#so them being separated and passing by is by 'fate' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sweet-as-an-angel · 9 months ago

Note

how about yan!dilf finding out that his darling has an onlyfans account?

Yandere DILF! Reaction to You Having an OnlyFans

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Manipulation, Blackmail, Infidelity, Pet Names, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

Wordcount: 4364 words

♡ Good Lord, WHO gave this man internet access.

♡ Going to keep it real with you, babe, you’re finished if he finds your OnlyFans account. And so is he (in more ways than one) – but more on that later.

♡ Let’s say Domninic’s many, many hours of internet sleuthing (stalking) have led him to the pearly gates of your Only Fans account, the only thing separating him from whatever lies on the other side being a pay wall. One of the only kinds of walls that can’t stop Dominic.

♡ Of course, he buys a subscription. Of course, he does it under an alias, through an unlisted online banking app, on a burner laptop.

♡ And, upon seeing what you’re offering, he’s glad he took so many precautions.

♡ At first, the two emotions Dominic has felt most commonly throughout his lifetime flash in his ribcage, dance along the edge of his eyelids – make his eyes grow heavy.

♡ Lust and rage.

♡ Lust for the obvious. Rage for that which shouldn’t have angered Dominic.

♡ In a lot of ways, Dominic is a traditionalist; one’s significant other is for their partner and nobody else (even if Dominic doesn’t abide by this logic himself). Thus, to see you, the person he wishes he’d married, the person he knows is fated to be his, spreading their legs for any guy with enough money to buy a coffee, mortifies him.

♡ One, because you’re his. Two, because you sell yourself for such a low price.

♡ Dominic’s too wrapped up in his wrath to see to the vague throbbing between his legs. He’ll just make it Marilyn’s problem later when she returns from book club or whatever it is she does these days – and continue to make it her problem well into the morning when she struggles to emerge from bed, her legs buckling beneath the weight of his anger.

♡ For now, he paces around his office, checks the camera inside the bear he’d given to you months before.

♡ How had he not noticed sooner? He watched the footage from that bear enough times that he can recite everything you’ve ever said, can predict everything you’re going to do, has memorised all the unconscious quirks you adopt when you think no one’s watching.

♡ Dominic comes to the conclusion that you must be conducting your business in another location. One where you won’t be so easily found.

♡ Sure, he could go out, follow you to this location when you think you’re alone. He could even pay someone else to do it. But, amidst his rage, an idea sparks.

♡ No, he has a much better, much more cunning trick up his sleeve.

♡ The next day, Dominic comes to you with an offer he knows you can’t refuse.

♡ “Marilyn and I are going out tomorrow night and we’d like for you to babysit the boys for us.”

♡ You tried to refuse. You tried to make up a reason less nefarious than the one you held in your mind as to why you couldn’t do it. And Dominic only smiled, his eyes never crinkling, the sentiment never reaching them. He looked through you.

♡ He offered to raise your pay to an amount you both couldn’t accept and couldn’t pass up.

♡ This newfound amount was, considering how few subscribers you had on OnlyFans, irresistible. A godsend, in some respects. Especially when Dominic began taking his wife out more and more frequently, needing you to care for his children more often than not.

♡ To Marilyn, Dominic was finally, finally, trying to fix their marriage. To make good on the world he’d promised her those twenty-or-so years ago when he’d imprisoned her in a loveless marriage.

♡ To you, Dominic was being an understanding neighbour who was offering you a chance at a normal living wage out of the kindness of his heart.

♡ To Dominic, it was all a ploy to get you right where he wants you.

♡ The weeks passed. Dominic kept a close eye on your OnlyFans page.

♡ It would soon be time for you to upload your newest batch of material. If you ever found the time to do so, of course. What, with all the extra work Dominic had given you, he wouldn’t be surprised if you’d forgotten. Or simply hadn’t the time.

♡ It mattered little to Dominic now. He knew he had you on the ropes.

♡ The shift from one foot to the other as he offered you yet another night to babysit his boys, only for your eyes to lower. Uneasy.

♡ You’d tried the old “I’m sorry, Mr. Laurier–”

♡ “Please, (Y/N), we’ve been over this.” He smiles down at you. “Call me Dominic.”

♡ You try again.

♡ “Dominic – I’m sorry, but I just don’t think I’ll be able to tonight–”

♡ And Dominic used the tried and tested: “Oh…is it the pay? I can pay you more, if that’s the issue–”

♡ Issue. You’re making a problem out of this, not him.

♡ You backpedal. You sigh. You try to stand your ground.

♡ Unfortunately for you, the ground you’re standing on is merely a sheet Dominic is going to pull out from under you at any moment.

♡ You tried. Really, you did. Tried to reject Dominic’s kindness.

♡ And he looks down at you. He’s too beautiful for a grimace, he knows this. He puts on a mask he’s sculpted just for this moment – the false front.

♡ “I see,” he says, his voice low. His gaze shifts off to the side. He pretends to look for the right words to say. He already has them in his back pocket.

♡ “I understand. It’s just that…well…” He sighs. Places a hand on his hip. A change in posture. Something’s shifted about him. You’re paying attention, the oncoming of regret starting to form in the pit of your stomach.

♡ Dominic looks you dead in the eyes.

♡ “Don’t…tell anyone I told you this,” he looks behind him. Turns back to you. “But, Marilyn and I don’t really trust anyone else with our babies – we only keep asking you because…well, you’re brilliant with them.”

♡ He says it like it’s common sense. Flattery is every manipulator’s best friend.

♡ He senses reservation in you. He keeps going.

♡ “And…no, forget it, it’s fine. We’ll just cancel,” he smiles down at you. This time, the smile does reach his eyes. Makes it look like he’s hiding something else. Sorrow.

♡ You gasp inwardly, you take a step towards him.

♡ “Oh, I’m sorry! No, no, I can watch them tonight. I’ll just…do my work tomorrow,”

vYou try to smile. Dominic’s becomes genuine.

♡ “You sure? We–” Marilyn and I, halve the blame– “wouldn’t want to be keeping you from anything important.”

♡ You assure him they aren’t. That he isn’t. He’s won this round.

♡ He puts his hand on your shoulder. You’ve known each other long enough now that this is no longer a gesture that would inflict upon Dominic a problem he’d be lumbered with until he can, quite literally, take it into his own hands, and that you don’t flinch beneath his touch.

♡ There will be time enough for that. He knows this.

♡ And so, Dominic leaves you with an estimation of the time of his outing and his arrival.

♡ “We’ll be back before you know it,” he says. He smiles at you from the front door, the handle in his grip. He leaves, his victory ringing in his head, making his heart thrum.

♡ And he didn’t even need to bust out the old ‘My marriage is failing’ shtick.

♡ True to his word, Dominic and his wife leave early into the evening, a rehash of their sons’ bedtimes and snack preferences no longer necessary. Second nature to you now.

♡ Your work – your OnlyFans content – played on your mind for the whole evening. Time seemed to slip away and stand still – paradoxy – as you pleaded inwardly for Dominic and Marilyn to return.

♡ The hours bled into one another, tearing away from what you could have been doing instead of guarding the house while Marilyn’s children slept upstairs, for truly they were more Marilyn’s offspring than they were Dominic’s.

♡ A half hour passed. Forty-five minutes. An hour.

♡ You came to face the possibility – the likely reality – that you would simply have to announce to the few followers you had that there would be no new content this month; that you would supply them with what they paid for twice over in a few weeks’ time. And pray that you actually had an audience patient enough to outlast your absence before that.

♡ Amidst your planning of damage control, an idea poked its head from the shadows. A failsafe. A sequel to your desperation.

♡ You could always just…take a few pictures here.

♡ The idea flashed in your mind like a life alternate to your own; past, with the certainty of already having been lived. All consequences already tangible. Foreseen.

♡ Perhaps that was why the anxiety associated with such expeditions into unfamiliarity had failed to catch up with you.

♡ Or, perhaps something masked it. Desperation, or one of its subsidiaries.

♡ Of course, you tried to stifle the idea. Tried to suffocate it with the smoke through which it walked. Though, its fiery grasp had mastered the art of survival.

♡ It wouldn’t go away. Much like Dominic’s lingering gaze whenever his wife was out of eye-shot and only you remained.

♡ Ten minutes crawled by and you almost wished for the rapidity with which the last hours had passed to find you, seek you out amidst this frozen landscape Time had entombed you in.

♡ And, as is the folly of man, you entertained that which should not be. You considered the likelihood – the schematics – of indulging such a proposition.

♡ Nobody was home and the boys were asleep, out of the way. Most rooms were large enough and devoid of personality so to mask your location – especially if the Lauriers had more of the sterile white sheets they laid their bed with.

♡ Then, a memory.

♡ A basement, tucked away between the folds of your psyche as its location within the house. You recalled the couple having one – a sizable one at that – when Dominic had invited you down there with him to retrieve more seating for his lawn party.

♡ You knew where it was. Knew where the keys were kept.

♡ And so, with a hammering heart and a withering step, you sought your fortune.

♡ The keys were easily enough discovered. As was the creaking door of the basement. And, upon your descension – biblical in your visage as the light from the hallway, dim as it were, cast a glow about your silhouette amidst the depths of the basement – you found precisely what you needed.

♡ A space – clean, untouched – equipped with white sheets covering a mass of boxes. Sure, they were creased; stained with Age’s attempts at youth, gripping onto the sheets and leaving his spectral marks – wrinkles – in their cotton-thin sheets, but they were there.

♡ You cast a keen ear to the ceiling, the living room floor, every few minutes as you looked for a place to start filming, a place to lay the sheets down, something to cover your face.

♡ You find a place, retrieve a Halloween mask from one of the boxes, and, without much deliberation, begin filming.

♡ What you do is nobody’s business but your own. Well, yours and the hungry men who survey your account for any crumbs you deign to feed them.

♡ What you don’t hear through the conduct of your business is the return of the home’s owner.

♡ Dominic hung up his coat, made little show of announcing his presence, and went straight for the basement.

♡ Don’t ask how he knew you’d be there.

♡ His steps grew more deliberate, louder, the closer he grew.

♡ You didn’t even know he was home until it was too late.

♡ At the height of your percussion, just when you were about to reach the moment of your video that would make the lead up worth it, something hit the floor behind you.

♡ You jumped. Whipped round to see what had happened.

♡ And there was Dominic. Hair black as the corners of the room, eyes void of any discernible emotion as he looked down at you, arms crossed over his chest, the top of his shirt undone by two buttons, not even out of his work clothes.

♡ You fumbled, the apologies, explanations and defences lodged in your throat as you choked to get them out, slamming your thighs together and reaching for the camera in your bid to shut it down. You tore the mask from your head, revealing blushed cheeks and a light sheen of sweat forming from the neck up.

♡ Dominic made sure to stay out of the camera’s line of sight, to remain only an anonymous spectator as he circled the room. He said nothing. Did nothing. Just watched and waited, walking.

♡ It was only after he knew the camera was off, your confidence in tatters around you, that he approached.

♡ You tried explaining, but he just shushed you.

♡ “No need to explain, my Dear,” he told you. He sighed, deeply, brought the corner of his lip between his teeth. He donned the veneer of disappointment.

♡ “I suppose I’m just…shocked,” he said. He leaned against a stack of boxes, solid against his back. He ran a hand through his hair and looked off somewhere. “I never knew you were…that kind of person,”

♡ The way he said that, like it had bleached his tongue just to speak it, made your heart sink lower.

♡ “I mean, what do we do now?” He made sure he gave you an incredulous glance, feigned disappointed abashment. “I pay you to look after my sons and I find you here, doing…” He looked to the camera, briefly, then away. As if he could still see what you had done on the tiny screen attached to it.

♡ You apologised profusely, tried to defend yourself: “Mr. Laurier, please – I didn’t– I never–”

♡ He didn’t interrupt you. He let you tie yourself in knots. Like a pretty present, all for him.

♡ Once you had exhausted your ability to explain yourself, Dominic let your fear hang for a moment, let it sink before you like a darkness bowing the ceiling above you. The singular lightbulb flickered.

♡ Dominic sighed. Pushed off the boxes. Came to you.

♡ “Honestly, (Y/N), if you were that desperate for money, you could’ve just asked.”

♡ He knew that wasn’t why you were doing this. But he also knew you’d accept whatever out he gave you. You listened.

♡ “Have I not been paying you enough? Have I misvalued your capabilities for this position?”

♡ The way his eyes flickered to your locked-together legs as he said position made your skin shiver.

♡ “Or…” he looked down on you. Relaxed his posture.

♡ “Is there perhaps some other reason you chose to…conduct yourself here?”

♡ When you didn’t answer, trying to decode his crypticism, he cocked his head ever so slightly to the side.

♡ “Could it be that you…wanted me to find you like this?”

♡ You tried to deny it, tried your utmost to say you’d never do such a thing to anyone, least of all your married neighbour and employer, but Dominic would hear none of it.

♡ “I’m flattered, really.” He says. He cast his eyes down, as if mulling over a secret. “My wife and I’s deteriorating marriage must be worse than I thought if it was so apparent to you of all people.”

♡ You knew such a comment, especially under these circumstances, shouldn’t have stung the way it did. Dominic only let you ruminate on it for a moment.

♡ “Maybe you wanted to show me something you knew Marilyn couldn’t.”

♡ Your jaw dropped. Dominic came to stand behind the camera. He toyed with it, general, not looking at anything in particular. You begged that he wouldn’t find a way to review the footage.

♡ Domonic stood back, looked down at you.

♡ “How about a compromise,” he offered. You watched him, eyes wide, heart pounding, stomach churning, breath short. He gave a pale smile.

♡ “You help me burn off some of the tension I’ve had building up over the last few weeks,” his eyes darkened. “And we’ll never speak a word of what happened here tonight.”

♡ Your words caught in your throat again.

♡ You knew Dominic was attractive, sure, but to help him cheat on his wife? And one so kind and loving as Marilyn–

♡ Your head span. Dominic had thrown you a lifeline.

♡ With a sigh, you evaluated your options.

♡ Your OnlyFans rarely made enough money to keep you financially independent, even for a short while; you had more to lose if you couldn’t keep your babysitting job. And you knew there was no chance Dominic would let you babysit again if he thought this was what you’d be doing during the dark hours of the evening.

♡ And what if he told Marilyn? What if she told their neighbours, your parents–

♡ In your vulnerability, your worry for your own preservation, you quietly agreed.

♡ And besides, you rationalised with yourself as the weight of the situation, of Dominic settling behind you, sank in. Better for Marilyn that he’s doing this with me rather than someone she doesn’t know, right?

♡ Given your bottom half was already bare, Dominic didn’t have to waste time undressing you himself. Though, under any other circumstances, he’d have jumped at the privilege.

♡ He’d often dreamed of this entire process being slower, gentler, and in the comfort of a bed in some lush space – usually a hotel. Not the sheet-covered ground of his cold basement.

♡ That evening, the mask Dominic wore was that of the common thief, for from you he stole your dignity. Your future.

♡ What you hadn’t realised was, as Dominic had been stood by the camera, he’d set it to record. Premeditated.

♡ You didn’t question why he pulled the mask from beside you onto his head. You just assumed, in your post-panic haze, that this was something he was into. Something he hid from Marilyn.

♡ Dominic still wore his work pants and had them pulled down to the bottom of his thighs. He’d also done away with his shirt from what you could feel of his skin; he radiated heat like you’d never felt before, even when you’d been in close proximity to him prior to this.

♡ You didn’t even have chance to think of much, to let the guilt and abashment of this whole situation weigh in on you as, with Dominic’s hands about your waist as if to steady you, he pushed in, filling you by an inch or two.

♡ You were easy to penetrate given your recent activity, but that only served to quell the stretch by a slight margin. You gasped, jolted, and Dominic’s grip about your middle tightened. He pulled you back, inadvertently pushing more of himself into you. You bit your lip, trying not to enjoy the mortifying implications of this entire affair, the feeling of being filled by the man who held your future in his hands.

♡ He was, regardless of whether you’d done this before, nothing like you’d ever experienced. He alternated between being gentle and rough, eventually lodging himself inside you entirely and guiding you up and down his shaft at a rate that suggested patience. Just a minute later, he’d pick up the pace, pulling out and slamming back in, pushing you down so he could reach the deeper parts of you.

♡ And all the while, you could feel a tightness below your stomach. One which, to your panic, strengthened whenever you considered that you were helping a married man cheat on his wife, that your situation was buried beneath so many layers of complexity you feared you’d never see the light of clarity again.

♡ A married man. One who, if his soft touches and stifled moans were anything to go by, held rather a fondness for you in this moment.

♡ Dominic didn’t talk at all throughout the entire encounter, opting only to communicate with an occasional squeeze to your thighs, reaching around to your front to touch you in ways that had you whining and crying, and tugs to your hair whenever you tried to hide your face in your hands.

♡ The whole sordid affair hadn’t unfolded exactly how Dominic had wished – dreamed – it would.

♡ In his dreams, it had been gentler – consistently so. More private. Though, no less taboo.

♡ Now, he was harsher. Rough, though not enough to hurt you. Just enough to make sure you felt every inch of him; just what these subscribers of yours would pay to see.

♡ Dominic pressed close to you as the camera recorded, your face exposed for whoever came into possession of the video to see.

♡ Of course, so long as you remained an obedient little pet, Dominic would never have to release it to anyone.

♡ The transaction, one which left you breathless and sweltering, finished only when Dominic did. He made sure you were satiated, too, something to think about over the coming weeks as you curated more content for your subscribers, every moment no doubt a reminder of your encounter with him.

♡ Afterwards, he removed himself, though with much hesitance. He’d finally, finally attained that which he wanted most – you – and yet it hadn’t been under the circumstances he’d romanticised for so long.

♡ He tried not to think about it, storing it with the rest of the undesirable humanisms he had locked away elsewhere in his psyche. He focussed only on how explosive it had felt, how…alive he was in comparison to all the other times he’d been with someone, using them as nothing more than a mannequin to pump himself with rather than someone to give himself to.

