for you," he leans in and pecks your lips, "You sure you're okay? Are we okay?"

"Yeah. We're good."

Bucky pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You nuzzle your face into him, letting his scent encompass you.

You felt at home.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #mob boss au #marvel au

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lbcreations-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Yandere Alastor with daughter reader

A Stag and his Fawn

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(Not proof read cause I'm tired but I need to post)

Masterlist

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Alastor was your adoptive father. He adopted you when you were both still alive. You were only a baby at the time, being left in a dumpster.

When Alastor was dumping bodys in the dumpster he found you, he was originally going to put you in a foster home, but when he saw you open your eyes and look at him seeming at peice, he knew it was a bad idea to put you in any foster home.

Of course, he could not just take you in. He had to get you some medical treatment. So he took you to the nearest hospital to get a check-up and other things. Then he had to do even more other things like birth certificate and adoption stuff. (You know, the essentials)

Anyways, once you were old enough, he taught you his ways of voodoo and murder. (You were already learning from about 4, lmao), and you became a perfect daughter to him (even though you were already perfect to him).

If you were to get bullied in school, those kids would regret it. He would also teach those kids' parents a lesson as well.

If you end up dying before him from it being someone's fault, he would torture that person/persons and eat that person's corpse.

Once he enters hell, he would search for you while aswell becoming a terrifying overlord. And once he finds you, he would pretend you are not his daughter in public so you would not get targeted. He knows you can look after yourself so he would let you in public by yourself, but a shadow will follow you.

But if you are an overlord, he wouldn't admit being your father, but he will treat you like his daughter in public, and he will let others' theories flow. (Overlord or not, a shadow will follow you, btw)

Now, if he dies first, he will patiently wait for you. You, of course, kill the one who mistakes your father for a deer. You then live life how he wanted you to, until you finally arrive in hell.

Once you arrive in hell, he ether will take a while to find you or find you quickly. If you quickly become an overlord just like him, he would be proud, like you have no idea.

(The ways he is with you in hell is the same as I explained in the first death choice.)

Of course, introducing you to people as Alastors' daughter, you will get interesting reactions.

The overlords would be shocked, to say the least, Carmila might like Alastor slightly more cause she has her own daughters.

Now the hotel's reactions ig

Of course, the entire hotel is shocked except for niffty and husk cause yall already probably met (I would tell you that, but that's a different kind of worm)

Anyway, sir pentious would be most likely terrified of you or just won't admit it.

Angel- well, Angel-... he's probably going to start off with sex jokes, and how unfair it is that some random bitch got to fuck Alastor. Your father was not happy.

Vaggie is very suspicious of you once you met. She knew how your father was, so you were not trustworthy. (Which was fair, you showed that same creepy smile your father did)

Charlie loved meeting you. She was and is so happy that Alastor has a daughter and she is and was happy to meet you. She was hoping to help you get redeemed, but you just told her you would rather be in hell with your father.

--------_______--------

I was going to make Alastor more yandere but because of 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑠, he's like that, ok? OK

I did get lazy at the end, so... Yyyeeeaaaa

Hope you enjoyed it

- 𝐋.𝐁 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

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svtiddiess · 2 months ago

Text

Curiosity Killed The Cat Gets You Laid?

Synopsis: It's Halloween night, and you're wandering through the woods you were always warned to stay far away from, searching for vampires. They say curiosity killed the cat, but no one mentioned it could also get you laid.

Pairing: vampire!Jeonghan x afab!reader x vampire!Wonwoo

Genre: suggestive, one shot, vampire! au, supernatural! au

Rating: suggestive/mature

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: blood, injuries, vampires, dry humping, lemme me know if I missed anything!

Note: Happy Halloween! This is my first attempt at a vampire fic so please be nice.

Thank you so much to Indi @wongyuseokie for the amazing banner! She ate for real.

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

October 31st, Halloween, the one day you look forward to all year. In this small, sleepy town where nothing ever happens, Halloween is the rare time when everything feels alive. It's ironic, really, that a holiday meant to honour the dead and the supernatural is the only time the town truly comes to life.

Although plenty of celebrations and parties are happening around town, your mind is elsewhere: vampires. Rumours about the woods on the edge of town have been swirling for years. Some say it's home to secret gold mines; others claim there's a hidden graveyard for those who have sinned way beyond redemption, and many point to the string of murders that have occurred there. But what really grabs your attention is the rumour that vampires live there.

You've been told time and time again never to step foot into the woods, but hey, you can't stop curiosity now, can you? And that's why here you are on Halloween night, making your way through the woods you've been told to stay far away from. You chose tonight for this journey because Halloween is when vampires are supposedly most active—at least, that's what the internet said. You're really hoping it wasn't wrong.

The crunch of leaves and the distant hooting of owls greet you as you step into the woods. A chill runs down your spine as you take in your surroundings—the darkness wrapping around the trees gives the forest an eerie, foreboding feel. The shadows twist into strange shapes, making you glance over your shoulder and double-check your surroundings more often than usual.

You mentally curse yourself for not bringing a proper flashlight; your phone flashlight does the bare minimum to light the surroundings. After several minutes of walking, you stop in your tracks. You could swear you've passed this same tree four times already—or is it a different one? Damn, you might be lost.

'This might've been a stupid idea,' you think.

In too deep to back out now, you proceed to go further into the woods, a very bad idea, but your stubbornness overpowers your voice of reason a lot of the time. A sudden howl piercing through the sky stops you in your tracks. Wolves? No, that can't be. You must’ve misheard—it was probably just the wind, you tell yourself. But then, another howl echoes through the woods. Okay, wolves. Definitely wolves.

Quickening your pace, you decide to retrace your steps, hoping that will eventually lead you back to society. As you try to find your way out of the woods, you hear footsteps, multiple footsteps, heading toward you. Not wanting to risk a run-in with wolves, you take off running.

Unfortunately for you, you were never much of an athlete, so you end up tripping over a rock and falling, cutting your palm on the jagged ground. Cursing out loud, you pick yourself up and observe the cut; it was fairly deep, and blood continuously started to pour out of it, staining your hand. You frown and squeeze your hand, hoping to stop the blood from flowing.

Okay, now you definitely need to get out of the woods. If the wolves don’t get you, the inevitable infection from your wound will (though you’re being a bit dramatic). Frowning, you continue to head to where you think you came from.

Stumbling aimlessly through the eerie forest, you suddenly come upon a massive mansion. It looks like something straight out of the Victorian era, with towering spires, gothic architecture, and plenty of decay to match. Your small flashlight barely does it justice, making it hard to fully appreciate the mansion's haunting beauty.

Could this be it…? Remembering the whole reason you ventured into the woods, you head inside the mansion. You're determined to encounter at least one vampire tonight.

The heavy wooden doors groan as you push them open. You take a deep breath as you absorb the sight of the eerie mansion. Inside is a stark contrast to the exterior; it feels much more cohesive, with relatively recent furniture and a sense that the place isn’t falling apart.

The air stilled. It became quiet, too quiet. The only sound you can hear is the beating of your own heartbeat ringing in your ears. Gulping, you shakily make your way towards what you assume is the fireplace. It was dark, perfectly in line with the gothic theme that enveloped the entire building.

Above you hung a large portrait of two men, hauntingly beautiful, with pale, almost white skin and dark maroon eyes that seemed to pierce through you. Their jet-black hair framed their faces perfectly. They wore white blouses that you assume are from the Victorian era, adorned with very expensive jewellery. One man was slightly shorter than the other, but his looks would put any model to shame; his longer hair framed his face beautifully, making you think, "a fallen angel". The taller man had shorter hair and more sharper features, yet he appeared just as ethereal. His mesmerising eyes seemed to draw you in, almost as if they were sucking your soul. Another striking feature was their lips, a deep red, almost as rich as their eyes.

"Damn, if these guys are the vampires, then I wouldn't mind getting my blood sucked by them," you muse out loud.

"Oh really now?" A voice purred next to your ear. You whip your head around to see who it is, only to be greeted with nothing.

"W-Who was that?!" You shout, cursing under your breath as your voice comes out shakier than you'd like.

"I’m sure you already know who, bunny," a voice whispers from behind. You spin around, but there's only darkness.

"I-I know how to fight!" You yell, trying to sound confident.

"Ooh, a fighter. I like that," a deeper voice purrs, this time right next to you.

Suddenly, your phone is snatched from your hand, plunging you into complete darkness. Panicking, you throw punches into the air, hoping to hit something—anything—but you freeze when a hand catches your fist.

"She really is a fighter, Wonwoo," the first voice chuckles; even his laughter seems to have a surreal feel to it. You hear another low chuckle from behind, which you assume is Wonwoo.

Wonwoo then wraps his arms around your waist, plunges his nose into the crook of your neck, and takes a long whiff.

"You smell absolutely divine, doll," he moans; you can't help but shiver at his actions.

Suddenly, the room flickers to life with candlelight, making the already creepy mansion even more eerie. You can now see the man standing before you, and you gasp; it's the same man from the portrait, the one with the longer hair.

He gently uncurls your injured fist, running his tongue slowly along the wound, and lets out a moan. Your breath catches at the sight, and you can't help but shiver at his actions.

"She likes that, Jeonghan," chuckles Wonwoo. You blush at Wonwoo's words, embarrassed cause it's true.

"You want this just as bad, don't you, bunny?" Jeonghan purrs before licking another stripe up your palm, causing you to let out a soft whimper.

"Don't even try and deny it, doll; we can hear your heartbeat," whispers Wonwoo before licking the shell of your ear.

You gulp, your mouth dry as sandpaper, and your heartbeat thunders in your ears. Sure, you came into the woods hoping to encounter vampires, but now that they're standing right before you, you're unsure what to do. They're so alluring, their very presence making your head spin.

Wonwoo leans down, gently nipping at the skin of your neck, making your heart lurch. You can feel him smirk against your skin.

"It has been a while since we had a blood servant," he mumbles against your skin. Jeonghan hums, a small smirk painting his face.

"What do you say, bunny? Want to become our blood servant?" Jeonghan purrs.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water, completely at a loss for words. Yes? No? If you say yes, are you doomed to serve them until death? If you say no, will they kill you on the spot? Your mind races, spinning with uncertainty. Maybe coming out here wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Looks like our little bunny is unsure," snickers Jeonghan.

"How about we give you a taste, then?" Wonwoo whispers before sinking his teeth into your neck.

You gasp and freeze, paralysed by the sudden sharp prick. You brace yourself for intense pain, but instead, you're flooded with overwhelming pleasure. It feels as though every nerve in your body is igniting, sending wave after wave of pleasure through you. Your arousal soaks your panties, and you can already feel it sticking to your skin. You've never experienced anything like this before—nothing even close. You close your eyes, savouring the sensation as your head spins. It feels like you're floating.

"I can smell your arousal from here, bunny. Does it feel good?" Smirks Jeonghan, you can only whimper in response.

"Barely drunk from you, and you're already dripping," Wonwoo chuckles against your neck.

He spins you around to face him, and you instinctively lick your lips as you take him in. Deep maroon eyes with a piercing gaze, skin so pale it's almost white, making his blood-stained lips stand out even more. He looks at you with a smirk.

He cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours, letting you taste your own blood—metallic and tangy. You melt into the kiss, already addicted to the way his lips feel against yours. Desperate for more, you press up against Wonwoo and start grinding against him. You can feel Wonwoo smirk into the kiss; Jeonghan chuckles at your actions.

"If you become our blood servant, I can guarantee you pleasure beyond what you've ever felt, bunny," hums Jeonghan.

Pulling away from the kiss, you turn toward Jeonghan; your mind clouded with thoughts of them and nothing else. Any sense of reason is long gone. Without a second thought, you agree—you'd say yes to anything at this point.

"Good choice, bunny," smirks Jeonghan before effortlessly carrying you. You gasp and wrap your arms and legs around him.

He sinks his teeth into your neck and starts drinking your blood. You let out a moan at the euphoric feeling washing over your body. Maybe it's because you're already lightheaded from the first time, but this feels ten times more intense. It's as if you've died and gone to heaven, but what's happening is far from heavenly.

Your whole body trembles, and you feel like you have just had an orgasm. You whine out Jeonghan's name as you feel him squeeze your ass. He detaches his lips from your neck and runs his tongue over the bite mark; you shiver at his actions.

Panting, you glance down at the vampire. His pupils are blown wide, lips stained with blood, and a smirk curling on his face. You catch a glimpse of his sharp canines as he watches you.

"We're lucky to have caught such a pretty blood servant," smirks Wonwoo, causing Jeonghan to chuckle.

"Let's take care of the aching between your thighs," hums Jeonghan. "I bet you want to be filled up with our cocks, right bunny?"

"I bet she can take both of us at once," chuckles Wonwoo, causing you to clench around nothing.

"Let's find out, shall we?" Jeonghan smirks before heading toward what you assume is their bedroom.

And that's how, on Halloween night, you became a blood servant—bound to serve the two vampires for the rest of your life.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @tomodachiii @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jennwonwoo

If your username is striked through it means I couldn't tag you! Make sure to turn off the visibility settings so that I can tag you!

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peoniesnro · 5 months ago

Text

Closure | One shot

Synopsis - You first crossed paths with him at a club, where he fucked you on the hood of a stranger’s car. The second time, Taehyung found you at the house of the girl he was seeing, and you let him take you in your shared bathroom, the lock barely holding. He became your anchor, and you became his sun and moon. Now, all you want is one more chance—to tell each other ‘I love you’.

Paring- Kim Taehyung × Reader

Genre - Well, I have no idea which genre this falls into.

Warnings - Public sex/ semi public sex/ grinding/ breast play/ nipple play/ unprotected sex(this is a fic)/penetrative sex/word 'slut' and 'whore'/ oral(male recieving)/ fingering/ handjob/ shower sex/ orgasm denials/edging/implied bondage/alcohol consumption/ smoking/ angst/ I don't know what else but huge SMUT warning and MDNI.

Word count - 11k

a/n - Well well, while I was peacefully raising my first born (In Another Universe), I got distracted by this song (Sweet music) and Kim Taehyung. So, I gave birth to this. Hope you'll enjoy!

Sequel

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It’s really bad when the whole world revolves around one person. When that one person is gone. The whole world crumbles. That’s what happened to Taehyung. His whole world fell down. Crumbled. Crushed. And he became a shell. Empty.

A soulless creature who wanders the earth. Nothing made him happy. Nothing made him laugh. Nothing gave his vacant eyes life. There was a time he wanted nothing but to be gone. It was his friends who kept him alive. They hold on to him. With an invisible string tied onto their hands. A single tug on that string, they came crashing like a storm. Even though that tug was barely there. Never allowed those unshed tears to consume Taehyung up. Made sure he is breathing. Sleeping. And everything in between. Taehyung became nothing but a burden on his friends’ shoulders.

He wanted to be something else, to be honest. Something else that wasn’t a soul-withered husk. Wanted the hollow feeling inside him to vanish. Wanted to feel something. Something other than the pain. Wanted to laugh. At least smile. Manage his life like a normal person would. Do something other than emptying bottle after bottle of alcohol. Feel his heart beats. But everything seemed impossible in his eyes. He would never be happy again. Never laugh again. He would always be the hollow shadow. Hiding from the world. Hiding from that ray of sunshine.

That’s what he thought. At least until this moment. The moment when he is lying in a stranger’s bed. In the darkness. Listening to water running. Imagining her under the shower. In this moment, he can feel his heart beats. Madly. Violently. He can feel him breathing peacefully. Brain quiet. Blissful. Basking in the aftermath of a good orgasm. He feels alive. For the first time in a year and a half. He feels alive.

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

Sometimes, just sometimes, despite everything, Taehyung hates his friends. Like he hated Jungkook when he asked him to go out earlier tonight. He hated him for making him do something he didn’t want. For not letting him drown in his anguish. He simply wasn’t feeling it. To be in a crowded club. To buy drinks for a nameless woman he would meet. Get drunk with them. Dance while groping their slender curves. Only to feel nothing. Get high. To a point he would not remember his own name and end up sleeping with that woman. Regret everything in the following morning. Drown in guilt. He wasn’t feeling it. But Jungkook and Jimin always find their way.

“She’s fucking gone, Taehyung. Fucking gone. You need to move the fuck on.”

Taehyung hated Jungkook for saying that. Because in his mind, that wasn’t true.

“It’s been more than a year, Kim Taehyung. How are you still in denial. You’re going out tonight. It’s better to get wasted together than alone.”

Taehyung hated Jimin for saying that out loud. It can’t be that long.

In the end, somehow, they won. Taehyung found himself on one of the bar stools. Lost in a fog. No jokes, no laughter, reached his ears. He intended to keep it that way. Just listen to his friends laugh. Ignore their desperate attempts to make him laugh. Until the barman will ask them to move away. Stop crowding the bar. He didn’t intend to, however, turn around before barman asked them to do so. Didn’t expect to bump into someone. On top of everything, he certainly didn’t expect that someone on his way to change something in him. Change things for a third time. In a club. As before, in bygone echoes.

The moment her drink splashed on his shirt; Taehyung felt his heart beats. As if it was the first beat of a heart. The moment her panicked, doe eyes locked in his eyes, Taehyung felt his lung deflate. The pressure on them was gone. The moment she started apologising over and over again, Taehyung felt his entire body calm down. The pain subsided. The moment when she tried to wipe his wet shirt. The moment she touched him, Taehyung felt everything he had been wanting to feel. The electrifying, burning sensation. The sensation that made his head spin and breath hitch. But what sealed the deal was her words.

“I’m really sorry, sailor. Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

That’s exactly how you said it.

“Whatever you wish to buy me, sailor.”

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

You stood in a crowded club. In a dark secluded corner. Watching two people on the dance floor. Drunk. High. Dancing. Grinding. You knew how this one would end. Had seen how each and every club session ended. In a bed with different woman each time. You wanted to stop him all those times. You couldn’t. No matter how hard you tried. So, you learned to move on with that. This day, however, when you watched Taehyung’s hand sneak under her crop top. Watched his lips pepper kisses on her neck, jaw and every inch of skin he could find. Watched his eyes getting darker and more hooded. You knew something was changed. Something was different.

You know it has changed.

