#this chapter ended up way longer than I thought lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cressidagrey · 2 months ago

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Brighten Up the Sky

This started as a prompt from the lovely @satiresunflower, (though it is pretty much unrecognisable from the prompt she actually gave. She did give me permission to go wild though, so this is what you get lol)

This starts in Chapter 14 of ACOWAR, so some of the sentences are taken verbatim from the original text. I did change it into 3rd person, because me trying to write in 1st person never ends well. I also think there is a longer story in this particular idea, but quite frankly, I don’t have it in me to write it right now.

Summary:

A Mating Bond between her younger sister and the Night Court’s shadowsinger was the last thing Feyre had expected to spring up…but then, maybe it did make sense.

Warning:

Public Displays of affection, kinda Nesta bashing, but like...she has her reasons?, Cassian being annoying

(Lovely dividers thanks to @cafekitsune)

“Where are my sisters?” Feyre asked, the thought clanging through her head as jarring as a pealing bell.

Her sisters

Rhys paused for just a moment, his hand slipping from her hair as his smile faded. “Elain and Nesta are at the House of Wind.” He straightened, swallowing. “I can—take you to them.” Every word seemed to be an effort.

But he would, Feyre realized. He’d shove down his need for her and take her to them, if that was what she wanted. Her choice. It had always been her choice with him.

Feyre shook my head. She wouldn’t see them—not yet. Not until she was steady enough to face them.

“They’re well, though?”

His hesitation told her enough.

“They’re safe,” Rhys answered quietly.

"That’s good," Feyre murmured as she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the swirling, churning emotions inside her chest.

Her sisters...her sisters were safe. That was something. That was enough. For now.

Only then she realised something else.

“You said Nesta and Elain are at the House of Wind,” Feyre pointed out, her hands clenching, her heart beating faster. “Where’s Alana?” she demanded, singling out her younger sister…singling out her half sister.

The result of their father’s dalliance with a maid during her mother’s pregnancy with Feyre. Alana was just 6 months younger than her. Alana’s mother had died during childbirth…so their father had been saddled with another squealing infant that his wife was ill-pleased with.

Nesta liked to say that that affair had eventually killed their mother. Feyre thought it to be ridiculous. It had been a fever and Alana had nothing to do with it, because she had been a literal child…and Alana had lost her voice to the very same fever. Feyre could still remember her singing like a pealing bell when she had been a child…and then…then she hadn’t been able to anymore. Even talking was near impossible for Alana, her throat unable to produce any sounds.

Even as Alsna had been thrown into the cauldron…Her mouth had been open in a silent scream, but no sound had come out of her mouth.

A shudder ran through her at that memory.

Alana. Her sweet, quiet younger sister. The sister that always smiled too sweetly and saw too much with those sharp eyes of hers.

"Where is Alana?" She repeated. The silence in the room hung thick in the air as Rhys continued to hesitate.

A prickle of unease started to make its way up her spine.

“Rhys, where is Alana?!” she demanded, her voice rising.

“She’s safe, I swear,” Rhys hurried to promise her. “She’s not staying with Nesta and Elain but she’s safe. She should be here soon. I think…everything else…you should ask her about that.”

His words did little to soothe her worries, the unease that now clawed up her spine stronger.

“You’re not telling me something,” she pointed out, her brow furrowing. “Rhys, what are you not telling me?”

She thought back to the last time she had seen her sister…thought back to her being poured out onto the wet stone floor from the cauldron…not a noise had come from her…nothing. She had…She had been poured out of the cauldron and had just kneeled on that stone floor as they had forced Nesta into the cauldron after her.

She hadn’t…she had been…absent. Like the cauldron had taken too much from her.

And then, in the moment as Mor had pushed Lucien away from Nesta and Elain, Feyre had seen Alana lunge.

Not for the King of Hybern. Not even for Mor, who would have been closer to her…But for Cassian and Azriel for some reason. She wasn’t sure what had been Alana’s reasoning. Wasn’t sure what…Rhys had grasped all three of them and winnowed them away.

Her heart was now hammering.

“What did you do with her?” Feyre demanded, her voice growing panicked. “What did you do with Alana? Why isn’t she staying with Nesta and Elain?” Feyre asked, her voice forcedly calm. “Rhys, what is going on?”

There was another moment of hesitation, another moment of silence, before Rhys finally replied. "She just…opted to stay elsewhere."

Those words did little to reassure her.

"Where?" Feyre pressed, her eyes narrowed.

Rhys sighed. “How about you get into that bath that should be ready by now?” he suggested. “I’ll…tell you some of what happened. But I do think that some of the things should come from Alana and not from me,” he pointed out drily.

The last thing she wanted to do right now was take a bath, the last thing she wanted to do was to be pacified with pretty words and nice things. That was the last thing she wanted.

But...he was right. She needed to be clean.

Feyre growled at her mate, but stomped into the bathing chamber, stripping out of her clothing. Her fingers were near-black with dirt and caked blood.

Rhys snapped his fingers, and her skin was nearly instantly pristine again. “Tell me what happened,” Feyre said flatly, as she sunk into the blood-hot water. “Why isn’t Alana staying at the House of Wind?”

Rhys was silent for a moment as he looked at her, his mouth in a grim line.

Then he let out a deep sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bathing tub. “A lot of things happened,” Rhys said drily. “But the biggest reason why Alana isn’t at the House of Wind is mostly that…I can’t guarantee Nesta’s safety, if she keeps spewing some of her venom in Alana’s direction.”

Feyre’s brow shot up at that, her heart skipping a beat. “What?” she demanded. “Rhys, what are you talking about?” That didn’t sound—didn’t sound like...

To say that Nesta and Alana didn’t get along was an understatement. Nesta gave Alana the fault for seemingly everything and Alana…well, she played deaf. And even more mute than she normally was. Even when Feyre‘s sister hadn’t been able to talk, she had been more than able to communicate if she wanted to, either with her expressive face, or her hands. And still, Alana had pretended like it wasn’t happening. Elain was no better to her…Elain liked to ignore Alana’s very existence.

But Alana wouldn’t have done anything…Alana wouldn’t have…

“Alana doesn’t lose her temper,” Feyre said carefully as she looked at Rhys. “She doesn’t.”

“She didn’t,” Rhys said drily. “My spymaster did.”

A puzzled frown crossed over her face at that. “Azriel?” Feyre asked, her eyebrows furrowing. “What did he do?”

Azriel had lost his temper with Nesta?

“If Cassian hadn’t been there, I think Azriel would have torn out Nesta’s throat with his bare hands,” Rhys said with a grimace. “It was…bad.”

Feyre’s jaw dropped.

Azriel, tearing out Nesta’s throat? With his hands? That…that didn’t sound like him. Not at all.

“I...” Feyre had no idea what to say. Why would Azriel have done that? Feyre couldn’t…Of course, she knew that Azriel was capable of great violence, but he had never…she had never seen him lose his temper with a member of his family. Had never even through that that was a possibility. Whatever Nesta had said, must have been…

If he had gotten this angry on Alana’s behalf…What exactly had been said?

"What did Nesta do? What did she say?" Feyre asked, her voice hard. "What did she say to warrant that reaction from Azriel?"

Rhys grimaced, shaking his head. “You don’t want to know,” he said, his voice low. “Trust me, you do not want to know what she said. It's...complicated."

"Complicated, how?" Feyre demanded as she towelled herself off, walking back into the bedroom and pulled on comfortable clothing, her worry mounting. "What could possibly be so bad that you don't want to tell me?"

If it was bad enough that Rhys didn't want to tell her what exactly happened...what exactly had been said.

"Well, that…” Rhys trailed off.

"Tell me," Feyre demanded again. "What exactly happened after…Hybern?"

Her mate gave in, holding out his hand and she joined him sitting on the edge of their bed.

Their bed.

She was home. Finally.

Rhys sighed.

“After Hybern…Mor dropped Nesta and Elain off at the House of Wind and then came back to the Townhouse. I had…I had Azriel and Cassian, and Alana too” Rhys said quietly and Feyre swallowed. Azriel and Cassian were healed. Rhys had told her that…but somehow she hadn’t been able to believe it…until she had seen it.

“Amren tried to stop the blood flow from the literal hole in Azriel’s chest. I didn’t notice at first…Alana was kneeling at Azriel’s side…covered in his blood…holding his head on her lap…” Rhys’s violet eyes seemed to be far, far away, as he nearly shuddered, just thinking about it. “Azriel was…in and out of consciousness…but he was just…he was just holding onto her.”

Feyre’s heart was lodged in her throat. Azriel, nearly dead, was just…holding Alana. Her head was spinning as her mind worked hard to comprehend this.

“The mating bond snapped for them,” Rhys finally said quietly.

Feyre’s eyes widened. Her mouth went suddenly dry.

The…the mating bond? Alana and Azriel? Mates?

“The mating bond,” she echoed faintly. “The…the mating bond.”

Feyre was quite sure that her jaw dropped. And that she stared at Rhys like he had just grown a second head.

“Azriel and Alana?” Feyre asked, unable to believe that. Azriel and Alana?! The brooding shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court and her youngest sister?

Azriel, who seemed to have a thing for Mor and had never looked at another female as far as Feyre was aware?

Rhys winced at her look.

"Yes, I know," he said quietly, wincing. "That was…my reaction too. I didn’t see it coming. I don’t think that anyone saw this coming...especially not Azriel."

Feyre’s mind was racing.

Azriel and Alana. Mates.

She couldn’t…she never would have imagined it. Never seen it coming. Not in a thousand years.

“Have they…” she wasn’t even sure what she was asking.

“Three days late,” Rhys said with a sigh. “They were not willing to wait.”

“Three day?!” Feyre demanded. As far as she knew, Alana had never even entertained the thought of a suitor. Not that there had been any men that had looked over the fact that she was a bastard…and mute. They had never bothered to look further and Alana had never fussed about it either.

"Three days," Rhys repeated. "The moment Azriel was well enough to be mobile again, they mated." Rhys shuddered, his face scrunching up in distaste. “They are insufferable. The both of them.”

"What do you mean, insufferable?" Feyre asked. A million thoughts were running through her head. Alana and Azriel…mates. They mated.

"They could not stay away from each other," Rhys said, shuddering again. "They were...touchy. All the time. And so very...cutesy and sweet with each other. Gods, they are nauseating."

Feyre’s eyebrows rose at that. Alana and Azriel. Touchy? Cutesy and sweet? She could barely even imagine it. Alana...and Azriel. Being affectionate.

"She’s sitting on his lap constantly," her mate groaned, rubbing his eyes hard. "And he is just…constantly touching her. I don’t even think that they have gone a whole five minutes without touching each other."

"And the looks," her mate continued drily. "Gods, they are exchanging these looks. You would have thought that they are the soppiest, lovesick couple in existence. I did not ever need to see Azriel making heart-eyes at Alana. That was…traumatising."

Feyre pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle a snort. Azriel, making heart-eyes? That was a sight that she could not quite imagine. She…she hadn’t even thought that Azriel was even…capable of making heart-eyes.

"Cassian and Mor kept poking fun at them. At every opportunity, which they definitely got often. Alana just…ignored them. But Azriel…" Rhys’ lips curled into a smirk. "He was not as amused as Alana by their teasing. He kept threatening violence every five minutes."