♡ He let you lie on the floor, a blanket draped over you as he sorted himself out. He clicked the camera off, took out the memory card and kept it firmly attached to his palm – all while you weren’t looking, weren’t listening, senses still dazed with all Dominic had given you, done to you.

♡ As he removed the mask, there was a sheen to his skin and a passive glint in his smile that suggested something inhuman and false about him. Something you discovered too late, it would seem.

♡ After that evening, you had no choice but to continue on as if nothing had happened. For so long as Dominic was in possession of that night – that memory card – nothing had. You, of course, knew nothing of the card at first. Not until Dominic had let it slip that the camera had been rolling the entire time.

♡ And still, you didn’t question his use of the mask. The serendipitous timing of it all. You could hardly breathe for the ocean boiling in your stomach, your heart bleaching white and your brain paling as you realised you’d just filmed a sex tape that could ruin not just your life, but Dominic’s too.

♡ Oh, if only you knew just how little Dominic cared.

♡ Dominic told you not to worry, that he’d salvaged the memory card and put it somewhere safe only to now return it to you.

♡ He’d duplicated the video, of course. That, he kept somewhere even safer.

♡ Sure, he’d allowed you to upload it to your account when you asked him with wide eyes, your face blurred and his figure already unrecognisable to any of your simps. You still needed content, after all, so why not profit off your late-night tryst with your neighbour?

♡ Which was what led you to come to him now, eyes downcast as he stood before you, arms crossed, smile ready to split his face in half and reveal the parasites that made up his interior.

♡ The truth you gave him? Your account had garnered a great deal of traction since your…uploaded encounter. About three thousand new subscribers, to be exact.

♡ “Oh?” Dominic offered. “And why are you telling me this, mon Chèr? Do you plan on splitting your earnings with me?”

♡ He graced you with his charm, his humour. Tried keeping the situation light.

♡ A redness rolled across your face. Dominic smiled, slim and sly, and allowed you to foster his silence, his attention.

♡ You suggested filming something else. Something that could make the guilt you felt for your last encounter with him feel half worth it.

♡ Nothing ever would, of course. But you could at least try.

♡ And so began a lustrous alliance between yourself and Dominic, the man who had once been your neighbour, then your employer, now your owner.

♡ He used you as he pleased, donned the mask and bent you over under the guise of being the conduit for your growing fanbase. In reality, the scorching, pulsating, blistering reality you inhabited with him, you were his. His star who he made and will break when he sees fit.

♡ So long as he had that memory card, and the growing catalogue of blackmail you keep adding to in your bid to chase what you thought was the weight of your self-worth in cash, you were his.

♡ Infidelitous, yes. But that mattered little to Dominic. Nothing mattered more now that he had you in his hands, whimpering for him, coming undone for him, all while he maintained the safe anonymity of both his mask and the façade of a loving, caring family man.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

1K notes · View notes

helaintoloki · 3 months ago

Note

can you do a five x reader where in the season finale of s3 you don’t come out of the elevator and five is devastated so he does anything in his power to found you again but when he does you’ve clearly moved on

a/n: so i couldn’t come up with an explanation for why reader would just move on instead of looking for five so i added an extra layer to this request

warnings: angst

summary: after being separated in the new timeline, Five does everything in his power to find you only to realize he’s too late

He couldn’t believe he’d finally done it.

After three years of searching, three years of following false leads and dead ends, three years of tearing himself apart trying to fix the mess his father and Allison had created, he’d found you.

Five could never put into words how much he loved you and how much of an effect you had on his entire being. You were the girl from his childhood, his first and only love that he fought tirelessly to get back to when stranded in the apocalypse, the girl who’s photo from an old magazine article he kept on him at all times.

Little about you had changed when he made his way back to the past to stop the impending apocalypse. You still had the same smile, the same laugh, the same appearance- your powers kept you forever young, a gift that was both a blessing and a curse depending on the day- and the same love for him in your heart that had blossomed when you were thirteen and naive about where the future would lead you. Falling back into your old routine together had been as easy as breathing, and from then on you both were inseparable. Five knew he could always count on you no matter what new challenge was thrown your way or what new problem you had to face. He vowed never to let you go ever again, but fate had other plans.

After arriving in this new timeline, Five had been quick to notice the fact that you were no longer by his side. Despite holding your hand in that elevator, you were nowhere to be seen when he’d stepped out with the rest of his siblings. Not only were his powers gone, but you were as well, and he had no idea where you could possibly be. He could feel the panic in his chest rising as if a fist was gripping his heart and slowly squeezing with each passing second, and the lack of control he felt in that moment was torturous. However, he only let himself spiral for a moment before immediately beginning to devise a search and rescue. Five would not stop until you were found and back safe in his arms.

And now here he was, standing dumbfounded in front of the entrance to a quiet cafe where you were waiting tables and completely oblivious to the pair of eyes watching you through the windows.

Your smile is still as warm as ever as you greet patrons and serve them their meals, asking about their days and laughing at their jokes even if they aren’t all that funny. Despite being on your own for three years, you seem to be doing quite well for yourself. But then Five notices something that makes his heart skip a beat and his palms perspire with nerves.

Your features have changed and in the time that’s passed it looks as though you’ve actually aged, something that was once thought to be impossible. Without your powers in this timeline, it makes sense that you would begin to grow into the looks of an older adult instead of permanently being stuck in a teenage girl’s body. He knows it’s something you’ve always wanted, and it’s a comforting thought to at least know that in this new setting you can have the life you’ve always wanted to have.

The bell above the door jingles loudly as Five bursts into the cafe and meets your gaze. Your eyes connect from across the room, Five’s breath hitching in his throat as you begin to walk towards him with an unwavering smile. He’s finally found you, and now he can rest easily knowing this whole mess is finally over.

“Y/n,” he utters through a trembling breath, fingers twitching at his sides in eager anticipation at being able to hold you once again. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

“Hi,” you greet with a polite smile, “dining in or ordering to-go?”

“W-What?” Five breathes out as his brows begin to furl in confusion. He takes a hesitant step back when you step forward, unsure of himself and of your behavior.

“Dining in or ordering to-go?” You repeat before glancing over your shoulder in search of an available table. “If you’re dining in it’s going to be about a five minute wait.”

“Y/n, don’t- don’t you recognize me? It’s Five,” He says almost desperately, his chest beginning to tighten in panic at your uncharacteristic behavior. The girl he knew would have been ecstatic to see him; she would have dropped everything to express how grateful she was to see him again before scolding him for getting her into another time travel related mess. Why weren’t you happy to see him?

“I’m sorry, I think you might have me mistaken for someone else,” you correct him with a sheepish smile, completely oblivious to the fact that you’ve just completely crushed his heart in your hands and taken away the one thing in this world he cherishes most. “I’ll go see if there’s a table available for you, okay?”

You leave him there completely heartbroken and disoriented as he’s left to wonder what went wrong. You’re alive in this timeline, able to age and live a normal life, but it comes at the cost of the memories from your past life. You have no idea who he is here, what you’ve been through together, how much he loves you and would do anything for you.

In every life, every timeline, you are everything to Five. But in this life, he’s nothing more to you than a man coming into your cafe for a bite to eat.

And it destroys him.

#request #the umbrella academy #number five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #number five x reader #number five imagine #five #five x reader #five imagine #tua #tua x reader #tua imagine

613 notes · View notes

hxnbi · 5 months ago

Text

⸻ ꗃ a whole new side

₊˚Ꮺ synopsis: you, for the first time, see a whole new side of him he never wanted to you see… ₊˚Ꮺ pairings: haruka sakura, hajime umemiya, hayato suo x gn. reader (separate)

HARUKA SAKURA | 桜遥 ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

SAKURA had been through a lot in his life. Anyone with eyes could tell from the moment when one truly got to know him. But for better or for worse, he kept his ugly truth under wraps. All Sakura knew was to use the same, bruised, calloused, bloody, ugly fists he was born with. Any problem that he came across would be met with brute force. So to have someone like you in his life who was so far removed from that was a bewildering contrast.

He did what he could. Sakura kept what he did—what he was—far, far away from you, to the point where you had no inkling of what his true nature was. The thought of losing you, of having you torn away by the cruel hands of fate that he had no control over, was something he couldn't bear. And that terrified him. Thus, he kept his lips sealed and told you nothing.

Sakura would do anything to keep you safe, even if it meant never showing you the truth of who he really was. He was willing to risk everything, even if that cost him his happiness. But all that would eventually play out, just as he feared.

Perhaps it was fate playing games on him to reveal his true nature at the worst possible moment when you least expected it. But until then, Sakura would remain ignorant.

And that ignorance would come back to haunt him.

That day, you were in the café with Kotoha, waiting for Sakura to arrive so that you two could go on a date together. But the minutes would tick by, and you checked your phone for the time to see how much time had passed. It certainly did feel longer in your head. Sakura was never late to a meeting like this. It was uncharacteristic of him.

Kotoha, who was cleaning a glass, glanced at you and then at the clock. "He's late. Should you call him?"

You shook your head. "No, it's fine. I'll go find him. I’m sure he’s probably on his way here anyway."

Kotoha's face would turn into a grimace as you left. You really still had no idea, didn't you…

Leaving the warmth of the cafe, you walked all the way down the street, letting the evening air cool against your skin and the back of your neck. But as you approached the corner, a shortcut that you and Sakura would typically take, you heard raised voices, one of them unmistakably being Sakura's.

"That's him," you muttered, following the sound and quickening your pace.

Turning into the alleyway, the scene before you made your heart stop.

Right in the thick of it was Sakura, in the middle of a fight, fists flying while being surrounded by a group of unfamiliar men you had never seen. They were all wearing a particular type of uniform, perhaps a gang or some sort. And nearby, a kid with orange hair and the same school uniform as Sakura watched in horror.

'What even was this? Did Sakura do this? Your sweet boyfriend?'

"W-What… I- Haru?" Your voice quivered as you stepped closer when your instincts told you to step back. But you didn’t listen, and nor did Sakura.

He didn't seem to hear you at all, lost in his rage.

"Stop it, Haru!" you yelled, running towards them.

Again, came no answer. All the heterochromic male saw was red, and not just from the blood staining his hands. Sakura landed another punch, and then another, sending one of the gang members sprawling to the ground, groaning in pain. Just as you reached him, one of the beaten-up guys coughed, a harsh, grating sound that cut through the air in an instant. You froze.

"You didn't tell them, did you?" the man scoffed, wiping blood from his mouth. "Didn't tell them you're affiliated with a gang. And Furin, of all gangs. Hah..."

Sakura froze, his fist still clenched and poised to strike.

Your eyes went wide. Was it true? Was that half-beaten piece of garbage right?

Tense and wary, Sakura turned slowly, his eyes meeting yours. Everything that Sakura had persisted in upholding, even if that meant hiding it away from the one person he truly loved, was heavy, physically pressing down on you.

You stared at him, shock and betrayal written across your face. "Is it true, Haru?" Your voice trembled. "Are you really part of a gang?"

Some of the men, taking advantage of this chance, scattered, groaning and clutching their wounds as they stumbled away. Sakura stood there, panting, his knuckles bloodied. He instantaneously dropped his hand, stepping back as if your words had physically wounded him. "I... I wanted to tell you," he stammered, eyes pleading for you to look into them and understand. "But I didn't know how. I was trying to protect you."

You held your tongue, unable to find even words to properly rebuke him, or even comfort yourself, for that matter. But before you could even say a word, the one Sakura had just been punching, on the ground, laughed bitterly, spitting blood. "Protect? From what? The truth?"

Sakura's eyes flickered with anger, but he didn't respond, nor did he appear to deny what the beat-up guy was saying. Though you all but understood the implications of what he meant.

With his heart on his sleeve and his face covered in scratches, bruises, and cuts, Sakura took a step toward you, his hands reaching out, but you immediately backed away, the gap between you widening with each step.

"...How could you keep this from me?" you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. "How could you lie?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered from under his heavy breath, his voice cracking, clenching his teeth, having to relive those memories. "I never wanted to hurt you. I thought if you didn't know, you'd be safe."

"Safe from what?" you demand, wiping away the tears angrily. "From you?"

He flinched as if struck, his face contorting with pain. You knew you shouldn't have said that, but your mind was so muddled, even beyond that. You were so desperate for the answers that you didn't even know yourself if you wanted to hear. It hurt…

"No, never from me. From them. From this life."

The beaten man laughed again, a cruel sound. "Looks like you did a great job there."

You glare at the man before turning back to Sakura. Your shoulders fell, tears stinging your eyes. "Sakura… you don't have to fight on my behalf. Not… not like this."

He finally looked at you, the fight leaving his body. Sakura's expression softened as he heard your words. You were right. You hated blood. And it was all his fault.

"But that's why I didn't—"

"Want to tell me?" you finished for him, your voice breaking, swallowing the lump in your throat. "There has to be another way… a way that doesn't involve more pain and violence."

Sakura's eyes softened, rage melting away into guilt. For once, he didn't even know what to say. Not even the lump in his throat could be swallowed. His face softened, and for a moment, you saw the boy you fell in love with, not the fighter standing before you. But still… you knew from then on that things had changed.

The tense silence was cut short as another pair of footsteps echoed. Kotoha stepped out, her eyes widening as she took in the scene. "Oh, Sakura…" she murmured, disappointment and concern etched into her features.

This was precisely what she was afraid of happening.

She sighed heavily before turning to you. "Come on," she said gently, taking your hand. Her grip was firm but kind, guiding you away. "Let's get out of here."

You followed her in a daze, your mind still reeling back. The weight of just about everything made each step feel heavier than the last.

"Nirei," Kotoha called over her shoulder, "can you look after Sakura?"

The said boy nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation without needing further explanation.

And just like that, you both part ways. Regret stung in your heart. A thought had whispered to you and Sakura that day. That love alone might not be enough to save you two.

HAJIME UMEMIYA | 梅宮一 ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

UMEMIYA was a natural-born leader. That was absolute. He treated everyone like family, and you were no exception. In fact, it was the complete opposite. You were the only person for whom he would ever break those morals. But even as he would mutter the sweet promises of affection and commitment to you, he never once mentioned to you that he, your sweet, nonthreatening boyfriend, was the leader of Furin. A gang.

He wanted to keep you far from that. A selfish request on his part. He tried to protect you from his dangerous world. But that didn't mean he could always shield you from it. What tormented him the most was the thought of his family ever getting hurt under his watch, and when it came to you—his sweet, gentle, innocent, significant other—he was horrified by that fear ever coming to fruition.

Time and time again, Umemiya would all but monopolize your time to go on dates with you when he had free time away from the fistfights he and Furin would find themselves in. It was sweet, really. The way Umemiya would treat you like his most prized possession—his most cherished person in the world. But at times, you would see your boyfriend mingling around seemingly unsavoury individuals, but you merely brushed it off your shoulder and went along the rest of your day. After all, you knew Umemiya and trusted him to make his own decisions. What would a relationship be like if there wasn't trust?

"Huh, Ume? I thought you had a shopping bag with you earlier?"

The white-haired man, who was once standing by your side, froze in his steps. He blinked before breaking into a cartoonish expression of disbelief. "Oh right! I'll get that real quick! Wait for me right here, alright?! Don't move until I get back!"

You smiled. "Alright. I'll be waiting right here."

"Okay!"

As he dashed off to quickly grab something, you were left to browse the colourful stalls, looking forward to a quiet evening all with your boyfriend. Lately, you've noticed Umemiya appeared to be more distant than usual, so today was supposed to “reconnect” you two by having some time together. But as you passed through an alley, a group of men loitering nearby caught your eye. One of them, a tall guy with a smug grin, stepped forward. Your face stilled. He didn't exactly look friendly, his eyes gleaming with a predatory intent.

"Hey there," he called out, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Why don't you come over here and keep us company?"

You tried to ignore him and kept walking, but he shifted to block your path, his eyes raking over you in a way that made your skin crawl.

"Don't be like that," he said, his grin widening. "I can show you a good time."

"Please just let me through," you said firmly, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Oh, feisty. I like that," he sneered, all of a sudden reaching out to grab your arm.

Just then, you heard footsteps approaching rapidly from behind, and standing before you was Umemiya, putting some distance between you and the guy. Umemiya’s presence radiated a sense of authority, but not in the ways that would bring out the best in people, nor was it even similar to past looks that would never make you comfortable. It was much different from how he usually acted in front of you.

The gang leader scoffed, looking Umemiya up and down with contempt in his eyes. Something told you that this was not going to end well.

"And who the hell are you?"

"Someone you don't want to mess with," Umemiya replied coldly. "Not after what you just did."

"Oh yeah?" he scoffed. "Well then, do you think you can take this—!?"

Umemiya caught the man's fists, and while holding it with the strength of a vice, he glanced back at you, his eyes softening for a moment. "Close your eyes," he commanded with a calm yet firm tone.

Confused but obedient, you complied, and closed both your eyes tightly. You kept both your lips and eyes sealed for what felt like minutes. Though curiosity got the better of you, and you peeked through your lashes. What you saw stole your breath away, and not for the better. It made you utterly sick.

Your boyfriend stood amidst a scene of utter chaos, surrounded by unconscious, bloodied bodies whom you had previously just seen with cocky grins. But not like this…

The ground was slick with crimson and broken glass, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood that made you want to throw up. Bodies and limbs lay at unnatural angles, and faces were bruised and swollen beyond recognition. It was grotesque, and it made your stomach churn.

The groceries slipped from your hands, falling to the ground with a dull thud, splitting open and their contents spilling across the bloodstained ground. That noise notified Umemiya, who immediately turned to face your bewildered self.

You took an involuntary step back to the wall, your mind and your shaking body struggling to process the brutality of what exactly you just saw. You felt sick. And Umemiya, your boyfriend, stood in the middle of it all, his fists still clenched and smeared with blood. His chest heaved up and down, his eyes wild with a fire you had never seen from him before. It was as if he were a different person, a stranger inhabiting the body of the man you loved.