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

Now

All those time Taehyung ended up on some random woman’s bed, he regretted it immediately. In the very moment his high faded, he regretted everything. Made sure he disappear into his miserable life the as soon as he could. This day though, he isn’t regretting anything. He didn’t run away, and he doesn’t plan to. He is waiting patiently for her to join him again. Maybe it’s bad. Maybe he is wrong. He is doing something wrong, isn’t he?

He feels guilty to a certain extent. But this time it’s not entirely towards you. It’s partially toward her. Because despite everything, it’s the memory of you that made him follow her. She is not like you. Not completely at least. But it’s the same kind of aura. The kind of aura that made him follow. You and she both are like magnets. Magnets that pulled him. Like he was spell bounded. Made his heart skip beats. She made him lose himself in a reverie. Made him travel through time. To a day he felt same kind of spell bound sensation.

To the day he met you on a crowded club.

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

Six years ago

Taehyung had never felt such kind of feeling. A feeling of content simply by looking at someone. He felt satisfied. It was as though his heart found a place to rest. Every moment stretched. The world blurred around him. You hadn’t even noticed him. Were just enjoying your company on a booth. You weren’t drunk. Taehyung could tell that you weren’t. Just tipsy. Tipsy enough to laugh loudly for whatever your friends said, which was probably not that funny.

Subjects involving women were never a problem for him. But that day, he almost didn’t make his move. If it wasn’t for Jimin and Jungkook, he would have never talked to you. It was a gentle push on his back that made him approach you. With clammy hands and a pounding heart. He was nervous. So nervous that his stomach hurt. Yet, the moment you caught him approaching. In the moment you smiled. A stellar collision occurred. Oh, how sweet your smile was. How he thought you were the type to be timid and innocent. He read you completely wrong. And he loved the surprise. Loved when you turned out be a vixen. His vixen.

Of course, he ended up buying you a ‘Sex on the Beach’, when you asked him to buy whatever he wanted. And you didn’t like it.

“Let me guess, you’ve never had to try now, have you?”

“Oh, no. I’ve had to try pretty hard sometimes. Can I buy you something else?”

“Nah, this is fine.”

When you said yes to dance. On the crowded dance floor, your body pressed against his, Taehyung was in a bliss. Every single movement of your body. Every time you brushed against him. He felt his blood boil. Rushing southward. Making his mouth dry. Heart hammering inside his ribcage. And you knew what you were doing. You knew you had him wrapped around your pinkie finger. You knew his brain is short-circuiting when you pressed your tits on to him. Hands curling around his neck. Mouth hovering over his. Breath mingling. He smelled the alcohol on you. It was intoxicating. The way your breasts peeked through your low neckline. The way they were pressing onto his chest was captivating. Made his dick twitch. Painful. And you allowed him to do whatever he wanted. Just stared into his eyes when he grabbed you by your hips. Pressed you onto his throbbing dick. You sighed blissfully. Almost like a moan. And Taehyung nearly came in his pants. You moved your body against him. Pressed your tummy onto his hardened member. Almost pressed your lips into his. And then pulled away. Smirked.

“Life isn’t this easy. You should try harder sailor.”

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

Six years ago

When that awfully good-looking man approached you, you never in a million years thought you would seal the your fate with him. He looked the type to be able to make you cum more than once for the night. And disappear right afterward. And you were fine with it. Just wanted to get laid, and he was the catch of the night.

You had your ways with men. Rules you made for yourself. To maintain a sense of power on your mind. To not let men have you used, and left unsatisfied, not being able to cum at least for once. Rules for one-night stands.

Rule one: you always made them desperate. Men are easy. You don’t have to try hard. Just having pair of tits are enough. Taehyung seemed to be the same kind of man to go on his knees for a peek of your tits. Oh, how wrong you were. The moment you turned around, you expected him to follow you. That’s how the horny men you met in clubs acted. Desperate.

He didn’t. Neither followed you nor approached you again. You regretted it. Regretted not going with the flow and let him have his way with you. Kept sneaking glances toward him. And he took his sweet time. Enough time for you to down three more drinks. Enough time for you to reluctantly agree to joined someone else on the dance floor.

That’s when he nearly made the chairs fly in the air. Stormed to you. Grabbed you by the wrist. Pressed his lips to yours. Nothing was said. No questions were asked. Just came and kissed you. Hard. Bit into your lower lip. Made you moan. Took his chance by sneaking his tongue into your mouth. And you moaned again. Your own rules started to crumble. You kissed him back. Lapped your tongue against his. Ignored your friends’ incredulous looks. Ignored the betrayed look on your supposed one-night stand’s. Just allowed Taehyung to guide you back to the dance floor while still kissing you. You decided you won’t pull away until he did. Not even if you fell dead without being able to breathe. Fortunately, he did pull away. You didn’t die.

Pressed his forehead to yours. Breathing rapid. Snaked his hands around your waist. Pulled you onto him.

“Don’t play.”

“I wasn’t playing.”

“You can’t make me rock hard and walk away. And find another man.”

“I didn’t do anything to make you hard, Taehyung.”

“You exist.”

You lied. You did everything to make him hard. Played well to make him desperate. Even though it was subtle. Was so happy he came back. Your rules had been thrown out the window long ago. He made your heartbeat stop just with his words. Made your cunt drip by just kissing. But where’s the fun when you just give in? Were just curious to know his limits. It was fun teasing.

“Sorry I did that. Look like I must apologise.”

Pressed your palm onto his toned chest. Pushed him slightly away. Let your hand wander down. Through his toned chest and abs. Felt how he tightened his muscles under your touch. Stopped right at his belt. Watched his breath hitch. Anticipation firing in his eyes. You smiled wickedly at that. Let your hand go even further down, caressing -or rather grazing- his clothed cock with the back of your hand. Taehyung groaned. Grunted. Bucked his hips into your hand. Oh, he was desperate. Just had good restraint. You had good restraint too. You hoped to keep playing the game. Taehyung didn’t. Maybe he didn’t have good restraint. Before you knew it, he had turned you around. Your back against his chest. Groaned again. This time in your ear. And your walls crumbled, completely. You willingly handed the power over to him.

“Don’t play. I’m so fucking hard it hurts.”

“Yeah? What should I do about it?.”

“You little vixen. I asked you not to play.”

“I am most definitely not playing Kim Taehyung. What should I do about it?”

He never answered that question. Just dragged you away from the dance floor all of a sudden. You let him. It was you who were waiting in anticipation then. Couldn’t help the sly smile on your face. He was hard to read. He appeared to be nervous. Timid. Subby. But he was manhandling you. And you were allowing it. Allowing him to drag you to a booth. Not private. Just empty. As luck would have it, it was empty. Sat back while pulling you to straddle him. You had no idea what he was playing at. You’d done some exciting shits, from fucking in a bathroom stall to car sex. Public sex? You hadn’t. And you didn’t know if you liked it or not. Made you nervous.

“We are in public, Taehyung.”

“I know.”

“You know? What are you trying to...”

“You asked me what you should do about it? This.”

He placed his hands under your knees. Pulled. Made you properly sit on his lap. Your already soaked cunt, pressed right against his rock-hard dick. Grabbed from your hips and pressed you further down. Down onto his dick. You both moaned. But you moaned a little harder. Your skirt ridden up. Flimsy material of your lacy panties bushing against your soaked folds and his pants. You wanted them to be gone. Both your panties and his pants.

“Grind.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Grind on me.”

“But we are in public.”

“Don’t care vixen. You asked me what you should do- well, it’s your fault I’m painfully hard. So do something about it. Grind. Like a bitch in heat hm? Be good?”

Oh, how the man who practically stuttered when he first reached you has changed. You loved it. Who needs power after all? You had read him wrong. He wasn’t the type to be subby. He wasn’t going to play your game. You had two options. Either to back away or let him have his way. You simply chose the latter. You didn’t need power. Nodded. Started slowly moving your hips. Careful experimental rubs at first. He encouraged you. Bucked his hips upwards. Into your soaked cunt. Moaned. And the world around you disappeared. It was him who left on your world. Him only.

“Fuck like that. Keep going.”

“Wha.... What if someone sees us.”

“Let them. Let’s give them a show. Hm?”

Your blood was boiling. Cunt dripping. For the first time in your life, you allowed a man to play you. Like the way he wanted. And it was exhilarating. To let him handle you. Do things to you. Stopped trying to be smug and cocky. Became pliant. Found out that you like the idea of being seen. Moaned shamelessly to his words. He smirked. Bucked his hips more into you. Controlled your movements with his hands on your hips. And you did as he asked. Grind on him like a bitch in heat. Taehyung glanced towards where your cunt was dripping onto him. Moaned.

“Fuck baby... Like that... keep going. Look how you’re dripping. Make a mess baby. “

“I... I nee... need more.”

“Yeah? You need more? I’ll give you more. Just keep going huh? Be a good slut for me.”

You listened to a man for the first time in your life. Quickened your movements. Followed his gaze. Watched how you were staining on his pants. Made your head spin. Grabbed onto his shoulders for leverage. Pushed your cunt harder on him. Felt the knot on your tummy tightened. Couldn’t care anymore about being on public. Of someone catching you. It was so good. Not enough but so good. Taehyung looked into your eyes. His eyes were blown out with lust. Pressed a kiss on to your lips before removing his hands from your hips. Only to snaked it between your bodies and pressed two fingers on your clit. Over your panties. Started rubbing your clit softly.

“Shit you are so fucking hot. So fucking hot dripping on to me. On a club full of people. So hot rubbing your cute cunt on a stranger. Keep going princess...”

You nearly cried. The knot tightened and tightened. Kept grinding. Felt dizzy. Your cunt on fire. And right at the moment that knot was about to explode Taehyung’s hand left your sopping cunt. Grabbed onto your hips back and stilled you. Pressed you hard down. You whined so loud. Loud enough that you were sure so many people looked at you. It was intense how he robbed you of that orgasm. Intense enough that your thighs trembled.

“No.... I was... So.. so close.”

“I know”

“Why did you do that then?”

“Don’t want this to end. Want to keep you dripping for me as long as I can.”

A shiver ran through your spine. You stared into his eyes. They were beautiful, blown out with lust. Had no idea what came over you when you started kissing him madly. Pressing your lips into his harder. Sucking on his bottom lip and then on his tongue. Taehyung just let you had it. Encouraged you with moans and groans. Started bucking his hips again onto your sensitive pussy. In a minute you were back to grinding. Kissing. Staring into his deep dark eyes. His hands were everywhere. On your hips. Thighs. Back. Ass. And on your boobs. He squeezed them, hard enough you cried out. Circled your nipples through the dress.

“Can I pull this down. Wanna see your pretty tits.”

“Fuck Taehyung. What if....”

“No one’s looking. Please. Please fuck.”

He didn’t wait for your yes. Not that you planned to say no. He was irresistible. So, all you did was moan when he swiftly pulled your dress down with your lacy bra. Making your tits bounce in the air.

“Holy fuck. Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

Closed his eyes and groaned. Opened them again. A fire burning in them. It was the most hottest sight, the way he licked his lips before wrapping those wet lips around one of your nipples. Slapped the other tit. Made it bounce. Did it again, and then again and again. All while sucking on your other nipple hard. Teeth grazing. You were a crying mess. There were no restraints left in you. People could see you. Your naked chest, bouncing under his little slaps. You couldn’t care, however. Not when his hot tongue was swirling around your hardened buds. Not when his lips were sucking on your nipples like his life depended on it. Like you were his source of life. Not when he kept his eyes on your face all the time. He popped your nipple out of his mouth and put the other one in his mouth. Did the same thing to the free one. Made it bounce. Pulled away. Kissed your nipples like he was gone mad. Squeezed them together. Buried his face between them. Groaned into your skin. That made your hips rolled faster, bringing you to the edge again.

“I’m gonna cum. Taehyung I... I... please I need to cum.’

For the first time in your life, you asked permission before cumming. Begged from a man for your release. Good thing was that you loved every moment of it. And he stilled you again. You were devastated. Didn’t even realize you let the tears gathered on your eyes to rolled down. Wetting your cheeks. Taehyung watched you shatter. Hitched your bodice up again, covering your assaulted tits. Pressed his lips on to your collar bones. Peppered you with kisses. Patted your ass.

“C’mon move baby.”

“Where? Where are we going?”

“To make you cum. Want you to cum on my cock. As much as I love having you rub on me like a needy slut. I want to feel your cunt around me. And as much as I love giving people a show, you’re too pretty to be shown.”

Both of your intended destination was a bathroom stall. It was occupied with a long queue of patrons. No fucks were allowed there. And it felt like the end of the world for you. Never have been that turned on in your life. Taehyung was something else.

Fortunately, Taehyung looked like his world ended that moment too. Pressed few kisses to your lips needily before suggesting, leaving the club. That was the fastest yes you gave someone. Didn’t know where you were about to go when you exited the club. Not being able to take two steps without kissing. Didn’t know how your back ended up pressing against a car door. Kissing like it was the last time you would get to kiss someone. Just a mess of tongue and teeth. You were the first to pulled away first with a pop. Him chasing your mouth. Trail of saliva connecting your still wet lips.

“Shit I can’t wait anymore Taehyung. I fucking can’t.”

“Fuck don’t say that. I’ll fuck you here.”

“Then you should.”

You may have given the controller to him willingly. Still, you had some tricks to play the game, hidden up your sleeves. You pulled one of them. Hiked your dress up and pushed your panties aside. Kept staring into his lust-filled eyes. Circled your clit for a second before plunged two fingers inside your quivering, needy hole. Moaned intentionally loudly, making him curse. Pulled your fingers back and held them in front of his eyes, glistening with your arousal.

“See… so fucking wet. I’m dripping.”

“Shit! You needy slut.”

Taehyung grabbed your wrist. Pressed his entire body into yours and caged you between his radiant form and the car. Brought your fingers to his mouth. Wrapped his lips around your fingers. You didn’t know who moaned louder. You were uncontrollably rubbing your thighs together. Taehyung sucked your fingers clean. Let your hand go and cupped your cheeks with one of his hands. Kissed you again, generously allowing you to taste how sweet you were. Pulled away.

“You want to get fuck here? Out in the open? Are you sure?”

“Yes. Never been so sure Taehyung.”

“What my slut wants, she gets.”

It was only a surprised yelp that escaped your mouth when he yanked your figure on to the hood of that car. Hoisted you up on the hood. Buried his face on your neck. Peppering wet kissed across your honeyed skin. Tongue poking out. Teeth grazing. Sucking and indefinitely giving you some purple marks. Made your toes curl and cunt clenched.

“This isn’t your car, is it Taehyung?”

“No… No, fuck. I don’t know whose car this is. Do you care? Do we have to wait.”

“No no no. I don’t care. Keep going please.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him impossibly close. Taehyung chuckled. Darkly. Peck your lips.

“You really are a slut. Aren’t you baby. A needy slut?”

Mumbled. You didn’t answer that question. Only got to nod your head when he slipped his hand inside your already ridden up dress. Hooked his finger on your panties to push it aside. Grazed his fingers over your slicked slit. Made electric sensations run through your body. Kept looking at your fucked-up face when two of his slender fingers teased your hole. For a moment. And then he was pushing past your entrance, in a one swift go. A strangled cry left your throat, your own hand grabbing from his wrist. Your needy hole sucking up his fingers greedily. Started pumping those slender fingers into you without warning. Curled them a bit. You were beyond surprised that he hit the spot right there. He smirked when you reeled at his fingers. Added another. Stretched you wide.

“Fuck baby. You’re wet. So fucking wet. And tight. You gonna fucking kill me. You know. Fuck my fucking dick hurts.”

His voice was shaky when he mumbled against your lips. Hips bucking into your thigh for some kind of friction. That was your sign to do something about his pain. Felt bad that you were selfish. Flew toward his belt and unbuckled it in record time. Did the same with his fly. Slipped your hand inside his boxers, feeling his raging hard for the first time. His dick twitched when your fingers lightly grazed it. Curled your delicate fingers around his hot shaft. Made him moan, and wasn’t it the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. His dick felt damn good on your hand. Twitched agian. So, you squeezed it.

“Harder. Squeeze it harder, princess. Holy fuck!! Like that.”

You obeyed his commands so unlike you. Squeezed his dick and pumped. Grazed your thumb over his tip. And he kept pumping his fingers inside you. You were no longer a part of the earth that day. The breeze didn’t make you realize you were out in the open. The sound of the music didn’t remind you that you were in the parking lot of a club. And you didn’t care about dripping onto someone else’s car hood. You were high. High on Taehyung. Never wanted to pleasure someone else that badly. Never wanted to have someone inside you that badly.

“Please Taehyung. Fuck me now hm?”

From there it didn’t take much more convincing or begging. Taehyung pulled his fingers out of your cunt, making you feel empty and wincing. You did the same. Let his hard cock go. Watched him fumble with his pants for second before he freed his hard dick out. Watched it spring out in the cold air, tip red and angry. Swollen and pre cum leaking. You gulped harshly. That was the most fucking beautiful dick you’ve ever seen. Made your mouth water.

“Fuck I want you in my mouth.”

“Yeah? You want my dick on your slutty mouth? I fucking love the idea baby. Love to see your lips wrapped around me. But my cock will fall down if I don’t fuck you right now.”

That was very dramatic, but you agreed. You felt like you were about to die. Nodded desperately. Spread your legs wide apart. For him and him only. Taehyung chuckled. Pumped himself. And that was a sight for sore eyes. Came closer to you. Only to halt his movement all of a sudden. His smile faltered while you watched.

“What? What is it?”

“A condom. I don’t have one.”

For a second time you felt like your world ended. It was incredulous how he came to a club searching for lay but didn’t have protection with him. Incredulous how that it was your intention, but you didn’t have one either. You gaped at each other. He shivered. Not from cold. Let his cock go so he could grab from your thighs. Looked like he was about to cry.

“Baby, I’m clean I promise. I’ll stop if you want but I’m clean. I really want you. It hurts princess.”

That was a damn risk to take. How did you ever trust a stranger? That could have been the end of your sex escapades. But his words lit a insatiable fire inside you, driving you crazy. So, you nodded, desperately. Making Taehyung sigh in relief.

“I’m clean too.”