Feyre’s eyes widened at that, a laugh escaping her.

Azriel threatening violence for every five minutes that someone teased him about his new mate? She could not picture that either.

"Cassian started making kissy faces at Alana just to see if Azriel would lose his temper," her mate said, a broad smile on his face. "And let me tell you, he nearly clawed out Cas’ eyeballs for it."

"So she's staying here?" Feyre asked carefully.

Rhys shook his head, his expression growing more serious. "She's at Azriel's house," he explained with a sigh. "It's...the cauldron left her with some...abilities. She’s a daemati…of sorts, at least,” Rhys said with a grimace. “We are still trying to figure out…how exactly it works. You and me…we need to concentrate if we want to read somebody’s thoughts. Alana…she said it was like she was standing in the middle of a market square and everybody is shouting at her,” Rhys said quietly. “We haven’t yet found anybody with shields solid enough to keep her out.”

Feyre swallowed at that. Alana, a daemati…of sorts. Having no control over whose thoughts she heard. No control over how loud everything was.

“It’s like every mental wall, doesn’t even exist for her," Rhys said with a sigh. "Being around Amren gives her a headache too apparently. Azriel and Cassian are the most relaxing to be around according to her. There minds seem to be...even, analytical."

It sounded like a living hell. No control, no shields. Nothing.

“Is she…” Feyre’s voice was quiet. “Is she doing alright? Considering everything that happened.”

“She’s fine,” Rhys promised her. “Alana is probably doing the best of them all,” Rhys said, something like amusement bleeding into his voice. “She can tell you all about it."

There was a knock at the door at that moment.

Feyre tensed as her eyes flew to the door.

“That’s her,” Rhys said quietly, placing a soothing hand on her leg. “Are you ready?”

Feyre took a deep, steadying breath, pushing down her worry and her nerves.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“Feyre!”

Her sister's voice. Her sister's voice.

Feyre’s heart skipped a beat as her body went rigid.

She couldn’t…she couldn’t believe it. After so long…after believing…believing for so long that she would never hear Alana’s voice…

Feyre remembered with a shudder the sight of small, slight Alana in her translucent nightgown…being poured out of the cauldron onto the stone...She looked nothing like she did now.

She looked well.

That was the first thing Feyre realised. Colour on her cheeks, dark, pin straight hair pinned away from her face and these devasting doe eyes…

Feyre’s eyes roamed over her sister, drinking in the sight of her. Alive. Well. Whole.

She could barely believe it, her mind struggling to catch up.

"You can talk," Feyre whispered as Alana hugged her.

She grimaced.

Kinda. This is easier though, she answered, her mental voice slipping into Feyre's mind without her even noticing. My throat hurts if I talk too much.

It was strange, having a voice in her mind that was not her own. Different from when her mate spoke to her down the bond. It was more…pronounced. Clearer, somehow.

"Are…” Feyre’s voice broke again, her eyes roaming over Alana again. “Are you really alright, Al?”

She drunk in her sister's face, the pale skin, the freckles that covered her face...she had been pretty as a human but as a fae...as a High fae she was gorgeous.

Alana’s eyes, her sister’s eyes, were still the same. Still that same dark, endless brown that had always seemed to hold so many secrets. She had never met anyone who could hold as many secrets as Alana had.

She looked so healthy, so well and Feyre felt a lump form in her throat.

She had to fight the sudden urge to cry, as she pulled her sister into another hug. Her sister’s slender arms wrapped around her, pulling her in tight. Like she was never going to let her go again.

I am alright, Alana promised fiercely. I am better than alright. I am...I am so happy, Fey.

The thought in her mind brought another wave of tears to Feyre’s eyes. She held on to her sister tighter, burying her face against her neck as a sob escaped her and she inhaled her sister’s familiar, comforting scent. Pomegranate and Vanilla, with an underlay of Azriel.

He treats you well? she asked, cradling her sisters face in her hands. She didn't think that Azriel would...mistreat her but...

Alana’s eyes darkened as she thought of Azriel and her expression softened as a faint smile crossed her face.

Feyre swallowed again. This was different. This was…her sister had never smiled like that. So open. So happy. So filled with…love.

And then, very carefully, Feyre felt how Alana pulled at her mind in some sense and then dropped a memory.

For just a moment, it felt like she was in her little sister's body. And she stared at Azriel who looked at her, at Alana with utter and complete adoration, scarred hands cupping her cheeks so gently.

Feyre’s breath caught in her throat at that.

She could feel, could understand the feeling of Azriel’s warm, scarred hand against her skin. The way how the pads of his fingers ran over her jawline, the way how his thumb traced over her lower lip. The way how those hazel eyes of his were filled with nothing but love.

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine. That look, the way how Azriel had looked at her sister…it was like the expression in Rhys’ eyes when he looked at her.

Her eyes flickered to Rhys, where he was patiently waiting in a corner.

He was looking at her with that same look in his eyes. The same look that Feyre knew was mirrored in her own eyes. It was the same, that look. Pure, utter devotion.

It was the look of a man completely and utterly in love.

Feyre swallowed as she turned back to Alana, her mind whirling. This was…Alana, her sister…her quiet, shy, closed-off little sister. And Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court. The one that no one saw as anything but sharp and deadly and a ruthless killer.

He didn’t hurt you, did he? Feyre asked weakly. She didn’t think he would but…

Alana’s expression softened. Her hand gently came to rest on Feyre’s arm and she shook her head, a small smile on her face.

He was gentle as possible, Fey, Alana promised quietly. Gentler than I would have expected. He made sure to go slow, to be careful. He was…he was everything I could have wished for. He has never hurt me more than I wanted.

Feyre let out a long, shaky breath she didn’t know that she was holding.

She…she had been worried. Worried for her sweet little sister, being together with a man like Azriel. Who was dangerous and deadly and…and lethal.

What do you mean with no more than you wanted? she demanded suddenly. Alana just grinned at her, her laugh like a pealing bell.

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine again. Alana’s…her sister’s voice, the sound of her laugh. It was the most wonderful sound that she had ever heard. She could’ve started bawling like a child, but the thought that Alana dropped into her mind just completely derailed her.

He knows what I like, and he’s happy to oblige.

Feyre’s eyes widened and she choked on nothing.

She…oh Gods. Her face heat in a blush as Alana just continued smiling at her innocently.

This was her sister. Her quiet, shy, closed-off sister. That was how she remembered her. And now…and now…she was standing in front of Feyre, smiling at her like a cat who had just devoured an entire bowl of cream, telling her that her stoic, broody, deadly Spymaster of a mate was apparently…into things…

Her sister smirked at her. Alana! Her shy, little sister, who had never even so much as looked at a male with interest, stood in front of Feyre, a smirk on her face as she told Feyre that her mate knew what she liked.

I was surprised too, you know, Alana’s voice echoed in Feyre’s mind. But well…I like it, and he’s happy to oblige. He’s very good at it…

But the look on Alana’s face, the utter contentment in her eyes, and the feeling of…of lust from her sister, made it even more mortifying.

Alana was happy. Her sister was happy and well, and she just radiated happiness. Feyre’s heart soared, seeing her sister like that after so long. And even the horrifying bits, Feyre could push past.

Seeing her sister happy like this…that was worth a bit of mortification and discomfort.

So she swallowed her mortification, and just pulled a face at her smirking sister.

Enough with the gory details, for the love of the Mother. she chided her in her head. Alana just let out another pearly bell kind of laugh.

You should come downstairs. Nuala and Cerridwen have given Lucien some clothing and showed him to a bathing chamber. Lunch should be served soon, if you are hungry, Alana said into her mind.

I am famished, Feyre confessed in her mind. “Lead the way,” she said aloud and Alana just rolled her eyes, taking her by the arm and pulling her downstairs.

And then something else came to her mind. What did Nesta say to you?

Alana sighed. Nothing that matters, her sister said easily as they reached the dining room. Azriel and Cassian were waiting for them.

And then Feyre saw how her sister turned from happy to radiant as soon as she saw Azriel.

Feyre watched with ill disguised horror, as the spymaster’s shadows came over to Alana, seemingly swarming around her. Whatever bits of naked skin they could find…in this case her hands and face, because she wore a long sleeves high necked gown, they caressed. Nearly sweetly.

Alana absentmindedly drew her fingers through one tendril as she floated over to Azriel, sitting down onto his lap like that was an utterly normal thing to do. Feyre could just stare as Azriel pressed a kiss against her sister‘s cheek, one scarred hand possessively spanning her waist.

Like this was normal. Like this was something they had done dozens of times…like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like this was their usual routine…and Alana smiled at him, broadly, pressing a kiss against his cheek in greeting.

It was...it was surreal, watching Alana like this. So much more open, less reserved than Feyre had ever seen her. And the way how Azriel looked at her...Feyre had never seen him express such open and utter adoration before.

Cassian made a retching sound, catching Feyre’s attention. Azriel’s eyes darkened as he threw an icy look in Cassian’s direction. Alana just snuggled deeper into Azriel’s chest.

Azriel let out the smallest of chuckles at Alana’s behaviour in his lap, one of his hands coming up to gently play with a strand of her dark hair as he pressed another kiss to her forehead.

The quiet, brooding Spymaster of the Night Court, who could be downright terrifying when he wanted, completely and utterly smitten by her little sister.

Feyre could just stare.

She had not for one moment thought that they would…would be a good match. But here they were.

Alana...Feyre had never seen her sister like this before. So open, so happy. So...unreserved. She was like a cat, settled in the lap of her male, letting him pet her like she was...like he owned her. And it seemed like Azriel would gladly claim ownership too. The possessive, proprietary look on his face told Feyre all she needed to know.

“Get a room, for the love of the Mother,” Cassian drawled with a disgusted look on his face as Azriel buried his nose in her sister’s hair and Feyre shot him another dirty look. Alana just stuck her tongue out at him.

Azriel just bared his teeth at Cassian, a silent warning to watch his tongue in the direction of the woman in his lap, who was busy playing with the buttons on his fighting leathers.

“What did Nesta say?“ Feyre repeated as she sat down herself.

The reactions were immediate.

Azriel growled.

Feyre couldn’t help but flinch slightly. That growl...she hadn’t heard him make that sound before. It sounded utterly terrifying. Alana didn’t even flinch. She just touched Azriel’s chest in a soothing gesture and Azriel immediately quieted down, holding her even tighter.

It doesn’t matter what Nesta had to say, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind.

“It absolutely does,” Feyre muttered, feeling some anger rising in her. Her sister deserved better than what Nesta had to say.

I don’t care what she says, Alana replied in her mind. She can believe whatever she likes. She is entitled to her opinion.

“She can be quiet about her opinion,” Azriel hissed. Only then Feyre realised that her sister must have been projecting her mental voice so that everybody could hear it.

"Azriel." Alana's voice was soft. "It's alright. We both know the truth. It doesn’t matter what she believes"

Azriel looked down at her and a slight frown appeared on his face. He gently cupped her sister's chin, his hazel eyes staring into her dark ones. Feyre could practically hear the silent conversation between them.

Cassian sighed. "Nesta found out about the mating bond between Azriel and Alana and she didn't take it well," he told Feyre drily.

Of course, she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. Feyre ground her teeth together.

"So what exactly was said?" she asked sharply.