Your mind was all but overwhelmed that you hardly even noticed the other figures standing comfortably next to Umemiya over the beaten-up guys who were previously harassing you. Since when did others come? Were they also involved with Umeymia in some way? Was this some sort of gang…?

Everything must've attracted some attention, you wanted to think. It was a small town, after all.

On the other side, Hiragi appeared at Umemiya's side, whispering something urgently into his ear. The white-haired man's eyes widened in response, and he quickly barked orders at Kaji and two others, who immediately began to clean up the horrific mess like a well-oiled machine.

Then, Umemiya turned towards you, finding you still rooted to the spot, his expression shifting from rage to concern. He took a step forward, but you instinctively recoiled, unable to reconcile the image of the caring boyfriend you knew with the blood-soaked fighter before you.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but strained.

You nodded slowly, still in shock. How could you be so stupid… how could you have not caught on… The thoughts raced through your mind, guilt and confusion warring within you.

You knew he did this, all of this, to protect you, but a selfish, biting thought crept in. You had no idea he was this strong, this capable of such violence. It left you feeling a mix of awe but also just as much betrayal that made your stomach turn, your world shifting on its axis.

His gaze softened, regret flickering in his eyes. "I did this to protect you. You know that I would do anything to keep you safe."

You swallowed hard, the acrid taste of fear and betrayal mingling on your tongue. You almost wanted to laugh. Of course, you knew that… in there, as far as it was, was still the man you fell in love with. No, the man you were still in love with.

"I know," you whispered, your voice trembling. "But seeing you like this... it's like I don't even know you."

His entire being collapsed, his teeth clenching into one of pure distaste. But it wasn't directed at you, but himself. You didn't mean that, right…?

Umemiya wanted to try again. Though he knew that the distance between you two wasn't going to disappear with a simple touch. But even so, he reached out, gently cupping your face. Your expression, however, twitched into one he had never seen before.

Hah… that was it. He knew. You were scared of him.

"...Can I, have some space?"

He froze, but his eyes remained soft. "O-Of course." He wasn't about to risk it for a second time… breaking your remaining trust for him—as little as it was.

He took a step back, something he dreaded to do. One step away from you would mean another step back in your relationship, and you leave him, and he was horrified by that.

"I may not have told you everything… but I still love you. So much," he choked.

…..

"I know, Haji."

Umemiya had to watch you go, his heart clenching and drowning in regret. All he had hoped for was to protect you, but in doing so, he had inadvertently pushed you away. As you disappeared from view, Umemiya stood there, alone amidst the unconscious bodies, surrounded by the silent yet shocked expressions of Hiragi and the others from Furin who had witnessed the entire scene.

This wasn’t just a simple misunderstanding, but a devastating revelation.

What remedy could ever mend this fractured relationship?

HAYATO SUO | 蘇枋隼飛 ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

SUO hid a lot of things. That, you know. And not just from you, but practically everybody he knew. There would be times when Suo would change the subject you were just talking about, purposely evade your questions, and shift his gaze away, leaving you with more questions than answers. Suo was a mischievous guy who liked to get on people's nerves, but not without a reason. What reason is still a mystery to you. But what you do know is that Suo was and is a wonderful boyfriend, always attentive, caring, and vehemently protective.

Yet, time and time again, Suo would make excuses, disappear without explanation, or offer vague answers that left you unsatisfied. You first ignored it. After all, everyone deserves privacy. But soon, the inconsistencies in his stories and the shadows that sometimes clouded a single visible eye were hard to ignore. You may have been naive, but you certainly weren't stupid.

But all that would go to hell that late evening on a date with Suo. Everything that Suo kept away from you would all be revealed in a timeless, gut-wrenching event.

Even down to the evenings when you and Suo would be walking through the park, enjoying the twilight's calm, there would be times when his entire demeanour would shift, and a sense of unease settled between you. But this time, it wouldn't be just between you two.

"You and your dumbass eyepatch, thinking that you're looking down on me…"

Your eyes widened as you began to grasp, at least on a basic level, basic understanding of this tense situation.

A man with a black undercut tied in a ponytail, flanked by a few goons behind him, had suddenly fixated on you and Suo during your date. It was clear that they all seemed to harbour a grudge against your boyfriend.

"Oh?" Suo retorted with his typical demeanour. His lips stretched into a sardonic grin, but his eyes remained cold, devoid of the genuine warmth or mirth you would see from him. It was a smile that didn't reach his eye—a facade of amusement masking a deeper disdain. "I didn't know the cutie still thought of me to this day!"

Presumably the leader, stepped forward, his eyes blazing with hatred. "You little… this time, I'm going to end you."

"S-Suo, do you know them?" You turned to face his eyes, but silently, he gave you that trademark smirk of his. It made you even more anxious.

But before you knew it, Suo's grip on your hand tightened, just as he whispered in your ear, "We gotta run."

"H-Huh?" you stammered, confusion flooding your mind. Without another word, Suo took your hand and bolted, dragging you along. You ran together through the labyrinth of trees and paths, hearts pounding, breaths ragged. Finally, you collapsed against a bench, entirely out of breath, your chest heaving with exhaustion.

But even as you frantically tried to catch your breath, your mind raced with questions. "Suo, what was that? Who were those guys? What do they want with you?" you demanded in a frantic panic, looking at Suo for answers, desperate for some kind of clarity here.

Until you saw the expression on his face.

Ah, right…

Those were answers you knew you were never going to get. Not when you saw that look in his eye. Suo's expression, usually so warm and kind, was now dark and distant. It was a look you had seen before, one that made you shrink back in fear.

You swiped your hand away from his, the distance between you growing. But Suo didn't seem to notice. Or rather, he didn't seem to care.

"I'll be back," he said quietly. "Please stay here. There are people around. You'll be safe."

Again. It was always the same. Always avoiding the truth that you needed to hear.

"Suo, w-wait—!" you pleaded, but he was already turning away, his shoulders squared. He wasn't going to listen.

He took a step back, his eyes softening for a moment as he looked at you. "I promise," he said, a hint of the Suo you knew returning to his voice. "I'll explain everything later. Just stay here."

You nodded reluctantly, watching him disappear into the shadows. As you sat there on the curb with your hands huddled around your legs, surrounded by strangers, the weight of everything that had happened finally settled on your shoulders.

Minutes felt like hours, and when Suo finally returned, questions swirled in your mind—who were those people, and what did they want from Suo? These unanswered questions left but an empty, gnawing void within you.

You were so tired—tired of the secrets, tired of feeling useless, tired of feeling like Suo couldn't trust you with what was really behind that faint smile of his.

Suo approached, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong?" he asked gently, reaching out to touch and lock your hand with his own like he always did.

"...H-Huh?"

That was the first time you caught that look in Suo's eyes—a flicker of genuine fear, a vulnerability he rarely revealed—something he never thought he had, and definitely a fear he couldn't conceal behind his usual facade of confidence.

It was a gaze that betrayed an unmistakable dread of losing you.

…Perhaps it was the first time for a lot of things that day.

Out of reflex, you lightly swatted his hand away and took a step back, the frustration of just wanting answers boiling over.

"I'm sorry, Suo… can I just have some space?"

He stood there, his hand still outstretched, his eyes with a mixture of hurt and confusion. But he didn't pursuit it any further, in fear of making things worse. "Ahem… right. I'll see you then."

You knew it was wrong to leave it at that, but you needed a moment to gather your thoughts more than ever. But, like the man you always knew him to be, Suo respected your wishes. He agreed, and no longer did follow you, leaving you alone in your peace and tears.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

this took so much longer than i thought, but i think it was all worth it in the end :) funny enough, it was actually the first thing I wanted to write for wind breaker until i realized how long i ended up writing this to be, and that's only for three characters out of MANY i wanted to do. i do have ideas for a fluffy pt2, and im more than happy to write it if it gets asked enough :)

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #wind breaker x y/n #wind breaker angst #suo hayato #hayato suo #haruka sakura #haruka sakura x reader #hajime umemiya #hajime umemiya x reader #suo x reader #hayato suo x reader

710 notes · View notes

elikajinnie · 13 days ago

Note

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

Hogwarts in Fur - Y.J

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

P: Hufflepuff!Jungwon X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Love Confessions.

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

masterlist

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tilted your head, waiting for the inevitable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smirked, already plotting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

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

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

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

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

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

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

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

Bonus!:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

300 notes · View notes

deliciousangelfestival · 5 days ago

Text

The Imperfect Couple - 18

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: Triggering conversation. Mentioned about sexual assault.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Author Note: After this, you will hate Steve more.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The news spread like wildfire: The First Lady has passed away from a sudden heart attack. The entire nation reeled at the announcement. It was a tragic day for the country, and the collective grief was palpable. You and Bucky struggled to believe it, exchanging shocked glances as you watched the news unfold on screen.

The twins, pale with grief, approached their father with questions in their eyes. “Why, a heart attack?” one of them whispered.

Steve’s expression was controlled, his answer calm. “Because with that, everyone will stop asking,” he replied. A sudden heart attack is understandable. Even General Carter died of one.

Just as Steve had predicted, people accepted it readily. “A heart attack? That’s horrible,” they’d say, before letting the matter rest. It was as if the finality of the explanation sealed Peggy’s fate in a way no one dared to question. And yet, to you, something felt out of place.

Only two weeks earlier, there had been news that Peggy had collapsed, and the doctors advised her to rest. You found yourself shaking your head as you spoke to Bucky. “She was so healthy, so careful with her lifestyle. Doesn’t it feel… odd?”

Bucky’s gaze was hard, thoughtful. “It does,” he admitted. “It really does.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The day of Peggy’s funeral arrived, a somber, overcast morning where gray clouds seemed to hang like a veil over the city. Dressed in black, the crowd of mourners filled the space around the somber cemetery, their faces etched with grief and disbelief. The country mourned the First Lady’s loss, and people lined up to pay their respects to Steve and the grieving family. You and Bucky observed from a distance, your expressions reflecting both sorrow and skepticism.

Caroline and Julius were also present, looking somber as they approached Hazel and Julius, standing silently nearby. Carol, her face set in sadness, touched Hazel’s arm gently. “Let’s go give Steve our condolences,” she whispered.

“You two go ahead,” Hazel murmured, looking away. Her eyes shifted, and a shadow of guilt crossed her face. She couldn’t bear to look at Peggy’s sons, William and Charles, standing on either side of their father, too young to fully understand the depths of their loss.

Carol frowned. “Hazel, don’t be stubborn,” she said softly. “Come on, Julius.” The two of them moved toward Steve, leaving Hazel standing there with her head bowed, biting her lip.

Julius, his voice low and respectful, extended his hand to Steve. “We’re deeply sorry, Steve. Peggy was a remarkable woman.”

Carol echoed his sentiments. “Yes, Steve. She’ll be missed so much. Our hearts are with you and the boys.”

Steve nodded, his face a well-practiced mask of grief. “Thank you both. Peggy loved you both very much.”

As the guests continued offering their sympathies, Natasha appeared at Hazel’s side, touching her arm and gesturing discreetly. Hazel hesitated but glanced over, catching your eye. You nudged Bucky, motioning in Hazel’s direction, but he shook his head. “Let them go,” he said quietly. “Not here, not now.”

Following Natasha, Hazel found herself being led to a private corner, away from the public’s eyes. Steve was already waiting, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. As Hazel approached, she looked pale, her posture small, as though she wanted to shrink away.

“Why do you look like you want to hide?” Steve asked, arching an eyebrow, his voice a low murmur.

Without a word, Hazel handed him her phone. Her hands were shaking. Steve took the device and glanced at the screen. What he read there made his expression falter, if only for a moment. The message on the screen was Peggy’s final words:

"I’ll give him to you. But know that each time you’re with him, I will always be the thorn between you two."

Hazel’s voice trembled as she spoke. “I found this after she…after she died. She sent it before… God, Steve, she’s gone because of me.”

Steve stepped forward, gently placing his hand at the back of her neck, pulling her head to his shoulder. “No, Hazel,” he murmured, his voice smooth and unyielding. “None of us lifted a finger. It was her choice. Her own doing.”

Steve held her tightly. “You’re my only anchor now,” he said softly, his hand stroking her hair. His tone was oddly calm, as if nothing truly rattled him.

Hazel gave a slight nod, though her face remained haunted. Steve’s grip around her tightened, but his gaze held a glint of satisfaction, a twisted sense of relief. Peggy’s demise, as he saw it, had finally cleared the way.

Later, as guests continued offering their condolences, Bucky made his way to Steve. His handshake was firm, his voice steady. “Steve,” he said, his eyes meeting his in an unreadable gaze. “My deepest condolences. Peggy was… well, she was a force.”

Steve’s expression was solemn, though his eyes glinted with something inscrutable. “Thank you, Bucky,” he replied smoothly. “I know Peggy always respected you.”

Bucky paused, holding Steve’s gaze a second longer, as if searching for something beneath his composed exterior. “If there’s anything you or the boys need, don’t hesitate to let us know. We’re here for you.”

Steve gave a small nod. “I appreciate it, Bucky. Really. This will be hard for the boys, but we’ll get through it.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened as he stepped back, his gaze never leaving Steve’s. “Take care of yourself. And of them.” He glanced briefly toward William and Charles, whose solemn faces seemed carved in stone, their small hands clutching each other as they mourned.

When Bucky returned to your side, he was silent, his eyes hard with an unspoken realization. Both of you had been deceived by Steve’s flawless facade for years, but now, something dark and undeniable seemed to lie beneath.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Three Weeks Later

Carol sat on the sofa, her eyes fixed on the TV screen where Steve’s face appeared at an international summit, calm and composed, every bit the statesman. She frowned, resting her chin on her hand. “It’s not even a month since Peggy’s passing, and already there’s talk about him looking for a new partner,” she muttered with a casual nonchalance. “Should I introduce him to one of my friends?”

Julius, seated across from her, snapped his head up, a look of disbelief etched onto his face. “Carol… you were Peggy’s friend. How can you talk like this?”

“Because I was her friend, I want what’s best for Steve,” Carol replied, dismissively scrolling through photos on her phone. “Peggy would want someone from our circle by his side, someone appropriate. Maybe Emily? Or Kelly?”

From across the room, Hazel’s voice interrupted, quiet but firm. “Mom, you don’t have to go through all that trouble.”

Carol looked up, her eyes sharp. “Oh, but I insist,” she said with a sigh of self-importance. “Steve’s in his prime. Women would kill to be with him. Even women your age, Hazel.”

Hazel paused, her teacup clinking against its saucer as her hand trembled slightly.

Carol turned to Julius with newfound excitement. “Maybe we should introduce him to your cousin who just got divorced. She’s still young, and she can bear children—Peggy would approve of someone in our league taking her place. Steve has a mistress. I don't want that woman took Peggy's place.”

"Carol. Stop," Julius said, his voice sharp, cutting through his wife rambling.

A flicker of annoyance sparking in her eyes. “What? Imagine having someone actually related to the President by blood," she insisted, folding her arms, her tone dismissive as if Julius didn’t understand the gravity of her idea.

Julius took a step closer, his face tightening. "We already have," he replied quietly.

Carol looked at him in disbelief, then scoffed. “I don’t mean Bucky," she shot back, waving a hand as if the idea were absurd. "He's still just the Vice President. And I don't even want to think about him having kids with that woman.”

Julius’s expression darkened, his jaw clenched as he leaned closer. "He won’t forgive you if he hears that," he warned, voice low and tight, the threat clear. He knew how much Bucky loves you, even Bucky already gave a warning to Caroline, she still won't accept it.

She felt the heat of his words but only tilted her chin up defiantly. Julius took a deep breath, struggling to contain his frustration. "Carol," he said in a grave tone, “I’m giving you a warning. This is the last time." His hand closed into a fist, and the silence that followed was thick, crackling with unspoken tension.

“Mom. You can stop now,” she said, her voice edged with a firmness that made both her parents turn. “There’s already someone from our family related to the president”

The room fell silent. Carol’s fingers froze on her phone, and Julius looked up from his drink, confused. Hazel met their eyes steadily.

“Nate,” she said, her voice just above a whisper, yet each word felt as though it struck with the force of a hammer. “Steve is Nate’s father.”

There was a stunned pause, a dead silence before Carol’s phone slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a loud clatter. Her face turned pale as her mind scrambled to process the revelation, her hand covering her mouth in shock.

“All this time,” Hazel continued, her voice quiet but steady, “you wanted to know who Nate’s father was. Now you know.”

Carol’s face twisted, disbelief transforming into a horrified expression. She lunged forward, gripping Hazel’s shoulders tightly, her nails digging in. “Tell me this is a joke,” she hissed.

“You… you always kept things to yourself, dropping these bombshells when we least expect it. You came home one day, huge belly, and just announced you were pregnant, like it was nothing.” Her voice wavered, a mixture of anger and desperation. “You made me hide my face from our friends, miss every gathering because of you!”

Hazel stayed silent, even as her mother’s words lashed against her.

“Haze—Hazel,” Julius interjected, his voice a strained whisper, barely able to meet her eyes. “Is this true?”

She nodded. “Yes, father.”

“But why him? Of all people… what could he possibly give you that we haven’t?” Carol’s voice quivered, the shock laced with bitterness.

Hazel met her mother’s eyes, unflinching. “Because he listened to me. He understood me.”

Julius’s face hardened. “We gave you everything, Hazel. How can you say that?”

She drew in a breath, her expression bitter. “That’s the problem. You gave me everything I never asked for. All I ever asked is for both of you as my parents to listened to me.”

Carol scoffed, her face paling as realization settled in. “Listening?” she muttered, rubbing her forehead as if it hurt. “You keep talking about that. I don’t even know what you mean.”