That’s all it took him to spring into action. Pushed your thigh further back, hiking your dress up. Stared at your sopping cunt and your wet panties sticking into your core. Cursed. Asked you to push your panties aside and aligned his tip with you. Silently asked you if you were ready and with one nod from you, he entered you in one go. No slow penetrations but a hard thrust in that made you nearly scream. Seized your hips, pushed you even more into him. Stilled you, while his cock was buried deep inside you. Breathed into your mouth. Took a moment. Allowed you to feel how perfectly he slotted inside you. Your walls stretched apart. He had girth and length to made you fill to the brim. Made you feel how pleasurable to have him stretched you and how good it was to feel his dick twitch.

“Move please.”

Every second that passed, only added fuel to the fire inside you. Even when he was deep inside you, you wanted more. You bucked your hips onto his. Grind. Gave him the best puppy eyes you could muster, and he listened. To your desperate plea. Held on to your hips from one hand for leverage and made your thigh pushed onto you with the other. Gave an experimental roll of his hips. Got you reeling. Gave another and then another, until he was thrusting into you fast. Hard. Your toes curling and thighs shaking. His eyebrows pulled together in concentration. Mouth agape. Short quick breath nibbled your lips. He was intoxicating. And you were drunk on him. Each and every pleasurable thrust, each drag on your fluttering walls brought you to ecstasy. And the moment when he pushed his hand under your ass to pull you slightly up, the moment his tip hit you at that one spot, you allowed yourself to cry.

“Fuck, like that baby. Cry dumb on my cock. You fucking feel like heaven. You wanna cum? Touch your cute little clit for me baby. Make yourself cum. Cream my cock.”

Your hand reached to your clit between your bodies so fast. Started rubbing figure eights furiously. Drove yourself into insanity and dragged Taehyung with you to that. He picked up his phase. Fingers digging on to your thighs harsh that they left marks for weeks. You were sure it didn’t take you more than two fucking minutes to fall apart. His name was the only thing left on your tongue as you cried for him. Cried from the immense pleasure. Dragged your high for as long as you can. Stopped rubbing your clit when it became too much but Taehyung didn’t even slow down. Overwhelming you. Making your legs tremble. Making you whine and plead.

“Can’t stop. Fuck I can’t baby. Sorry, but you feel so damn fucking good. Fucking wet. I can’t stop. C’mon cum again. Cum for me like a good whore. One more time. Please..”

A new wave of arousals shot through you at his words. Made you drip more on his cock with your tummy fluttering. Held onto his shoulders for dear life and let him pound onto your abused cunt. Happily, allowed him to pull the neckline of your dress back, freeing your tits. Moaned when he started sucking and squeezing on them. Came apart for a second time while he started at your bouncing tits like he was enthralled. You were absolutely right to think he would be able to make you cum more than once. He made you cum twice and then thrice. You were a crying mess sprawled on some stranger’s car after falling apart for a third time. Taehyung was hanging on a thread himself. Covered in sweat. The hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“I’m close baby. So close. Keep squeezing me like that. Like good girl huh? God, you’re fucking perfect.”

And he had a dirty mouth. You loved it. You loved every moment of it.

“Shit I’m gonna cum. Where? Where do you…. want…”

That was a question to which you should give a straight ‘pull out’. He was a stranger. You were already risking the STDs. That was the day you learned that people make stupid decisions when they are drunk and high. It doesn’t matter on what.

“Inside please. Want you to cum inside me.”

“Fucking hell!... You want a fucking stranger to cum inside you? Fuck. How much of a whore you could be?”

“Don’t care. Please Taehyung inside. Fill me up.”

“Fuck yes. Yes. Yes. Gonna fill you up. Fill you up with cum. And you gonna go home like that. My cum dripping down your thighs. Like the good slut you are.”

“Yes, fuck yes. I promise.”

Pathetic how you cried for a shot of cum. But was worth every minute of it when he finally broke apart. Shattered. Cursed out aloud. It was the pure ecstasy when you felt his hot cum spilled inside you. And it was heartbreaking how you wanted to hold onto him forever when he hid his face on your neck. Whining. His dick still throbbing inside you.

It was heartbreaking, that everything ended.

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

Five years and seven months ago

Taehyung had never thought the best sex of his life would be on top of a stranger’s car. He never thought that fuck would mess him up so much that he couldn’t sleep for days. Never thought that a one-night stand would ruin him for anyone else. That he would have to fuck his fist to the memory of you for any kind of relief. On top of everything, he never thought he would ever see you again. But then he did. Unexpectedly. After five months. On his colleague slash the girl he was in a situation ship’s house. He was there with her to pick some documents up. Something she forgot.

He stood in the living room while she rummaged through her house. That’s when someone descended the stairs in such a hurry that they skipped a stair. Held on to the banister to save their neck. Eyes landed on him at the same time his landed on them, clutching the banister for dear life. You. You who was his best fuck for the life. You, in front of him again in a baggy white T-shirt and blue shorts. You who stared at him with an open mouth, just like he did. You both blinked at each other. Until his colleague slash situationship realized you were there. She looked at you and then at Taehyung and told the last thing he wanted to hear.

“Oh, meet my sister Taehyung. Say hi sis, this is Taehyung. The man I’ve told you. I think I left that in my room. Gimme a min Tae”

And she disappeared through a door to her right. Left you and him alone. He watched you regain your composure and got onto your feet again. Waited till you descended the stairs and approached him. You smiled at him. Your sweet smile. The sweetest. His heart stopped. The world blurred, like the first day he saw you.

“Well, hello Mr. Kim Taehyung.”

“Hello Vixen.”

Ever since then he found a reason to be at your place. He was a selfish little shit for doing that. To use your sister just to find a way to you. He knew he was giving your sister hope by visiting her almost every day. For so many dumb reasons. Yet, he couldn’t help it. Just one sneak at you made him want to dance. Made him feel alive. He felt like a stupid teenager. So, he kept being selfish. At first, you were surprised to see him for a second time at your place. Then day by day you realized why he was there. You were a smart girl after all. Proved to him that you were indeed a vixen. Stopped wearing those baggy T- shirts and replaced them with flimsy tank tops. Wore booty shorts instead of sweats. Wore see through blouses with no bras. Made his brain short circuit and dick throb at how your nipples peaked through. Treated him like your sister’s boyfriend. That annoyed him to no end. They weren’t in a relationship at all. But you knew how to torture his mind and body. With your occasional slutty smiles. With your body innocently and accidentally brushing against him here and there.

Still, he never made a move. Never grew the balls to stop playing his cowardly games. Simply was the biggest coward on the damn earth. Until that day you brought a man home. While he was lounging on your couch. With your sister. In a sour mood because you weren’t home. And then there you came, with someone else’s hand on your waist. Introduced him as a friend of yours. Invited him to your room. And Taehyung was burning. Burning with a fire that set by you. A fire that ate him inside out. He was seeing red because how jealous he was. He wanted to strangle that man. Wanted to fuck you in front of him. Couldn’t think of anything else other than what you might be up to in your room. A room he had never been to.

That’s when you came downstairs again. Your shower basket in your hand. Taehyung has been in your house long enough to know you share a one bathroom and it’s on the down floor. Knew you were about to take a shower. It made his sour mood worse. Didn’t want another man to see you in your damp hair. With your skin glistening after water freshened you.

He was only seeing blind red when he waited until your sister went to grab something. He was enthralled by the jealousy when he found himself striding to your bathroom. Knew the lock of the door was broken. Funny how your family has been screaming ‘I’m taking the bathroom’ before anyone of you used it. He stood there for a minute. Listening to the sound of water. Imagined you naked under that shower. That thought alone made his dick hard. Wasn’t thinking clearly when he pushed the door open. You didn’t notice nor did you hear anything until he was inside, closed the door behind him and walked up to the little shower box. Yanked the glass door open. That’s only you jumped at the sound, turned around startled. Eyes wide, and taking him in. Hands went to cover your chest.

“Fuck, Taehyung, what are you doing?”

You were innocently and genuinely surprised. Taehyung on the other hand was spell bounded. Enchanted by your naked little figure in front of him. Water cascading across your honey skin. Through your slender curves. He ogled at your breasts and the way they pushed higher with your hands. Fuck weren’t you gorgeous. The most beautiful thing he has ever seen. How he always regretted and blamed him for rushing things with you that night. For not being patient enough to take you to a private place and get you stark naked. For not being able to see you in all your glory. Sue him for ogling at you like that. But you were just perfect.

“Aren’t you a fucking pervert Kim Taehyung?”

When he looked at your face, he knew there was no malice in your words. There was a sly smile. Your sweet slutty smile.

“I am. I am a fucking pervert.”

He knew you enjoyed the snap of his limit. Knew you were happy that you made him follow you into the shower. Knew you expected him to act on his impulses under your tortures one day. You didn’t, however, expect him to be stormed into the shower box. Your eyes bulged out when he pushed you back on to the slippery wall tiles. The sound you let out when he pressed his lips onto yours made his tummy flutter. He didn’t care about his clothes getting wet. Didn’t care how he would explain this to anybody later. About your sister being there in the same house. It was only you in his eyes. Only you when he tasted you after so long. Your intoxicating taste. Your tongue lapped against him.

It happened all fast. The way he discarded his clothes. Started savoring every inch of your body with his hand and lips. You mumbled something about how you shouldn’t do that there. He simply didn’t listen. He was thinking with his raging boner. Made you go on your knees and choked on his dick. Eyes tearing up and gagging around him. Thrusted into your mouth and praised you for being a good slut. His slut. Pulled out from your mouth when his balls started to tighten.

“No don’t do that. Wanted you to cum in my mouth.”

“Next time, baby.”

“Next time?”

“Yes, next time. I promise.”

It was adorable how you whined for his cum. Even adorable how you, a little vixen, turned pliant under him. A whiny mess. Made his dick throb. He ignored your cautions of getting caught and being in your house, inside a closed door which wasn’t locked. Was so happy to think, that man you bought home was currently waiting for you while he hoisted you up. Pressed you against the wall and lined his throbbing dick at your sopping pussy. His brain was malfunctioning when he started to push inside you. This time he did it slowly. Painfully slow for both of you. It was euphoric how your walls fluttered around his girth. Was head spinning the feeling of your cute cunt struggle to take him.

He knew he was a goner when you started squeezing on him. When you started to beg for him to move. So, he did. You were irresistible. Thrusted into your quivering cunt with everything he got. Made you cum so hard on his dick. Picked up his phase when you cried out for him. Didn’t stop until you were trembling badly. Didn’t stop when your sister knocked on your door and you had to answer. Made sure you screamed his name when that friend of yours did the same and asked you what’s taking so long. Best part was you came at that moment, bringing him over the edge with you.

“Fuck like that slut. Cum on my cock while he listens”

“Taehyung god. Want you to cum inside me.”

“I will baby. I’ll make sure you’re always full of my cum now on.”

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

Five years ago

Ever since that day, he kept his promise toward you.

Next time, I promise

There were so many next times. How you didn’t get caught by your sister was a miracle. Only that your friend was gone by the time you left the bathroom. You snuck clothes for Taehyung that day. Even managed to keep him for the night. And he stopped coming to your place with your sister. Instead, popped up on your porch after few days with orchid. You snorted so hard at that. He pouted so hard at that. You felt your heart swell. Had no other options but kiss that pout away. You sneaked him inside. Every night from that day. To your attic room.

That’s how he slowly became an inseparable part of your life. From your endless sex to cuddles on the bed. From your sneaky outings to just sitting on your windowsill. In the middle of the night. Smoking cigarettes with your window open. Just to let the smoke go out so your mom won’t find out. Sharing the same cigarette and laughing about his silly jokes. Getting your lives startled out of your bodies whenever a knock came on your door. Throwing the cigarette out of the window and waving the smoke out. Pushing a grinning Taehyung under your bed and sit on you bed very non-suspiciously when your mom or sister poked their head inside your room. You lived a teenage life with him when you both were adults.

Made endless excuses every time you spend a day at his place. Invited him over to yours whenever you were home alone. Made him read books with you. He never liked it. Preferred to gape at your face more.

“You don’t have to read if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course, Tae. You can do anything you want.”

“Let’s fuck, then.”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“You always take control over me. I kind of like it. But, still Tae, I prefer to have some control in my life sometimes. Like this. So, no. No fucking.”

“Oh c’mon, take the control then.”

“You should be more careful when you speak Tae Tae.”

“I know what I’m saying. Take the control vixen. Tie me up to your bed.”

And you did. Got revenge for all the time he edged you. Edged him until tears rolled down his cheeks. Kept his cock warm inside you for hours. Knew he would take revenge one day, but you lived in those moments. With him. Lived an exhilarating life until you met the first boulders together. Getting caught by your sister being the first. Walked up to him after a huge fight at your house. Knocked on his door to say you should stop your fuck buddy relationship. Almost left him there when he yelled.

“I love you. I fucking love you stupid vixen. You can’t just walk away.”

Those were the most beautiful words you’ve ever heard in your life. You had frozen when he shouted at your back. Had gaped into his face when he ran to you and turned you to face him.

“I know you love me too”

“Don’t be so sure sailor.”

You weren’t feeling cocky that day. Your throat was dry like you ate sand. And he didn’t grin at your words like other days. Watched you with a stern face. Made you realize there will be no sun rising in your world without him.

“Yes. Yes, fuck. I love you too. I fucking love you too…”

And he grinned. Kissed the life out of you. Told you he will walk with you to end of the world. Cheeky. You said so. He didn’t care. And he did walk with you. He walked with you when you cried over unanswered emails from hundreds of book publishers. He walked with you until you finally resolved things with your sister. He walked with you when you eventually received an answer from a little publishing group. He walked with you when you finally published a book. He was there with you each and every step.

You went from strangers at a club to buying a house together. His friends became your friends. Yours became his. You slotted together like puzzle pieces. Fought and cried over silly matters. And then one of you pouted so hard until the other forgave. Slow danced in the living room and threw your own little musical shows. Him just wearing a towel and you in your bathrobe. Hair dryer was your mic, and he was your only admirer. So was you for him. You lived in those moments. With him. Through every up and down. You loved him. You still do. Dearly.

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

One and a half year ago

He and you fought. Not always but sometimes, like all the other couples do. But ever since you started your new job at a new publishing agency, you have fought a little more. The reason was your agent. Kim Namjoon. Taehyung always despised him. Maybe he wasn’t fair. But the guy always had heart eyes when he looked at you. Taehyung was still obsessed with you after all those times. He was freaking jealous to see Namjoon all over you. And you knew that too. Knew Namjoon wasn’t just being a friend. Still, you wanted your job. Taehyung understood. Understood that it was your dream, knew you loved him more than your own world. And even with that his jealousy side sometime won.

That’s what happened that day. When you were about to leave for a meeting with Kim Namjoon. Taehyung was frustrated. Devastated. And he regretted it immediately after you left. Regretted that he called you an attention seeking slut and asked you to do whatever the fuck you wanted.

Why the fuck you can’t understand what I’m… No. Guess what (….), go fucking ahead and do whatever fuck you want. You’re nothing but an attention seeking slut…

You weren’t. You was nothing but his entire world. His sun and moon. His little princess. The most lovable, kindest, and gentle person on the world. You were that high spirited bubble that made his world colorful in the darkest of night. He never said that to you, however. Instead, he called you an attention seeking slut. And when he wanted to say sorry and take everything back. It was too late. He never got to tell you that.

The moment he received that call from an unknown number, his only chance to tell you that you were his world was robbed from him. A single phone call was all it took to let him know that he will never be able to tell you those things that were left unsaid. The phone call that changed his life, and informed him that they were regretting it to tell him, the car his girlfriend was travelling is crashed. Crushed by a truck. And they were so sorry that you didn’t make it. Taehyung yelled at that person from the top of his lungs. Cursed them for playing funny games with him. Denied it over and over again. Until he couldn’t. In the end he couldn’t. He never got to tell you that you were his sun and moon. You weren’t there anymore.

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

One and a half year ago

It was all a vague memory. The way your heart shattered at his words. The way you shouted back at him. The way you left your home. It all felt like a dream. So did your conversation with Namjoon. All of his questions regarding why you were crying. Hell, you didn’t know you were crying. You shrugged those questions away. But Namjoon was stubborn. Kept asking you questions until you broke into a loud cry that caught his complete attention. His attention, which should have been on the road, instead of on you. You didn’t remember when and where that damn truck appeared but when you noticed and screamed, it was all too late.

You woke up, however. Yes, you did. While it felt like your head spinning. Even with everything, you woke up, only to find your own body lying in the crashed debris of a car. It took you a little while to understand that you were dead. To understand that it was all too late. To remember that you left Taehyung behind. That you stormed out of your home that evening after fighting with him. It was all too late when you turned around and started running toward your house. Too late when you reached your home that Taehyung was already a sobbing wreck on the floor. With Jimin and Jungkook. His head hidden in Jungkook’s chest. He was fucking wailing. Wailing uncontrollably into his friend’s chest. Both of his friends were crying too but Taehyung was struggling to breathe.

“Fuck it was my fault Jungkook-ah. I drove her away... I…I...”

The rest was muffled in Jungkook’s chest.

“Holy fuck, no man. It wasn’t you. No. You didn’t do anything. It was no one’s fault.”

You watched Jungkook sob into Taehyung’s hair. Watched Jimin trap Taehyung between him and Jungkook.

“She would hate herself if she heard you say that. Don’t fucking say that. It wasn’t you. She knows it wasn’t you Tae. She knows.”

Yes. You knew. Yes, Jimin was right that you hated yourself that moment. It wasn’t him. Only if you had listened to him and stayed home. You wanted to console him. Touch him. Kiss him. Say that it’s all okay and there’s no reason to cry. Made him hide his face in your chest like you always did when he was sad. You tried. You tried with all your will. But nothing worked. Nobody bat an eye toward you. Nobody felt you. Heard you. No matter how hard you tried to touch Taehyung. It was all too late. And the last thing you said to him was, that he was a jealous, possessive prick.

You are fucking jealous Taehyung. Fucking jealous I’m making it, don’t you. You fucking jealousy, possessive prick. Guess what? Yes, I’m an attention seeking slut, and I’ll gain all the attention of the world.