Cassian and Rhys shared a look as Azriel let out another warning growl. Feyre ignored him.

I want to know, Feyre snapped towards Alana. Her sister stiffened.

Feyre, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind, a hint of warning in her tone. Feyre pushed down a wave of irritation.

Tell me, Feyre demanded. She was done with secrets. Done with not knowing things.

It’s nothing, Alana tried to brush her off and Feyre’s irritation flared up in her stomach.

It is not ‘nothing’. Feyre snapped at her. Her sister’s face was a stoic mask as Azriel let his hand span across her stomach.

Nesta made a comment about how she was surprised that Azriel hadn't ripped me apart during our...mating. But maybe she shouldn't be surprised because I was a whore anyway, Alana finally answered. How a brute like him was all I amounted to, given that I was a bastard...and then there was some more stuff in that rant about how unfair it was that I had landed on my feet but Elain is...well...Elain isn't doing so good, Alana answered flatly.

Feyre felt her blood boil in her veins. Of course, Nesta would say something like that, the bitter, twisted...- Feyre bit down on the string of curses burning on her tongue.

Nesta isn't doing well, Feyre. You can't take what she is saying right now to heart, Alana warned her softly. You haven't been in her mind...it's...it's bad.

Feyre felt some of her anger cool down ever so slightly. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t pissed off at Nesta for what she had said. Even if...even if Nesta wasn’t doing well.

That doesn’t change anything about what she said, Feyre said through gritted teeth.

I am not defending her, Alana said firmly. I love Nesta. Doesn’t mean that I like hearing her talk about Azriel like that. But Feyre... her voice grew softer. I have seen her mind. Her thoughts. She isn’t in a good place right now.

Feyre grimaced, feeling her anger slowly disappear. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to. But...maybe Alana was right. Nesta was her sister, and Feyre loved her. Even after everything that had happened between them.

Still...what she said... Feyre said weakly and Alana’s lips quirked.

I know, she said gently. I was angry too. I nearly tore her head off. But Azriel...he was furious. I’ve never seen him like that before.

Feyre didn’t need to be told how furious Azriel had been. The look in his eyes, the clenched jaw and the growl that Feyre had heard...she didn’t need anyone to tell her how the usually stoic male had been absolutely furious about what Nesta had said.

"I'll talk to her," Feyre said aloud.

She ignored the dubious look that Cassian and Rhys were giving her. Her sister just smiled at her softly and nodded.

Talk to her gently, she urged in Feyre’s mind. Please. And don’t...don’t try to defend me. It will only start a fight.

Feyre winced. Even though, she didn’t like the thought of it and not defending her sister went completely against her nature, she knew that Alana was right. And her sister could read her thoughts with ease anyways.

I’ll bite my tongue, Feyre promised her. Alana smiled at her again, that smile that lit up her entire face. Feyre felt her heart clench at the beautiful sight.

“Thank you,” Alana said happily, her voice like the most wonderful sound. Feyre had a feeling that that was the thanks not only for agreeing not to defend her but for just...not making a scene. Feyre felt a small, answering smile tug at the corners of her own lips.

Instead, she watched her sister pick up a piece of bread from the plate in front of Azriel and hold it up for him to eat without another word. A silent gesture of acceptance.

Azriel’s lips twitched as he looked at his mate, sitting on his lap like she belonged there. But he obediently opened his mouth, a subtle sign of complete surrender to Alana.

Cassian made another retching sound. Alana ignored him.

Azriel was the one who kissed Alana.

Feyre could have gone quite a long time without that sight. Especially because it wasn't a simple peck on the cheek or a quick kiss to her lips.

Feyre could have gone forever without seeing her sister like this, settled in the lap of her mate, their bodies pressed together tightly as Azriel kissed her, devoured her, his hands possessively splayed out on her slender waist.

"Now you are just fucking with me," Cassian said with a sigh.

Alana just broke out in a fit of giggles as Azriel threw a glare in Cassian’s direction.

“Maybe I am,” Azriel mused, as Alana settled back into his lap. Azriel’s one scarred hand was back to playing with a strand of Alana’s hair. “Jealous?” he asked lightly and Cassian actually growled at him. Azriel snorted, his hand possessively covering Alana’s stomach, who was smiling like the happiest person in the world.

“Shut up,” Cassian huffed. “I am not jealous. I just don’t want to know what you two get up to at night.”

"Only at night?" Azriel asked drily. "Brother, you have much to learn."

Feyre groaned internally at the hint in Azriel’s voice as Cassian looked a little ashen, while Rhys burst out laughing and Alana let out another one of her pearly-bell like laughs.

“Stop tormenting him,” Rhys said with a chuckle as Cassian tried to recover. “He’ll have nightmares for weeks if you continue like this.”

“That sounds like a you problem,” Azriel replied, completely unrepentant, “not ours.” Alana was still giggling, a sound like tinkling bells in Feyre’s ears.

“Of course you say that, you bastard,” Cassian said with a sigh as Azriel’s hand on Alana’s stomach started to slowly wander upwards.

Feyre could see how Alana’s cheeks flushed slightly in response to the possessive touch. How her breathing quickened ever so slightly. Azriel’s lips twitched as he noticed it too.

"We'll let you deal with Lucien," Alana said suddenly, gaining her feet quickly. "We'll see you at dinner. Az?"

“Coming, sweetheart,” Azriel said and Cassian made another retching sound as Feyre could feel the waves of possessiveness coming off Azriel in waves. Her sister was his.

In a matter of heartbeats, they were gone. Feyre was left with Cassian and Rhys who were both looking at her intently.

"Yes, they are always like that, if you wondered,” Cassian said with a roll of his eyes. "I think they are still in the Mating Frenzy."

“Most likely,” Rhys agreed with a chuckle. “But they also don’t seem to care who sees it. Mor is still horrified from walking in on them a few weeks ago.”

“So would I be in her shoes,” Feyre said honestly and Cassian snickered.

“They are insufferable, aren’t they?” He said with a grin. Rhys just chuckled. “So utterly happy.”

“Yes,” Feyre agreed, the image of the two of them, completely oblivious to the world around them still in her mind. “Unbelievably so.”

“They’re also completely and utterly devoted to each other,” Rhys mused. “It is…kind of sweet.” Feyre nodded thoughtfully.

It was sweet. The way Azriel looked at her sister, how he was so utterly possessive about her. And Alana…there wasn’t a hint of hesitation about her when it came to Azriel.

"As long as she's happy," Feyre said quietly. As long as Alana was happy.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader #Brighten Up The Sky

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pollyanna-nana · 8 months ago

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One of the most tragic and compelling aspects of Dunmeshi, to me, is that we’ll probably never know (unless Kui tells us lol) how Delgal actually felt about Thistle. I’ve seen people say that he genuinely cared for him as a brother and his journey to the surface was to save him from his madness as much as it was his people. I’ve seen people say that he saw Thistle as nothing more than a fancy accessory or tool that ended up going astray. Others I’ve seen (and personally agree with) say that the truth lies somewhere in the middle. But honestly, I think any one of these interpretations has the potential to be correct… and that’s just heartbreaking.

After all, Delgal is dead. Like, dead-dead. The very first chapter of the manga starts with his spirit leaving this mortal coil, taking that answer with him. And…

How he talks about Thistle here… it’s interesting. He does not ask for him to be talked down, or captured or imprisoned, but instead “defeated”. Which Mithrun interprets as asking for his death… which is reasonable, because that’s likely how the vast majority of adventurers interpreted his words, too. Obviously as he was crumbling to dust he probably didn’t have the capacity to be particularly verbose or explain the complex backstory to how the kingdom ended up this way, but the effect is the same no matter how he may have felt with it. He asked for Thistle to be killed.

But… even in situations where he wasn’t under any such time limit to explain what was going on, he still seemed not to. Most glaringly:

Yaad seemingly has no idea that it was Delgal’s fault that Thistle sought the demon’s power. Obviously he couldn’t talk to him about it because Thistle was, uh, a little out there by that point, but why didn’t Delgal explain? Was he embarrassed? Mournful? Couldn’t find the words?

Delgal was scared of dying. He wanted prosperity at any cost, and how could Thistle possibly refuse? Did he even realize that what he was the one who pushed his own brother— One who basically helped raise him despite being a child himself, and in many ways is still a child— down this path? Or was it like watching an overzealous employee misinterpret directions?

The way Yaad describes things here makes it sound like Thistle simply dug too deep in his studies and fell into madness, but we know that’s not true. Delgal didn’t “suggest” he learn magic, he wanted a mage who could help himself and his people defy death, which he admits to Thistle openly:

So, why? Why not tell his grandson, at least, the truth of the matter? Did he worry it might make the remaining residents more likely to upset Thistle, and therefore suffer the consequences? Did he just not care? For what it’s worth though, Yaad does suspect the truth from Delgal’s behavior.

He “always blamed himself” for his descent into the dark arts. This is just Yaad’s observation, and that’s without knowing that it was quite literally Delgal’s fault Thistle went down this path. So, why? Why was it all kept a secret?

Of course, this made things ripe for the winged lion to manipulate to its advantage. Clearly despite knowing he’d pushed him into using it, Delgal still thought the lion was a force of good that was misused by Thistle as a result of his madness. His face in that last panel is particularly haunting. He looks terrible, gaunt and pale with overgrown hair and missing teeth. Had he gone mad, with grief and sorrow, as well?

Could he no longer see Thistle the way he did when they were younger? No one can ask him, because he died long before the story even began.

To go back to the original question, well, how did Delgal see Thistle? None of the previous points make a definitive answer any clearer, and I think that’s just brilliant. And so, so tragic.

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dollgxtz · 3 months ago

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His Watchful Eye Pt. 4

Word Count: 11.9k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, noncon, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, obedience training, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, stalking, pet names like kitten, sweetie, pretty, ownership, manipulation, attempted rape, xavier appears

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti, @m0onlustre, @ve1vet-cake @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglamela, @connorsui @iluvmewwwww75 , @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer @mysssticc @babygirl-panda19 @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1

AN: Bit of a late upload for you night owls and a nice surprise for my early risers! Someone tell me to stop making the chapters longer, thank you LOL. This chapter was a lot of fun to write and I hope you guys enjoy! This is on AO3 as usual! :D

"So… uh, what’s your dog’s name?" you asked, trying to keep up the conversation and maybe get him to reveal more. Your voice was casual, but inside, your nerves were on high alert. "Dog? What dog?" he said absentmindedly, his eyes still glued to the window. His response was automatic, dismissive, as if he hadn’t even registered the question. "You...said that noise earlier was your dog? Right?"

Read Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3 Pt.5

Xavier drummed his fingers rhythmically on the glass counter, each tap growing more impatient as the seconds stretched on. His eyes darted around the cluttered store, scanning the shelves filled with everything from worn-out sneakers to high-end dress shoes. The store clerk had disappeared into the back room several minutes ago, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Xavier wasn't entirely sure what he was hoping to find here.

He had strolled in with nothing more than a photo of a shoe print—a faint clue at best—but it felt more productive than sitting idly by, doing nothing while the answers to your disappearance slipped further out of reach. At least this was action, however uncertain.

Was this even a tangible way to find you? Was he grasping at straws, wasting precious time on a hopeless lead?

And the most haunting question of all—were you even still alive?