Hazel’s hands trembled slightly, but she steadied herself, her tone cold. “Do you remember when I told you my ballet teacher kept touching me? That’s why I quit. But you didn’t believe me because he was ‘experienced,’ and you said I was overreacting.”

A silence so heavy settled in the room that even the ticking clock seemed deafening. Carol’s face twisted with a fleeting look of guilt, but it passed quickly.

Hazel’s gaze shifted to Julius. “And you—do you remember when I told you I was drugged by your best friend’s son at that party I didn’t even want to go to? You made me go. I came home, barely able to stand…” Her voice broke, the words hanging heavily in the air.

Julius covered his face with his hand, his shoulders slumping as the reality crashed down on him.

“I am your daughter!” she yelled, the hurt and anger of years pouring out. “And all you did was listen to their excuses. That was my breaking point. That’s why I left.”

Julius’s face fell, and he murmured, almost to himself, “Then… you met Steve.”

Hazel nodded, her voice softening slightly. “I was vulnerable. And after hearing me out just once, do you know what he did?” She looked at her parents, her gaze hard and unwavering. “He made sure that ballet teacher never danced again. And that boy? He’ll never see daylight without a drug in his system.”

Carol heard the news that the former ballet teacher got into an accident, leaving him unable to move his fingers or toes. As for Julius, he heard from his friend that the son ended up in rehab. His case is worse than Shawn's.

Carol gasped, horror dawning in her eyes. “You’re the woman Peggy mentioned. The mistress…”

Hazel’s voice was a whisper, calm yet unyielding. “Yes. I’m the other woman. The homewrecker. Whatever you want to call me, I am it.”

For a moment, a heavy silence settled in the room. Hazel scoffed, looking from her mother to her father. “Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? Your grandson is the President’s son, your son the youngest Vice President. Now you can tell that to all your friends.” She shot them a hollow, bitter smile, watching as her words landed. Carol looked down, her face flushed with shame, while Julius couldn’t bear to meet her gaze.

Turning, Hazel strode from the room, leaving her parents in stunned silence. For the first time, the weight of Peggy’s suicide note no longer haunted her. Steve had been right. Peggy’s death wasn’t her burden to bear. And with that realization, she walked away, shoulders straight, head held high.

In the deafening quiet that followed, Caroline sank onto the couch, feeling a mix of shame and a deep, gnawing guilt. She was beginning to understand. All those times she had cursed the “mistress” Peggy hinted at… it had been her own daughter.

“Julius,” she whispered, voice cracking as she reached out for her husband’s hand.

But there was no answer. Julius sat, staring into space, his face ashen. When she touched his shoulder, his body slumped.

“Julius!” she screamed, shaking him, but he didn’t respond. Her world spun as panic surged, echoing her daughter’s revelation with one devastating blow after another.

Julius suffered a stroke and required emergency surgery, leaving the family on edge as they gathered at the hospital. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a harsh glow over the sterile waiting room. You and Bucky arrived, and he turned to you, his brow furrowed with concern. “Where’s Hazel?” he asked, scanning the area for any sign of her.

“Don’t. Mention that name,” Caroline snapped, her voice taut with tension. “That girl has ruined Peggy’s marriage.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You knew?” he pressed, the shock evident in his tone.

Caroline's eyes flared, realization dawning on her. “Wait! You knew all this time?” She stepped forward, her hands gripping his collar, her fury palpable. The Secret Service agents on standby instinctively moved closer, but Bucky raised a hand, stopping them. “Stand outside. This is a family matter, and keep this secret,” he commanded. They nodded reluctantly, stepping away but keeping their ears perked for any sign of trouble.

“No wonder why Steve chose us,” Caroline sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as the weight of the situation settled in. “But I still can’t accept this. No, I don’t. He used Hazel's innocence.” Her laughter was manic, echoing off the walls, a bitter sound that filled the room.

“Does he think he can underestimate me? He’s just a nobody without a strong background. He’s nothing without the Carters.” Caroline’s voice dripped with disdain as she spat the words, but when she noticed Bucky’s silence, her eyes narrowed.

“You have a plan, don’t you?”

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. “I do.”

“Good. Me too,” Caroline replied, her tone fierce. “I won’t accept being humiliated.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bucky turned his gaze to you, his expression shifting from determination to concern. “Dear,” he said, his voice steady but laced with urgency.

“Hmm?” you replied, sensing the gravity in his tone.

“I’m telling you right now,” he began, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, “from this moment, everything is going to turn ugly. You might end up hating me in the end.”

You felt the knot in your stomach tighten. Why is he telling me this?

“I told you before, you could stab me, poison me,” he continued, his voice unwavering. “I meant it. You could do it when you felt that I was way out of line.”

He’s serious, you thought, a mix of fear and disbelief coursing through you.

“You should’ve said this before I married into the Barnes family,” you shot back, your tone sharper than intended, but the weight of his words hung heavily in the air between you.

Bucky’s eyes softened slightly, yet his resolve remained. “I never wanted you to be caught in the crossfire.”

His jaw tense, and he took a deep breath as if preparing for the weight of the world. “If this is too much for you,” he said, his voice steady but low, “you could leave.” Also, the one-year agreement to help him is coming to an end.

The finality of his words struck you like a punch to the gut, and you felt a flicker of panic surge through you. “No. I won’t leave,” you responded fiercely, the conviction in your voice surprising even yourself.

Bucky’s brow furrowed, and he studied you, as if searching for signs of doubt in your eyes. But all he found was unwavering resolve. “You really mean that?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper, a blend of surprise and hope.

You nodded, a small smile breaking through the tension. “The first time, it was me helping you become vice president,” you reminded him, your heart racing with the unspoken promise that lingered between you. “Now, I’ll be beside you as you become president. I won’t let this position slip away to another woman.”

“Then let’s face this together,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. The space between you charged with anticipation, every unspoken feeling bubbling to the surface. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

A slow smile spread across Bucky’s face, warmth radiating from him. The tension that had permeated the air shifted into something different—something electric. In that moment, the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable connection you shared.

Bucky leaned in slightly, closing the distance between you, and your breaths mingled in the charged space. The weight of your words hung in the air, promising both conflict and a shared future. You reached out, your fingers grazing his jaw, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch.

He moved closer, tilting his head slightly as if to capture the moment forever. The longing that had been building between you ignited, and without thinking, you both closed the gap.

The kiss was genuine, filled with unspoken promises and a shared understanding of the battles ahead. It was tender yet passionate, a release of the tension that had held you both captive for far too long. As your lips met, time seemed to stand still, the world outside forgotten. In that moment, you were not just allies in a political game but partners, united in a bond deeper than either of you had anticipated.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested against each other, breaths mingling in the charged air. You could see the reflection of hope and determination in his eyes, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you could face whatever challenges lay ahead—together.

Author Note : The next chapter will be the end.

Join the tag list:

@thezombieprostitute

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@dexter99

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@krissydclayton93

@itsteambarnes

@toldyouitwasamelodrama

@lassie-bird

@bighappypiels

@buckitostan

@barnesxstan

@bada-lee-ily

@mrsstuckyboo

@florie1

@cjand10

@sidraaaaaaaaa

@aritoocute

@crazyunsexycool

@mcira

@touchstarvedforbuckybarnes

@pattiemac1

@elizalexwil

@gingersnap-2

@whitexwolfxx310

@marvel-wifey-86

@kumointhesky

@hnnhbananananana

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@nouis-bum

@thebuckybarnesvault

@unaxv

@hzdhrtss

@blackbirdwitch22

@darsynia

@lokislady82

@bonkybarnes106

@kandis-mom

@imrandomstuffsblog

@chimchoom

@wintrsoldrluvr

@greatenthusiasttidalwave

@sebastians-love

@kythefangirl25

@mrsnikstan

@identity2212

@justsebstan

@clairoscharm

@billyseye

@g1g1l

@sxnshinebxcky

254 notes · View notes

dcangel · 9 months ago

Text

| cw: smut, slightly dark luke if you squint hard enough

luke castellan who refuses to fuck you even when you cry. he was completely oblivious to his own filthy pleasure. but curiosity would never stop luke from making you beg.

he wouldn’t even let you touch yourself. and every time he saw the slightest shift of your thighs against one another to alleviate the unbearable pressure, he’d make you wait another agonizing day.

though luke never clearly stated why you were being punished, you assumed it had something to do with the way you teased him at night. meeting up with him at the bathrooms, whispering beyond vulgar things as you pressed your hips forward against his, only to leave him minutes later; alone, and with the worst case of blue balls he’s ever had.

yeah, it was probably that.

but now, lying under him and just having to take the ruthless friction against your fully clothed heat, you fully regretted every second of it. in your eyes, this was past cruel. he wouldn’t even allow you to feel how hot his skin was against your wet cunt. you imagined him to be warm and throbbing, soothing your neglected folds as he rubbed through them.

the fabric separating your bodies was slowly becoming soaked. it was embarrassing. humiliating, even.

and all you could do was cry and beg. but luke’s personal favorite was when you’d thank him after he reminded you how lucky you were to be receiving any attention at all.

you were so greedy, always pleading for more of him. he had you wrapped around his little finger, certain that you’d do anything for him.

he wondered that if he gave in and fucked you roughly like you deserve, you’d still follow him as he lead a deceitful life for the rest of his time at camp. and if you’d join him in the end of olympus.

the sobs and borderline hysterical pleas for any type of unclothed, physical contact that left your swollen lips made it seem that way. and the streams that wrecked every delicate pat of a beauty sponge, and every pass of the mascara wand over your now red, puffy eyes could only add to his confidence. you’d be with him until the end, however that fate may be.

oh, how luke loved it when you cried.

#luke castellan pjo #luke’s!world #luke castellan smut #luke castellan pjo smut #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader smut #luke pjo #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan

1K notes · View notes

sleepyangelkami · 5 months ago

Note

Recently got into the walking dead and let me just say i’m obsessed with your carl fics. It’s alarming how many times i’ve read them lmao.

CLINGY c.grimes

☆ WORD COUNT - 2.4K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - being clingy was the most natural thing in you and carl's relationship after all the trauma you'd both endured. but when things get too much for carl, he shuts you out, leaving you to assume only the worst.

☆ WARNINGS - clingy relationship, crying, blood, gore, mentions of death, walkers, mean!carl, yelling, stress, mentions of violence, weapons, (2) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

clingy was a word you had much distaste for.

when the world literally ended, there wasn't much to do aside from survive and hold onto your loved ones. you'd been alone so long, people slowly falling, dying, leaving. before you knew it, it was just you and the group you'd found. well, they'd found you.

more specifically, he'd found you.

the boy with the sheriff's hat, eyeing you with his gun in the air. you made no sudden movements, eyes cast down on the ground as if you didn't care whether or not the bullet would fly from his gun.

it was just you in the house they'd raided. you didn't have a family, nor a group. just you, covered in blood, starved and in a kind of fetal position, knees pressed against your chest as you eyed the pool of blood surrounding you. some of your own, some from the ones before.

when you'd met the group, you had nothing. dead parents, dead siblings, nothing seemed to matter anymore. the world was gone, the people you loved either dead, taking the easy way out or leaving it to the walkers. or perhaps they'd left you, walking out when things got tough, leaving you and the remains of your family behind.

the screams from outside of the house would alert you of their soon fate afterwards.

you opened up, albeit it was slow.

you liked to believe there was an instant connection between you and the boy. he lowered his gun almost instantly, realising you weren't a threat behind the blood and glassy eyes. how he'd known, you weren't sure. he just did.

he rushed towards you, calling downstairs for his father in a panic.

you didn't speak much at first, staring when he'd offered his name. carl grimes. the boy you'd soon learn to love.

and with time, you made a new family. daryl dixon was a good idea for a father, you soon learned, carol sort of alike a mother when she snuck you an extra one of her homemade cookies.

you lost others, more fell. but you and carl never frayed.

rick and michonne would always catch you together, smiling and looking at one another knowingly. it was safe to say that it was no surprise when carl announced you were together. after all, you were practically joined by the hip.

this brings us back to the beginning. the word clingy.

you hated the word as much as you hated the death surrounding you. could anyone truly be clingy in a world like this? is anyone really too much? you liked to believe that there was no such thing as too much anymore. people died, left, separated. any day could be someone's last. you'd prefer to know that you'd spent all the time with them as you could.

if that was clingy, then so be it.

carl was used to this side of you, he catered to it, if anything, he matched it. he was used to the way you laid against him, talking lowly as he went about his tasks.

there was a grey cloud looming over alexandria at a time like this. the survivors were getting more powerful and it was plaguing carl's mind. you did your best to be as gentle as you possibly could, attempting to console the boy but it seemed no matter what you did, he would find himself bubbling over with anger.

"will you pass me the carving knife?" he cut you off mid-speech, ignoring the way your lips instantly shut closed, eyes searching your side of the table.

you weren't hanging from the boy as you usually were, picking at his hands and fingers, playing with them as though they were dough. you weren't snuggling into him while he placed his arm around you. your normal routine simply didn't exist with the past week or so.

but if space was what he needed, you were more than happy to offer that to him. "okay." you mumbled, picking up the knife you thought was the carving knife and passing it to him.

you didn't know much about knives and guns, usually sitting your head on your knees and listening to the boy speak about them. yet, every time he told you what was what and their intent, everything went in one ear and out the other. he'd often admire the way you asked a thousand questions over, one's he'd already answered. he'd only smile, answering them again.

now you realised perhaps you should have been listening.

apparently, you'd passed him the wrong one. you heard what you assumed was a swear pass his lips in a whisper as he placed the knife back to the table roughly. "what's wrong?" you questioned softly, watching him pick up a thinner knife, sanding it down with the block in his hand.

"got the wrong one." but his voice was anything but the gentle carl you knew and loved. this one was sort of mean, a tone of anger behind his words. "how many times have i explained all of them to you? i mean, you still don't know, seriously?"

it seemed as though the dark cloud over alexandria had moved into the room belonging to carl grimes. you found yourself sneaking your knees closer to your chest, just like the day he'd found you. "sorry." you mumbled, glancing away.

confrontation wasn't exactly your forté.

it didn't help that fighting with carl was a rare experience. "maybe if you just listened to me every now and again we wouldn't have this problem."

offence took over your face, brows knitting together. "I do listen to you." but when he talked about things like knives and guns it was sort of hard for you to keep up.

a scoff left his lips. "sure you do." angry carl never failed to show you a different side of the boy you loved.

you stared at him in shock, wondering where the sudden attitude towards you was coming from. you knew he was stressed, understood it even but you'd done nothing to deserve the hatred being thrown your way.

that was when the shaky, "why're you being so mean?" left your lips.

like i said, confrontation wasn't something you practiced often. you were sort of unsure of where to go in this situation.

carl breathed out a ragged breath, practically throwing the tools onto the table. you jumped slightly, staring at him with widened eyes. "maybe you're the one being too clingy." his eyes stared into yours but they didn't look like the ones you'd fallen for so deeply. "just..." breathing through his nose. "just leave me alone for a bit, yeah?"

clearly, he wasn't in the mood for any of this.

and neither were you.

you spoke no words as you quickly scooped up the bag on the ground, making a haste exit towards the door. the sound of a quick sniffle before you shut the door closed was enough for the weighing bricks to fall down on carl.

the sudden severity of the situation dawned on the boy.

he'd made you cry.

and he swore never to be the cause of your tears.

he didn't run after you, though, much too caught up in his own head. the stress of the entire situation of the saviours was weighing on him too. he crashed his elbows onto the table, shoving his head between his hands and groaning. he wondered if he'd ever get anything right.

before he could get too far with the self pity, his bedroom door swung open to reveal his father.

"what was that?" the older man questioned, not giving a clue to what he was talking about. but carl could guess. "y/n just ran out of here crying, you have somethin' to do with that?"

in a moment like this, disappointed dad gazing at him, carl would have done anything to wipe that look off his face. "dad, you don't get it―" about to explain himself, weave out of whatever this was.

"i don't care." was the answer he gave, having better things to be doing than sorting out this teenage relationship himself. "fix it." and finally slamming the door.

rick always taught carl how respect worked, he punished him when he was wrong, rewarded him when he was right. he didn't teach him to act like this.

it was night fall when carl finally found himself walking around the town of alexandria. he was sort of hoping you were out here instead of back at home for he really didn't feel like speaking to daryl at the door and asking were you home. however, he searched every nook and cranny, every place you usually went when you were upset and yet he walked back empty handed, realising you definitely hadn't been outside.

finally, he found himself standing on your doorstep, sucking in a breath before knocking on the white door, the light from above shining down on his face making him squint.

the door opened to reveal carol, thankfully not daryl. carl really couldn't imagine what daryl would have to say to him right about now. he just hoped he was out hunting somewhere or other, at least then he wouldn't get the urge to haul the boy off his front porch.

"y/n?" is all carol questioned, she was dressed in her own hunting attire and carl could only guess that she was on her way out too.

he pressed his lips into a thin line. "she home."

the woman nodded. "upstairs." before swapping places with the boy, making her way outside while inviting him in. "carl." he looked towards her. "don't make me regret leaving you inside."

he only nodded, allowing her to close the door from the outside.

finally, the silence of your house enveloped him.

you, carol and daryl all lived in the same two story house but sometimes it seemed only you lived here. all the decorations were your work, pictures and photo frames, some of before, some of now, everything screamed... you.

it was that cosiness about you that made him fall for you all that time ago.

his boots found the stairs, making his way up and finding your bedroom door, the last door on the right hallway.

your door was white, a brass handle leading him into the room he'd seen a thousand times before.

he'd imagine your room at the other side of the door, pretty pink bedsheets with matching curtains. he'd found the curtains for you on a separate occasion, you'd been over the moon. and the pretty lights that decorated your walls along with the picture frames and the stuffed animal he'd found tucked away in your bloodied back so long ago, now fresh against your bed.

a sort of comfort from the world before.

he knocked, receiving no answer.