Those weren’t true. He wasn’t someone like that. He was your sunshine. The boy who brought flowers for you. For a girl who never received flowers in her life. He never was jealous. Not with you. He was your pillar to hang on to. The only person who believed in you like a moth would follow flame. You wanted to tell that to him. But it was all too late. He didn’t hear you.

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

Now

Ever since that cursed day, you followed Taehyung around. To every place you could. Watched him break apart. Shattering into a million pieces. Watched him die day by day. From crying onto his pillow to stop showing his emotions at all. Watched him become an empty husk. Hollow. And you died all over again with him. You thought all pains would end with death. And there you were burning on a fire that never went off. Shared that hell with Taehyung. Felt helpless when you couldn’t make him eat. Help him sleep. You were a nothing more than a reader of an anguished book. Helpless. Your heart broke each moment passed. Still, all you could do was watch and cry.

Watched him bring women home. Watched him go to their homes. Hell, you followed him even there. Cried your eyes out. It was a tortures mix between seeing him suffer and seeing him with someone else. You were selfish after all. Selfish enough that you couldn’t leave him. Couldn’t leave him in his misery.

Until now, the day everything changed.

You watch him stare at the bathroom door, waiting for her to come. You are in pain. So much pain.

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

Now

Taehyung had waited countless times on your bed until you joined him after your shower. On the days he was too lazy to join you. Even after spending more than three years with you, he always felt giddy when you entered the room just in a towel. Just like how he feels now. To see her enter the room. Just in a towel. It feels wrong because he came here because she reminded him of you. The same kind of aura that pulled him up. It feels wrong because he is comparing her to you. He expects her to be you. She isn’t you. Even though she smiles at him fondly like you always did.

“Stay the night here, sailor?” She mumbles as she throws a T-shirt over her head. Taehyung’s heart stops for a beat again.

Stay here tonight sailor. I’ll find a way to sneak you in.

That’s exactly what you said after he fucked you that day in your family house bathroom.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” She asks again when he doesn’t reply. Climbs onto the bed next to him. Peers at his eyes. Smiles with her eyes. “You should smile more. Like this.” She smiles at him. Pokes at his ribs. Nuzzles his cheek with her nose. “C’mon sailor. It doesn’t cost you to smile.” Wines in complaint and Taehyung can’t help but softly chuckle.

“There you go. You’re fucking beautiful when you laugh.” She says as she keeps poking at his ribs.

“I want to be handsome. Not beautiful.”

“You’re most definitely handsome. Smile some more. Laugh.” She bites onto his cheek. The smile ghosted on his lips breaks into a grin. And then into a laugh. He can’t help it when it naturally comes within his chest. And she laughs too. Aloud.

For the first time after one-and-a-half years Taehyung laughs. Like how he used to do. Like himself. Like he did with you. And she laughs like you. Not in the same way but in the kind of way that makes him relax. In a way that makes his darkest night colorful. She is a rainbow, and you were a sun. She is not you but that’s okay. She can give him hope again. Hope and purpose to live. He can hang onto her. He can laugh.

……

He watches her chest rise and fall while she is sleeping. Looks at her peaceful face.

She’s fucking gone Taehyung. Fucking gone. You need to move the fuck on.

It’s been more than a year Kim Taehyung.

Yes, his friends were right. You were gone. You aren’t coming back. No matter how long he waits. He can’t die. Not anymore. He wants to live. For you. For him. To remember you till the day he dies. To cherish your memory with him. To see what the life will hold for him. He will tell her about you one day. He will heal. Move on. Not forgetting you. No, he can’t do that. You will always be his sun and moon. But he will learn to love again. Learn to live. And he will let go of you.

It hurts. Hurts to think that he will need to finally let go of you. To finally accept that you were gone. Without giving him a chance to let you know how much he loves you. All he wanted was one chance. Just one to tell you that he loves you. To hear you say it back. To apologise. Hold you and kiss you dearly. Tell you that you were his sun and moon. He can’t. He will never have that one opportunity. It’s time he should let you go.

“You are free, my vixen. You can go. I love you but it’s time for you to go.” He mumbles into nothing before closing his eyes. Peaceful for the first time.

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

Now

It hurts. It hurts like hell to hear him say that. To hear him ask you to leave. You don’t want to. The sun will not rise in a world without him. Even though this is neither living nor dying you want to hang onto him. Even though this is an endless pain you want to be with him. Even though you can’t make him happy or laugh, can’t make him live, you want to be there for him.

“That’s your closure (….) You need to move on now.” The sudden voice doesn’t startle you. Not when you are so accustomed to that presence next you. For a year and a half. You turn to look at him.

“What do you mean?” Your voice trembling.

“You couldn’t move on because he held on to you. You were stuck here because you didn’t have your closure to move on. You were stuck to him because he was hanging on to you. You couldn’t leave him when he was suffering. But he is going to be okay.” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. Like always.

“That’s not true. I was here because I wanted to. Because I love him. Because he loves me.” You shake your head in dissent.

“Yes, you both love each other. But sometimes it isn’t enough. You can’t make a difference in his life (….), like you couldn’t all this time. You need to let him live his life. I’m sorry I killed you. I’m sorry I dragged you into this place-”

“It wasn’t your fault, Namjoon. It was nobody’s fault.” At first, you resented him so much. Blamed him for everything. For the pain Taehyung was feeling. But it wasn’t him. You know it wasn’t him.

“Yeah, but I don’t know…. You died (…). He is still alive. Let him live that life. This is your time to move on.” Namjoon looks at you. You can’t make his features in the dark.

It was at your own funeral, sitting on a dark corner, watching Taehyung breaking apart, when you first saw Namjoon. Neither of you made it. And you forgot him until that day. You yelled at him. Accused him for being at fault. Yet, he never left. All those times you watched Taehyung, he was watching you. You knew he loved you more than a friend when you were alive. You knew Taehyung was right. But it wasn’t as if you would choose someone over Kim Taehyung. Not even that person is Kim Namjoon. You are bounded to Taehyung even after your death. Still, you feel gratification towards Namjoon.

“Why didn’t you go Namjoon? Why then, you are here? If I was simply stuck here until Tae gives me my closure. What are you doing here?”

He smiles at you. His dimple smile.

“Maybe you are my closure. You just gave me my closure.”

It wasn’t your fault, Namjoon. It was nobody’s fault.

You gave him his closure. You watch him. He smiles again. It makes sense now. You turn your head to Taehyung, walk over to the bed where he is sleeping with another woman. There’s nothing you can do. You are dead. He is not. You want him to live. A life he will remember. A life where he would always laugh. You need to let him live. There’s pang in your chest. Nothing unfamiliar, that pang was always there.

You watch Taehyung breathe peacefully as he sleeps. After a long time, he is not thrashing. Not crying in his sleep. Doesn’t mumble your name. He is peaceful. You can move on now. He let you go. Tears start rolling on your cheeks. There are so many things that left unsaid. You never got to tell him that how he made you feel alive. That he is the most selfless person you met. That you felt how much he loved you by just the way he looked at you. You didn’t get that chance.

“I never got to tell him sorry Namjoon. Sorry for saying those things to him. Never got to apologize for anything. I don’t want him to think that I hated him. Because I didn’t. I loved him, I love him. I…”

“Trust me he knows (…). He knows you loved him. He knows you love him.”

You don’t believe Namjoon. But what other options do you have. You can’t say sorry to him.

He never blamed you. Not even for leaving him. He is fucking selfless. There are things still unresolved but then why you must go now. You still have to apologize.

You feel Namjoon’s hands wrapped around your trembling figure. From behind.

“You need to go because he knows. He knows you never meant them. He freed you (…)” That was an answer for an unasked question.

Taehyung freed you. You need to free him too. Live him his life. You watch him for another moment. Nod. He knows. You know he knows.

You step forward. A little bit closer to the edge of the bed. Namjoon follows you. Hands never leaving you. You desperately want to feel Taehyung one more time. Just feel his warmth. Desperately want one more day. You wish you had one more day to tell him he was your life line. One more day to tell him you love him. Just for one more time. To hear him say those words back.

I love you. I fucking love you stupid vixen.

“I love you, Kim Taehyung. I always did and always will. I’m sorry I called you those things, but you know that I didn’t mean them don’t you sailor? I didn’t. I should have let you know that you were my anchor. I’m sorry that I left…. Sorry for every fight, every harsh word....” You want to say so much more but words get tangle in your throat. You want to apologise for every time you couldn’t be what he needed. But the words keep sticking to your tongue. Only the ache of what’s unsaid left in you. So, you simply repeat that you love him for a one last time.

You lean down, freeing yourself from Namjoons hands. Stare at the breath-taking face of your lover. Past lover. His flawless skin. The little moles. Sharp jaw. Perfect cupid bow. The man you love. You want them engraved in your memory. What if you forget them? What if you forget how beautiful he is? So, you stare, stare and stare. Until you feel Namjoon’s hand softly graze your shoulder.

You nod, just to let Namjoon know that you’re ready. You’ll let your baby go. Just need one more minute. You use that minute to say you love him once again. Even though he can’t hear. You use that minute to place an invisible kiss to his forehead, like you always did. Even though he can’t feel.

Straighten up. Turn around and take Namjoon’s hand. Let him walk you out. Walking away feels like chains are breaking. The chains that kept you tied up to Taehyung. Weight is lifting but it isn’t relieving. Your story with Kim Taehyung is ending. For real this time.

You don’t know what’s wait for you in other side. You will face that anyway. You will let the sweet boy with starts in his eyes live. You will let the boy who brought you flowers everyday even after you died, bring those flowers for some one else. You will let the boy with his adorable boxy grin laughs, like he did with you. You will leave him behind. To live his life. Even if it means leaving the love that still blinds you.

THE END.

#bts #bts angst #bts smut #bts oneshot #bts au #taehyung smut #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #taehyung #taehyung scenarios #kim taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung oneshot #smut bts #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jeon jungkook #park jimin #Closure

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curseofdelos · 6 months ago

Text

mentally I'm still here:

Nico insisting that neither of them are going to be sacrificed/left behind to satisfy the prophecy is a perfect encapsulation of his growth over the series and it makes me SO soft to think about

Nico as a character - particularly in BoO - doesn't have a lot of self-preservation. He doesn't really care what happens to him as long as the mission gets done. We see this most explicitly after he almost fades into nothingness after the Bryce Lawrence incident:

And again when he considers shadow travelling into Octavian's tent to assassinate him:

(Nico himself notes here that it was unlikely he would survive another jump. If Will hadn't stopped him, he probably would have died.)

In both cases, Nico was willing to risk death for the sake of ending the war. He puts very little value on his own life, and repeatedly argues to Reyna, Hedge, and Will that the possibility of saving camp (a place he never felt welcome at, might I add) is worth the risk of losing his life.

Even before Nico went on the quest with Reyna and Hedge, the others were concerned about his safety. Percy tried to remind him how unpredictable his shadow travelling could be, and Hazel notes that he has been acting strangely lately:

It's not quite clear what Hazel is worried about here, but my interpretation of this scene is that she's concerned that Nico isn't thinking - or perhaps, isn't caring - about what effect the constant shadow travelling will have on his wellbeing. Between Tartarus, the jar, and the Cupid incident, Nico's mental state is at its worst at this point in the series, and I think Hazel is worried he'll do something reckless - something he can't come back from.

And so in TSATS, when Nico is told that he's going to have to leave something of equal value behind in order to save Bob, the old him would have had zero issue sacrificing himself if that's what it took to ensure Will and Bob's survival. This version of Nico, who's been going to therapy w/ Mr D and opening up more and built a little support system for himself, can't fathom it.

Nico in BoO did not have a future. He had fully convinced himself that nobody cared about him or would miss him if he was gone - not Percy who fought for him at every turn in PJO, not his sister Hazel, not his new friends Jason and Reyna. He was ready to leave both camps behind because he couldn't see himself ever being happy there. He couldn't see himself being happy at all.

But now, in TSATS, he has a boyfriend that he loves, he has friends that he loves, and he has a community in Camp Half-Blood. He has experienced so much loss that losing someone else is his worst fear. The old Nico would have considered sacrificing himself to protect Will and Bob. At the very least, he would have kept that option in his back pocket as a 'just in case'; he wouldn't have sworn on the Styx that he wouldn't stay behind.

This Nico, however, is doing much better - not perfect, but better. He loves Will, and he wants a life with him, and he's not willing to give that up for anything. Nico has hope for the future, and he's clinging to that hope with everything he has. He sees a light at the end of the tunnel, and he wants to reach it. He's not willing to sacrifice himself because it means losing that future.

Gone is the cynical pessimistic Nico who assumes the worst because the worst is all he thinks he can have. Here is the Nico who has had a taste of happiness and is willing to fight to keep it. He's not going to sacrifice himself because he wants to live. He's not just fighting for Will here; he's fighting for himself too.

And seeing him go from "if it kills me, it kills me" to "it's not going to be me" makes me so ASDFGHJKL

#nico di angelo #solangelo #tsats #meta #mine #some points of clarification I want to make here in the tags:#1) I don't think that Nico /wanted/ to die necessarily; only that he didn't care if he lived or died #2) I'm not arguing that getting a boyfriend 'fixed' nico #I don't think he ever would have been open to trying something with Will if he hadn't befriended Jason and Reyna first #ALSO i would argue that Nico's story from as early as BOTL has been about recovering and getting better and moving forward #he has been on this journey loooong before Will had ever entered the picture #his relationship with Will is not the reason he got better; it's the result of Nico choosing to get better on his own accord #because the pre-statue quest Nico would have never allowed himself to get close to another person

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yikes-aemond · 6 months ago

Text

I love you. It's ruining my life. (Part II)

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader (no descriptions of reader except that she wears dresses and has long hair)

warnings: 18+, smut, canon typical violence, cursing

summary: You and Benjicot Blackwood return to the woods where your story began. Things get heated.

word count: 3.6k

author note: Thanks so much to everyone for your kind words about this little story. This is my first time posting fanfiction, and I am overwhelmed by the response. And in case anyone is curious, I pretty much listened exclusively to Taylor Swift’s “Guilty as Sin?” while writing this. Love you babes. Happy reading!

part I can be found here. part III can be found here. part iv can be found here.

A madness plagued you, of that there could be no doubt.

Days had passed since the boundary stone incident. But you could barely bring yourself to leave the confines of your chambers. You did not want to see anyone. Not your father. Not your fellow ladies or maids. And certainly not Aeron.

You only wanted to see Benjicot. Lay eyes on him and hold him and confirm that you were not alone with these feelings.

In your heart, you knew that he must feel something. No Blackwood would withdraw from a challenge with a Bracken as quickly as he did after your plea without feeling anything. But your mind played tricks on you, turning over every interaction, every look, every word between the two of you.No promises had been made. No tender feelings shared.

What if you had imagined it all? That thought alone kept you awake at night, tossing and turning with no relief.

And gods, did you crave relief from this sweet torture.

You felt trapped beneath your own skin, aching and longing for something that you could not fully name. But even though you did not know the full language of lovers, did not know exactly what happened between a couple when they lied together, you knew enough. Knew that pleasure could be found between your thighs with a twirl of your fingers. Knew it was a sin, but could not bring yourself to care.

You could not get the look of Benjicot’s enraged face out of your mind. Flushed cheeks, wide eyes, snarling mouth. Even the cuts, bruises, and blood on his hands called to some primal part of you. The way he defended you, fought for you. He was a force, and the thought of having all that frenzied energy focused on you was enough to send you over the edge.

You touched yourself to images of Benjicot that flashed through your mind. His face hovering over you. His arms encircling your body. His hands touching you. Unlacing your dress and removing your small clothes. Warm, strong, calloused hands traveling across your breasts, hips, and thighs. Moving higher and higher until he reached the core of you.

And when you reached that pentacle of release, it was his name you sighed allowed.

This madness had to end.

So, in the early morning hours before Stone Hedge woke, you made your way back to the woods where it all began.

You did not know how long you walked but you suspected hours. The sun was steadily rising in the sky, warming the air and casting shadows through the trees. You only vaguely knew the right direction to Raventree Hall and prayed to both the old gods and the new that you were on the right path.

Not that you really had a plan once you reached Raventree Hall. It was not as if you could march up to the front door, knock, and demand to see the heir. The fact that you were a Bracken almost guaranteed that at best, such a request would be refused, or at worst, end with your head on a spike.

But even when your legs began to tire and sweat dripped down your brow, you pushed forward—determined that today would be the day you received answers.

That is until you tripped over a tree root, stumbling to the ground. You landed awkwardly on your front, both hands throbbing from cuts and scrapes you gained while trying to break your fall. But at least you had not rolled your ankle this time.

Just as you began to pick yourself up, you felt a presence behind you. You were not sure if your imagination was playing tricks on you, but the forest itself seemed to quiet. You could no longer hear the wind rustling the leaves, nor birds chirping or insects humming.

All your attention focused on one thing. Him. Benjicot. Every part of your being knew he was the one behind you.

You felt the ghost of his touch before he surrounded you. His front to your back, both kneeling on the ground. His hand brushed against your hip before he leaned in and whispered, “Didn’t I tell you that these lands were not for Brackens, my lady?”

You tried to turn to face him, but Benjicot stopped the motion by bringing his arm across your stomach, caging you against him. “How typical,” he scolded. “A Bracken who can’t do what they are told.”

Your senses were overloaded. You could practically hear your heart pounding against your chest. Everything about Benjicot pulled you further and further into his snare—his touch, his scent, his voice. You had never felt so helpless. And you liked it.

But as quickly as Benjicot had trapped you, he let you go. One moment, he was supporting your weight against him, and the next, you were unmoored and alone. Leaping to your feet, you turned to finally face the man who had singlehandedly ruined your sanity and good sense.

Benjicot had put distance between the two of you. At least two strides away, he was no longer within your reach. A part of you rebelled at the distance. For six years you had longed to be in his presence and have his attention focused on you. And now that you were here, in this place where your fates first intertwined, you could not bear the space.

But something held you back. The look on Benjicot’s face. He’s angry.

You had witnessed his legendary temper in action, had seen the bloody results. But Benjicot’s anger had never been directed toward you. Even when you first encountered him in these woods all those years ago, he had not been angry. Exasperated and intrigued, sure. But never angry.