Xavier squeezed his eyes shut, as if closing them tightly enough could block out the flood of dark thoughts threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn’t afford to let his mind go there, not now. Pushing the fear and uncertainty away, he tried to focus on the faint glimmer of hope that had brought him here in the first place. Anything was better than surrendering to despair.

"This is all I could find on it. It's certainly a unique pair," the shop clerk continued, offering a slight smile. "I'm not as technologically advanced as most shops around here, so sorry to disappoint. But, may I ask—why come to my little shop instead of one of those fancy places downtown?"

Xavier took the pamphlet, glancing over the information quickly before shifting his gaze back to the clerk. "Well," he began, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, "I heard you were the kind of guy who could identify a pair of shoes just by its print."

The clerk chuckled softly, his weathered face creasing with the effort. "You've been a great help, actually," Xavier added, sliding the pamphlet into his jacket pocket with a nod of appreciation.

The clerk gave an approving nod, the lines of his face softening in quiet satisfaction before he turned his back again, settling into the familiar rhythm of his work. Xavier headed toward the door, the faint creak of floorboards beneath his boots echoing through the small, dimly lit shop. His hand hovered over the door handle, but just as his fingers brushed the cool metal, a nagging thought rooted him in place. He paused, heart pounding slightly as the question formed in his mind.

He turned back, the weight of uncertainty pulling at his voice. "Say... you wouldn’t happen to know where this shoe was originally made, would you?"

The clerk stopped, mid-motion, his hands faltering over a pile of worn soles. The question seemed to hang in the air, drawing out a moment of silence as the man stared down, his brow furrowing. It was clear he hadn’t thought about it in some time. Xavier felt a flicker of hope, unsure if it would lead him anywhere, but desperately clinging to the possibility.

The clerk finally turned, his face thoughtful, his voice quieter now. "Yeah..." he said slowly, as if pulling the memory from a fog. "Last I saw of that shoe, it came from a company based in the... er, N1—no, wait..." His brow furrowed deeper as he worked to piece it together. "N109 Zone. Yeah, that’s the one."

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight Xavier couldn’t ignore. The clerk’s tone wasn’t just casual recollection—it was tinged with something more, like the memory of that particular shoe stirred something deeper. Xavier felt the knot of tension in his chest tighten.

Xavier felt his breath catch in his throat. N109 Zone. The name alone sent a chill down his spine. He had heard plenty about that place—mostly rumors, but enough to know that it was a dangerous, lawless sector. Few dared to go there unless they had no other choice, and even fewer came back with stories worth telling. It was a no-man’s-land, a forgotten corner of land where control was lost long ago. The kind of place where people disappeared without a trace.

His mind raced, piecing it together. If the shoe had come from there... Did that mean you were there too? His stomach churned at the thought. The faint hope he had clung to started to blur with the creeping dread of what fate could have fallen upon you in the N109 Zone.

"You’re sure about that?" he asked, his voice betraying the slight anxiety creeping in around the edges. The clerk glanced up from his work, noticing the shift in Xavier’s tone.

"Yeah," the clerk said, more firmly this time. "I’m sure. That shoe—rare brand—hard to forget. The company folded years ago, but they used to operate out of the N109 Zone. Only place I’ve ever seen them sold."

Xavier swallowed hard, the words sinking deep. If the shoe came from N109, it could be a clue—a dangerous one, but still the only lead he had. He felt the urgency building inside him, a gnawing sense that time was running out, but also the undeniable question of what he might find if he went there.

Could you really be in a place like that? His mind struggled to fill in the gaps, but there were too many unknowns. Were you okay?

"I...appreciate your help," Xavier muttered, his voice thick with tension. He clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to steady his breathing.

"You're not actually thinking of going there, are you?" the store clerk asked, his voice edged with disbelief as he raised an eyebrow. He leaned slightly forward over the counter, studying Xavier with a mixture of concern and amusement. "No offense, but a pretty fella like you doesn’t exactly look like the type who could survive in a place like that. Not really worth the hassle for a pair of shoes don't you think?"

Xavier paused, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He didn’t turn around immediately, letting the weight of the clerk’s words linger for a moment. Finally, he glanced back over his shoulder, his expression calm, almost casual. "I'll be fine," he said, his voice steady, though the tension in his body remained. "I've dealt with much worse."

The clerk blinked, surprised by Xavier's calm demeanor, but said nothing more.

Xavier turned to face the door once again, his hand resting on the handle as he prepared to step out into the cold streets. "Thanks again," he added, his tone carrying a finality that didn’t invite more questions.

Without waiting for a response, he pushed open the door and walked out, leaving the shop behind. His heart pounded a little harder now, not just from the looming threat of the N109 Zone, but from the resolve building inside him. There was no turning back now.

He had a tangible clue—a real, solid lead to your whereabouts. For the first time in weeks, the haze of uncertainty lifted ever so slightly. But now that he knew you were possibly in one of the most dangerous areas anyone could imagine, time was no longer on his side. Every second that ticked by felt heavier, pulling him deeper into the urgency of the situation. The N109 Zone wasn’t just dangerous; it was a place where people vanished, a place where hope died. He had no time to waste, but rushing in blindly would be suicide. He needed a plan.

Stepping into the cold evening air, Xavier pulled the pamphlet from his jacket pocket, its crinkled edges soft from being handled. His eyes scanned over the contents carefully. Make and model—simple enough, not much help now. A detailed diagram of the shoe—useful for recognition, maybe, but not a lifeline. Then his eyes caught something else—a faint address printed near the top. It was partially worn, barely legible, but there.

His heart skipped a beat. An address? Could this be where the shoe was made? Or where it was sold? Either way, it was another piece of the puzzle, and right now, it was the closest thing to a breadcrumb trail he had. He squinted at the faded letters, trying to make out every detail.

If this address was in the N109 Zone, it could lead him right into the heart of the danger. But it could also lead him to you.

His mind raced. First, he needed to confirm the location. Then he needed a plan—something better than just walking straight into the N109 Zone and hoping for the best.

Pulling out his hunter’s watch, Xavier quickly scanned the address printed on the pamphlet. The small device whirred to life, its holographic screen flickering as it worked to process the faint, worn-out text. A soft ding echoed in the quiet street as it started searching for the location. Xavier watched the screen intently, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

The map on the watch blinked, the dot moving erratically across an unmarked, shadowy area. It drifted back and forth, as though even the advanced technology in his hands was confused, struggling to pin down an exact location. Xavier frowned, watching the dot jitter across the screen. His stomach tightened with frustration. Was the address too old? Was it leading him nowhere?

Just when he thought the device might give up entirely, the dot paused. The holographic screen flickered once more, and with a soft chime, it glowed green in confirmation. The hunter's watch had finally locked on to a spot. Xavier stared at it, a sinking feeling settling in his gut. The place it had marked was deep within N109 Zone, tucked away in the heart of the most dangerous, uncharted part of the city.

He exhaled slowly, his mind running through a million possibilities. The watch’s confirmation meant something tangible, something real—but what waited for him there? He couldn’t shake the thought that this could be a trap, a place where the trail might lead to nothing, or worse, to more danger than he could anticipate. But it was also the only clue he had to your whereabouts.

Xavier closed his hand around the watch, feeling its faint warmth through his fingers. He knew what he had to do, but the enormity of it settled on his shoulders. This wasn’t just a simple lead anymore—it was a beacon, calling him into the depths of the N109 Zone. And whatever waited for him there, he would face it.

Because finding you was all that mattered.

As Xavier made his way through the still, empty streets back to his apartment, the first hints of dawn began to creep over the horizon, casting a faint, orange glow across the sky. His mind was already racing, formulating a plan. Gear, weapons,—he’d need everything ready before venturing into the N109 Zone.

But just as he turned the corner, his phone rang, the sharp sound cutting through the early morning quiet. Xavier stopped, his brow furrowing as he fished the phone out of his pocket. It was a jarring sound—no one should be calling him at this early hour.

He glanced at the screen, squinting in confusion. The number was unknown, unfamiliar. His immediate thought was Captain Jenna—she was the only one who’d be up this early, possibly reaching out with new intel—but this wasn’t her number.

He hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Unknown number. His instincts screamed caution. In his line of work, random calls at odd hours rarely led to anything good. The number could belong to anyone—a lead, a warning, or worse, a trap.

But then again, it could be something important—something connected to you. He couldn't ignore the possibility.

Should he answer? The phone rang again, and with each buzz, the knot of uncertainty in his stomach tightened. Whoever it was, they wanted to reach him badly enough to call at this ungodly hour.

With a deep breath, Xavier made a decision and swiped to answer the call. "Hello?" His voice was guarded, careful.

For a moment, all Xavier could hear was silence, a thick void that made his pulse quicken. Then, suddenly, the sound of crackling static filled his ears, distorting the line. He frowned, his grip tightening on the phone. The static grew louder, chaotic, until it was abruptly interrupted by a voice—scared, desperate, and unmistakably familiar.

"Xavier? Is that you??"

His heart nearly stopped.

You kept running until your legs gave out, your breath ragged and chest burning, but you couldn’t stop. Not yet. An hour ago, you had been trapped, bound in your captor's suffocating bedroom, that thick invisible leash tightening around your neck with each passing day, stealing your hope, your strength. Every second felt like eternity in that room, but somehow, with some luck of a power outage of all things, you’d broken out of your cage. You’d ran—bolted into the cold night without looking back.

And now, you were almost free.

But “freedom” wasn’t what you had imagined. The streets stretched out before you, bleak and lifeless. It felt wrong. There was no joy in the air, no welcoming breeze to assure you of safety—only the gnawing sense that you had escaped one cage just to enter another. You recalled something Sylus, your captor, had mentioned in passing.

"Its always 'night' here", he'd said with a small smile, and now you truly realized he hadn’t been lying.

Darkness swallowed the entire area, a thick, unnatural veil over everything. Even though your eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, the eerie, half-flickering streetlights cast only dim pools of sickly yellow across the cracked pavement. The shadows loomed, stretching too far, hiding too much. You shivered, not just from the cold but from the haunting silence that wrapped around you.

The air itself felt thick, as if it was suffocating under the weight of secrets too dark, too dangerous to be spoken aloud. Each alley you passed felt like it was watching you, whispering silent threats from the shadows. Exhaustion clung to your limbs, and you had finally stopped, collapsing onto a broken bench under one of the few flickering streetlights that still worked. The cold metal dug into your skin, but you barely noticed. You were too busy trying to catch your breath, to steady your thoughts.

Where do you go now? You scanned your surroundings again, looking for anything that could offer direction, but the streets were as desolate as before. The same cracked pavement, the same looming shadows. No signs. No people. Just an eerie quiet.

A fleeting thought entered your mind—maybe there’s a train station nearby? The idea seemed almost laughable. Would it even take you to Linkon? And would you even make it to a station without getting caught?

You shook your head, mentally cursing yourself for the thought. Hitchhiking was another idea that crossed your mind—no way, you scolded yourself, brushing off the notion as quickly as it came. You probably couldn't trust anyone here. Not in a place like this. Here, trusting a stranger was as reckless as running blind into the dark.