"sweetheart? it's carl." again, he was met with the mere silence as his fingertips hung heavy against the door handle. "i'm coming in, okay?" it wasn't a question, more like a warning.

when he did walk in, he was met with a sight he'd seen before.

tears coating the edges of your eyes, sitting criss-cross legged on your bed in your favourite pijamas, pretty stuffed toy between your legs. carl had seen this before, held you through it, comforted you and swore that whoever hurt you would pay. what was he to do now when he was the cause of your sorrow?

"hey, baby." his tone was as gentle as could be, making his way to sit next to you on the bed. "missed you."

you two were so different.

carl had the stubbornness of a mule, when things got tough he found it awfully hard to apologise, not that he ever had to do it much. though, he'd much prefer for everything to disappear in a blink of an eye, forget everything ever happened and go back to the way you two were.

and when you were upset? you shut off.

"i was thinking..." still avoiding the two words that would seemingly make it all okay. "maybe next week we can go someplace? find somewhere to hang out for the weekend, like a night away." his words prodded no reaction from you. "how's that sound, angel?"

a shrug was the only thing he was met with.

your glassy eyes strayed far from his, not even attempting to look him in the eyes. he sighed, unsure of where to go. "look at me, sweet girl." long fingers entrapping your chin and turning it towards him.

there was a pang of guilt as he looked in your glassy red eyes, evidence that you'd been crying earlier that day. and he'd been the cause of it.

finally, the long awaited. "I'm sorry." and carl the stubborn mule grimes didn't just apologise to anyone. "shouldn't have talked to you liked that, c'mere." in a time like this, all you needed was comfort, that was what compelled you to move with his hands, climbing into his lap. the sound of your soft cries soon filled his ears. "i know, i know, 'm so sorry." hand rubbing circles against your back, holding you close.

you didn't mean to cry the way you did, but the weight of the day collapsing on you was enough for you to cling to the boy.

you buried your head in the crook of his neck, wisps of his own hair in front of your face, his hat steady on his head as he held you so gently, as though you were made of glass.

a wobble of your bottom lip as you pulled away from the boy, holding your hands up to your face as if to shield yourself. there was something so scary about him seeing you cry. "i didn't..." your own voice cracking. "i didn't mean to be clingy."

his heart quite literally shattered.

"no, no." his voice sort of high pitched as he pulled your hands from your face. "no, you're not, sweetheart, i promise you're not."

you sniffled at the boy. "but you said―"

carl couldn't dare to hear the rest of such a sentence. "i didn't mean it, baby, i promise." he pulled you back towards his chest, head finding his neck again only this time you didn't cry as hard, mere sniffles leaving your nose. "was bein' an asshole, baby, 'm so sorry."

it'd take a while for you to believe him.

but he'd do whatever it took.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

806 notes · View notes

nothingbutsweetwords · 4 months ago

Text

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"...ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴇᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ"

Word count: 5,600.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

Warnings: Angst, mention of SA!, violence.

FALLING — 8. Him.

As they ventured beyond the gardens, the night unfurled before them like an endless canvas, speckled with stars gleaming like precious diamonds. The cool air brushed against their faces, his heart racing with a thrilling anticipation.

Time seemed suspended as their lips met for the first time. She leaned in with a determination that enchanted him, and their brief, gentle kiss pulsed with newfound love. As they separated, he silently wished this moment could last forever. Closing his eyes, he surrendered to the sweetness of her lips once more, and when they eventually pulled away, their hearts beat as one.

"Goodnight" she whispered, her voice barely audible with emotion of the moment. He studied her divine face carefully.

"Goodnight" he replied, his heart overflowing with happiness.

His steps were light, almost floating on the ground like it was made of clouds, as he replayed every detail of the encounter in his mind. Her smile, the softness of her voice, the warmth of her eyes. Everything about her captivated him, and now the opportunity to get closer to her lay before him.

The overwhelming feelings swirling inside him formed a maze of complexities and simplicities. He was deeply in love, a truth as soothing as it was exhilarating.

From the moment their eyes first met, something within him surged with indescribable force. Now, after witnessing countless dawns and dusks together, he finally understood the profound signals his body sent and the true sentiments his heart harbored. It was unmistakable: love, destined to flourish, destined to be. He was certain that, had it not been for fate, somehow they would have found their way to each other. Yet, he was profoundly grateful that the gods had paved their path.

The movements of servants and distant voices reached him as a faint murmur. In that moment, he only heard the rapid beating of his own heart and the echo of his steps leading him back to his chambers.

Reflecting nostalgically on the early days of their relationship, particularly that initial meeting in the library, it seemed like ages had passed and yet remained vivid as yesterday. Every moment spent in her company felt all too brief. She had the uncanny ability to transform every experience into something incredibly beautiful, a dream come true, and he perpetually yearned for more.

Upon entering his room, he collapsed onto the bed, paying no mind to the clothes touching the freshly changed sheets. He made no attempt to conceal the radiant smile that illuminated his face, one that seemed determined to etch itself there indefinitely.

His heart raced wildly yet also felt serene, as if it had been sprinting for hours and finally found repose, reassured that he was precisely where he belonged, every fragment of his life fitting seamlessly into place.

It had been his first kiss, a magical, momentous occasion and he was taken aback by its occurrence. It wasn't that he hadn't previously contemplated doing it, or that he didn’t want it, but he had been hesitant to rush into it.

With the taste of her lips lingering on his, he wondered if that was her first kiss too.

Just as he kept sinking into his thoughts, knocks on the door snapped him out of his reverie. He had completely forgotten that Aegon had promised a visit, and he couldn't wait for this meeting to end so he could see his princess again. The thought of them being alone excited him even more, filling him with indescribable joy. Perhaps, he thought, he could have another one before sleeping—and every night thereafter.

He opened the door with a radiant smile he couldn't care to hide. His elder brother greeted him with an amused and surprised look at seeing him so elated then entered the room followed by a servant carrying a pitcher and two cups. He, still lost in his daydream, watched curiously as the servant placed the things on the wooden table and discreetly withdrew. Aegon seemed more interested in the lady than anything else, but soon, when the door closed, he focused his attention on his brother.

With a quick gesture, he tossed something to Aemond, who caught it mid-air. It was a rough cloth cloak, starkly different from the soft garments he was accustomed to. He unfolded it, furrowing his brow, as he looked at his brother with curiosity.

"Is this my present?" he asked, unable to hide his confusion. He didn't expect much from Aegon, but a dirty cape seemed like a rather insulting gift, even from him.

"No, it's still too early for gifts. Come, sit down" his brother said, pointing to the armchair across from him. Aemond placed the cloak on the back of it, smoothing it carefully. Aegon chuckled softly before pouring wine into the cups.

He sat down, accepting the brimming goblet that Aegon offered. He didn't normally drink as much as his brother, but this time he decided to join him. The elder downed his in one go and set it aside, while he sipped slowly, still eager to receive his gift and return to the princess.

"May I have my gift now?" Aemond began to ask, but was calmly interrupted.

"I know you've been acquainted more closely of late, you and the princess. Especially in the nighttime" Aegon remarked casually, a sly glint in his eye. Instantly, he felt a jolt of alarm, worried that rumors were already swirling through the castle corridors. Aemond held his breath, his heart pounding hard. How could Aegon have found out about that? Then, with a playful smirk, his brother added, clearly relishing the tease: "It appears you hold her in high regard."

Caught off guard, he struggled for words. His mouth opened slightly in surprise and he remained silent, debating on how to respond.

"She is not the only one aware about the passages, but don’t worry, mother won’t know" Aegon continued nonchalantly. "Is there something you wish to share?" he probed.

After a pause, and under the expectant gaze of Aegon, he admitted: “Well, we… We have spent some time together, yes. And I find her company quite... pleasant.”

"You have feelings for her" Aegon asserted, his tone almost rhetorical.

"Of course I do, she's family" he tried to deflect, attempting to mask the truth of his emotions, but it was feeble. It was all too conspicuous; he was too transparent, and Aegon too perceptive.

His brother's eyes rolled at the predictable response. "Come now, Aemond. Your countenance betrays you." Aegon insisted with unusual calmness. He felt his mouth go dry and nervously took another sip of wine, the silence between them growing tense, charged with an expectation that the elder seemed to enjoy. "You've taken a liking to her, have you not?" he pressed, his expression urging honesty.

Exhaling heavily, he acknowledged the undeniable truth. "Perhaps I do... yes. This is all rather new to me" he admitted softly, revealing his inner thoughts to his brother for the first time. Aegon's smile widened reassuringly.

"And do you intend to declare yourself?" Aegon inquired knowingly, his tone now softer, almost understanding. For a brief moment, he debated the necessity; after all, they had already shared a first kiss. But the desire to fully reveal himself to her outweighed any doubts.

Aemond looked down, his thoughts invaded by memories. The first time their hands accidentally brushed in the library, the conspiratorial conversations meant only for their ears, the shared laughter that echoed like a melody, and the silences that were anything but awkward. Every detail of her had delighted him, and for once, Aegon was right: he couldn't deny it.

"I must admit, I'm relieved. I thought the only woman you'd ever fancy would be the one from your books." Aegon said, laughing softly. He got serious again, rolling his eyes at his brother’s snarky comment.

"Where are you going with this?" Aemond finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll lend a hand" Aegon offered warmly, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes. He frowned, taken aback by his brother's willingness to assist, yet also stung by the implication that he needed it in this pursuit. While it was true he didn't possess Aegon's effortless charm in certain matters, he was determined to win her heart entirely on his own terms and merits.

Silently, he shook his head and drained his cup in one swift sip.

"Are you not going to drink more?" He asked, surprised, trying to change the course of the conversation, noting that his brother had only had one glass of his favorite drink. Not that he seemed sober, but the fact that he wasn't almost unconscious was somewhat of a surprise.

"Thanks for caring, but even I know my limit. I've had a bit during dinner and in my room" He said with a light laugh. Aemond, not considering that to be little, decided not to argue. "But back to your gift... it's something special. In fact, I did it at your age. Now, I want to guide you through it." Leaning forward, his brother's eyes showed a hint of excitement. "I'll take you to a fun place tonight. A place where you can try new things and become more... experienced."

Aemond looked at him skeptically, trying to focus his vision that was beginning to blur. "What kind of place?"

Aegon leaned, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he filled his cup once more. "Oh, you'll see.”

"I think I've had enough" he murmured.

"Finish this one, and then we may go" insisted Aegon, pushing the cup towards his lips.

Aemond drank the wine with a grimace, noticing his mind beginning to cloud more with each sip.

"Fuck" he whispered, trying to keep steady.

"Feeling more relaxed now?" Aegon asked sarcastically, watching him with a mocking smile. "Is this your first time being drunk?" He nodded, a small laugh escaping his lips at the unfamiliar sensation. "You'll thank me later, I promise. I'm sure it will help you with your... beloved" the elder added cryptically.

"What do you mean by that, Aegon?" Aemond raised an eyebrow, his intrigue deepening.

"It's a surprise," he replied, rising from the sofa and grabbing his cloak, "trust me on this one. Now, shall we?" Aemond sighed inwardly, realizing arguing with his brother would be futile. He nodded reluctantly.

With a theatrical gesture, Aegon headed towards the back door and opened it, revealing the hallway where the princess always passed to see him.

"Come on, brother" Aegon said with an unusually serious tone. "You're going to love this."

He rose slowly, his mind filled with unanswered questions while grabbing the cloak. Aegon rarely showed such interest in something, which only heightened his curiosity and, at the same time, his wariness.

They left the room and silently made their way through the dark corridors of the castle. Aegon led Aemond to a secret door that he didn't even know existed, then opened it and revealed what lay behind.

Aemond furrowed his brow and began to shake his head. "I'm not sure this is a good idea" he said cautiously.

"Aemond, could you stop being such a prude for one night?" Aegon scoffed, rolling his eyes in disbelief. "It's your special day; I just want you to see the city.” he explained, then mockingly added: “Don’t tell me you’re afraid."

Aemond had never felt a genuine urge to explore the city, but Aegon's challenging tone, coupled with the slight boldness the wine had imparted, began to wear down his reluctance. Curiosity about the surprise also spurred him on. Moreover, he was eager to meet his beloved princess, and the sooner they finished this, the better.

Perhaps he could turn this experience into an interesting tale to share later—a memory of the remarkable night that signaled the beginning of a new chapter in his life, a chance to surprise her with a new adventure. He could also learn something more, should she ever wish to make an unforeseen escapade.

They descended the narrow stairs together, with Aegon leading the way. The guards appeared accustomed to the prince frequenting these places and simply opened the doors without questioning.

Once outside the castle walls, entering the city immersed him in a cacophony of noises. He kept his hood up, observing everything with curiosity tinged with caution. Unlike him, Aegon seemed unfazed by the possibility of being recognized, allowing his hair and face to be fully exposed and even exchanging friendly greetings with passersby.

Aegon spoke enthusiastically, recounting stories of his experiences in the city, and Aemond tried to listen attentively, but his mind was divided. He felt somewhat guilty for not enjoying the gift as much as his brother had intended.

The bustling atmosphere of the city began to unsettle him. Soon, the overwhelming number of people and the unpleasant smell disturbed him deeply. He felt uncomfortable and agitated, sweat beading on his forehead in the unfamiliar and potentially dangerous surroundings, unsure of what fate awaited him under Aegon's turbulent guidance.

They walked until they reached a shady alley. It was less crowded but equally foul-smelling and narrow as the previous path, he noticed. They approached the door of a larger house, its entrance concealed behind red curtains, giving no clue as to what may lay inside.

Some men silently opened it and they both stepped into it.

The smell changed upon it, but not necessarily for the better. Aemond looked up when he saw bare feet approaching them from the center of the room, dimly lit by candles. Aemond's breath caught in his throat and he felt the blood drain from his face as if he had seen a ghost. Fear mingled with revulsion as he realized the nature of the place, the weight of Aegon's expectations crushing down on him.

When Aemond turned to look at Aegon with a mixture of disbelief and confusion, he felt overpowered by the taller, more robust presence, who flashed a malicious smile and pulled back his hood.

Anxiety surged through him; he felt as though he were caught in a dangerous game, not fully understanding the rules or the objective. His heart began to pound harder in his chest, and his throat went dry when Aegon, who was in his element, pushed him further, closer to the woman, and said: "I want only the best for the one-eyed prince."

"I'm sorry, Aegon, I can't..." murmured Aemond, his voice barely a trembling whisper. But his protest was drowned out by Aegon's tired groan.

"You can't back out now" insisted Aegon firmly, his eyes gleaming with a determination that was more frightening to Aemond than any physical threat.

The woman in front of him smiled and extended her hand in an inviting gesture. However, he kept his hands firmly clenched at his sides, fists tightly closed with such force that he could feel the pain of his nails digging into his palms. His brother, seeing that he showed no signs of wanting to move forward, pushed him more towards the woman, who greeted him with another smile and grabbed his wrist.

He obeyed mechanically, his heart hammering painfully against his chest. Each step carried him further away from everything he knew, towards an abyss of the unknown and feared.

She was walking in front of him, dressed in a revealing attire that left little to the imagination. Feeling embarrassed, he lowered his gaze. Aegon continued to stand behind him, hands resting on his shoulders, urging him.

He wanted to react, genuinely trying, but he felt dazed, as if his mind was disconnected while his body moved on inertia. His face flushed with heat.

Although his gaze was fixed on his feet, his eye captured unsettling images, scenes he had never imagined and certainly should not be witnessing. As the figures moved about, a subtle melody played in the background amidst moans of various voices and tones.

Aemond swallowed hard, every fiber of his being screamed to stop, to turn around and run far from that place, but Aegon continued to push him forward. He felt like a marionette, strings pulled by Aegon's words and will.

And he kept walking towards his uncertain fate, desperately longing for some miracle to divert him from this imposed path, to regain ownership of his life once more.

The woman, moving deliberately and maintaining a consistently gentle demeanor, positioned them in front of semi-transparent curtains.

"Come now, don't linger" Aegon urged impatiently, a sly smile twisting his lips.

Aemond hesitated, unease settling in his gut. He didn't want to enter, didn't want to confront whatever lay inside.

"I don't think..." Aemond stammered, his objections weak against Aegon's strong grip on his shoulder, propelling him ahead.

"You see, brother," Aegon whispered in his ear, his tone low and insidious, "this is where boys become men. You can't shy away from what life demands of you."

Aemond felt trapped, like a lamb led to slaughter. Every nerve screamed for escape, but he found himself unable to resist the pull of Aegon; his persuasive words wormed their way into his thoughts like a creeping vine. Aemond's mind reeled, torn between revulsion and the need to please his elder brother.

Impatiently, Aegon parted the curtains and pushed him into the room. Aemond closed his eyes briefly, cold sweat beading on his forehead as a wave of nausea swept over him. His thoughts became a chaotic whirlwind of denial and despair.

As the curtains closed behind him, he avoided lifting his gaze. His hands remained clenched, his legs heavy. From the center of the small room, a soft voice broke the silence: "My prince, don't be shy."

Despite the invitation, he continued reluctantly to look up. The voice, with a playful tone, drew nearer, descending from a bed. The room seemed to absorb all sound, leaving Aemond with the deafening echo of his own racing pulse and the measured steps from the woman.

She walked slowly towards him with grace, and he could see her bare body approaching. He felt rooted to the spot, unable to move, his body stiff and tense, experiencing slight tremors. He wanted to protest, but the words stuck in his throat.

The woman moved behind him, and he finally lifted his gaze. He observed the walls adorned with explicit paintings, while numerous candles scattered around the room illuminated the space, highlighting a large round bed in the center. He felt like an intruder in his own skin, his mind and body disconnected in a harrowing internal struggle.

The atmosphere was dense, heavy with something oppressive, something that seemed to steal all the air from his lungs. Forced to breathe quickly and deeply, his nostrils filled with a pungent scent of myrrh that seemed to seep into his very being. Discomfort threatened to become more visible with each second.