Yet there was no mistaking the look on his face now. His eyes were cold and distant, his lips turned down. He looked at you as if you were a stranger. And you did not care for that at all.

Breaking the silence, Benjicot asked, “What are you doing here?”

His gruff voice sent a thrill down your spine. For a fleeting moment, you tried to keep your composure, tried to mold your face into a mask of indifference as he had done. But you had neither the patience nor skill to do so. Your emotions always stayed close to the surface, threatening to unleash and break free at any moment.

“What am I doing here?” you repeated back to him. “I’m here to see you. I thought that was rather obvious.”

Benjicot’s eyes narrowed at your tone. A break in the unfeeling facade he had erected. “I told you that these woods were not safe. I told you to not come back here. I told you—”

“I know what you told me!” Your own anger rising to meet his. “I have thought about what you said to me in these woods every godsdamn day for the last six years,” you seethed.

Benjicot rolled his eyes at your tantrum. “And yet, here you are.”

Unbelievable. You threw your hands into the air in frustration, eyes seeking the sky for patience. “Well maybe I would not have had to go traipsing through the woods if you had bothered to do something about our situation!”

A beat passed before Benjicot responded. “Our situation?” he asked, amusement echoing in this tone. “And what situation might that be, my lady?

You, once again trespassing on Blackwood land in violation of the assize? You, who apparently has no care for your own wellbeing, wandering into these woods alone and defenseless? As helpless as a newborn fawn, completely at the mercy of those who would strike first and ask questions later? That situation?”

You wanted to tear the smug look off his face. Maybe you really were a Bracken through and through. Because at the moment, you understood with perfect clarity why your ancestors had feuded since time in memoriam.

You did not know why he was acting this way. Why he was trying to push you away. Why he refused to acknowledge the meaning behind your words. Except—

What if he did not share your feelings? What if you had really imagined it all?

Your anger fled as quickly as it had appeared; replaced instead by a wave of nausea at your own foolishness. Of course, he did not feel the same way. You were a Bracken. Maybe he thought you were a pretty face to look at, maybe he would have had you warm his bed, but he could never love you.

You felt the color drain from your face. Trembling, you turned away from him. You could no longer bear to look at him. You needed to get away. Needed to leave this place while you still had the strength to stand.

You fled. Running as fast your legs could carry you, you weaved through the trees with no thought for direction or destination other than away, away, away.

The moment you turned away, Benjicot realized his mistake, letting his anger over your lack of self preservation win out over the joy he felt when he found you again in these woods.

And perhaps his anger was a result of the shame he felt. Shame for waiting so long to go to you that you had felt the need to put yourself at risk to seek him out.

Benjicot had faced countless opponents and impossible odds, and never once had he wavered. Never once had he questioned his skill or fortitude. But the thought of you being in danger, or gods, someone hurting you, was enough to send him into a panic.

He chased after you.

You might have gotten a head start, but Benjicot was faster. He knew these woods like the back of his hand, and there was no place you could go, no place you could hide, where he would not find you.

Spotting you up ahead, Benjicot surged forward, grasping your arm and pulling you into him. You collided into his chest, nearly sending you both to the forest floor. But Benjicot caught you, both of his hands now resting on your arms to steady you.

You were both breathing heavily. No space existed between you now. You did not understand him. Did not understand why he did not let you escape in peace. You were close to tears but refused to allow Benjicot Blackwood to steal anymore of your dignity.

“Let me go, Blackwood,” you demanded, trying to pull away from his grasp. But Benjicot held firm, tightening his bruising grip on you.

Shaking his head, Benjicot pulled you further into arms, until you stood chest to chest, with your arms caged in between. He was a good head taller than you, forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his eyes.

Your breaths mixed together as the silence dragged out between you. Only when you tried to pull away again did Benjicot finally say, “I have watched you from afar.”

You finally stilled. Eyes widening, you waited for him to continue. “And I know you have watched me, too.”

Color returned to your face, as you tore your eyes away from his searching gaze. “Do not hide from me now, Bracken.” When you failed to respond, Benjicot scoffed, “I never took you for a craven.”

You felt your blood begin to boil. How dare he call you craven. Shoving at his chest with all your strength, you shouted, “The only one craven here is you, Blackwood!”

“Oh, please enlighten me, how am I craven?”

You stopped shoving at his chest, letting all of your frustration and ire rise until all you could see was red. “You dare admit to watching me, yet you refuse to acknowledge my feelings!”

Benjicot flinched at your accusation. Now it was he who refused to look you in the eye.

But you pressed on, “Because if you have been watching me for as long as I have watched you, then there can be no doubt as to my feelings. No doubt as to where my heart lies. But you ignored me for years. And now you have the audacity to mock me when I seek you out?”

Benjicot’s eyes were back on your face, his gaze soft and pleading. A complete departure from the anger and fury he had shown you earlier. This man looked like your Benjicot. The boy who had rescued you. The man who had defended you. The one you loved with all your heart.

His voice was quiet but his words strong, “I am a simple man, my lady. A simple man who needs plain words. What are these feelings of which you speak?”

Closing your eyes for a brief moment, you sucked in a breath. You swore that he would have no more pieces of you. Swore that would you put an end to this madness. But your heart would always rule over your head.

Finding your courage, you opened your eyes, and reached for his hand. Bringing his hand to your lips, you pressed a kiss to the cracked knuckles and whispered, “I have loved you ever since we met in these woods all those years ago.”

Benjicot stilled. You were not sure if he was even breathing, but you pushed on, “You occupy all my thoughts and haunt my dreams. You consume me, and I—” You cut yourself off before you could continue.

You tried to remain unaffected, but the longer Benjicot held you, the more your body betrayed you. You felt your blood racing through your veins, felt the heat rising to your cheeks, felt a slickness begin to gather between your legs. You tried to pull away again to give yourself a moment of respite from this torture.

But Benjicot was having none of it.

He watched the way you squirmed under his gaze. Watched the way your chest heaved from the force of your confession. Watched your cheeks grow flush and warm. And when he caught your eyes again and saw your gaze drift to his lips before licking your own, he knew he was a goner.

“My lady,” Benjicot’s voice was like gravel, “had I known you were so afflicted, I never would have left you alone for so long.”

Hauling you closer, Benjicot traced his fingers from your collarbone up your neck, watching as your pulse jumped. Cupping your cheek, he brought his face close to yours, mere inches separating the two of you, and confessed, “From the moment you cut yourself on my dagger, I have loved you.”

Now it was your turn to still. For so long you had waited to hear these words, waited to be in his arms.

Benjicot kissed your forehead, mumbling against your skin, “No one else could ever compare to you, my lady.” He moved to kiss your jaw. “You are the bravest”—a kiss to your cheek—“strongest”—a kiss to your temple—“most beautiful woman I ever met.”

Kissing the corner of your mouth, Benjicot pulled back momentarily to stare into your eyes. “From that day until the end of my days, there will only ever be you.”

You were at your breaking point. You could not hold yourself back any longer. Flinging your arms around his neck, you pulled Benjicot toward you and kissed him.

And oh, what a kiss.

Your advance might have thrown Benjicot initially off guard, but he recovered quickly, remedying the situation and taking control. One hand in your hair and the other at your waist, he moved your head to the position he wanted, slanting his lips over yours and feasting.

His kisses left your breathless. Your head held no thoughts other than more, more, more. Benjicot’s teeth nipped at your lips, forcing your mouth to open and surrender. He wasted no time in stroking his tongue against yours, exploring and claiming. And when his hand moved from your waist to knead your breasts, you moaned into his mouth and pulled him closer.

Your taste, your sounds, your very being—Benjicot wanted it all for himself. You owned him, body and soul. And he was greedy to own you in return.

In the haze of his kisses, you did not realize that your feet no longer touched the ground. Benjicot had lifted you in the air. You wrapped your legs and arms around him, bringing the hardness of him against the softness of you.

Your back was against a tree, but you did not feel the rough bark. You only felt Benjicot’s lips and hands, moving across your flesh, mapping and exploring. But when Benjicot made his way to the bottom of your dress, running his hand over your delicate ankle, he paused and pulled back. There was a question in his eyes—did you wish to continue?

You nodded eagerly. No doubt or hesitation with your choice.

And Benjicot smiled. That wicked, feral smile he donned just before a fight. Another searing kiss to your lips before his hand began to move up your calf to your thigh. He was so close to where wanted him. Where you ached for him.

But Benjicot paused just short of your cunt. And when you whined at his delay, he laughed and asked, “Tell me, my lady. Have you ever touched yourself before?”

Words were beyond you. You felt dizzied and dazed, but you managed a nod.

Benjicot moved his hand another inch higher. Lips grazing your ear and hot breath on your neck. “And tell me, what did you think of when you touched yourself? What did you imagine when you brought your fingers to your warm, wet cunt?”

You wanted to die. This surely must be hell. You shook your heard, too embarrassed and flustered to answer.

Benjicot started to move his hand back down your leg, but you clenched your thighs, trapping his hand between them. Raising your head, you glared at him, but all he did was smile. “I know what you want, my lady. And I am eager to please. All I ask is that you answer the question.”

Wicked, cruel, insufferable man.

But you were desperate. An impossible ache had built inside you, and you knew that Benjicot was the only one who would relieve you.

So you put aside your pride. Clearing your throat, you whispered, “You. I thought of you, Benjicot Blackwood.”

And that was all he needed. Pushing aside your small clothes, he exposed your cunt to the air. You cried out at the feeling, arching against him as he finally slid his hand between your folds.

The first brush of him against you dragged a groan from deep in your throat. Benjicot groaned in reply, delighted at the wetness he found waiting for him. His thumb circled your clit, pressing and dragging and teasing. His other hand worked your breast while his lips pressed into your neck.

It was an assault on all fronts. Your body had never felt so hot. And when he plunged one finger into your core, you bucked your hips in response.

“I thought of you, too.” How he managed to talk, you had no idea. But even through the haze of lust, you heard him. “Thought of you spread naked on my bed when I took myself in hand. Thought of your tight, wet heat on my cock. Thought of how soft you would feel, how perfect you would be for me.”

“Benji—” You whined as he added a second finger. You had never felt so full in your life.

“That’s it,” he murmured, lips against your ears.

You pulled Benjicot’s face away from your neck and captured his lips with your own, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

Benjicot groaned, plunging his fingers in and out, hard and fast. Your existence narrowed to the feeling. You were so close, the tightness becoming nearly unbearable. You just needed one final—

The sound of your name on his lips was your undoing. Release barreled down upon you, so much so that you felt like you could break in half. You cried out Benjicot’s name, as his lips covered yours once again. The kiss was all teeth and tongue. You felt as though you were being devoured.

You clenched around his fingers again, and Benjicot let out a curse. He stroked you through your release until you were limp in his arms, kissing you all the while.

You could barely catch you breath. And when Benjicot finally pulled away and withdrew his hand, you met his stare and lost your breath all over again. Because the smile he gave you now was one you had never seen before. It was soft and tender and just for you. His lady.

You wanted to stay in these woods forever. Your own sanctuary that could not be touched by outside forces. Just when you were about to express that desire, you felt Benjicot tense against you.

And that’s when you heard. Voices. Loud and angry and coming closer by the second.

You shot Benjicot a panicked look and watched as he transformed in front of your eyes. Gone was any trace of softness or warmth, replaced instead by a hard and vicious look that had you trembling.

Bloody Ben now stood before you.

Lowering you to the ground, Benjicot tucked you between his body and the tree. He looked around, trying to decide the best course of action. You could practically see his mind at work, thinking through the various scenarios to get you to safety.

You saw the moment he reached a decision. Leaning down, he pressed one final kiss to your lips and asked, “Do you trust me?”

You did not hesitate. “Of course, I trust—” But before you could finish, your world went dark. Benjicot Blackwood had once again knocked you unconscious.

He only hoped that you would forgive him for what he was about to do.

-- Let me know what you think! And don't worry lovelies--I'm already working on part 3.

taglist: @painted-flag @majoso12 @strollthroughstars29 @a-whiterose

#benjicot blackwood #davos blackwood #hotd #hotd x you #hotd imagines #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon #benjicot blackwood x reader #bloody ben x reader #benjicot Blackwood imagine #benjicot Blackwood imagines #benjicot Blackwood x you #my fics #bloody ben x you

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ms-snape · 2 months ago

Note

Hello, can you just write severu x reader? Some angst but fluff at the end? She’s try several times makes first move but he is just Severus. He won’t realize until she stop with trying to get to him. Thank you.

Title: Too Late?

Warning: Angst

Words Count: 3000+

Masterlist

---

Professor Y/N L/N loved the quiet, the calm of the Hogwarts greenhouse. The smell of damp earth and the soft rustle of leaves were her comfort. It was a sanctuary, a place where she could lose herself in the careful tending of magical plants, and a place where she could allow her thoughts to wander — especially to him.

Severus Snape.

She didn’t quite know when it had happened, or how it had grown so deeply rooted in her heart, but somewhere between the late-night faculty meetings, the shared glances in the staff room, and the way his voice lingered just a bit longer than necessary when addressing her, Y/N had found herself hopelessly in love with him.

It was ridiculous, really. She, the soft-spoken Herbology professor, with her love for nature and her quiet kindness, had fallen for the cold, brooding Potions Master. He was a man of sharp words, dark eyes, and a demeanor so cold it could freeze the very air around him. His silences spoke volumes, and his gaze could pierce you, if you weren’t careful.

Yet despite the distance, despite his icy exterior, she had tried. Tried, again and again, to show him that she was different. That she could be something more. That she cared. But he didn't seem to notice.... Or at least pretended not to....

It was a Tuesday morning, and Y/N was working diligently in the greenhouse, tending to the mandrakes. The plants had been quite active lately, and their cries were always a challenge. She hummed softly as she carefully repotted one of the mandrakes, the soft clink of her trowel against the ceramic pot soothing in the otherwise quiet room.

She hadn’t heard him approach.

"Professor L/N," came his voice, low and familiar.

Y/N’s heart stuttered. She straightened quickly, wiping her hands on her apron, trying to hide the flutter of nervousness in her chest.

"Professor Snape," she said, smiling a little too brightly. "I didn’t hear you come in. How can I help you?"

His black robes swished around him as he stepped into the greenhouse, his eyes narrowing slightly as they scanned the plants. His gaze flicked over the mandrakes, the fanged geraniums, the bubotubers. He was a master of his craft, of course, but the world of Herbology wasn’t one he usually paid attention to. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth when he stood so close.

"I’m just inspecting your work," he said, his tone sharp but not unkind. "You’ve been… diligent."

She nodded eagerly, pleased by his praise, though she wasn’t sure if it was meant as one. "I’m always happy to share what I know, Professor Snape. Perhaps I could show you some of the more—"

"No need." His voice was clipped, dismissive. "You are doing fine. Just make sure the plants don’t become too… unruly."

She bit her lip, her smile faltering, but she kept her voice steady. "Of course. I’ll keep an eye on them. Would you like to join me for a cup of tea after your rounds? I’ve been experimenting with a new blend of chamomile and valerian root. It’s quite calming."

The words hung in the air between them like a delicate thread, fragile and vulnerable.

Severus Snape didn’t respond immediately. His eyes flicked over her face, as if searching for something in her expression. His lips were thin, his brow furrowed slightly.

"I do not have time for tea, miss Y/L/N." His tone softened, but it was still cold. "I suggest you spend more time with your plants than offering tea to your colleagues."

She blinked, feeling a pang of hurt pierce her chest, though she quickly masked it with a polite nod. "Of course. I understand. Maybe some other time, then."

He didn’t say anything more. He simply turned and walked away, his black robes sweeping behind him like a shadow.

Y/N stood in the middle of the greenhouse, staring after him, her heart sinking. It had been the same every time.

A week had passed since that encounter in the greenhouse. The morning had been busy with classes, and now Y/N found herself in the staff room, going through some notes and preparing for the afternoon lesson. It was always the same. She would prepare, she would smile, and yet the reactions from Severus were always cold.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened, and Severus stepped into the room. His black eyes flickered over her, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. They both knew why he was here — the weekly staff meeting was starting soon.

Y/N straightened and greeted him with a polite smile, as always. "Good afternoon, Severu. How was your morning?"

He gave her a curt nod. "Uneventful."

The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable. Y/N had tried to fill it once with a conversation about a rare plant she had recently discovered, but he had barely acknowledged it. His eyes were always distant, always elsewhere.

She didn’t know why she kept trying. Why she kept hoping that one day, he might see her. That he might realize that she wasn’t just another colleague, another face in the crowd. She didn’t know why she thought her kindness might be enough to break through the fortress he’d built around himself.

But despite it all, she kept trying.

As the staff meeting started, she sat across from him, her attention on the various discussions about upcoming events, but her thoughts were elsewhere — on him. Always on him. His sharp profile, the way his fingers drummed on the armrest of his chair, the occasional glance in her direction.

She could feel his eyes on her at times, though she couldn’t be sure if it was just her imagination. She didn’t have the courage to look up and meet his gaze, but she always felt the weight of it, a silent pressure.

A few days later, after another failed attempt to make him notice her — a carefully chosen compliment, a smile, a lingering look — Y/N had had enough. She had poured her heart into her attempts, trying to show him that she wasn’t like the others. That she could understand him, if only he would let her. But he wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t let anyone in.

It was a quiet night in the castle, and Y/N found herself walking through the hallways toward her quarters. She had spent the entire day in the greenhouse, putting in extra hours, hoping to take her mind off the frustration of the past few weeks.

The door to her room creaked as she entered, and the warmth of the fire that crackled in the hearth greeted her. She closed the door softly behind her, leaning against it for a moment, her heart heavy.

She had tried. She had been so kind, so patient, so open. But Severus would never look at her the way she had hoped.

Tears stung her eyes, though she didn’t let them fall. She wiped her face quickly, determined not to let the hurt consume her. She wasn’t going to chase someone who couldn’t even acknowledge her efforts.

No more trying.

The next day, Y/N was different. She kept to herself more than usual, focusing entirely on her work, her plants, the students. She had stopped making any attempt to speak with Severus, stopped offering him tea or trying to catch his eye.

And it didn’t take long for Severus to notice.