But what other choice did you have? You couldn’t stay still for long; resting too much would make you an easy target. With a deep, shuddering breath, you forced yourself to stand again. Your legs trembled beneath you, but you kept moving, hoping—praying—you’d find someone who wasn’t out to harm you. Something that could help guide you out of this nightmare. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of fear pressing harder on your chest.

As your bare feet dragged across the cracked concrete, the desperation gnawed at you more fiercely. You were lost—physically and mentally. Each street looked the same, the darkness playing tricks on your eyes. Panic swelled in your throat. How long could you keep going like this? How much longer could you walk before your legs gave out? Before someone found you?

Your breaths came quicker, shallow with fear. You needed a way out, but the deeper you walked into the N109 Zone, the more it felt like the place was swallowing you whole. You were running out of time. Running out of hope.

And then finally, as if the cruel universe had decided to grant you another fleeting moment of mercy, you saw it—a faint glow of lights in the distance. Squinting, you could just make out a corner store, its soft, artificial light spilling onto the cracked sidewalk. A few people were loitering outside, giving the place a rare sense of life. A tired-looking woman clutched her child's hand tightly, and a man stood by, lazily smoking a cigar, his eyes scanning the street in disinterest. A couple of others hovered nearby, exchanging quiet words under the dim streetlight.

You couldn't believe your eyes. A store? Here? In the N109 Zone? It seemed almost surreal, like it had been plucked from another world and dropped into this forgotten wasteland. But it made sense in a grim way. Even in a place like this, people have to eat. Make a living.

With a rush of desperate energy, you hurried toward the store, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. The people outside cast looks in your direction, but don't say anything. You stopped just short of the entrance, glancing down at yourself for the first time. You must look insane. A nightgown hung loosely around your body, dirty and torn at the edges. No shoes. No socks. Your hair was tangled and wild from the running. The sight of yourself made you wince in embarrassment, but there was no time to care about that now.

Pushing the door open, you were greeted by a dimly lit but surprisingly ordinary scene. The inside of the corner store looked like any other—aisles of candy, snacks, cheap knick knacks and toys stacked high. It was a stark contrast to the dangerous, shadowy streets just outside. But one sight caught your attention above all: the food.

Your stomach growled loudly, twisting with hunger. You hadn’t eaten since the chicken dinner Sylus had provided before your “outburst.” You hadn't been able to finish it, and now the exhaustion from running had made the hunger almost unbearable. Your mouth watered at the thought of eating, but there was one major problem—you had no gold.

Your heart sank as you stared at the rows of candy bars and instant noodles. How were you going to get anything?

Anxiously, you shuffled toward the front counter, your nerves jangling with every step. When you reached it, you hesitated for a moment, staring at the small bell. With trembling fingers, you tapped it.

A disheveled-looking man, his hair sticking out in uneven tufts, glanced up from behind the counter. He had been glued to his phone, and the interruption clearly annoyed him. His eyes landed on you, and for a brief second, he just stared, taking in your disarrayed appearance before rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Can I...help you?" he asked, dragging out the words as if the very act of speaking was a burden.

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, but your mind raced with too many conflicting emotions—fear, embarrassment, hunger. What could you even say?

"I've been kidnapped," you blurt out, your voice shaky and desperate. You opened your mouth to explain further, to tell him everything—how you had escaped, how you were on the run, how you needed help—but before you could get another word out, the man snorted.

"Yeah, I've heard that one before," he said dismissively, leaning back on his chair with an exaggerated sigh. "Who hasn't been kidnapped at least once around here?"

His casual tone hit you like a slap. The raw urgency in your voice was met with nothing but apathy. Your heart sank. He wasn’t going to take you seriously. You were just another story in a place like this, another desperate face with nowhere to go. You stood there, frozen, trying to comprehend how someone could be so indifferent to your situation.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the frustration welling up inside you. "Please, I'm serious. I just need—"

"Look," the man interrupted, cutting you off again, his eyes barely lifting from his phone. "You want something, buy it. Otherwise, move along. I’m not here for charity cases."

You glanced at the counter, the rows of candy, snacks, and drinks just inches away, knowing you had nothing to pay with. Desperation clawed at your insides. You were exhausted, starving, and running out of options.

"I don't have any gold... do you ha-have a phone?" you asked again, your voice trembling as you blinked back the hot tears threatening to spill. How could someone be so indifferent to the obvious suffering staring him in the face?

"Broken," he said flatly, still not bothering to look up from his phone. His disinterest was like a physical blow. "And… gold? What are you, some Linkcunt citizen?"

The venom in his words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, you were too stunned to respond. Linkcunt citizen? The insult was harsh, dripping with disdain, and it sent a sudden wave of anger rushing through you.

"Yes, I’m from Linkon," you correct, the frustration and fear bubbling over into your voice. "What’s with the attitude? What did I do to you? I'm asking for help!"

He finally looked up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn’t friendly. It was mocking.

"What did you do? Nothing. That’s the problem. Linkon folk come down here thinking they’re better than everyone, tossing around their fancy gold and expecting the world to hand them everything." He shook his head, his expression a mix of amusement and contempt.

"You want help? Then you’d better figure out how things work around here real fast, princess. No one's gonna hand you anything for free."

You felt your fists clench at his words, the anger mixing with a deeper sense of helplessness. You hadn’t asked to be here. You hadn’t asked for any of this. And yet, standing in this grimy corner store in the depths of the N109 Zone, it was clear that no one cared about your suffering. Not here. You weren’t in Linkon anymore.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to calm down, swallowing the anger rising in your throat. Getting into a fight with this clerk wouldn’t help you, not now. But the bitterness of his words lingered, and you realized just how alone you truly were in this place.

Silently, you turned your back to the greasy man behind the counter, his words still echoing in your mind as you began to walk up and down the aisles. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of hunger, thirst, and sheer exhaustion pulling at you. Your stomach growled, gnawing at your insides, reminding you just how long it had been since you'd eaten.

But something else gnawed at you too—something that made your skin crawl with discomfort. You hadn't changed your pad for hours, and now the sticky, damp feeling clung uncomfortably between your legs. The sudden realization hit you, a wave of disgust washing over you as you winced.

Swallowing hard, you glanced over toward the feminine hygiene aisle. Rows of necessities lined the shelves—pads, tampons, basic supplies—just out of reach. You stared at them, your stomach twisting in knots. It wasn't just food you needed now. You couldn’t go on like this.

But you had no credit cards. No way to purchase anything. Nothing.

Your eyes flicked back toward the front of the store, where the disinterested clerk sat, still engrossed in his phone. He wasn’t paying attention to you. He didn’t care. Nobody here did.

You felt a knot tighten in your throat as the harsh reality of the situation settled in. You had to steal. There was no other choice. You hated the thought of it—hated how low it made you feel—but survival wasn’t a matter of pride. Not here. Not now.

Your fingers trembled as you looked back at the shelves. You knew what you had to do.

The clerk still wasn’t paying attention, his face lit by the glow of his phone. His indifference might be your only saving grace. You could do this—quickly, quietly, and then you’d be gone.

With shaky hands you reach for a plastic bag that had fallen on the ground. The bag felt like a shield, something to hide the weight of what you were about to do. You didn’t think twice as you moved toward the feminine hygiene aisle, knowing you couldn’t walk any further in your current state. You reached for a pack of pads, your movements slow and deliberate. Your heart pounded in your chest, loud enough that it felt like the entire store could hear it.

Next, you hurried down the snack aisle, grabbing a few protein bars, a small bag of chips, and a bottle of water, all of which disappeared into the bag as your pulse raced in your ears.

You glanced toward the counter, your body tense with anxiety. The clerk still hadn’t looked up, completely absorbed in his phone. The faint, unmistakable sound of pornography drifted from his speakers, making your stomach churn in disgust. You twisted your face, feeling a wave of revulsion wash over you, but you couldn’t afford to stop now.

He was utterly oblivious to your frantic movements, his attention locked on the screen, but that didn't ease the gnawing sensation in your gut. Every step felt like you were tiptoeing across a minefield, a ticking clock counting down to disaster. Even though he wasn’t watching, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was.

With the bag now heavy in your hands, you made your way toward the exit, each step carefully measured, your breath shallow as you fought to keep calm. The distance between you and the door seemed endless, as if every inch stretched into miles. But finally, your trembling hand closed around the cold metal of the handle.

Your heart raced as you crossed the threshold, bracing yourself for the inevitable—a shrill, deafening alarm that would shatter the silence and expose your crime to the world. You waited for it, your breath caught in your throat, ready to bolt at the first sound.

But nothing came.

No alarm. No piercing siren. The only thing you could hear was the frantic beating of your own heart as the door swung shut behind you with a quiet click.

For a moment, you stood there, frozen in place, not daring to move. The cool night air brushed against your skin, grounding you in the eerie quiet. The world outside the store felt impossibly still. It took a few seconds for your brain to register that you had made it out—unseen, unheard.

You swallowed hard, keeping your head down as you hurried past the few patrons lingering near the store. Their eyes followed your every step, and you could feel their gazes crawling over you, judging, curious. Did they happen to care, or did you just look that insane?

The woman with the child pulled her daughter closer as you passed, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. The man smoking his cigar gave you a long, leering stare, as if trying to figure out what your story was. The others whispered quietly among themselves, but you couldn’t make out the words, nor did you want to. You kept walking, willing yourself to be invisible, but the tension in the air made your skin prickle.

Once you were a safe distance away from the store, you ducked down an empty alley, the shadows wrapping around you like a cloak. The world outside was still bleak, the flickering streetlights casting only the faintest glow, but here in the quiet, you finally had a moment to breathe.

You found a relatively clean spot, tucked behind an old dumpster, and set the bag down beside you. Your hands shook as you reached into the bag for the pack of pads. The discomfort and itch between your legs had grown unbearable, and the relief of changing, even in such a grim place, was something you couldn't put off any longer.

Quickly, you adjusted yourself, wincing at the feeling of the old pad peeling away. You worked fast, knowing you couldn’t linger here for long. Once you were done, you felt a small sense of relief—at least one problem had been solved.

Next, you pulled out the snacks. The hunger was still clawing at you, and the sight of the protein bars and chips made your stomach ache even more. Tearing into a protein bar, you ate quickly, barely tasting the food as you devoured it, desperate to fuel your exhausted body. The bottle of water came next, and you drank it down in large, gulping swallows.

For the first time since you had escaped, you felt a flicker of calm. It wasn’t much, and it wouldn’t last, but here in this dark corner, with food in your stomach and a small bit of comfort, you allowed yourself a brief moment to breathe.

But the quiet didn’t last. You knew you couldn’t stay hidden forever. You had to get moving at some point or Sylus would find you. This place was unforgiving, and survival demanded more than just temporary refuge.

Tucking the remaining items back into the bag, you sigh in satisfaction, glancing around to make sure no one had followed you. The streets were still empty. For now, you were alone. You had survived one more step in this nightmare, but you knew it wasn’t over yet.

Some time passes and you can slowly feel yourself falling asleep against the dumpster.

As you crouched in the dim alley, trying to fight off exhaustion and gather your thoughts, the sound of footsteps broke the silence. Slow, steady, and casual, accompanied by a faint, off-key whistling. You stiffened, instinctively pulling the bag closer to your chest.

The footsteps stopped just a few feet away, and then came the voice—low, cautious, but curious.

"Hey, you okay?"