His face contorted in an expression of revulsion and distress as he felt hands resting heavily on his shoulders, while warm breath caressed the nape of his neck.

"I'm going to make you a man" she whispered softly in his ear.

He barely remembers the journey back to the Red Keep, except that he purged himself in some dark corner of the city, relieving just a bit of the discomfort plaguing him.

He was grateful that the sun had yet to rise, sparing him from many witnesses to his sorry state, just a few guards and servants.

They entered through the main door of his chambers, one of his arms was draped around his brother's neck, who bore all his weight, as he couldn't muster the strength to walk. Aegon laid him down in his bed. The room spun slightly around him.

"What did you do to me?" Aemond whispered, looking at his brother with a blend of confusion and betrayal. His words slurred slightly, and the edges of his vision blurred further into a disorienting haze.

Aegon met his gaze with a furrowed brow, the telltale signs of intoxication evident in his expression. The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows across his features, highlighting the creases of concern and bewilderment etched upon his face before he turned away.

Aemond tried to fight the drowsiness creeping over him, but it proved futile. His eyelids grew heavier despite his efforts, and eventually, they succumbed, closing shut, the faint sound of Aegon closing the door echoed in his ears as he slipped into darkness.

As the sun began to timidly filter through the windows, painting the room with a soft but unsettling light, Aemond woke up with a knot in his stomach. The confusion still weighed heavily on his mind. Every image echoed painfully from the events of the previous night.

He sat on the bed, hugging his knees as his gaze wandered over the white sheets. Memories began to surface and cling to his mind like a heavy, dark cloak. He felt corrupted, as if the shadow of what had happened was seeping into his skin and soul.

The silence in the room was deafening, interrupted only by the distant sounds of the castle coming to life. He squeezed his eye shut, trying in vain to ward off the memories that mercilessly intruded into his mind.

He didn't realize when his mother entered the room; her voice rumbled low, almost imperceptibly intrigued in his ears. A servant discreetly withdrew upon seeing him.

He wondered if it was his bare face that had alerted her, the patch lost at some point in the night revealing his wound, or maybe she could see what he had done. Maybe she sensed it and noticed how stained he was.

In the distance, the aroma of freshly cooked breakfast drifted from the table, a small sign of normalcy in a world that seemed to have lost all its balance for him.

His mother approached quickly, wanting to comfort him, but he recoiled. He couldn't allow her to be tainted by his actions.

"Leave" he murmured, avoiding her gaze.

"My child, what is the matter?" she asked, her eyes full of anguish and her hand reaching out to him, but he couldn't accept it, even though he wanted to.

The images kept coming, clearer each time, confirming what now was. Nothing but something murky, impure, darkened, spoiled.

"Don't touch me" he pleaded. He felt his mother withdraw her hand.

"Please, tell me what happened, we can solve it together" she pleaded, tears starting to flow her eyes. "Do you want me to call the princess? Anything, my child, just tell me how I can..." Her voice was painful.

"No!" he shouted, making his mother flinch in fear. Immediately, he felt worse.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked desperately.

Not wanting to hurt her further, he said with a trembling voice, "I just want a bath, please." She nodded and quickly left, wishing to be helpful and offer any assistance he needed.

After his mother exited the room, he rose from the bed and tore off the grimy sheets where he had slept. With a mixture of frustration and sorrow, he tossed them aside onto the floor, the same spot where he then discarded his soiled suit.

It had been his favorite, adorned with delicate embroideries meticulously crafted by his sister, worn proudly on his nameday, now tragically besmirched beyond repair.

Once the bath was ready and the room fell silent, he dragged his feet to the bathtub. Every movement was an effort, as if he was navigating through a world made of dense darkness.

He scrubbed his skin with the sponge until it turned red and his mind urged him to stop, trying to rid himself of any trace of the unpleasant smell. He washed his hair, hoping to erase the memories. He submerged himself in the water, seeking to drown out the feeling from his body, but the sensation of dirtiness persisted.

He stayed in the bathtub until his skin wrinkled and the water cooled. As he emerged, he passed by the mirror. The reflection revealed tired, baggy eyes and an expression etched with pain and confusion. He climbed back into bed, hoping to find some form of comfort.

Lying there, staring at the ceiling as the sun rose slowly, a ray of light pierced through the window, illuminating the sapphire on his bedside table. Tears welled up and finally spilled over, coursing down his cheek like rivers of pain and regret. The reflections of lights and colors danced on the walls and ceiling, mirroring the turmoil within him.

Breakfast remained untouched on the table, as did the other meals his mother silently brought throughout the day. Thoughts crowded chaotically: Was it real?

He squeezed his eye shut, allowing the silence of his room to envelop him like a comforting blanket. Nestled in the softness of the new sheets, he sought refuge, hoping they would shield him from the relentless onslaught of his own mind. Yet, tears continued to flow unabatedly.

The following days passed in a heavy silence, immersed in a state of denial. He felt no inclination to rise and confront reality.

Each task seemed insurmountable, and he had no desire to encounter anyone, engage in conversation, or face the concerned glances and unspoken inquiries he knew would come.

There wasn't much room for his mother's well-intentioned visits that could further destabilize his fragile balance, nor for food, even the simplest appetite felt as distant as the sun on a cloudy day.

He grew accustomed to the monotony of the room, its walls the sole witnesses to his silent pain. Sometimes, he sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly without truly seeing, while the outside world continued to spin, unaware of his suffering.

During those days of isolation, he tried to find peace in the emptiness of solitude, allowing himself to simply exist without the pressure to act or face the truth.

Then another feeling emerged; each sigh was an attempt to free himself from the heavy burden of guilt that imprisoned him.

New questions arose: How could he do that? Guilt enveloped him like dense fog, making him question every decision, every word spoken, every gesture made.

He decided to store the sapphire in the dagger's case, hiding it behind a stack of books as if that could somehow make its presence less felt. The sapphire's gleam felt unbearable, as if each sparkle was a silent reproach, reminding him of the horrendous actions of the previous night. The lingering scent of roses mixed with the scent permeating him only exacerbated his torment, evoking images of his sin that refused to disappear.

The next day, his mother appeared again with breakfast.

"I've brought you a new patch" she said, her voice laden with concern, as if seeking permission to share in his grief.

Seeing him rise from the bed and head toward the table, she took it as an invitation and sat beside him. He began eating small bites, but he knew that staying silent with his thoughts could sink him deeper into his pain. He wanted to avoid mentioning her name, as if it could be tainted by simply pronouncing it, but he needed to know how she was. Surely worried, maybe even upset.

"Has she come to see me?" he asked softly.

His mother didn't need to ask whom he meant. She lowered her gaze, and he began to fear the worst.

"The princess left for Driftmark a few days ago" she said quietly. The fork slipped from his weak fingers, and he furrowed his brow, staring blankly at the plate in front of him. "Ser Laenor has passed away" his mother added. Confused, he looked up.

"And the funeral?"

"Your father and brother have traveled to be present, they must be returning by now" she explained.

"But why aren't we there?"

"That day you told me you didn't wish to see her, so I assumed..." He cursed under his breath, cutting her off as he buried his face in his hands.

He wanted to scream in frustration, yet he knew he couldn't fault anyone but himself. He had forbidden visits. Had he been informed, he would have acted differently, however, he also never allowed his mother an opportunity to speak.

The knowledge that she left shattered him to his core. How could he survive without her by his side?

Guilt overwhelmed him even more. She, who had set everything aside to be with him without any ulterior motives, was now mourning the loss of her father while he hid in the comfort of his bed, lamenting his decisions.

After that, he couldn't eat anymore, feeling his stomach clench instantly. His mother withdrew, still worried but grateful for having accompanied him even for a brief moment.

Aware that she was likely headed to Dragonstone, he took paper and pen, determined to send a letter to that destination, seeking to offer an apology. He didn't feel ready to face the darkness he had allowed that night, nor to confront the very possible disappointment in her eyes, but still he wrote that if she requested it, he would mount Vhagar in the blink of an eye and fly to wherever she was, ready to stand by her side no matter what.

Days turned into weeks, and he became a mere shadow of his former self. He neither ate nor slept, and words seemed to have abandoned him entirely.

Unyielding flashbacks haunted him, casting a relentless shadow over his waking hours and his dreams alike. These memories were vivid and fresh, like an open wound that refused to heal.

The grotesque sounds and screams, the frantic rush, the stinging tears in his eye, the bitter taste of blood from biting his lips, the mocking laughter, the barrage of vulgar words that stung—each detail made him feel like a trapped animal.

He knew he had done wrong, he had ruined his reputation. The sense of failure gnawed at him, as a man, as a prince, as a future husband, as himself.

He longed for those moments to be forgotten, buried deep within his mind. But they clung to him like a parasite, feeding on his despair, and twisting him into someone unrecognizable.

His brother's words echoed in his mind, making him feel like a coward for his inability to handle the situation.

Every time he closed his eyes, the images infiltrated his thoughts, consuming him like wildfire. He realized the battle with that would never truly end.

He felt like a vessel of dirt and filth, a walking embodiment of shame.

Desperate for distraction, he threw himself into his studies and training, avoiding eye contact, shrinking from touch. He couldn't bear the thought of being seen, of being surrounded by others.

One day, lying in his room, immersed in dark thoughts, a burden weighed heavily on him. He waited in vain for any sign from the princess, any news to alleviate his growing anguish.

Suddenly, someone on the door broke the oppressive silence, pulling him out of his reverie. His mother usually entered without notice, and the servants no longer frequented his room, so these unexpected knocks caught his attention.

A glimmer of hope arose within him. Could it be that she had returned? He quickly suppressed the idea.

The room, once filled with her essence, now lay stripped and empty, as if it had never been occupied. No trace of her presence remained, not even the sweet aroma that used to linger in the air. The only proof of her presence was a gift hidden in the shadows.

He hesitated, unsure whether to open the door. As the knocks persisted, he quickly adjusted his eye patch and prepared to receive whoever was on the other side.

When he opened it, Helaena stood revealed. With a small, warm smile, she moved toward his bed. He closed the door behind her and stood, staring at the ground, ashamed to see his sister after everything.

Helaena moved delicately, holding something in her hands. "Aemond" she called softly, drawing his attention. When he finally looked up, he found an empathetic expression, contrasting with the concern from their mother.

"I've brought some roses from the gardens" Helaena announced calmly, placing a crystal vase near his bed. He looked at her gratefully, feeling as though she had read his mind.

Helaena took a few steps toward him, respecting his space. Aemond silently appreciated this gesture, knowing his sister was not one for physical displays of affection, and he did not feel deserving of a hug.

"I made you another" she said, handing the clothes over carefully, with an implicit understanding of the story surrounding her previous gift, one he had to discard after that fateful night. Aemond nodded, his heart moved by the gesture.

Unfolding the soft fabrics, he revealed a new suit, this time black, in stark contrast to the greens he usually wore. The delicate, perfect embroideries reminded him of the last one, but these were even finer and more elaborate, as if they held a promise of renewal and strength.

"Thank you" he whispered, struggling to convey the depth of his gratitude.

Helaena smiled gently, as if to say there was no need. Aemond felt she understood more than she could express with words, wishing to comfort him in her unique way.

Before leaving, Helaena added with a hint of mystery in her voice "I like to believe that our wait will be rewarded, don't you?" He nodded, almost imperceptibly, without taking his eyes off hers.

With those words resonating in his mind, Aemond was left alone in the room, feeling a little lighter. Then, he let the tears fall again, washing away the pain and anger that threatened to overflow him.

@helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @callsignwidow @scarletbedlam @fics-i-love-and-recommend @oh-you-mean-me @squidscottjeans @fossface

Last part as kids! I feel so bad for Aemond :(

#aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen x female reader #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

312 notes · View notes

vincentsambershades · 1 year ago

Text

How not to tame a dragon

Cregan Stark x Targ!fem!reader

Summary: when Cregan Stark informs his Targaryen bride that she cannot bring her mount with her to Dorne, all hell breaks loose.

(I usually avoid writing since English is not my native language (be warned). I was, however, inspired by some hotd-fics from my favourite creators and wanted to write something fun, about our favourite northern man, mister cregan, which I'm actually pretty proud of. So here it goes.)

Word count: 2.5k-2.6k

Warnings: 18+, angst, smut, fingering, p in v, tiny bit of breeding kink, flufffffff

When Cregan Stark was first presented with the young Targaryen princess he didn't fail to notice the fire that erupted from within her. A fire caused by her close attachment to her dragon. Her Cannibal, albeit frightening, had served the both of them well enough after their wedding. And even though Cregan was hesitant to ride on dragonback, his wife had charmed him in doing so relatively early in their marriage.

In spite of how much Cregan admired the beast, as well as the bond between his bride and her mount, there were moments when he wished he hadn't been married to a Dragonrider.

The princess was used to roaming Westeros with her loyal travel companion. Therefore, when the time had come for the newly wed couple to head to Dorne, in order to manage 'certain financial and commercial matters', as her husband had called them, Cregan prevented her from bringing her beloved dragon along. He insisted that a dragon, despite being a sign of force and power, would create an intimidating environment that would leave no room for impartial negotiation. He was right of course, as always, but the wrath of the dragon was easy to provoke.

"Cannibal is coming with us to Dorne! The cold of the North is no good for him! The heat will soothe him!" she was red in the face and as terrifying as the wild thing she had managed to tame.

"My love, you know we cannot travel with a dragon to Dorne, bringing your beast along will only serve as provocation which we cannot afford!" said Cregan only fuelling his wife's fury.

"This is outrageous!" she looked almost as if she intended to feed him to the dragon.

No direwolf would ever be able to save him from that fate.

She didn't speak to him for at least two weeks after that.

Around that time, their journey to Dorne began.

After long hours of travelling, as night was setting, time had come for them to rest and as Cregan helped his men set out camp for the night, his wife was taking a stroll near the frozen river. She was wrapped in more furs than he could count and looked as if she would tumble over from their weight any moment now.

She would appear comical had it not been for that sour expression on her face.

Separating her from her dragon seemed to toll on her more and more as the days passed. Her denial to exchange more words with him, other than 'Good Morrow' and occasionally 'Good night', didn't seem to improve her mood either.

It didn't matter to her that she missed him. The princess wanted for her husband to be the first, out of the two, to break. She wanted for him to seek her out, chase her and claim her all over again.

Cregan needed her too. He had always known that half her heart belonged to her dragon. That was what happened with all Targaryens.

He had come to terms with that.

Yet, there were moments, like this when the mere view of his beautiful wife had him hoping that he owned at least some part of her heart.

He felt silly. He knew that their marriage was a political arrangement. Her father had established that when the match was made. However, Cregan couldn't help but feel lucky to have found a match in the princess, their chemistry was undeniable and their times together were filled with all the passion other political marriages lacked. There was mutual understanding in their marriage.

Cregan shook these thoughts and concentrated on the task ahead. So called traders from Dorne had been entering his borders and tormenting villages on his coastlines. Of course, the Lord had tried to diplomatically remove them from his land but when the situation became unbearable and his ambassadors came back empty handed, he knew it was time for a formal visit to the far South. He had been tempted to use his wife's creature in order to intimidate them, but the thought of causing further commotion, when the throne was so vulnerable, prevented him from doing so. For a Stark, Cregan's will to maintain the peace was greater than his thirst for battle.

Cregan was lost in his thoughts as the men sat around the fire, passing around carafes of ale to warm them during the cold night. It took his companions quite a bit of convincing, but he finally accepted to take a swing.

"To keep you warm, Lord." insisted the man who was sitting on his right. Cregan took the carafe, offering the man a grateful smile, and drank generously.

Instead of downing more, he wrapped his coat tighter around him and relaxed while watching the flames. Cregan managed to lose himself in the moment. He didn't know what it was, the easy atmosphere or his companions' laughter, but something warm bloomed in his chest. How he had missed travelling. Roaming the North with his friends as the moonlight illuminated them.

It felt even better this time. Because in this particular occasion, he had her to share it with. His stubborn little wife. His fierce dragon rider.

And that was when it hit him.

Cregan realised he hadn't seen her in more than an hour. The last time his eyes had fallen on her, she was wandering around, kicking the snow with her feet. He didn't think she had headed for the woods, he knew she wasn't that careless. Before they began their journey he had, after all, made sure to inform her of all the dangers they might come across, wolves, bears and other animals humans shouldn't meddle with. Therefore, she had to be in their shared tent.

"What is it Lord?" the man turned to him again. Cregan attempted to hide the worry off his voice.

"Have you seen my Lady around?"

"I fear I haven't, Lord, she must be resting." offered the man with a toothy grin that did nothing to ease Cregan's worry.

Cregan rose to his feet swiftly, turning on his heels and heading to the tent where he found nothing but an untouched bed and a trunk he himself had placed there. He exited the narrow space, searching for any sign of his wife. His vision, despite being acute, served him little in the moment and the full moon, albeit helpful, didn't shine enough light upon the heavy snow. His mind ran several miles an hour, considering all the possible paths the princess could've taken. He began his search without being in control of where his feet took him until he reached the river. He looked for footprints but found none. Even if she had taken that route, the fresh snow would've covered her tracks.

His train of thought was rudely interrupted by a crack on the ice that had gathered at the edges of the river. The sound of the rapture was followed by a splash in the cold water and a womanly scream, one that undoubtedly belonged to his wife.

He followed the direction of the sound only to be met with the sight of the princess' attempt at defying the coldness of the river and swimming to the surface. Without second thought, Cregan rid himself of his fur coat, keeping on his less warm leather attire. He placed the heavy coat to the side and got in the freezing water aiming for his wife. She was easy to identify, even in the dim moonlight, and so he reached for her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her out, letting her limp body rest against the snow covered ground but only long enough for him to pull his dry furs on top of her soaked ones. After she was securely wrapped in them, he carried her unconscious back to the untouched bed he had prepared for her.