He wasn’t sure when it started. At first, he thought it was a fleeting thing, just another mood, another oddity in her usual demeanor. But when the days stretched into a week, and he saw her pulling away from him more and more, it began to gnaw at him.

He didn’t understand it.

Why did her absence bother him so much? Why did the sight of her avoiding him, walking past him without so much as a glance, make something in his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t explain?

He found himself watching her from afar, noting the way she no longer lingered in the staff room, no longer made small talk, no longer gave him those tentative smiles. The warmth that had always seemed to radiate from her was gone.

It bothered him more than he cared to admit.

Severus sat alone in his office late one night, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the stone walls. His mind was racing, and for once, the calm, measured pace of his thoughts seemed to have been interrupted by something… something unexpected.

Y/N.

Her absence.

Why did it matter? Why did it hurt?

He had spent years perfecting the art of indifference, of never allowing himself to feel anything that could be used against him. And yet, here he was, unable to focus, unable to keep his mind from wandering back to her.

The way her eyes sparkled when she spoke about her plants. The soft way she laughed. The way she cared for things. For him, in ways he couldn’t understand.

It was then, in the quiet solitude of his office, that Severus Snape realized something that terrified him.

He missed her.

And he had no idea how to fix it.

Severus Snape sat in his darkened office, staring into the flickering flames of the hearth, his mind a turbulent sea. The realization that he had been ignoring Y/N’s feelings — that he had pushed her away in his usual cold, dismissive manner — had only just hit him, and the weight of it was suffocating. He had been too absorbed in his own self-imposed isolation, too locked away in his fortress of bitterness and skepticism, to notice what had been so painfully clear to everyone else.

Y/N was gone.

Her warmth had disappeared from the corridors, from the staff room, from the greenhouse. And the coldness in his heart, which he had always managed to keep at bay, now gnawed at him like a hungry animal.

But he didn’t know how to fix it.

The door to his office creaked open, and Severus was momentarily startled from his thoughts. He raised his eyes, expecting to see the usual ghostly figure of one of the students needing a late-night potion or a missing assignment. Instead, it was Minerva McGonagall, her stern features softened by concern.

"Severus," she said, her tone unusually gentle, "I thought I might find you here."

"Minerva," he replied with a slight nod, though his voice was edged with weariness. "I trust there's a reason for this unannounced visit?"

Minerva didn’t immediately respond. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, her movements deliberate, and her gaze sharp as always. She had been his colleague for years, and over that time, she had come to understand him more than most. But there was something different about her today, something perceptive in the way her eyes followed his every movement, as if weighing something heavy.

"I need to speak with you, Severus," she said, her voice quieter now. "And I believe you need to hear me out."

Severus tilted his head, his interest piqued. "I’m listening."

Minerva took a deep breath before sitting down opposite him. Her hands folded neatly in her lap as she began, carefully choosing her words.

"I've noticed the way things have been between you and Y/N lately," she started, her gaze steady but soft. "And I’m sure you’ve noticed, too. She’s been… distant not only to you but to everyone."

Severus stiffened, his chest tightening. "I hadn’t noticed," he replied, though even to his own ears, the words sounded hollow. He had noticed of course. How could he not? The absence of her smile, the quiet that surrounded her every time they crossed paths — it was impossible to ignore. He had simply been too afraid to confront it.

Minerva’s gaze softened with an almost imperceptible sigh. "Of course you noticed, Severus. But I don’t think you understand why she’s been avoiding you."

He frowned, his brows knitting together. "She has her reasons, no doubt. But if it’s something about my behavior, then it’s none of your concern."

Minerva leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a quieter, more direct tone. "Maybe not but it is your concern, Severus. Y/N has been avoiding you because she’s finally given up. She cares about you more than you realize — more than you’ve ever given her credit for. She’s been trying to show you that for months."

Severus recoiled slightly, as if struck. "What are you talking about?"

Minerva’s eyes softened, though there was an unmistakable firmness to her words. "Y/N is not the kind of person to wear her heart on her sleeve. But she’s a kind woman, a generous soul, and she’s been trying, in her own quiet way, to get your attention. She’s been patient, thoughtful, and kind, always offering you small gestures — a smile, an invitation, a word of encouragement — things she knew you needed, even if you didn’t ask for them. But you never noticed. You’ve always been so consumed by your own… distance, your own walls, that you failed to see how much she cared for you."

Severus felt something twist inside of him, sharp and painful. He thought of all the times he had dismissed her, all the times he had pushed her away. The little moments, the fleeting glances, the kindness she had shown him without asking for anything in return. The realization hit him like a jolt of electricity — he had been blind. Completely blind.

"She’s given up, Severus," Minerva continued, her voice full of quiet understanding. "She’s stopped trying. And that… that is what you’re feeling now. The absence of something you took for granted. But you need to realize something — it’s not too late. If you want her to stay, if you want her to know how much you care… then you need to show her. You need to show her before she walks away completely."

Her words hung in the air between them, heavy and undeniable. Severus’s mind was whirling, and his stomach churned with regret. He couldn’t let her go. Not like this. Not when he was finally starting to understand the depth of his own feelings.

Minerva stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch surprisingly gentle. "Don’t waste any more time, Severus. I’ve seen the way you look at her when you think no one’s watching. You’re not as good at hiding it as you think. She deserves to know how you feel. If you don’t tell her now, you may never get the chance again."

Severus nodded, his face grim but determined. He had no more excuses. He needed to act.

It was late in the evening when Severus finally made his way to the greenhouse. He had spent hours pacing his office, turning Minerva’s words over in his mind, until he had worked up the courage to do what he should have done weeks ago.

Y/N was there, as always, amidst the plants that seemed to bloom brighter in her presence. She was kneeling beside a potted plant, carefully tending to its roots, her back turned to the door.

For a moment, Severus hesitated. His heart was pounding in his chest, and for the first time in a long while, he felt vulnerable. His pride had kept him distant for so long, but now, standing in front of her, it felt like he had nothing left but the raw truth of his feelings.

"Professor L/N," he said, his voice low but steady.

Y/N’s head snapped up in surprise. She looked at him for a long moment, her face unreadable. "Professor Snape," she replied quietly, her voice just as cold as it had been the past few weeks. "I wasn’t expecting you."

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to step closer, the sound of his boots on the stone floor loud in the silence. "I owe you an apology, Y/N."

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, and she stood, brushing her hands on her apron. "You owe me nothing, Professor."

Severus shook his head, the words rushing out before he could stop them. "No. I do owe you something. I’ve been… blind. I’ve ignored you, pushed you away, and I’ve been foolish. I’ve taken your kindness for granted and never once thought to reciprocate it. I never realized how much you… how much you meant to me." He paused, swallowing against the tightness in his throat. "You were trying, weren’t you? Trying to tell me how you felt, trying to show me you cared. And I—"

Y/N’s expression softened, though there was still a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Severus, you don’t have to do this," she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. "It’s too late."

"No," he said, his voice more insistent now. "It’s not too late. I was a fool, and I’m sorry. I don’t expect forgiveness, but I can’t stand the thought of you walking away because I didn’t see what was right in front of me. Please. I—"

Y/N took a step closer, her eyes searching his face, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Severus saw something in her eyes that wasn’t guarded. Something warm. Vulnerable.

"You don’t have to apologize," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I didn’t think you’d ever see me like that. I gave up, Severus. I thought you didn’t want me around."

Severus reached out, his hand hovering just in front of her as if afraid to touch her. "I was wrong. I was so wrong."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound in the greenhouse was the soft rustling of leaves, the distant hum of magic in the air. Then, with a gentle but firm motion, Severus reached out and took her hand in his. His heart raced, and for the first time, he allowed himself to be vulnerable — to let her see what had been hidden behind the icy walls he had built for so long.

Y/N’s gaze softened, and she squeezed his hand, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but instead, she just looked at him — with warmth, with understanding.

And for once, Severus didn’t feel alone.

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kousanosgf · 1 month ago

Text

men, minors dni

sevika x prostitute!reader

sometimes life gets worse, before it becomes better. luckily sevika ready to help you with it.

a\n: i hate how half of this fandom makes "sexy sevika in a brothel" jokes. this was written with the strong despisement for anyone who supports swork and thinks that it's freeing in any shape or form. it's NOT a light one, i'd say, so please be careful with the content you're consuming. also inform me if i should change something about the tags or tws

tw: mention of suicide, not explicit describtion of SA, drug abuse

tags: angst, hurt\comfort (kinda?), no smut (idk if i can call it sfw, sex is mentioned but not with sevika), happy ending

whispers run through the main hall, they won't stop repeating for half an hour at least, every worker and guest is too excited or nervous to be in the haunting dog of zaun's presence. "she's here". "sevika came". it won't be surprising if someone suggests placing a bet who she'll choose next, now that her favorite girl is dead.

well, that's the thing really, you couldn't care less for anyone in here and especially sevika. your best friend is dead and you can't even mourn her properly, because there's always "clients demand our full attention, girls, don't forget that" and "no alcohol or drugs, unless our guests want it, girls". there's numbing pain tugging at you heart, making you want to vomit every time you have to think of your loss and there's no way to drink yourself to oblivion to not feel all this.

so far, the night was calm. the only man for the night left you alone an hour ago after mindlessly fucking you face down into the mattress for couple of minutes and disappearing as soon as he finished. you could only hope for it go as smoothly but luck wasn't on your side for some time now. a shadow looms over before you notice who it belongs to.

you raise your eyes. sevika. "of course," you think, "cause the day needs to get worse".

"are you free?" she asks bluntly. no greetings, no small talk. that's normal really, manageable. it's usually way worse when the client wants to spill all their heartache or frustration before what they actually came for.

"not even gonna buy girl a drink?" you try to put on your prettiest face, smiling coyly and frowning in a fake pout, hoping she'll let you get at least a bit drunk.

"no, come on". she just turns around and heads towards the second floor to the private rooms.

a scream dies somewhere on a tip of your tongue, leaving sour taste.

you have to hurry after her, people as powerful as sevika hate nothing more than to wait and there's no reason to get on her bad side. it's nerve wracking, scary even, to guess what kind of client she will be. there're not much women who come here and not one of them has ever chosen you. a risk of sevika getting frustrated and dissatisfied with your inexperience is high and definitely not what you want since if the customer is angry then madame is angry and you'll be punished in some way.

you take a look at sevika again, following her step by step. she holds herself with great confidence, understandable for someone with such a status, broad shoulders, perfect posture, full heavy steps that make people move out of her path.

you reach the room finally, dreadfully. sevika sits down in the chair waiting for you to lock the door. as you do so, you turn back to her, sliding the straps off your minidress down.

"wait, no." sevika stops you. "i'm not here for this. just sit down." she gestures to the bed and you follow her orders, confused but not daring to ask.

the silence follows. you sit in your place trying not to breathe too hard, a blank expression on your face, while sevika thinks something through.

"you knew yana?" you basically jump in place, hearing your friend's name. "i mean... she was your friend?"

"she is my friend." you snap unexpectedly even for yourself but don't correct the words or make an attempt at apologizing no matter how dangerous that move is.

the corner of sevika's lip rises a little in a smirk but it's gone as fast as it appeared.

"she's dead." "doesn't change the fact that she's my friend." gods, why can't you shut up.

there's a pure rage boiling inside of you. it's painful when no one in this fucking place took time to acknowledged her death. another whore killing herself, what's the news really? but this... it's worse, the way sevika seems more amused with the fact than, you don't know, at least sad that one of her favorites is no longer here.

silence again. sevika studies you like she's trying to find something. the gaze is different from what you usually get from customers, burning, suffocating glances of men who look you over, imagine what you would look like naked under them before making there choice and passing several bills to madame.

"you have a lot of friends here?" what the fuck is she on about?

"i don't run my mouth if that's what you need."

"that's not what i asked." the smirk again. "but whatever."

she lights a cigarette and makes a few puffs. as the smell reaches you, you can't help but scrunch your nose, never appreciative of the smell. as she sees your dissatisfaction, she clicks her tongue and reaches for the ashtray, putting the cigarette down.

"here's what we gonna do. i'll sleep here till morning and you just... i don't know, do your thing? sleep too?" she waves her hand in the air.

you have to take a moment before her words actually lock in. "what?" sevika doesn't strike you as the type to use some euphemisms when she talks about sex, "sleep" here actually seems like she means it.

"you heard me. i already paid for the whole night if you're worried about it." she gives no further explanation and just leans back, dropping her head on the chair and closing her eyes. it's better not to disturb her. there's not much to say or do for you so you just sit there for a while, listening to the steady breathing and fall asleep yourself, not ready to give up a prospect of a calm night. when you wake up in the morning, sevika isn't there.

she comes and goes. for the last two weeks sevika visited you almost every day. the nights go basically the same. nothing much happens, though she becomes more and more chatty with every meeting.

you know her favorite food, know how her day went, know what she thinks about every chem-baron. in return sevika knows what're your favorite flowers, knows what your childhood was like, knows how you got into the brothel.

she's always so nonchalant about her questions, trying not to make a big deal out of it, like she's simply asking to fill the space. but working in a place like this teaches you read people easily and it becomes clear very quickly that sevika is actually searching for something. you're not sure if it's safe to give her the information she wants to hear but it's been too long since you had a person to talk to. it becomes easy to pretend like she actually interested in your stories and opinions.

she also now sleeps in a bed with you, leaving her place in the chair on the third night when you offer it yourself. she's one of those people who can fall asleep on a whim anywhere and anytime, you guess. or she's just very good at pretending.

and when she does fall asleep you lie awake, looking at her, replaying everything she said earlier in your head, trying to make sense of it, of her.

you get caught eventually. one night she just opens her eyes as she wakes up (if she's slept at all) and looks straight at you. both of you lie on your sides, facing each other. nothing is said for good five minutes, she's studying your features as well as you do hers in a dim glow of the lamp post outside the window.

"wanna know a secret?" sevika finally breaks the comfortable silence, a light smirk on her lips. you nod your head slowly, not breaking the eye contact.

"i'm getting you out of here."

the sentence doesn't register, so you have to ask her to repeat it.

"i'm getting. you. out." she says again, slowly, dividing the words.

you rise up swiftly, leaning yourself on the elbow. "you're not funny." of course it's some twisted joke, what else could it be. anger ready to overtake you easily.

the smirk grows wider on her face. "im serious, sweetheart."

that's when she tells you. probably the craziest thing you've ever heard. her visits to the brothel were never for any sexual pleasures, mostly getting intel for her and, by extant, silco's plans. till couple of months ago when she took on a mission of getting such a business out of zaun.

yana was suppose to be one of the first women who sevika and her team would save. they were late in the end.

"why didn't you tell her?" you ask partially frustrated at the coincidence of circumstances and sevika. if only yana knew that the help was on the way, she would still be alive, probably free from her prison. instead she just couldn't handle the life she thought she's bound to till her dying day or when she'll become old enough for madame to throw her out on the streets cause she wouldn't bring enough money.

"i was afraid to risk it, she was too unstable to be trusted such an information for a long term." sevika sighs heavily, dragging a hand through her face. "that was a wrong move on my end."

"and yet you're telling me this two weeks later? there were no guarantee for you that i wouldn't do the same."

"i... had to take a gamble. i knew basically nothing about you before. yana did share some stories but that wasn't enough to ease my anxieties."

you talk and talk and talk. about yana, about your life here. you throw question after question to her and she doesn't seem to get tired of answering you.

"why me? or why... not everyone at once?"

"it's impossible to do this in one go without much practice. look at this as us dipping toes in the water."

"so i'm a guinea pig?" sevika opens her mouth to argue but closes it immediately, realizing that you're only teasing her.

"no, you're something i can fix. give me a week more, okay?" she says it with such confidence in her voice that you got nothing else to do but to believe her.

sevika comes every night now, trying to take as much as she can of your working time so others won't get to you. there's a slight tug of guilt somewhere in your heart, because there's probably girls in the brothel who need this more, who can handle less than you, who just got here and weren't that much ruined with the way people treat them like some meat to jerk off to.

"your arm."

you look over yourself. it is an old bruise that got her concerned, one of the clients getting too harsh. you don't remember much, he let you have a blunt, you didn't ask of what, before everything occurred. it's yellow already, few days more and it'll disappear.

"fuck. probably smudged my makeup somewhere."

sevika's look is heavy, fixed on the spot.

"it's nothing, don't worry."

"it's not nothing." she's now looking straight into your eyes, there's a dangerous fire gleaming and it's impossible to hold her gaze so you just look to the side, noticing her fingers digging into an armrest. it is not nothing, you both know that. but all you can think of is that you would love to feel sevika's palm on you, covering the damned bruise, letting you dream it was never there.

no, you deserve to run as much as the next person. and it's not like you're gonna be the only one. like sevika told you, it's only the beginning.

"good news", sevika says and there's a smile on her face. you're not sure if you ever saw her smile. not a grin or a smirk that she gives everyone here but a genuine, warm smile. she looks lovely with it and you can't help but smile too back at her, not even knowing the reason.

"like what?"

the morning air is cool, autumn starts to take the reigns of nature. there's only a set of underwear and a nightgown on you so you shiver and hug yourself. you couldn't take any of your belongings, she said yesterday night, when she finally announced that it's time to set the plans in motion. some kind of big cloth, a poncho, you regester not as fast as you'd like to, lends on your shoulders, warm from the body heat of it's owner.

"sorry, that's all i got for now. need to get to the safe house, have actually some clothes for you."

you nod dumbfounded and just follow her. everything feels like a dream really, that about to be ripped away and you'll simply wake up back in the room that smells of head numbing incenses, ready to greet another customer.

you look over the clothes she gave you, simple pair of brown jeans, a black turtleneck and a jacket. the jeans are a size too big for you but nothing a belt can't fix.

"the plans to get you out changed so quick, i completely forgot to buy something your size."

"was it for her?" you don't need the answer, you know it already.

"yeah."

there're tears falling down that you can't control. you cry silently, turned away from sevika. you're not sure if she actually doesn't notice or just wants to give you space when she finally says "alright, gonna step out for you to change, meet me in the kitchen when you're ready."

as she takes a step to the door you lounge yourself at her, grabbing calloused hand and tugging it to your waist, looking for contact. now only you can do is cry, your sobs becoming louder and louder, your throat hurts like hell, you won't be able to speak later for sure.

there's a stream of "thankyouthankyouthankyou" coming from your mouth, your body basically presses inside sevika's. she doesn't answer. her other hand gently covers the crown of your head, guiding your tearful face to her chest and she lets you rest it there.

#arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n

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novaursa · 4 months ago

Note

Hello:) I love your writing and I saw that you're still taking requests, so I wanted to ask if you'd be interested in writing about my idea??

So the whole idea is Cregan x wife!reader where (before her marriage) she was from a more southern house that's closer to Kings landing (Tyrell, Lannister etc. you can choose)

Now, the main plot is that she wants to help during the war, but she's not that good at fighting and also has no dragon. However, she wants to prove that she can help.

So she fakes/has a little argument with Cregan and then, after a cute goodbye, infiltrates the greens in Kings landing.

There, she acts as if she's no longer close to cregan because he is a black supporter and because of her previous house, she's a green loyalist (in reality, she's team black and a true lady stark)

While she's there, she infiltrates them and sneaks information to cregan and rhaenyra etc. While both of them (or at least cregan worry about her)

Larys and aemond are obvi kind of suspicious of her.

You can choose how you want this to end. If it's angsty because she gets caught or happy even though she got caught, or maybe she doesn't get caught at all. You can choose, with your writing, I'm sure you'll find a great solution:)

The whole scenario is inspired by "She Wolf" by shakira (I hope you know the song😅)

For the rating 16+/18+ depending on the violence/gore/sexual themes.

(Also I wanna thank you for actually considering and writing about my idea for your harwin story "chasing the inferno". I was the anon)

I hope the idea isn't too confusing. Have a great day :)

The Silent Game

- Summary: When your family took the side of King Aegon II, the usurper, you felt the need to support the rightful Queen and your husband, the Warden of the North. No matter the cost.

- Paring: lannister!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 8 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind. 🙂 That idea you had (about Chasing the Inferno) was brilliant. And just what I needed to continue the plot, as my imagination was at the halt at that time. And I know that song. I was in my Shakira era when it came out. 😄

The North had always been a place of bold contrasts: the cold and the warmth, the silence and the howling winds, the dark nights and the flickering lights of Winterfell. You were still adjusting to these contrasts, even after months of marriage to Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North. Your union had been one of strategy, a lioness from the Westerlands joining forces with the wolves of the North. But in time, your marriage had grown into something deeper, something that transcended the cold calculations of politics.

Yet now, as the war between the Greens and the Blacks brewed, you found yourself increasingly restless. Winterfell felt like a prison, even with its ancient walls and the comforting presence of your husband. You longed to be more than just a silent supporter; you wanted to take action, to show Cregan that you were his equal in all things, that you could be the lioness who fought alongside the wolves.

But Cregan’s attention had shifted, as it often did with the coming of autumn. The Wall and its endless duty had consumed him, and the war in the south seemed a distant concern compared to the threats of the North. It was a reality you understood but did not accept. You needed to contribute, to show your devotion to him and his cause—Rhaenyra's cause.

Tonight, as you sat by the fire in your shared chambers, the flames casting long shadows across the stone walls, you decided to act. You would provoke Cregan, force him to send you away, to the very heart of the enemy’s territory—King’s Landing. There, you could serve as his eyes and ears, a lioness among snakes, sending back crucial information to the Black faction and to your beloved husband.

The plan was simple in theory, but your heart clenched at the thought of deceiving him, even if it was for a greater purpose. You had to make him believe that you no longer wished to stay in Winterfell, that you felt suffocated and out of place in the North. The thought of causing him pain was unbearable, but you knew it was necessary.

Cregan entered the chamber, his dark hair still damp from the cold air outside. His grey eyes softened when they met yours, and he offered you a small smile as he moved to sit beside you. His presence was comforting, a reminder of why you had fallen in love with him.

"You've been quiet tonight," he observed, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate with the very stones of Winterfell.

You looked into the fire, gathering your resolve. "I’ve been thinking, Cregan. About our place in this war."

He frowned slightly, not out of anger but concern. "Our place is here, in the North. The Wall needs me, and Winterfell needs its lady."

His words were reasonable, grounded in the reality of your lives, but they ignited the spark of frustration you needed to fuel the argument. "And what of the war in the South? What of Rhaenyra? Do we not owe her our loyalty? Our support?"

Cregan’s brow furrowed further as he regarded you. "We support her, but our duty is here. The North is vast and unpredictable; it cannot be neglected."

You stood up, letting your anger seep into your voice, even as it tore at your heart to speak such words. "I am a Lannister, Cregan! My brothers are in King’s Landing, one serving on the Small Council of the Greens. How can I sit here, idle, while they plot against Rhaenyra and our cause?"

Cregan stood as well, towering over you, his expression a mix of surprise and hurt. "You would leave Winterfell? Leave me?"

The pain in his voice nearly broke your resolve, but you pressed on, knowing this was the only way. "If it means contributing to this war, then yes! I am not some helpless maiden to be kept in the North while the world burns. I want to fight, to serve, to show that I am as much a Stark as I am a Lannister."

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you feared you had gone too far. "You think I don't need you here? That I don’t want you by my side?"

You softened your tone, taking a step closer to him. "I know you do, Cregan. But I need to prove my worth, not just to you, but to myself. Send me south. Let me be your eyes and ears in King’s Landing. I can be of more use there than I am here."

He looked away, the muscles in his jaw tightening. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between his desire to protect you and his understanding of the larger game at play.

"I cannot send you into the lion’s den, not when your brothers are part of it," he said finally, his voice strained.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "They are my brothers, yes, but they are also men who have chosen the wrong side. They may not trust me, but they will allow me close enough to gather information, to play the part of the loyal sister while serving Rhaenyra and you."

Cregan’s gaze returned to you, searching your face as if trying to find any hint of doubt. "This is dangerous. You know that."

"I do," you whispered. "But I am willing to take that risk for you, for our house, for our future."

He closed his eyes, his grip on your hand tightening. "You ask too much of me," he murmured. "But how can I deny you when you speak of duty and love in the same breath?"

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, quickly brushed away before he could see. "Then you will send me?"

Cregan opened his eyes, the decision made but the weight of it clear in his expression. "I will. But promise me, when this is done, you will return to me. I cannot lose you."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I promise, Cregan. I will return."

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid you would slip away then and there. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent, committing this moment to memory.

When he released you, his expression was one of determination mixed with sorrow. "I’ll make the arrangements. You’ll leave within the week."

You nodded, unable to speak, your heart heavy with the knowledge of what you were about to do. But you reminded yourself of your purpose, of the love that drove you to this decision. You would prove your loyalty, your devotion, and your love for Cregan Stark, even if it meant walking into the lion’s den to do so.

The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of your chamber, casting a muted glow over the room. The warmth of the fire had long since faded, leaving a chill in the air that seemed to seep into your very bones. You had spent the night sleepless, lying in the large bed you shared with Cregan, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Today was the day you would leave Winterfell, your home, and your husband, to embark on a dangerous mission to the South.

The thought of leaving him, of being apart from the man you loved, filled you with a deep ache. But this was necessary. For Rhaenyra, for the Blacks, for Cregan. You had to believe that.

A soft knock at the door drew you from your thoughts. You sat up, wrapping your robe tightly around yourself as the door creaked open, revealing Cregan. His expression was a mixture of sadness and resolve, a reflection of your own emotions. He entered the room silently, closing the door behind him, and for a moment, you both just stood there, staring at each other.

"You’re leaving soon," he said quietly, his voice rough from the early hour.

You nodded, unable to find the words to respond. You knew that if you spoke, your voice would betray the turmoil inside you.

Cregan crossed the room to stand before you, his large hands gently cupping your face. His touch was warm, comforting, and you leaned into it, closing your eyes as you savored the moment.

"I wish there was another way," he murmured, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. "I wish I could keep you here, safe, by my side."

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. "I know, Cregan. But this is what needs to be done. For Rhaenyra, for the North...for us."

His jaw clenched, and you could see the struggle in his eyes. "I hate that you have to do this, that I have to send you into danger."

You placed your hands over his, squeezing gently. "You’re not sending me into danger, Cregan. I’m choosing this. I want to help, to do my part. And I know you would do the same if our positions were reversed."

He pulled you into his arms then, holding you close against his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his breath, and you closed your eyes, trying to memorize every detail of this moment. The thought of being without him, of not feeling his warmth beside you at night, was almost unbearable.

"You must be careful," he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. "Promise me you’ll stay safe, that you’ll come back to me."

You tightened your hold on him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. "I promise, Cregan. I will return to you. I will always return to you."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his expression serious. "If you find yourself in danger, if things become too perilous, you must come back. The war, the cause—it’s not worth losing you."

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. You needed to be strong, for him, for both of you. "I will be careful, I swear it."

Cregan leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss. It was a kiss full of love, of longing, of a desire to hold on to this moment for as long as possible. You returned it with equal fervor, pouring all your emotions into that kiss, as if it was the last one you would ever share.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "I love you," he whispered, the words carrying the weight of all the things he couldn’t say.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice barely more than a breath.

The two of you stood there for what felt like an eternity, holding each other, neither wanting to let go. But eventually, you knew the time had come. You stepped back, breaking the embrace, and Cregan’s hand lingered on yours as you moved away.

"I’ll be waiting for you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Winterfell will be waiting for you."

You nodded, unable to speak, your heart heavy with the knowledge that this might be the last time you saw him for a long while. But you had to stay strong, for both of you.

Cregan escorted you to the courtyard, where a horse had been prepared for your journey. The Northern wind whipped around you, biting at your exposed skin, but you barely felt it. All your focus was on Cregan, on the way his hand gripped yours, as if afraid to let go.

As you approached the horse, Cregan helped you mount, his hands lingering on your waist, his touch warm even through the thick layers of your clothing. Once you were settled, he stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You’ll have a small escort until you pass the Twins, just enough to keep you safe without drawing too much attention," he said, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. "I trust you, my love. I trust you to do what needs to be done."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "And I trust you, Cregan. I will send word as often as I can."

He gave a small, tight smile. "I’ll be waiting for your letters, but more than that, I’ll be waiting for you to return."

You looked down at him, your heart breaking at the thought of leaving him behind. But you steeled yourself, knowing that this was the path you had chosen.

"I will come back to you, Cregan," you promised, your voice firm. "No matter what happens, I will return."

He reached up, his hand brushing against your cheek one last time. "Goodbye, my lioness. Until we meet again."

With a final nod, you urged the horse forward, the sound of hooves on the stone courtyard echoing in your ears. You didn’t look back, knowing that if you did, you might lose the resolve to go through with this. Instead, you focused on the path ahead, on the journey south, on the mission that awaited you.

But as Winterfell disappeared behind you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that a part of you was being left behind, with the man you loved.

The towering walls of the Red Keep loomed ahead as your carriage (courtesy of Lady Frey when you rested in the Twins) rolled through the gates of King’s Landing. The familiar, oppressive weight of the capital settled on your shoulders the moment you crossed into the city. You had grown up in these streets, and while the grandeur of the Lannister seat at Casterly Rock had always called you home, there was something about the Red Keep that felt equally like a gilded cage and a battlefield. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what lay ahead.

The journey south had been long and grueling, but that was nothing compared to the task you now faced. You had to convince your brother, Tyland, that your presence here was born out of desperation and exile, not strategy and loyalty to Rhaenyra. Every word, every gesture would need to be calculated, yet natural, to ensure he believed you were truly the sister he thought he knew.

The carriage came to a halt, and before you could fully prepare yourself, the door was pulled open by a Lannister guard. You stepped down, your legs stiff from the journey, and barely had time to straighten your skirts before you saw him—Tyland, rushing down the steps of the Keep, his face etched with worry.

"Sister!" His voice was strained with concern, and he reached you in a few quick strides, enveloping you in a tight embrace.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace. It had been years since you’d last seen Tyland, and despite everything, despite the sides you had chosen, he was still your brother. The scent of his familiar cologne brought back memories of a simpler time, before the realm had been torn apart by dragons and treachery.

"Tyland," you breathed, your voice trembling as you wrapped your arms around him, drawing on the emotions you needed to sell your story. "I didn’t think I’d ever see you again."

He pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he scanned your face, searching for any signs of harm or distress. "What happened? Why are you here? Why are you alone?" The questions came in a rapid, breathless stream, his eyes wide with worry.

You looked down, feigning shame and sorrow, before meeting his gaze with a carefully crafted expression of despair. "Cregan found out about our family’s support for King Aegon. He was furious, Tyland. He said he couldn’t have a Lannister—a traitor, he called me—living in his house. He… he exiled me. Sent me away with nothing but a few guards and this carriage. I had nowhere else to go."

Tyland’s face darkened with anger, his grip on your shoulders tightening. "That bloody Northern savage," he spat, his voice low and dangerous. "How dare he treat you like this? How dare he?"

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes as you allowed yourself to lean into the role you had to play. "He said he never wanted to see me again, that I was nothing but a stain on his honor. I begged him to reconsider, but he was adamant. I had no choice but to come here, to you."

Tyland’s expression softened, his anger giving way to concern as he pulled you into another embrace. "You’re safe now," he murmured against your hair. "You’re with your family, where you belong. We’ll protect you, I promise."

You nodded, clinging to him as if for dear life, even as your mind raced with the lies you had spun. "I was so afraid, Tyland. I thought he might… I thought he might harm me. The way he looked at me…"

Tyland pulled back, his eyes fierce with a protective fury you hadn’t seen in him before. "He’ll pay for this, I swear it. But you’re safe now. I’ll make sure of it."

You allowed yourself to sag against him, letting out a shuddering breath as you feigned relief. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice shaking. "I didn’t know where else to turn."

He stroked your hair gently, guiding you back towards the Red Keep. "You did the right thing, coming here. The war… it’s tearing everything apart, but you’re safe with us now. We’ll figure out what to do next."

You let him lead you inside, your heart pounding with the fear that he might see through your act. But Tyland was focused on comforting you, on reassuring you that you were home now, that you were safe. The gods old and new were merciful, it seemed, as he didn’t question your story, didn’t probe deeper into your supposed exile.

As you walked through the familiar halls of the Red Keep, Tyland kept a protective arm around you, guiding you towards the chambers that had been hastily prepared for you. His anger at Cregan, his love for you, were palpable, and you leaned into that, praying silently that you could maintain this charade.

When you reached your chambers, Tyland dismissed the servants, wanting a private moment with you. He led you to a chair by the fire, urging you to sit, and then knelt before you, taking your hands in his. "You don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’ll protect you. The Greens will win this war, and when they do, you’ll be safe, and you’ll have your place in the new order."

You nodded, your eyes fixed on his as you forced yourself to believe in the role you were playing. "I just want to do what’s right, Tyland. I want to support our family, to do whatever I can to help."

He smiled, a hint of the boy you once knew shining through the hard exterior he had built over the years. "And you will, sister. You will. We’ll make sure of it."

As he stood to leave, you squeezed his hand, forcing yourself to look vulnerable, desperate for his protection. "Please… don’t let anyone else know what happened. I don’t want to be seen as a failure, as someone who couldn’t hold onto their marriage."

Tyland nodded, his expression serious. "Of course. We’ll keep this between us. No one will think less of you for what that Northern brute did. You’re a Lannister, and you’re my sister. That’s all that matters."

You nodded, offering him a weak smile as he left the room, closing the door softly behind him. The moment he was gone, you allowed yourself to collapse into the chair, your hands shaking with the weight of the deception you had just woven.

The Red Keep was your tie to home, but now it was a den of enemies, a place where every word, every action, could spell disaster if you were not careful. You prayed to the gods old and new, begging them for strength, for cunning, for the ability to play this dangerous game.

You had convinced Tyland, but there were many others who would not be so easily swayed. You had to be vigilant, careful, and above all, you had to keep Cregan in your heart. You would send him word when you could, slip information back to him and to Rhaenyra. But for now, you had to be the lioness among lions, playing your part in this deadly dance.

And all the while, you prayed that Tyland, or anyone else, would never see through the mask you had so carefully donned.

The grand halls of the Red Keep were as cold and imposing as ever, despite the ornate tapestries and blazing hearths that lined the corridors. You had grown accustomed to the hollow echo of your footsteps as you navigated this labyrinth of stone and secrets, but today, the weight of your task felt heavier than ever. The shadows seemed to cling to you, whispering of the dangers that lurked behind every corner.

In the privacy of your chambers, the faint scent of burning parchment still lingered in the air. You had just destroyed a letter—one that had arrived under the cover of darkness, smuggled into your hands by a loyal servant of the North. The letter had been from Cregan, your heart's anchor in this sea of deception.

You could still feel the warmth of his words lingering in your chest, a reminder of the love that bound you to him, even across the distance. He had written of his worry for you, of the nights he spent staring out over the frozen landscape of the North, wishing you were there beside him. He thanked you for your courage, for the sacrifices you were making, even as he admitted how much it pained him to have sent you away. His words were full of love, but also fear—a fear that you would be caught, that the game you were playing would turn deadly.

My brave lioness, he had written, I know the strength you carry within you, but I cannot help but worry for your safety. Every day, I pray to the old gods to watch over you, to keep you safe in the den of our enemies. You are my heart, my soul, and I am so proud of what you are doing, even though it tears at me to think of you so far away. Return to me, my love, when this is all over. Until then, be careful, and know that my thoughts are with you always.

You had read the letter several times, allowing yourself a few moments of vulnerability as you traced the familiar curves of his handwriting. But you knew that every word was dangerous, that keeping such a letter would be a risk you couldn’t afford to take. So, with a heavy heart, you had burned it, watching as the flames consumed the last tangible connection to your husband.

Now, as you walked through the Red Keep, you carried the memory of that letter with you, tucked away in the deepest part of your heart. You had to be careful, more so than ever before. The walls had ears, and the slightest misstep could unravel everything.

As you rounded a corner, heading towards the private dining chamber where you were to meet Tyland for dinner, you caught the tail end of a conversation that sent a chill down your spine.

Aemond Targaryen’s voice, sharp and filled with frustration, echoed down the hallway. "It’s impossible that Rhaenyra could have known about the ships. Someone must have tipped her off. The fleet from the Free Cities was our best chance to cut off her supply lines at the Gullet!"