You glanced up warily, your eyes landing on the figure standing at the mouth of the alley. He was tall, maybe in his mid-thirties, with shaggy, unkempt brown hair that fell just above his eyes. His clothes were worn—faded jeans and a jacket that had seen better days—but he didn’t look like the rough types you usually imagined when you thought of the N109 Zone. His posture was relaxed, hands tucked casually into his pockets, but his sharp, dark eyes were fixed on you, a flicker of concern—or maybe something else—dancing behind them.

His face was hard to read. He had a slight stubble covering his jaw, giving him a rugged, almost tired appearance. His lips quirked in what might’ve been a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at you—like he was curious, but also sizing you up. Not in an aggressive way, but in a way that made you wonder why he’d stopped to talk to you at all.

"Are you... lost?" he asked, stepping forward slowly, the whistling tune dying in the air. His voice was softer now, almost as if he was trying to be gentle, but his presence made the space around you feel even smaller.

"What happened to your arm?"

You swallowed hard, trying your best to keep your gaze on him. You had honestly completely forgotten about the scar on you arm. As much as you wanted to explain, every instinct screamed to stay wary. This wasn’t a place where strangers helped out of kindness, and you knew better than to trust easily. But as exhausted and desperate as you were, you weren’t sure if you could afford to push away help, even from someone who might have their own agenda.

"I—I need help," you stammered, your voice shaky, barely managing to push the words past your tightening throat. Your body trembled, a mix of nerves and exhaustion leaving you on edge. You hugged the bag tighter to your chest, every muscle in your body tense. "But... don't come any closer just yet."

The man's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression shifting, though he made no move forward. He stayed where he was, his hands still in his pockets, the dim streetlight casting long shadows on his face. For a moment, there was silence, the air thick with tension as he watched you.

"Okay," he said finally, his voice calm and even, though the curiosity in his eyes never wavered. He tilted his head, taking in your ragged appearance with a deeper interest. "No problem. I’m not here to scare you. Just trying to figure out what you're doing out here all alone."

You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. You needed help, but trust was a dangerous thing in a place like this. Still, you were running out of options. Your mind raced as you tried to decide what to say next.

You hesitated, your mind racing as you weighed the risks. Could you trust him? Telling the truth might make you vulnerable, but lying wouldn’t get you far either. You had to say something—anything—to explain why you were here.

"I was kidnapped," you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. Your voice wavered, a tremor of fear running through you as you spoke. "I escaped… I don’t know where I am. I just need to get somewhere safe and rest so I can get home later."

The man’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He studied you, eyes narrowing as if trying to assess whether or not you were telling the truth. His silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, making your heart pound faster in your chest.

"You’re serious?" he finally asked, his tone more subdued now, almost disbelieving but not dismissive. He took a small step back, showing that he wasn’t going to invade your space. "You really got away from someone?"

You nodded, the tension in your body still coiled tight, waiting for his reaction. You couldn't tell if he believed you, but you hoped—desperately—that he wouldn’t press too hard or turn you away.

The man stared at you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning your face, as if trying to read the truth in your expression. Finally, he let out a slow breath, his posture softening just slightly.

"Alright," he said, his voice low but firm. "If you're telling the truth... then you’ve got bigger problems than just being lost."

He glanced around, checking the street behind him as if making sure no one else was nearby, then he looked back at you, his face more serious now. "You can’t stay out here. This place— the N109 Zone—it’s not somewhere you want to be wandering around alone, especially if someone’s looking for you."

You felt a shiver run down your spine. You already knew the N109 Zone was dangerous, but hearing it from him made it feel even more real.

"Look," he continued, his voice softening. "I’m not gonna hurt you. If you need help, I can take you somewhere safer. But you’ve gotta trust me, and you’ve gotta move quick. If they’re after you, it’s only a matter of time before they find you out here."

He waited, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to see if you’d accept his offer—or run.

You hesitated for a long moment, scanning the man’s face for any sign of deceit. His expression was calm, almost unnervingly so, but something about his demeanor made you feel that, for now, you didn’t have much of a choice. If he meant harm, he could’ve acted already. Swallowing hard, you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I’ll come with you.”

He nodded in return, offering nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgment before turning and motioning for you to follow. "My place isn’t far. You can rest there, maybe clean up a bit. It’ll give you a few hours before you have to figure out what’s next."

You fell in step behind him, your bare feet quiet against the cracked pavement. The streets were eerily silent, save for the occasional distant hum of passing cars. You hugged the bag closer to your chest, still tense but too tired to think about running. As you walked through the dim streets, a question lingered in the back of your mind.

"I'm surprised you stopped to help me," you finally said, your voice tentative. "Most people here…they wouldn’t have even looked twice."

He glanced back at you, barely breaking stride, and shrugged. "I’ve seen worse things in this place. Trust me, a girl lost in an alley isn't the strangest thing I’ve come across." His tone was casual, almost detached, as if this was just another day in the chaotic world of the N109 Zone.

His nonchalance unnerved you. Why was he so calm? Your anxiety spiked for a moment, thoughts racing. Maybe you had made the wrong choice. Maybe he had his own agenda, like everyone else in this place. But then again, he hadn’t tried to harm you. If he wanted to, he would've done so. You weighed your options, feeling the tug of paranoia, but exhaustion and desperation had their hold. You pushed the doubt aside. For now, you decided to trust him, even if only for a few hours.

As you walked in silence, the two of you eventually came across something you hadn’t expected to see: an old, grimy phone booth, its glass cracked but still intact, standing at the edge of a corner. A relic from another time, long since forgotten by most.

Your heart skipped a beat. A phone. You might be able to call Xavier.

"Do you have any… uh, quarters?" you asked, your voice tight with desperation. You hadn’t thought about it before, but now it seemed obvious. Linkon City had long left behind the need for such old currency—everything there was digital, clean, modern. But here, in the N109 Zone, where everything felt stuck in time, of course they still used quarters. It made sense in this broken-down world.

He stopped, watching you for a moment before sighing. "Yeah, hang on." He fumbled in his pockets for a few seconds, fishing around with a slight look of annoyance. After a bit of clattering, he pulled out a few quarters, handing them over to you without a word.

Your hands trembled as you took them. This could be your chance—your lifeline. You stepped inside the booth, hoping that the old machine would still work, and stared at the dirty receiver.

You stared at the old rotary dial for a moment, panic rising in your chest. You tried to remember how it worked as you slipped the coins in the slot. It had been so long since you’d read about one of these—everything in Linkon was sleek, touch-based, connected by the web. But here, in this forgotten part of the world, you were holding a piece of the past. The process felt foreign, archaic.

Your mind raced, desperately trying to recall Xavier’s number. What was it? You racked your brain, images of his scribbled phone number from messages, fragments of conversations, all blurred together. The numbers danced in your head as you tried to piece them together.

Your heart pounded louder, matching the beat of the seconds slipping away. You were running out of time. With a trembling hand, you began dialing the numbers, trying to focus on every movement, praying you’d gotten it right.

The dial clicked as it spun back after each number, the mechanical sound unnervingly slow. The receiver crackled in your ear as the phone began to ring.

Please, Xavier... please pick up.

The ringing felt endless, each second a heavier weight pressing on your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping the receiver tight. The noise around you seemed to fade into the background as you waited, hoping, praying that on the other end of the line, he’d be there—ready to hear you, ready to help.

The phone rang again... and again.

Your breath caught in your throat, a prayer hanging on the edge of each ring.

"Hello?" A timid, cautious male voice came through the receiver, muffled by the crackling static, but it was unmistakable.

Relief crashed over you like a wave, and you nearly collapsed right there in the grimy phone booth, your knees buckling as the sound of Xavier's voice reached your ears. After everything—you finally had a connection to him. Tears welled up in your eyes, your breath shaky as you clutched the receiver tighter.

"Xavier!! Xavier, thank god!" you cried, your voice raw with desperation. "I don't even know where to start..."

But after your outburst, only silence greeted you. The line crackled, sputtering with age, the static drowning out whatever response might have come. Frustration surged through you as you gripped the receiver, shaking it in a vain attempt to clear the line. You banged the phone against the booth, biting back a sob as the interference persisted. This thing must be older than you thought. How could it fail you now?

Finally, the crackling stopped, leaving only a tense, quiet hum on the other end.

"Xavier? Is that you??" you asked, your voice trembling, barely holding back the panic. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing this fragile connection—this one thin lifeline.

The line crackled for a moment before Xavier’s voice came through, steady and calm, but with a layer of unmistakable relief.

"It’s you…," Xavier said, his voice soft but firm, as if he’d been holding onto hope for so long that hearing your voice felt like a lifeline. "I’m so glad you’re alive. Are you okay? Where are you?"

The sound of his voice sent another wave of emotion crashing over you. You sob, your body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and relief. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t alone. He had been looking for you, and now, he was coming.

"Xavier…I was kidnapped," you sobbed, the words finally breaking free, the fear and terror of the last few days pouring out. "I escaped. I’m cold, hurt and scared..."

His response was immediate, his tone both calming and steady, as if he was trying to comfort you even from miles away. "I’m here now. I’ve got you. Just breathe, okay? I’m coming for you. I just need a better idea of where you are."

You took a shaky breath, trying to keep it together, but the tears threatened to spill over. "I don’t know where exactly… all I know is I’m in the N109 Zone. I found a phone booth near a corner store. Everything around here looks abandoned."

There was a brief pause on the other end as Xavier processed the information. "Alright," he said firmly. "Stay there, I'll try and track the location of the phone booth. I’m on my way. Just… hold on a little longer, okay?"

"I—" you hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward the man who had helped you. "I actually found a really nice man. He’s letting me rest at his place. He hasn’t hurt me at all, so don’t worry. He says his place isn’t far from here. I’ll come back to the phone and give you the details after I see it."

Xavier’s voice tightened slightly, the concern clear. "I don’t like the sound of that. Just… be careful. I’m coming as fast as I can. Don’t take any unnecessary risks, alright? If anything feels wrong, leave. Fight like hell if you need to."

"I will," you whispered, gripping the receiver tightly. "Just hurry, please."

"I promise I’m coming," Xavier said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He paused, just for a second, before continuing. "One more thing though—do you remember who took you? I’ll need a name, in case…in case I don't find you when I arrive. I don’t want to lose you again."

Your heart raced as memories of your captor flashed in your mind. "Yeah! His name is S—"

"Your time is up. Please enter more quarters for an additional 3 minutes," the automated voice cut in sharply, drowning out your words.

Panic surged through you. The call had abruptly ended, the receiver in your hand now silent except for the monotonous prompt asking for more coins. You frantically searched your pockets, but you had no more quarters.

"Your time is up. Please enter more quarters for—"

You screamed, the frustration boiling over as you kicked the phone, the clanging metal reverberating through the phone booth. Your hand gripped the receiver so tightly your knuckles lost circulation, and with a final surge of anger, you thrashed against the booth, the tears you’d been holding back now streaming down your face.

"Xavier!?" you yelled into the dead line, your voice cracking with desperation. He had to hear you. He had to. But all that came through was the cold, indifferent tone of the automated voice, endlessly repeating its demand for more quarters, as if mocking your panic.

You slammed the receiver down, the booth suddenly feeling too small, too suffocating. Every second that ticked by was a second lost, a moment Xavier might not know who had taken you, might not know how to find you.