"You stupid girl..." he scolded her while peeling her clothes off and leaving them near the fire to dry. Despite being close to the fire and covered in all the blankets Cregan could find, she was still shivering. "The blood of the dragon is not enough to keep you warm after all..." she had awakened during this time and was aware of everything he threw at her.

Had she been in her senses, she would've jumped at him for daring to question the fire in her veins. But she was weak and defeated as she watched him pull his own clothes off.

He knew there was only one way to warm her up fast and that was body heat. And no matter how mad she had been at him for the past two weeks, she couldn't help but feel grateful as he covered himself in the blankets and pulled her to him. His arms found their place around her waist and she buried her face in the crook of his neck inhaling the manly scent of him. He started running his fingers up her back, all the way to her damp hair, and down again, just above her rear. He grabbed her thigh, hiking her leg over his hip and drawing her closer. His fingers found her front and caressed the skin below her bellybutton, tentatively delving lower. She heaved a sigh, her now hot breath hitting his neck as he let his urges overtake him.

His hand found its place between her thighs. She was warm there. Warm and soft. He dipped his fingers in her delicate folds, finding her oversensitive bud and circling it. They hadn't coupled in a while and his desire for her was driving him crazy.

"Cr-Cregan..." she whimpered and for a moment he thought she was hesitant. That thought, however, didn't plague him for long. When he pulled away to look at her face, to search for a negative reaction, he saw her pouty lips regaining their colour and her eyes reddened with unshed tears and clouded with want, pleading for him to finally touch her.

"Please, please, please-" as much as he usually enjoyed her begging him to take her, he was quick to stop her whimpering by capturing her lips in a kiss. His lips felt hot against hers and as he replaced his index finger with his thumb on her pearl, reaching lower and teasing her entrance, she gasped offering him the perfect chance to deepen the kiss. His fingers felt heavenly inside her, pumping in and out of her always hitting the rough spot that Cregan knew made her see stars.

Even with his fingers inside her and his length, brushing against her lower stomach, the kiss was his personal way of reclaiming her, swallowing her whole.

She reached her smaller hand between their bodies, taking him in her hand and stroking him as he sat hot and heavy in her palm.

She pulled away and her slack expression, lust filled eyes and kiss-swollen lips could have made him peak at that instant.

"I want you inside of me, now." she stated and how could he refuse her. Especially when she looked so eager, practically begging him to fill her.

He was quick to pull his fingers out of her, leaving her with an empty feeling. She didn't complain though, not when the sight of him getting on top of her and settling between her thighs had rendered her speechless.

He lowered his hips, reaching between his legs to tease her with his tip before entering her in one forceful thrust. She let out a yelp and choked out a moan.

The feeling of him long and thick, stretching her out after weeks of refusing him couldn't compare to anything.

Except, perhaps, for the feeling of her, wet and warm and tight, around her husband. Cregan swore there was no other woman besides his wife that felt so perfect.

Her tears, from how intense their lovemaking was, had Cregan remembering their first time together, right after their wedding feast when he had her lay on silk sheets, broken her maidenhead and molded her to him.

"Cregan I need to-need to-" she tried to say while Cregan delivered licks and bites to the sensitive skin of her neck.

"What do you need, my girl?" he thrust in her hard and fast, the way she liked it as his lips landed on her breast, sucking lovemarks and taking her nipple in his mouth, making her moan loud enough for everyone around to hear.

"I n-need to peak, please!" she managed and who was he to deny her wishes. He led his fingers to her pearl, rubbing it while hitting her sweet spot.

"Suck a good girl for me, begging me for her peak. Do it, I want to feel you come apart on my cock" he commanded her and not long after that her climax hit her. She held onto him, her nails digging into his biceps as he kept his unrelenting pace. His murmurs of 'that's it' and 'good girl' were muffled by her hair. Endless mantras of his name left her lips as she rode out her orgasm, her hips moving involuntarily against his own.

"Do you want me to spill in you, uh, my love?" he asked almost mockingly as his thrusts grew uneven, a sign he was close.

"Sp-spill in me Cregan!" she yelped as he continued to abuse her insides. Her husband groaned at her lustful pleas, grabbing her face and forcing her to look him in the eye.

"I will, sweet girl. I will spill in you, make you round with my pup. You would like that, wouldn't you?" Cregan came apart with a satisfied moan, his warmth filling her and then running down her thighs as he grew soft and pulled out.

He didn't leave her side after that. He laid beside her, instead of on top of her, and pulled her to him. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to regain her breath and Cregan placed reassuring kisses to her forehead.

After a few moments of utter silence, he heard her sniffle and mutter something against his throat. He soon came to realise she was apologizing. He gave her a questioning look, wondering what she had to apologize for.

"I'm sorry for avoiding you for two weeks, it was stupid and immature of me and I'm so so-" he silenced her with a kiss to which she responded quickly.

"You have nothing to apologise for." Her expression was hopeful. "I understand what it is like to be parted from something or someone you've truly set your heart to. That's what staying away from you felt like" she gave him a nod before letting his words truly set in. Her confusion painted her face a scarlet red and her anticipation was later imprinted in her voice.

"What are you saying?" she questioned and he sighed softly, cupping her cheek and wholly giving into her.

"I love you infinitely, my fierce dragon princess. And you needn't say it back. Not unless it's your truth." a weak smile formed on her lips.

"I love you too, have loved since I married you, before that even." her cries ceased. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, inviting him to her. "I love you my wild man from the North, my wolf." he laughed at that, an honest heartfelt laugh, the vibrations of which she felt against her own chest, and proceeded to kiss her.

Cregan kissed his dragon princess like his life depended on it.

#cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #cregan stark smut #house targaryen #house stark #cregan imagine #cregan stark x targaryen!reader #my writing

1K notes · View notes

cryptidghostgirl · 8 months ago

Text

Alastor x Reader Master List

My Alastor list is getting crazy long so I am giving it it's own post just so my big Hazbin Hotel Master List doesn't get too confusing.

Other Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

List of Things I Won't Write

Series are marked in purple

Requests are marked in pink

Suggestive are marked in orange

NSFW are marked in red

Make You Wish Master List -> Y/n has known Alastor since she first ended up in Hell. When he disappeared? She thought her life was over. Seven years have passed since then and slowly but surely, the 1950s housewife turned murderer has made a life for herself, full of good decisions and some bad ones. What will happen when Alastor turns back up again, sending the world as she has made it into chaos once again?

What Can I Do For You (Alastor x Reader) → What if the deal Alastor made that is controlling his power was with Y/n?

Understand (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader) → Y/n has been using the exterminations as a way to try and search for the soul of her earthly husband for years. What happens when she actually succeeds in finding him?

→ Caged Bird (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader) -> Reader wakes up in Alastor's room at the Hotel after the events of Understand.

Wrath (Alastor x Overlord!Spouse!Reader) → Y/n’s anger in finding that after seven years, their husband has returned to Pentagram City and decided not to tell them.

Unrequited (Alastor x Reader) → It is too late for him to change things now. It doesn't matter what else has happened, that he's gotten to know her, seen her light. Some broken things can never be fixed. 'You came' 'you called' but make it sad.

→ Unrequited Pt. 2 -> Reader steps in when Alastor is attacking Husk.

→ Unrequited Pt. 3 -> Alastor refuses to let Y/n be present for the battle against Heaven and will do whatever it takes to keep her safe, even if she hates him for it.

Fuel and the Fire (Alastor x Wife!Partner-in-Crime!Reader) → Alastor and Y/n have a deal with Lilith where until a soul is redeemed at Charlie’s hotel, Y/n is under her control. Alastor will do whatever it takes to get his wife back, but that doesn’t mean he won't get a little sad a lonely along the way.

Loving You (Alastor x Gn!Reader) → Valentine's day special :) The story of how Alastor and Y/n realized they had feelings for one another.

Sweet (Alastor x Chubby!Reader) → Hurt//comfort. A random demon insults the reader and Alastor comes to comfort her, later dealing with the demon in a typically Alastor way of handling such a crime.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader) → Fake dating trope. Y/n and Alastor met when they tried to kill one another, how could they not end up at least a little bit in love?

-> Cover Up pt. 2

→ Cover Up pt. 3

Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader) → Y/n just wants to watch the world burn. Being married was a boon at first but later, rather inconvenient. When she died, she did everything she could to avoid her husband and continue her work but fate had other plans.

→ Till Death Do Us Part pt. 2

→ Till Death do us Part pt. 3

Prepare for Battle (Platonic!Alastor x Platonic!Cat Demon!Reader) → Alastor and Y/n have been engaged in a prank battle for decades. What happens when just a few days after Alastor reappears in the Pride ring, Y/n joins him at the Hazbin Hotel?

Rhapsody Master List → Gn!Reader. Alastor and Y/n have been taking down the overlords of Hell together for years but Y/n has had a secret and Alastor knows it. They each go their separate ways because of this but what happens when years later their paths intersect once again. Loosely inspired by Raine and Eda in The Owl House.

The Guilt (Alastor x Reader) → Y/n was the one person he never meant to kill, but Alastor didn't have a choice. Years later, much to his surprise, they run into one another in the depths of Pentagram City.

Pretty Bunny (Alastor x Chubby!Rabbit Demon!Reader) → Alastor catches Angel and Y/n getting ready for a night out and stops Y/n from going. Hurt/comfort.

I Myself am Strange and Unusual (Alastor x Living!Addams family!Reader x Lucifer) → Y/n is bored and summons some demons.

The Love (Alastor x Reader) → Alastor is drunk and Charlie asks him if he has ever been in love.

Frostbite (Alastor x Reader) → History repeats itself in odd and uninvited ways. Life cycles on even in death.

→ Day Lilies (Alastor x Blizzard demon!Reader x Angel!OC)

Humanity's Most Favored Fantasy (Alastor x Reader) → It wasn't love. Alastor didn't feel love, not anymore. He'd lost that part of himself the day he died so it couldn't be love, could it?

→ Humanity's Most Favored Fantasy pt. 2

Mishap of Magic (Alastor x Chubby!Rabbit Demon!Reader) → Alastor’s magic backfires and Y/n is there to help. Who would have guessed that a situation such as this would give him the last push he needed to tell her how he felt?

Destruction//Creation (Vox x Alastor's Ex!Reader x Alastor) → Alastor refuses to let the past die and Y/n would rather pretend it never existed.

The Thing (Alastor x Gn!Reader) → Alastor meets his shadow.

Masquerade (Alastor x Angel!Exorcist!Reader) → Y/n is sent to the Hazbin Hotel as a spy.

Downfall (Alastor x Chubby!Rabbit Demon!Reader) → Y/n see’s Alastor talking to Rosie and thinks she is what he wants in a woman. Little does she know, he was meeting with Rosie to ask for advice on how to talk to Y/n.

What it Means to be a Person (Alastor x Cyborg!Reader) → Y/n gave an arm and a leg to the fight against the exterminators and feels she has lost her humanity by the bionic replacements Lucifer and Charlie gifted her in return. Alastor reminds her that not all is lost, she can still dance, after all.

Spicy Sienna and Berry Naughty (Alastor x Chubby!Gn!Reader!) → Alastor likes the fact that Y/n has begun matching their lipstick to their nail polish -- loves it, in fact. What he doesn’t like is that other people have started noticing. (this one is a bit… weird so I am marking it as suggestive.)

Burn (Human!Alastor x Human!Gn!Reader) → What happens when Alastor spots his ideal target, Mimzy’s newest hired talent? What happens when they evade his capture? What happens when, slowly, he begins to realize -- Alastor doesn’t want to kill them? At least, not anymore.

Drawing Down the Moon (Alastor x Ancient Roman!Witch!Reader) → Alastor reencounters an old friend.

451 notes · View notes

paperultra · 1 year ago

Text

candy stripes.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5,048 words Warnings: Swearing, hospital setting [A/n: Soulmate AU. :)]

sortiger (adjective): delivering prophecies of the future; having the qualities of being oracular

Nobody else can see the string but you.

You wish you didn’t. It has no texture, no weight, so you can’t understand why it can’t be invisible too. But the string demands attention with every use of your hands, seizes your eye when you wash dishes in the morning and brush your teeth at night, a garish and bloody red that matches the stripes of your uniform.

You hate your string and you hate the color red.

Miss Xinyu, the old lady in Room 30, has one too. At least, that’s what she had told you when you gained the courage to mention yours one day, not knowing what it meant and how much you would come to dread it.

“It’s your red string of fate,” she had explained. “It connects you to the person who understands you more than anyone else in the world.”

In other words, your soulmate. Your one and only.

Miss Xinyu says you’re a lucky ducky, knowing what your future holds.

Her string goes into the ground now. You don’t think being reminded of a dead person whenever you look at your pinkie is very lucky.

The biggest reason why you hate the string so much, though, is because you’ve always had a problem doing what you’re supposed to unless you want to, which causes a lot of trouble for a nine-year-old girl. You already have trouble being nice to patients who are mean to you, so how can you love and wait for someone you’ve never met? It makes you feel icky.

Why can’t you choose? How come you have to have one at all?

Your only source of comfort is that your string is very, very thin and runs out of the hospital. That means your soulmate, whoever they are, is very, very far away. You’d very much like it to stay that way.

But it doesn’t.

—

Nurse Taoh wants you to watch the patients in Room 8 while he finishes his charts. You don’t really want to, if only because it’s Nurse Taoh asking – he likes to order you around more than Dr. Gu – but you don’t want to get into trouble again, so you go.

(… And okay, you are just a little bit curious about the new inpatients. You only know three things about them: one, they were brought in together last night while you were in your room poking holes into your paper instead of correcting it; two, they’re a man and a boy, presumably father and son; and three, everyone says it’s a miracle they’re still alive.)

(Then again, you’ve seen many miracles here.)

The unit is quiet as you walk down the hallway. Quiet, but not silent, as your polished shoes squeak like little mice against the floor and you whisper the room numbers as you pass by them. Two, four, six – eight.

You stop and knock, three sharp raps against the brown wood.

“Hello?” You open the door and poke your head in. “My name is –”

The squiggly-patterned curtain that often separates patients for privacy is drawn, and you clamp your mouth shut as you realize the patient closest to you is asleep.

Shutting the door silently, you creep closer to the foot of his bed. The man underneath the sheets lies quietly; he is little more than a skeleton, eyes sunken and bones sticking out underneath blistered skin. His beard is long and scraggly, but it pales in comparison to his mustache, each side braided and sticking out to the sides.

He looks angry, even though he’s sleeping. You hope he’s not the type to wake up and yell at you as you tiptoe past to check on the boy.

You pass the curtain, catch a glimpse of the bed sheets, and see –

Red.

Your feet root themselves in place, the room suddenly devoid of air.

You stare. Blink hard, twice. Look again. Then, trembling, you look down at your hand.

Your eyes trace the string around your own finger, following down to the dip of it that barely touches the ground and back up over the blankets until it ends in a red loop around the boy’s pinkie, tied off with a little bow.

Your stomach turns.

Stumbling forward, you make your way to the visitor’s chair in the corner. You slump down into it and stare straight ahead at the curtain, refusing to look at the boy’s face.

He continues to sleep.

You don’t want him to wake up.

—

The boy does not stir during your first meeting, but that small mercy is quickly eclipsed two days later by a single bowl of chicken broth.

The look on your face is sour as you walk down the hallway again, the broth splashing up against the lid with each step. Because most of the patients in the hospital you live in are elderly, the staff have somehow gotten it into their heads that you simply must spend time with the boy in Room 8 because he is your age and you need to socialize with other kids. You very much don’t want to. Not with him, at least.

Dr. Gu is just leaving the room when you arrive. She gives you a quick smile, the corners of her eyes wrinkling, and pats your head.

“So you heard that the boy woke up, huh?”

You grunt, looking away with a pout. “Can’t you give this to him, Dr. Gu?”

“Nope. I have to finish my rounds,” she says. “Go in and have a chat. His name is Sanji. You’ll like him.”

“I doubt it,” you mumble underneath your breath.

Dr. Gu probably hears you, but she doesn’t scold you, merely patting your head one last time before you enter Room 8.

The dividing curtain is drawn this time. The window curtains are pulled back, too; it’s a somewhat cloudy day outside, but bright enough to sharpen the shadows on the walls and make the boy look even paler than you remember.

His eyes are closed as you approach. A sprout of hope that he might have fallen asleep again blooms in your chest – you’ll just leave the broth on the table, you think to yourself, and go about the rest of your day. Nobody said you had to watch him drink it.

You get about five feet away, already planning to drop some books off to the other rooms, when the boy’s nose suddenly twitches.

His eyes open to thin slits. Your hope shrivels like a weed in the desert as he speaks.

“What’s that?” His voice is quiet and raspy.

Your eyebrow twitches. “It’s just chicken broth,” you say tartly, setting the tray down on the overbed table and turning it around so that it’s over his lap. You take off the lid and steam bursts from the bowl.

The boy reaches up to rub his eyes. The red string dangles from his pinkie, and you quickly look away with a scowl.

“Who are you?” he asks, scooting back to sit up more as he gradually becomes more alert.

Reluctantly, you give him your name. “Will you need help with the soup?”

He shakes his head. His gaze latches onto the contents of his bowl, and he stops, transfixed.

You scramble to stop him as he suddenly grabs the bowl and attempts to gulp it all down in one go.

“Don’t do that! You’ll throw up!” Without thinking, you seize his hands and pry the bowl away from his mouth. A few drops of broth splash over the blankets and his gown, and your irritation grows. Now you’ll have to fix that. “Drink it slowly.”

“I haven’t eaten anything for weeks,” the boy complains. “What do you know?”

“I’ve been studying medicine since I was a little kid,” you retort. “So I know a lot.”

He frowns. “You are a little kid.”

“I’m nine years old!”

“No, I’m nine! You don’t look as old as me!”

There’s no way this … this brat is the same age as you! Fuming, you let go of the bowl and jab a finger at his face. “I am nine years old and I know more than you! You can’t drink the broth like that!”