You slowed your pace, your heart beginning to race as you listened. Larys Strong’s voice, oily and calm, responded in a tone that made your skin crawl. "It is troubling, my prince. We must consider that there may be a leak within our ranks, someone feeding information to the Blacks. We cannot afford any more missteps."

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized the gravity of their conversation. Rhaenyra had been warned about the ships—a piece of information you had managed to send north discreetly through one of your own messages. If they suspected a spy in their midst, it would only be a matter of time before they began to scrutinize everyone, including you.

As you continued down the hallway, forcing yourself to remain calm, you felt a pair of eyes on you. You turned your head slightly and saw Aemond and Larys watching you from the shadows. Aemond’s single eye glinted in the dim light, his gaze sharp and assessing. Larys’s expression was unreadable, but his presence alone was enough to set your nerves on edge.

You met their gazes briefly, offering a small, polite nod as if nothing was amiss, before continuing on your way. The chill that ran down your spine was unlike anything you had felt before, a cold, creeping fear that settled deep in your bones. They had seen you, and you could only pray that they did not suspect you of anything more than passing by.

As soon as you were out of their sight, you quickened your pace, eager to reach the safety of your brother’s chambers. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself to maintain a composed exterior. You couldn’t afford to show any sign of fear or guilt—especially not now.

When you finally reached the private dining chamber, you found Tyland already seated at the table, a glass of wine in hand. He looked up as you entered, his expression softening into a smile.

"Sister," he greeted, rising to embrace you. "You look troubled. Is everything all right?"

You returned his embrace, taking comfort in the familiar scent of your brother, but the tension in your shoulders refused to ease. "I’m just tired," you lied smoothly, offering him a weary smile. "The journey was long, and the atmosphere here… it’s oppressive and difficult to adjust in a few months."

Tyland nodded, leading you to the table where a simple but elegant meal had been laid out. "The war weighs heavily on all of us," he said, pouring you a glass of wine. "But you’re safe here, with family."

You accepted the wine, taking a small sip as you tried to push the encounter with Aemond and Larys from your mind. But the memory of their scrutiny lingered, a constant reminder of the precarious position you were in.

As the meal progressed, you made light conversation with Tyland, discussing family matters and memories of your childhood at Casterly Rock. He seemed genuinely pleased to have you back in his life, and his presence was a balm to your frayed nerves. But even as you laughed at his stories and shared in his plans for the future, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking on a knife’s edge.

Every word you spoke, every gesture you made, was calculated to keep up the facade. Tyland must not suspect anything—nor could anyone else. You were playing a dangerous game, and the stakes were higher than ever.

As the night wore on, you excused yourself, claiming fatigue from the journey, and Tyland kissed your cheek warmly before you left. "Rest well, sister," he said, his voice filled with affection. "We’ll speak more in the morning."

You nodded, offering him a final smile before retreating to your chambers. Once inside, you closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. You had made it through another day, but the fear remained, gnawing at your resolve.

You crossed the room and knelt by the hearth, staring into the dying embers of the fire. Closing your eyes, you whispered a prayer to the gods old and new, asking for their protection, their guidance. You needed every ounce of strength and cunning to survive this—to complete your mission and return to Cregan’s arms.

As the night deepened, you crawled into bed, but sleep eluded you. Instead, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the weight of your deception pressing down on you like a heavy cloak. The memory of Cregan’s letter played over in your mind, a reminder of why you were doing this, of who you were doing it for.

No matter the danger, no matter the fear, you would see this through. For Rhaenyra, for the North, and for the love you carried for the man waiting for you in Winterfell.

But as you drifted into an uneasy sleep, you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could keep the truth hidden, how much longer you could play this deadly game before someone discovered the lioness in their midst was indeed a wolf.

The skies above King’s Landing were thick with the smoke of burning ships, the sound of clashing swords and the cries of the wounded echoing through the streets. The city had fallen, its walls breached by Rhaenyra's forces, and now the Blacks had taken control of the capital. The Red Keep, once a symbol of power and authority under the Greens, had become a battlefield, its halls filled with the triumphant and the defeated.

You stood in the throne room, surrounded by the black and red banners of House Targaryen, your heart heavy with a mixture of relief and dread. The mission you had embarked upon months ago had finally reached its conclusion. You had done what you had set out to do—played your part in the fall of the Greens from within their own stronghold. But the price of your success now weighed heavily on your soul.

At the far end of the hall, Rhaenyra Targaryen sat on the Iron Throne, her dark hair cascading down her back, her gaze as fierce as the dragons she commanded. Daemon stood beside her, his presence as menacing as ever, his eyes glittering with the thrill of victory. The throne room was filled with the murmurs of courtiers and soldiers alike, all of them awaiting the queen’s judgment on those who had opposed her.

As you approached the throne, your heart pounded in your chest, knowing what was about to happen, dreading it. Tyland had been captured along with the other members of the Green council, and now they awaited their fates. You had pleaded with the guards to see your brother, to speak to him, but they had refused. You had been kept away from him, kept in the dark until this moment.

"Your Grace," you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you as you curtsied before Rhaenyra. "King’s Landing is yours, and the Greens have been defeated. I am at your service, as always."

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened slightly as she looked down at you, a rare moment of warmth in the midst of the chaos. "You have done much for our cause, my lady. Your loyalty and bravery have not gone unnoticed. It is thanks to your efforts that we were able to anticipate their moves, to strike where they were weakest. For that, you have my gratitude."

You bowed your head, accepting her praise, but the words felt hollow. Gratitude could not ease the tension that coiled in your gut, the fear that gripped your heart as you awaited her next words.

Rhaenyra’s gaze hardened again as she turned her attention to the prisoners being brought before her, shackled and defeated. Among them was your brother, Tyland, his face pale but his expression resolute. He had always been a proud man, and even now, in chains, he refused to show fear.

"Tyland Lannister," Rhaenyra’s voice rang out, echoing through the throne room, "you stand accused of treason against the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You served the usurper Aegon and conspired to destroy House Targaryen. For your crimes, there can be but one punishment."

You felt the blood drain from your face as the words you had feared most were spoken. "No," you whispered, barely audible, before finding your voice and stepping forward, your heart in your throat. "Your Grace, please, I beg you to spare him."

The entire hall seemed to hold its breath as you spoke, all eyes turning to you. Rhaenyra’s gaze was sharp, questioning. "He is a traitor, my lady. His actions led to the deaths of many, and he must answer for them."

You sank to your knees, desperation in your voice as you pleaded for your brother’s life. "He is my brother, Your Grace. He may have been misguided, but he did what he believed was right, just as we all have. I know his loyalty was to the wrong cause, but I beg you to show mercy. Let him live, and I swear he will never pose a threat to you again. He is all I have left of my family."

Tyland’s eyes met yours, and for the first time since you had reunited in King’s Landing, you saw something break in his stern facade. The love and concern in his gaze were unmistakable, and you felt your heart wrench as you saw your brother—the man who had always protected you, who had stood by you when no one else did—now reduced to this.

Rhaenyra’s expression remained impassive, but you could see the conflict in her eyes. She was a queen, but she was also a mother, a sister. She knew what it was to love and to lose, to be torn between duty and family.

"You ask much of me, my lady," Rhaenyra said slowly, her voice measured. "Tyland Lannister’s hands are stained with the blood of my loyal followers. Mercy for him could be seen as weakness, a precedent that might encourage others to rise against me."

Daemon’s gaze flickered to you, then to Tyland, and back to Rhaenyra. His voice, when he spoke, was cold and calculating. "Mercy is a luxury we cannot afford in these times, Rhaenyra. Traitors must be dealt with swiftly, without exception."

Tears blurred your vision, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn’t afford to be weak now, not when your brother’s life hung in the balance. "Please, Your Grace," you implored, "I will do anything you ask of me. Anything. Just spare him. I will leave the capital, return to the North, or anywhere else you command. I will serve you however you wish, but please, do not take him from me."

The silence that followed your plea was deafening. Rhaenyra looked at you, truly looked at you, and you could see the wheels turning in her mind, weighing your words, considering the options. You held your breath, praying that the love you had for your brother, and the service you had given to her cause, would be enough to sway her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Rhaenyra spoke. "Tyland Lannister has committed grave crimes against the realm, crimes that warrant death. But in recognition of the service you have rendered to my cause, I will grant him his life."

A gasp of relief escaped your lips, and you bowed your head in gratitude, tears now streaming down your face. "Thank you, Your Grace. Thank you."

"But know this," Rhaenyra continued, her voice stern and unwavering. "He will live, but his life will be one of exile and dishonor. He will be stripped of his titles and lands, and he will be sent to the Wall. He will live out his days in the service of the Night’s Watch, far from here. He will never again set foot in the South."

You nodded, unable to speak, overwhelmed with a mix of relief and sorrow. It was a harsh sentence, but it was life. Tyland would live, and for that, you were endlessly grateful.

Tyland was led away, his eyes lingering on you until he disappeared from view. You rose to your feet, still trembling, and Rhaenyra gestured for you to approach the throne.

"You have done much for me, and for that, you have my thanks," she said quietly, so only you could hear. "But remember, this mercy I have granted comes with a cost. Loyalty must be earned and maintained. See to it that you do not waver."

You met her gaze, understanding the weight of her words. "I will not forget, Your Grace."

With that, you turned and left the throne room, your heart heavy but filled with a sense of purpose. Tyland would live, and that was more than you had dared to hope for. But the road ahead would be long and treacherous, for both of you. You had made sacrifices, and you would have to make more. But as long as you could keep the people you loved safe, it would all be worth it.

As you walked through the halls of the Red Keep, the echoes of your footsteps accompanied by the distant sounds of a city under new rule, you prayed once more to the gods old and new. You had survived this day, but there would be many more challenges ahead. And through it all, you would need to stay strong, for yourself, for your brother, and for the North that still awaited your return.

The road to the North was long and arduous, the chill of autumn creeping steadily into the bones of everyone who traveled it. The once green fields had turned to barren landscapes, the sky a constant blanket of grey. You sat in the carriage, wrapped in furs, the bitter cold seeping through the heavy fabric. Beside you, Tyland sat quietly, his expression unreadable as he stared out the window at the bleak countryside.

The silence between you had stretched on for days, the weight of everything that had happened in King’s Landing hanging heavy in the air. You had saved his life, but at a cost. Tyland had lost everything—his titles, his lands, his place in the South. And now, he was being sent to the Wall, to a life of exile and duty in the farthest reaches of the realm. You knew he struggled with the reality of his new fate, and the words he had not yet spoken weighed on your heart.

As the carriage rumbled along the rough road, you finally mustered the courage to speak, breaking the silence that had settled between you like a shroud. "Tyland," you began, your voice soft but steady, "I know this is not the life you envisioned for yourself. I’m sorry for what has happened, for the choices that led us here."

Tyland turned his gaze from the window to you, his eyes searching your face for a moment before he sighed, a heavy sound filled with all the emotions he had kept bottled up. "You did what you thought was right," he said finally, his voice tinged with bitterness but also a hint of resignation. "You always were the clever one, the one who saw the bigger picture. But I can’t say I’m not angry, or that I’m not filled with regret."

You nodded, understanding his feelings all too well. "I had to make a choice, Tyland. I couldn’t let you die, not when there was another way. But I know the Wall is not what you wanted, and for that, I am sorry."

He leaned back against the cushioned seat, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the weariness of the past few months. "The Wall," he muttered, almost to himself. "It’s a place for criminals, for bastards, for those who have nothing left to lose. And now I am one of them."

"But you’re alive," you said gently, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "And you’re still a Lannister, no matter where you go. The North may be harsh, but there is honor in serving at the Wall, especially now that winter is coming. The realm will need men like you, strong and capable, to defend it."

Tyland looked at your hand in his, then back at you, a shadow of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You always did have a way of making the worst situations seem bearable. I suppose that’s why you’re still alive, too."

You smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "We do what we must to survive, Tyland. But that doesn’t mean we have to face it alone."

The rest of the journey was spent in a tentative peace, the bond between you and Tyland slowly beginning to heal, though it would never be the same. He had accepted his fate, though with a heavy heart, and you had accepted the burden of knowing that your actions had brought him to this point. But as the carriage drew closer to Winterfell, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.

When Winterfell finally came into view, its ancient walls standing tall against the sky, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. This was home now, the place where you had found love and purpose, and where you would begin the next chapter of your life. As the carriage rolled through the gates, you could see the figures waiting in the courtyard—Cregan among them, his tall, broad-shouldered form unmistakable.

The carriage came to a stop, and before you could even step out, Cregan was there, pulling the door open and helping you down. His hands were warm, his touch grounding you as he pulled you into a tight embrace. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of pine and cold air that clung to him.

"I missed you," you whispered, your voice muffled against his furs.

"And I you," he replied, his voice thick with emotion as he held you close. "Every day, every night, I thought of you. But now you’re here, and that’s all that matters."

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up into his eyes. "I brought Tyland with me. Rhaenyra spared his life, but she sent him to the Wall."

Cregan’s gaze shifted to where Tyland was stepping out of the carriage, his expression unreadable. He nodded in acknowledgment, though there was no warmth in his eyes. "Lord Lannister," he greeted, his tone respectful but formal.

Tyland straightened, meeting Cregan’s gaze with a mixture of pride and resignation. "Lord Stark," he replied, bowing his head slightly. "I’m here to serve, as ordered."

Cregan studied him for a moment, then nodded. "The Wall is not a punishment, Tyland, but an honor. The Night’s Watch may be seen as a place for those with no other options, but the truth is, it’s a place for men who understand the weight of duty. The realm needs protectors, especially now, with winter coming. You will find purpose there, and in time, perhaps even a sense of belonging."

Tyland’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he nodded in agreement. "I will do my duty," he said quietly, his voice carrying a note of determination. "If this is my fate, then I will embrace it."

Cregan’s expression softened slightly, and he extended his hand to Tyland. "Then you have my respect, and the respect of the North. You are welcome in Winterfell until you take the black."

Tyland accepted the handshake, and for a moment, the two men stood in silent understanding. You felt a sense of relief wash over you—there was no animosity here, only a shared understanding of the burdens they both carried.

As the three of you made your way inside Winterfell, the warmth of the great hall enveloped you, the familiar scents of wood smoke and roasted meat filling the air. You felt a sense of peace settling over you, knowing that you had done what you could to protect your family, and that here, in the North, you would find the strength to face whatever came next.

That evening, you and Cregan sat together by the fire, the weight of the past few months slowly lifting as you shared stories of what had transpired. Tyland joined you, his demeanor more relaxed than it had been since his capture. The three of you spoke of the future, of the challenges that lay ahead, but also of the hope that lingered just beyond the horizon.

As the fire crackled and the shadows danced on the stone walls, you felt a deep sense of contentment. The North was harsh and unforgiving, but it was also a place of honor, of loyalty, and of love.

The warmth of the fire had long since faded, leaving only the soft glow of embers to illuminate the room. The heavy furs that covered the bed provided a cocoon of warmth, sheltering you from the cold that seeped in through the stone walls of Winterfell. Outside, the wind howled, a reminder of the harshness of the North, but here, in Cregan’s arms, you felt only the warmth of his body against yours.

The two of you lay entwined beneath the blankets, your skin still tingling from the intensity of your lovemaking. It had been so long since you had been together like this, since you had felt the press of his body against yours, the way his hands knew every curve and hollow of your form. You had missed this—missed him—with an ache that had grown unbearable during your time apart.

Cregan’s fingers traced lazy patterns along your spine, his touch light but possessive, as if he was reminding himself that you were truly here, that you were his once more. You pressed closer to him, your head resting on his broad chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It was a sound that had become your anchor, a reminder that you were home.

"You’re quiet," Cregan murmured, his voice rough with the remnants of sleep. His hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. "What’s on your mind, my love?"

You closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch, the safety of his embrace. "I’m just… grateful," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Grateful to be here, with you. I missed this, missed us."

Cregan shifted slightly, rolling onto his side so that he could face you, his dark eyes searching yours in the dim light. "I missed you too," he said, his voice low and full of emotion. "Every day you were gone, I thought of you. Wondered if you were safe, if you were thinking of me as much as I was thinking of you."

You reached up, your fingers brushing the stubble on his jaw, feeling the roughness beneath your fingertips. "You were always on my mind," you confessed, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of your emotions. "There were times I didn’t know if I’d make it back, but the thought of you, of us… it kept me going."

His expression softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. "You’re here now," he whispered against your skin. "And I won’t let anything take you away from me again."

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, needing the reassurance of his presence. "I don’t want to be apart from you ever again," you said, your voice fierce with determination. "I’ll do whatever it takes to stay here, with you, in the North. This is where I belong, where we belong."

Cregan’s hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down your cheek. "You’re my wife, my love," he said, his voice steady and sure. "Nothing will keep us apart again. We’ve been through too much, and we’re stronger for it. This is our home now, and we’ll face whatever comes together."

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. It was true—together, you could face anything. The challenges you had overcome, the dangers you had braved, had only strengthened the bond between you. And now, here in the safety of Winterfell, in the warmth of Cregan’s arms, you knew that you could finally allow yourself to rest, to trust that you were where you were meant to be.

Cregan’s lips found yours again, the kiss slow and tender, full of the love and longing that had built up during your time apart. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss, wanting to lose yourself in the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, you rested your forehead against his, your eyes closed as you savored the closeness between you. "I love you," you whispered, the words slipping out as naturally as a breath.

"I love you too," Cregan replied, his voice rough with emotion. "More than anything. More than the North, more than duty, more than life itself."

You smiled, feeling the truth of his words settle deep within your heart. There was nothing more important than this, than the love you shared, the life you were building together. And after everything you had been through, you knew that you were ready to face whatever the future held, as long as you had him by your side.

The two of you lay together in silence for a while, simply enjoying the warmth of each other’s presence, the quiet intimacy that had been so hard-won. The world outside might be harsh and unforgiving, but here, in this moment, you were safe. You were loved.

As you drifted off to sleep, your head resting on Cregan’s chest once more, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them with the strength of the North in your veins and the love of your husband in your heart. And that, you knew, would be enough.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x female reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #cregan x y/n #hotd cregan #cregan x you #cregan x reader #cregan stark #house lannister

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