With a deep, shaky breath, you stepped out of the booth, blinking away the tears.

"Do...you have any more quarters?" you ask, more tears threatening to spill from your face at any moment now.

The man outside the phone booth shifted awkwardly and shook his head, his eyes flickering between you and the dark street. He had watched you from the moment you’d rushed into the booth, but now, as you sobbed, his discomfort was clear. He took a slow step forward, clearing his throat, but didn’t say anything at first, unsure of what to do.

"You, uh... you okay?" he asked finally, his voice soft but uneasy. He scratched the back of his neck, glancing around as if he wasn’t used to being in such an emotional situation.

You wiped at your eyes, trying to calm your breathing, but the tears kept coming. The overwhelming frustration of losing the connection with Xavier left you feeling exposed and helpless. You didn’t know what to say to the man, couldn’t find the words to explain the weight of everything crashing down on you at once.

He hesitated, then sighed, taking another step closer. "Look, uh… if it’s about the call, I’m sure your guy’s coming. Sounds like he cares. You just... you know, gotta hang in there. We’ll get to my place soon, and you can rest."

His words, though clumsy, were an attempt at comfort. But even as he tried to reassure you, his uncertainty showed in the way he avoided your gaze, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to handle someone breaking down in front of him.

You sniffed, nodding slightly, feeling drained from the outburst. "Yeah… yeah, I’ll be fine," you muttered, wiping your face with the sleeve of your nightgown, though you weren’t sure you believed it.

The two of you resumed walking, your steps slow and heavy as you sniffled, trying to hold back the tears that still threatened to spill. The man walked beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets, glancing at you now and then with an awkwardness that was hard to miss. He wasn’t saying much, just occasionally looking around as if he wished there was something more he could do, but he seemed completely out of his depth when it came to comforting anyone, let alone a woman on the verge of breaking down.

"You’ll, uh, feel better once we get there," he mumbled, his voice low and sheepish. "It’s not much, but at least you can get some sleep. Maybe eat something."

You nodded, biting your lip as you fought to compose yourself, trying not to let your emotions overwhelm you again. The air between you felt thick, filled with unspoken words and awkward tension. He kept glancing at you as if he wanted to say something more, but each time, he swallowed the words, guiding you quietly through the darkened streets.

The city around you was eerily quiet, the desolation of the N109 Zone even more pronounced in the silence. The flickering streetlights barely illuminated your path, casting long shadows that stretched across the cracked pavement. You hugged your arms close to your body, your mind still reeling from the failed call, but you focused on just putting one foot in front of the other.

The man cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. "I’m… not really good at this kind of thing, you know," he admitted, his tone awkward, almost apologetic. "But you’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it."

You nodded again, not trusting yourself to speak. His words were clumsy, but there was a strange sincerity in them. Despite his unease, it seemed like he really was trying to help, even if he didn’t quite know how to do it.

As the silence stretched on, the weight of everything hanging between you, you glanced at him through the dim light. His awkwardness, his uncertainty—it was all so clear. But despite everything, he had helped you. He had taken you in when you had nowhere else to go. Given you the last of his quarters. You swallowed, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

"I didn’t catch your name, by the way," you said softly, your voice still a little shaky.

He blinked, as if surprised you’d asked. His steps slowed for a moment before he gave a small, awkward shrug. "Oh, uh, yeah. I guess I didn’t say." He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting to the ground as he seemed to search for the right words. "It’s Reese," he finally muttered. "Not much of a name, but it’s mine."

You offered a small, tired smile, your voice soft. "Reese… thanks for helping me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if—" You stopped yourself, the weight of your situation pressing on your chest again.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye and gave a sheepish nod. "Yeah, well… I’m no hero. Just didn’t seem right to leave you out there. Not in a place like this."

As the two of you walked in silence, Reese cleared his throat, glancing over at you with a bit more confidence than before. "So… what’s your name? Figured if we’re gonna be walking together, I should know who I’m helping."

You hesitated, your heart racing slightly. Trust wasn’t something you could afford so easily, not here, not now. Despite his awkward attempts to help, you weren’t ready to give him your real name. Better to be cautious, you reminded yourself. You forced a small smile, trying to keep your voice steady.

"It’s...Mephisto," you said, the lie rolling off your tongue before you could second-guess it. You had vaguely remembered Sylus calling out the name to someone from outside the door, to who you weren't sure. One of his men probably.

Reese nodded, seemingly taking your answer at face value, no suspicion in his expression. "Alright," he said, giving a half-smile. "Nice to meet you Miss Mephisto, despite the strange name."

You nodded back, feeling the weight of the lie settle inside you. It wasn’t much, but it gave you a small layer of protection—just in case. You still didn’t know Reese’s full intentions, and trust here could be a dangerous thing.

"Nice to meet you too, Reese," you replied softly, glancing around the darkened street.

After what felt like an eternity of walking through the dark, desolate streets of the N109 Zone, you and Reese finally reached his place. The house stood at the end of a narrow alley, tucked between two crumbling, abandoned buildings. It wasn’t much to look at—dingy, with peeling paint and windows that seemed to have long lost their clarity. The front door sagged slightly on its hinges, the wood scuffed and weathered, as if it had seen better days a long time ago.

Reese unlocked the door with a bit of effort, pushing it open with a low creak. Inside, the air was stale but warm, a stark contrast to the cold outside. The place was small, cluttered, and dimly lit by a single overhead bulb. The furnishings were old, mismatched, and worn—a threadbare couch sat in the corner, covered in a faded blanket. The walls were bare except for a few crooked picture frames, and the carpet looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. Still, despite its grimy appearance, there was a strange sense of comfort to the place, like someone had lived here for a long time and had made it home in their own way.

"You can sit over there if you want," Reese said, motioning to the couch. "It’s not much, but it’s better than the streets."

You nodded, stepping inside cautiously. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the details—the scuffed coffee table with a few empty bottles on it, the stack of old magazines piled up against one wall. It didn’t scream danger, but you couldn’t shake the wary feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Something about the whole situation made you uneasy. Maybe it was the dim lighting, the smell of old dust, or just the lingering doubt about trusting someone so easily in a place like this.

Still, exhaustion weighed heavily on your body, and the promise of rest—any rest—was too tempting to ignore. You sat down on the couch, the worn cushions sinking under you, and pulled the bag of pads closer to your chest. Reese seemed harmless enough, but you reminded yourself to stay on guard. You weren’t out of danger yet.

Reese busied himself, tossing a few items around to clear space, but the house remained eerily quiet.

As you settled into the couch, trying to make yourself as comfortable as possible, a sudden noise from the backyard broke the uneasy silence. It was faint, but distinct—a thud, followed by the faint sound of something shuffling or dragging. Your heart leapt, and you sat up a little straighter, your eyes darting toward the back of the house.

“What was that?” you asked, your voice tense as you turned to look at Reese.

He froze for a split second, the calm, awkward demeanor you’d come to expect from him faltering. His eyes widened slightly, and he gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, that?" he said, his voice higher than usual. "It’s just… my dog. Yeah, he’s in the shed out back. I forgot to mention him earlier."

You watched him closely, feeling the tension spike in the room. There was something off about the way he said it, the quickness in his tone as if he were scrambling to come up with an explanation.

"Your dog?" you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady, though doubt gnawed at the back of your mind.

"Yeah," he said, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. "He’s old, doesn’t like people much, so I keep him out there. No big deal."

His words didn’t do much to settle your nerves. You stared at him for a moment longer, weighing his response, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. The uneasy feeling from earlier returned, stronger this time, creeping up your spine.

"Right," you muttered, still watching him carefully, but you decided not to push further. Not yet.

"Um... coffee?" Reese blurted out suddenly, his voice still laced with that nervous edge. He offered a forced smile, clearly trying to redirect the tension hanging thick in the air. He rubbed his hands together, glancing toward the small, cluttered kitchen. "I could make us some. Might help, you know, after everything you’ve been through."

You hesitated, still on edge from the strange noise outside and his quick, jittery explanation. Something didn’t feel right, but you weren’t sure if pushing him now would help or only make things worse. You forced a smile of your own, your mind still racing with questions.

"Sure," you said quietly, your voice flat as you tried to calm your nerves. "Coffee sounds good."

Reese nodded, too eagerly, and moved toward the kitchen, fumbling with an old coffee pot. The clattering of cups and the rush of water filled the silence, but your mind was still focused on that noise outside. A dog in the shed? It seemed like a weak excuse, but you didn’t know him well enough to push it.

You leaned back into the couch, the worn fabric sinking beneath you as your eyes drifted toward the back door. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that maybe Reese wasn’t telling you everything. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, trying to keep calm. You were exhausted, but you couldn't let your guard down.

Reese finished brewing the coffee after a few moments, bringing it over to you in a green, cracked mug. You took it from him with a polite smile, setting it down on the coffee table untouched. The steam curled up from the cup, filling the small room with the faint scent of stale coffee. Reese sat across from you, sipping from his own mug, but you couldn’t help but notice how distracted he seemed.

He kept glancing toward the window, then back at his watch, over and over. Each time, his face tensed a little more, as though he were expecting something—or someone. Your wariness only grew.

What is he looking for?

The air felt thick with unspoken tension, and your mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening. You couldn’t shake the feeling that the noise in the backyard wasn’t as innocent as he’d made it sound.

"So…uh, what’s your dog’s name?" you asked, trying to keep up the conversation and maybe get him to reveal more. Your voice was casual, but inside, your nerves were on high alert.

"Dog? What dog?" Reese said absentmindedly, his eyes still glued to the window. His response was automatic, dismissive, as if he hadn’t even registered the question.

"You...said that noise earlier was your dog? Right?"

A few moments passed in uncomfortable silence, and then you saw it—realization hit him like a brick. His eyes widened as he turned to look at you, panic flickering across his face.

You sat up straighter, your heart starting to race. He’d lied. And now he knew you knew.

"Uh, I mean—" he stammered, his voice shaky, "I meant, uh, Rex. Yeah, his name’s Rex. Sorry, I’m just… distracted." He forced a weak smile, but the panic was still there, clear as day. He wasn’t fooling anyone.

You shifted uncomfortably, the tension in the room thickening with every second that passed after Reese's panicked slip. His eyes kept darting between you and the window, as if something outside demanded his attention. Your pulse quickened as the uneasy feeling deepened. Something wasn’t right, and you knew you had to get out of there.

"I should…go," you said, forcing a smile as you slowly stood up, trying to keep your voice casual. "Y'know... Xavier’s probably found the phone booth by now. I should go back and meet him."

Reese blinked, his expression tightening for a split second. The forced calm he'd been trying to maintain wavered as he set his mug down on the table a little too quickly, the clink of the ceramic against wood echoing in the silence. "Go? Already?" He scratched the back of his neck again, his voice strained. "I mean, it’s cold, and it’s not safe out there… Maybe you should wait a little longer."

You swallowed hard, feeling the anxiety rising in your chest. Every instinct told you to get out, but you had to keep your cool. "Thanks for the coffee and everything, but I don’t want Xavier to worry," you replied, taking a step toward the door. "I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse, remember?"

Reese stood up as well, his movements stiff, like he was trying to decide whether to stop you. His gaze flickered toward the window again, and his voice dropped. "Yeah, I get it. But, uh… maybe just a few more minutes. You don’t want to be out there alone, do you?"