You’re met with silence. The boy’s eyes are wider than saucers. Pride wells up inside you at your ability to shut him up.

But then he puts the bowl down and seizes your hand, and your pride gives way to horror as he folds down your index finger and lifts your pinkie – the pinkie with the red string wrapped around it.

He lifts his own pinkie, the rest of his fingers folded. Your jaw clenches when you see how the string has shortened to mere inches, bridging the space between his hand and yours.

“Holy shit,” the boy says. The largest grin spreads across his face, and it’s blinding and scary and you hate it, you hate it. “It’s you! You’re my soulmate, aren’t you?!”

“No,” you reply quickly, whipping your hand behind your back and backing away. “No, I’m not!”

“But you see the string too! I knew I’d meet you some day. How come you’re”— he pushes the table away, eagerly but just gentle enough so no more of the broth spills—“how come you’re hiding it behind your back?”

“I’m not your soulmate,” you bark, panic rising in your chest. “Don’t you ever say that!”

You only catch a glimpse of the hurt that flashes across the boy’s face before you turn around and dash out of the room.

Mrs. Hong finds you in the storage closet later, curled up behind the shelves of gauze and IV tubing. She coaxes you out with a promise of rice balls and no questions asked. You wish all the adults were more like her.

—

The next day, Miss Jaylee hoists you over her shoulder like a human sacrifice and brings you to Room 8.

“I don’t want to see him! You can’t make me!”

“He’s refusing treatment and food unless he sees you,” the woman answers briskly, each of her steps jostling you up and down. “You don’t want to be responsible if Sanji dies, do you?”

“I don’t care if he dies!”

Miss Jaylee clicks her tongue and walks faster.

You flail, feeling a little guilty for your cruel words but too proud to take them back. Sanji couldn’t have heard you, anyway, and nobody here is going to let him die no matter what he does or what you say.

You hear a door swing open. Miss Jaylee walks into Room 8 and turns around, and you lift your head, glaring at Sanji as his face lights up and his cheeks turn rosy.

“[Y/n]!”

Your own cheeks burn in embarrassment at the position you’re currently in. This, you only now realize, is way worse than walking into the room voluntarily.

“How come they’re carrying you? Are you okay?” he asks.

“Let them treat you,” you snap, arms limp and dangling. “And eat your stupid food or I’ll get in trouble.”

“Okay.” You nod, opening your mouth to speak again only for him to continue, “But only if I get to talk to you afterwards.”

What is he, a prince?! What makes it so easy for him to demand such things?

“That wasn’t what you told them,” you protest, squirming, but Miss Jaylee only tightens her arm around your waist.

(“Be nice,” she warns. You growl.)

“It’s important,” Sanji stresses, looking pointedly down at his hand and then back at you.

You bite down on your tongue as the red string glimmers in the light.

Dr. Gu and Nurse Taoh stare at you expectantly. Your neck is starting to ache from craning it, and there’s a feeling that you’ll never stand on your own two feet again unless you do what he wants.

“… Fine,” you hiss through gritted teeth.

Only once you promise to stay does Miss Jaylee let you slide off her shoulder. You stand to the side, arms crossed impatiently as they take Sanji’s vitals and ask him some questions. He’s only half paying attention, head turning to look at you more than once, which you merely turn up your nose at.

“All right, we’ll leave you two to chat now,” Dr. Gu says. “If you need anything, just let [Y/n] know, okay?”

“Okay,” Sanji says.

With that, the three adults leave, and you and Sanji are left alone once more.

“I’m glad you came. They were starting to get mad at me,” he says, then cuts straight to the chase. “How come you don’t want to be my soulmate?”

“Because I don’t want a soulmate,” you immediately reply.

“But why? It’s nice, isn’t it? Being special to each other?”

“You can’t be special to me. We’re not even friends.”

For the second time, Sanji looks hurt.

“…We’re not?” he asks. You shake your head. “But … you brought me food.”

You’re befuddled. “Because Dr. Gu made me,” you say, trying to ignore the disappointment on his face. “Besides, I yelled at you yesterday. Friends don’t yell at each other.”

“I thought that you were maybe just really surprised …” His voice gets smaller and smaller. “Some people get mad when they’re just surprised …”

“I wasn’t surprised. I saw it when you were still asleep.”

“Oh,” Sanji mumbles. He looks down at the sheets, scratching at the wrinkle in the thin white fabric. “Okay.”

He says nothing more. You fidget, wondering if he’s pretending to look like he’s about to cry or if he really is trying not to. You’re not good with people who start crying.

You chew on your bottom lip. Sanji tucks his hand with the string on it underneath his bed sheets, his eyes disappearing behind his tangled hair, and fine, you feel kind of bad whether he’s tricking you or not.

“I’ll only be friends with you if you don’t talk about being soulmates,” you finally tell him begrudgingly. “Not ever, okay?”

His head shoots back up. “Really?!”

“Only if you don’t talk about it! I’m serious.” You huff at Sanji’s sudden change in mood and click your tongue. “If you stay sad you might not get better. Don’t get the wrong idea!”

He nods, grinning bigger than ever.

Oh, dear, you think as he promises that he’ll be a really, really good friend, you might have made a mistake.

—

By the fifth day, Zeff, the man who was brought in with Sanji, is awake.

You hear them arguing before you see them, pushing a cart of books for Sanji to browse through as per your agreement the day before. They’re loud, and Sanji calls the man an old shitbag right as you knock and push the door open.

“I’m here,” you announce, and the two quiet down to look at you. You give Zeff a polite smile. “Hello, sir. I’m [Y/n].”

“Hello, little miss,” Zeff says, his features softening from the angry expression he’d directed towards Sanji a moment before.

“Why are you being nice to her and not me?” Sanji pipes up from his side of the room, all puffed-out cheeks and petulantly crossed arms.

“Because she don’t make my ears ring with nonstop whining,” the man answers sharply. “Now get a book and read so I can finally have some peace and quiet.”

“You get a book and read,” Sanji grumbles.

“What was that, boy?”

You cut in before they start bickering all over again. “Do you want a book too, Mr. Zeff?”

Zeff’s gaze flicks over to you once more, and your shoulders tense. The man takes a deep, calming breath, and then he sighs, reclining back into his pillow and closing his eyes. “No, thank you, little miss,” he mutters. “Reading’s no good for my head right now.”

“Do you have a headache?” He grunts in affirmation. “Do you want me to get a nurse?”

“No, no, don’t need any of that.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a headache,” Sanji accuses.

Zeff’s mustache twitches. “All you need to know is that you oughta stop yappin’ when a man wants peace and quiet!”

(Not again.)

As you give up and walk over to draw the curtains, Sanji says your name desperately. “Can we read somewhere else?” he pleads when you glance at him. “I don’t want to be stuck in here with him right now.”

Narrowing your eyes, you appraise his weak-looking frame, pointedly skimming past the red string that snakes over to you. “Can you even walk around yet?”

“Yeah,” he says defensively. He wriggles out of the bed sheets and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Holding onto the side rail, he stands up and grips the IV pole for support. Though he’s a little shaky, he shuffles a few steps towards you and smiles when he manages to do so. “See?”

Well, you think, if you and Sanji stay here, you’ll need to have some light in order to read. But it will probably help Zeff if the room is as dark as possible, so if you guys go somewhere else, Sanji’s lamp won’t need to be on.

“Okay,” you agree. “Wait here. I’ll get some slippers.”

Ten minutes later, with Sanji shuffling along in his slippers, IV pole in one hand and your arm in the other, the two of you arrive at the common room and find chairs in the corner to sit down in.

“These’re mostly history books and stories for old people,” you explain as you pull out the one cooking-related book you could find from the top basket of the cart. “This was the only food one I could find.”

“That’s okay.” Sanji takes the book from you and begins to flip through it. “Oh, this one’s about seafood in the South Blue! Have you ever had any?”

“No.”

“Me, neither. I’ll try it someday, though … hey, this fish looks like a fried egg!”

Against your will, you perk up. “… Really?”

For the next half-hour, Sanji fawns over the spices used on grilled Sea King meat and how to cook wine clams and the best fish for South Blue-style sushi. And it’s … not boring. He doesn’t hog the book, and the pictures are cool, and he asks you which ones you think are the coolest or would taste the best. Looking at a book with another kid is different from reading with an adult. It feels like you’re sharing, not like you’re being tested on your comprehension or how to pronounce long words.

Hanging out with Sanji is okay when the string doesn’t sour it.

“So you want to cook all of these one day?” you ask after scanning through a full-color page of steamed Ocean Hawk feet.

“I want to cook things from all four seas,” Sanji says. His legs bounce with excitement. “That’s why I’m gonna find the All Blue.”

“What’s that?”

The boy glows.

“It’s where the North, East, South, and West Blue seas all meet. Think about it – fresh-caught fish from all over the world all in one place! I’ll be able to cook dishes no one’s ever cooked or tasted before.”

You’ve never heard of such a place. But Sanji talks about it with such conviction, such resolve, that you figure the All Blue could really exist.

“I hope you find it,” you say, and you mean it.

“I will.” Sanji closes the book. “And when I do, I’ll cook something just for you. A-As a friend.”

He peeks over at you, his eyes even brighter and bluer than before, his cheeks flushing a familiar red. And you find yourself believing him, just a little bit.

—

Sanji keeps his promise.

You know he still likes you (blech) and so does most of the staff (double blech). Nurse Taoh thinks it’s funny and teases you about your little boyfriend in Room 8 who always asks where you are. Mrs. Hong reminds you to be sensitive whenever you stop by to pick up meals. Dr. Gu tells you to tell her right away if Sanji ever does something that makes you uncomfortable.

But he never does. Sometimes his words spill out clumsily like a broken faucet and other times he blushes and stutters, leaving you to wonder what he’s going on about, but he doesn’t try to kiss you or hold your hand, and he doesn’t say a word about the red string that is very much still there. If anything, he just annoys you at times, with how nice he is to you and how sunny he gets when you eat lunch with him sometimes.

You’ve never seen somebody so happy to be in a hospital before, even if it’s just because he wants you to like him. It’s weird.

It’s on the eighth day of Zeff and Sanji’s stay that you learn not everything is how it seems.

You’d gotten in trouble the night before for digging holes in the garden – you had kept the seed from your dinner plum and wanted to see if you could make it grow, but Miss Jaylee had caught you while taking Mr. Hu out for some air – so you’re somewhat grumpy on your way to Room 8, two notebooks in hand.

One of them is blank for Sanji. He wants to record all the meals he’s gotten and write down how he would make them. The second notebook is full of your notes that you need to study for your quiz tomorrow.

Zeff is sleeping again when you enter. You move quietly across the room to where Sanji is lying with his back to the door.

“Sanji.” You can see his shoulders tense underneath the sheets, but strangely, he does not roll over to face you. “I have your notebook.”

No answer. That is even stranger.

Frowning, you walk around to the other side of the bed. Sanji moves to bury his face into his pillow, but not before you hear a very soft, wet sniffle.

“Sanji?”

“Sorry.” His voice is high and so muffled you can barely understand him. “You can just leave it on the table.”

“Why are you crying?” In the back of your head, you know it is not the most sensitive thing to ask. But for some reason, you need to know. “I won’t laugh or tell anyone.”

You hear another sniffle from the mop of blond hair. It takes a long time for Sanji to answer, but he eventually does.

“I don’t like hospitals.”

Your brow furrows. “Oh,” you say, somewhat surprised. Most people don’t like being in a hospital, you’re pretty sure of that, but you didn’t know Sanji didn’t like it this much. “Why?”

Maybe he’s tired of getting poked all the time, or the bland food, or the hospital smell. Nobody here can change that. Maybe he’s homesick. The hospital can’t fix that, either.

Sanji turns his head slightly and takes in a small, shuddering breath. “’Cause it … it makes me remember my mum … when she was sick,” he mumbles, almost too quiet to hear.

“… Oh.”

You had assumed, upon learning that Zeff and Sanji were not at all related, that Sanji was like you and never knew his parents. He’d never talked about having any before, only his time on the Orbit and with Zeff. But he does know them – his mother, at least. And she was sick. The memory is what’s making him so sad, and it’s yet another thing that the hospital can’t help.

You don’t want him to be sad. You did make him your friend, after all, even if he does annoy you sometimes.

“I’m sorry,” you say, standing awkwardly with his notebook still in your possession. You remember what Miss Jaylee has told other patients before. “That, um, must have been really hard for you.”

Sanji squeezes his pillow more tightly.

Should you go? Should you talk to him some more?

“Please don’t tell anybody,” he whispers before you can decide. “Especially Zeff.”

“I won’t,” you reply firmly. “I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?”

“I’m sorry I can’t hang out today. I really wanted to, but, um …”

“It’s okay. We can do it later.”

“Okay.”

You set his notebook and a pen on the bedside table. After some thought, you refill his water and, after even more hesitation, fix the bed sheets on him a bit so they’re not as twisted up. That is the best you can do.

The red string follows you as you quietly leave Room 8, and you don’t think about it at all.

—

“How do you spell necessary?”

“N-E-S-E-S-A-R-Y.”

“That doesn’t look right. I think it’s S-S-A-R-Y.”

“Maybe you can find it in the book,” Sanji suggests, kicking his feet as he lies on his belly next to you.

“Yeah, maybe.” You flip through the pages of your textbook, searching for the correct spelling lest you get marked off again.

It is the tenth day. Sanji is doing alright, and Zeff is up and about with his new leg. Dr. Gu says they’re good to go, so they’re leaving after Zeff finishes breakfast. You’re not sure how to feel about it.

In the meantime, Sanji is helping you with your essay about scurvy. He knows quite a bit about it, which makes sense since he’s lived at sea, and you hope the perspective he’s supplying will impress Dr. Gu.

(“That’s why every ship needs a good cook,” he tells you proudly. “We make sure everyone eats right so they stay healthy.”

“That’s why you and Mr. Zeff are going to have a restaurant ship, right?”

“Mmhm.”)

Sanji rests his face in his hands, cheeks squished against his palms while you continue to scan through your textbook. You finally find the word in a photo caption and, with a triumphant noise, jot it down correctly.

Someone knocks on your door. The two of you turn to face it simultaneously.

“[Y/n]?” It’s Mrs. Guo.

“Yeah?” you call, already slightly irritated.

“Is Sanji there? It’s time for him to leave.”

A frown presses down on your lips. Sanji sighs and gets up as slowly as possible, taking his notebook with him.

“Coming,” he says.

The two of you dawdle on your way to the hospital entrance. You pet Cabby the dog when you run into him and his handler and stop by the kitchen so Sanji can thank the cooks. There’s no rush, not really, but an uneasy feeling continues to well up in your stomach anyway.

Upon arriving at your destination, Zeff waiting at the double doors with a giant bag of treasure slung over his shoulder, Sanji stops and turns to face you.

“I’m – I’m going now,” he says, as if just realizing it.

“Okay,” you say.

You and Sanji stand in silence for a moment before Sanji’s bottom lip starts to wobble.

Yours starts to wobble too. The uneasy feeling in your stomach bubbles up into your throat and behind your eyes.

“I’ll write you,” he blurts, voice cracking. “You’ll come visit, won’t you?”

“I don’t know.” You don’t know if they’ll let you. The hospital is busy and the ocean is big, bigger than you, and you don’t know it at all like Zeff and Sanji do. “But I’ll write back.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You are crying now.

For the first time, your arms wrap around Sanji, and he clings back as both of you bawl. Your tears and snot stain the shoulder of his brand-new clothes. Your uniform grows damp at the collar. It doesn’t matter at all.

“I don’t know if I’ll see you again,” you croak into his shirt, face hot and eyes blurry.

His grip tightens. “You will,” Sanji replies in between sniffles. “I know it. Even if it’s when we’re really old, we’ll see each other again.”

“Okay.”

You believe him. Not because of fate, but because you want to.

—

You write to each other every single week for the next ten years. You tell each other everything.

Well, almost everything.

—

“You seem nervous,” Nami says. “Don’t tell me a little bribery got under your skin?”

“No, no.” You wipe your hands on your thighs and try to relax against the back of the booth. “Just … not used to places like this, that’s all.”

The Baratie is nicer than you imagined. Sanji had kept you up to date over the years, sending newspaper clippings and recipe drafts as the restaurant he and Zeff founded grew in staff members and reputation, but seeing it in person is a whole different deal. You’re telling the truth when you said you’re not used to a place like this.

But it’s not why you’re nervous.

“Hey, look!” Usopp exclaims, pointing across the room. “I think those guys are gonna fight.”

The rest of you look. Near the kitchen, two men are arguing, and the pink-haired man sitting at the table stands up when the pirate shoves his food onto the floor.

Usopp sucks his teeth. “Yikes.”

Luffy leans forward in interest. Zoro simply stares, and Nami rolls her eyes.

One of the waiters approaches them. You watch as he tries to deescalate the situation, but neither party is having it.

The pink-haired man draws a gun.

Within seconds, the gun and both would-be brawlers are on the floor.

The waiter shoves his foot into the pink-haired man’s back to keep him down, then picks up the plate of bread rolls again, stepping over both groaning bodies with the ease of one who’s done it before.

He reassures the other customers as he approaches your booth. You’re not concerned about the fight so much as you are about the way that you know.

It’s been ten years, but you just know, even before he gets close enough for you to see the red string that trails up and disappears into the black of his pants pocket. Even before you see the blue of his eyes and the annoyed set of his brow, exactly the same as you remember.

He places the rolls down onto the table, and for the first time, you wonder what you want.

“Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?”

#aesthetic words prompt list #opla #one piece #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #opla sanji #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #soulmate au #woefully inaccurate portrayal of patient treatment and progression of recovery i'm sorry #usually i'd be more of a stickler but this is one piece where people don't die after 85 days eating nothing but their own leg #zeff and sanji definitely aren't ur typical patients anyway even in the opla universe lol

758 notes · View notes