You glanced toward the door, your heart pounding in your chest. The unease that had been lurking beneath the surface now felt like a solid weight pressing down on you. Something was very wrong, and you needed to leave—now.

"No, I’m leaving. Thank you for everything, but I need to go," you said, your voice steady despite the panic bubbling under the surface. You tried to move past Reese, your eyes focused on the door, your heart pounding with the hope of reaching it before things got worse.

But then Reese stepped in front of you, his whole demeanor changing in an instant. "No," he said flatly, his voice suddenly devoid of the awkwardness and sheepishness he’d shown before. His tone was cold, almost emotionless, as he closed the distance between you with startling speed.

Before you could react, you felt it—the cold press of metal against your neck. Your breath caught in your throat, and your body froze as the unmistakable sensation of a gun pressed hard into your skin.

"You're not going anywhere," he hissed, his voice low and menacing. His earlier nervousness was completely gone, replaced by something dark and dangerous. "Sit back down."

Your heart raced, your mind scrambling for a way out, but all you could feel was the sharp edge of fear coursing through you. You swallowed hard, trying not to move too quickly, knowing that with one wrong step, things could spiral even further out of control.

"Reese… please," you whispered, barely able to keep your voice from shaking. "You don’t have to do this."

His eyes flickered with something—anger, desperation—but his grip on the gun didn’t waver. "Just sit down, and no one has to get hurt."

Your mind raced, searching for a way out, but for now, all you could do was comply and hope that Xavier was still coming for you.

"I promised them a girl..." Reese muttered, his voice trembling slightly, though the gun still pressed firmly against your neck as you looked up at him from the couch. He glanced away from you, his guilt briefly flickering in his eyes. "Then you just... happened to be there. Right place, wrong time, I guess. So...this is how it has to be."

His words hung in the air, cold and final.

"I’m sorry," he added, though there was no comfort in his apology—just a hollow attempt at easing his own conscience.

Your breath hitched as you tried to process his words, the full weight of the situation crushing down on you. He wasn’t just some awkward guy helping you out of kindness. He had been waiting for someone—anyone—to fill a promise. And you had walked right into it.

As you stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, the cold barrel of the gun pressed against your neck, the door creaked open. Another man stepped into the room. He was taller than Reese, with a thick, rough appearance—his face shadowed by the dim light. His eyes swept the room, landing on you, taking in the situation with a detached indifference.

"Is this the girl you promised?" the man asked, his voice low and gruff, as if he’d been through this kind of scene too many times to be surprised by it. His gaze shifted briefly to Reese, then back to you, narrowing with interest.

You felt a chill run down your spine as his question hung in the air.

Reese didn’t move the gun from your neck, but you could feel the tension in his body shift as he glanced over at the man, clearly nervous about his arrival. "Yeah, this is her," Reese replied, his voice tight. "I just… need a few more minutes to get her to cooperate."

The other man stepped closer, his boots heavy on the floor. His eyes raked over you, cold and calculating. "No time for that," he said flatly. "Get her in the basement. You know how this works, Reese."

Your pulse quickened, fear gripping you tighter as you looked from one man to the other, your mind spinning with panic. What were they planning? You needed to find a way out, and fast, before things escalated even further.

"You’re making a mistake," you said, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to stay calm. "Someone’s coming for me. If you don’t let me go, it’s going to get a lot worse for both of you."

As the weight of your words hung in the air, you weren’t even sure who you were referring to in that moment—Sylus, the man who had kidnapped you in the first place, or Xavier, the one coming to save you. Both names were tangled up in your desperation, your mind too frantic to distinguish between them. All you could do was hope that the threat would ring true, that it would be enough to make Reese think twice.

The taller man smirked, clearly unimpressed. "We’ll see about that," he muttered, turning his back toward the door to pull up the carpet, leaving you alone with Reese and the gun still pressed to your neck. You watch as a metal trap door with a handle is revealed to have been hidden under the carpet and you gasp.

Instinct kicked in, and without thinking, you twisted suddenly, using the brief distraction in Reese’s hesitation to try and break free. You shoved his arm away with everything you had, knocking the gun off balance. For a moment, you thought you had a chance, adrenaline flooding your body as you fought with all the strength you could muster.

"Let go of me!" you screamed, thrashing and kicking as hard as you could. Your elbow connected with Reese's side, and he let out a sharp grunt, but his grip tightened. His face twisted in a mixture of frustration and fear, and he fought back, grabbing your arm and wrenching you toward him.

"Stop it!" Reese growled, struggling to maintain control, but you weren’t going down without a fight. You kicked at his legs, but his hold on you only grew stronger.

The door to the basement creaked open, and before you could react, the taller man reappeared, grabbing you by the other arm. His grip was like iron, and between the two of them, they overpowered you. Your heart pounded as you screamed and clawed, your feet scraping against the floor, but the force of their combined strength was too much.

"No! Please—" you gasped, trying to twist free, but they dragged you toward the open door.

The tall man grunted with effort as they forced you toward the dark, looming stairwell. "Get her down there already," he growled, his tone sharp and impatient.

You struggled even harder, but your muscles were weakening, the adrenaline starting to fade as fear took over. They shoved you roughly down the narrow staircase, and you stumbled, catching yourself against the damp wall. The dimness of the basement swallowed you whole, the air cold and musty. You could feel the fear wrapping around you, tighter with each step they forced you to take.

The taller man was close behind, his heavy footsteps echoing in the cold, damp basement. You felt his rough hand grab the bottom of your nightgown, his fingers curling into the fabric. Panic surged through you as his cold hand snaked across your belly, the touch sending a shiver of disgust up your spine.

You screamed, thrashing wildly against his grip, but his strength overpowered you. The man leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Wouldn't hurt to try her out before the boss gets here..." His voice was thick with lust, and his eyes gleamed with a hunger that turned your stomach.

His hand slid lower, his fingers beginning to snake inside your underwear. You could feel his hard on pressed against your backside. Fear and revulsion took over, and you knew you had to do something—anything—to stop him.

Thinking fast, you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind, your voice desperate and shaking. "I'm bleeding! I'm on my period!"

The words seemed to stop him in his tracks. His hand paused, the twisted hunger in his eyes faltering for a moment as confusion flickered across his face.

"You’re what?" he muttered, his brow furrowing. His grip loosened just slightly, enough for you to take a sharp breath, your heart still racing.

"I’m on my period," you repeated, your voice trembling. "It’s—it’s bad. You don’t want to do this right now."

For a brief second, his disgusted expression told you that he was weighing his options. The thought of period blood clearly repulsed him, and his hand slowly pulled away from your underwear, his lips curling in frustration.

"You’re lucky," he growled, wiping his hand on his pants, his face twisted with disdain. "But don’t think that saves you."

His hand shot up before you could react, grabbing a fistful of your hair and dragging you across the rough concrete floor toward the makeshift shower installed in the corner of the basement. Your scalp throbbed with each pull, the pain sharpening with every step, but you bit your lip, refusing to cry out.

He threw you against the cold, damp wall, the chill seeping through the thin fabric of your nightgown. You barely had time to catch your breath before he twisted the rusty shower handle. Water burst from the nozzle, freezing and unforgiving.

“So filthy,” he sneered, standing over you as the icy water soaked your clothes, plastering them to your skin. “Maybe this will help?"

The cold bit into your bones, and you hugged yourself, trembling, struggling to stay upright as the water pounded down. He stood there a moment longer, watching with twisted satisfaction, before finally turning away, leaving you shivering on the cold, wet floor of the basement.

Sobbing on the cold, unforgiving basement floor, you shiver, your body pressed against the damp concrete, each breath heavy with despair. The chill seeps into your skin, a numbing cold that echoes the hollow ache inside you. Your tears fall, silent and unnoticed, merging with the grime beneath you as exhaustion pulls you deeper into its grip. In the silence, a desperate wish slips through your mind for someone to save you—anyone, even him.

Though Sylus had stolen you away, his presence now haunts you like a ghost. In this unbearable solitude, even the memory of him feels like a twisted solace. You long for his shadow, for those red, gleaming eyes that once pierced through the darkness, and his stark white hair, a glimmer against the void.

At least he gave you warm baths.

The thought slips through your mind, shame twisting in your chest. How could you even think of Sylus now, when poor Xavier was likely out there, rushing to save you, unaware of the torment you’re enduring? Guilt coils around you, tightening with every heartbeat, yet you can’t shake the cruel comfort of that memory. Sylus, for all the wrong he had done, had never left you to freeze, never left you to shiver and break alone.

Your vision blurs as the weight of everything crushes you, and you can almost see him—an apparition of salvation in your mind. His image flickers, vivid and sharp, as your consciousness begins to fray at the edges. The world slips away, piece by piece, and the cold wraps tighter around you.

The cold water finally stops.

In this fading moment, you cling to that impossible hope, that he, with his red eyes and cold hands, might come for you—if only to save you from a fate worse than death.

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chatxkilluaxnoir · 2 years ago

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God, thank you for rec'ing this fic, it is SOOOO good.

I am so sad that I am now basically caught up with it; pretty much.

I want more so badly.

But I can wait.

(also, I want Leo to get/keep some cool water/mystic water guardian powers somehow after all he goes through in this fic; he deserves some kind of award for everything he went through in the show and movie and now this. The poor blue baby goes through so much in this fic. I love it. I hate it, because the poor baby, but I love it, because I love seeing my favorites both suffer and tortured) and also gets lots of love and comfort. His bros go through so much too. They are also so great and great to each other in this fic).

Anyways, I love this fic so much, and it is such a Rise take on H20 (loved those show(s) btw), and also, horrifying (or how you described it as, psychological horror) and creepy and mind-trippy and stuff/etc. too!

Just a really awesome premise and story and characterization and etc.!

Anyways, just such an awesome fic. I am pretty obesessed with it now. I rec. it too so much to other people.

Esp. if u are looking for some Leo-centric stuff and/or are a Leo fan! It is great for that. Though, it is just great in general too.

Thanks OP once again for rec'ing this great fic, and a great Leo-centric fic too. I am always looking for more good Leo stuff/Leo takes/Leo-centric stuff/etc.

Now for more of this amazing fic.

Also, if you find any more great fics/comics/whatever/etc., esp. good Leo/Leo-centric/has good Leo characterizations or portrayals or takes and so on/etc. ones then I wouldn't mind u making another post or reblog or whatever like this post! Or something like that or something.

Like I said; I am always ready to have more of those kinds of things to read/watch/listen to/etc.

P.S.: I also find that love line from Ch15. Esp. in context. Though, with the context, I am also freaking out too (during that part/scene(s)).

Before I go to bed.... Another ROTTMNT Leo-centric fanfic rec

Ongoing fanfic, 15/? as of 04/26/23

Gen, no romance

Synopsis: Leo goes swimming and "something" follows him back home in return. Kind-of mind-control/possession ensues and mostly not fun.

Sickfic except the "sick" is kinda like the whole "parasite from the water" psychological horror situation, except that parasite is also maybe um magic. Like. H2O: Just Add Water except significantly more stressful.

Please note the psychological horror aspect and the additional tags

The fluff is good when it's there, but so is the angst🤙🤙

Anyways, I love this line from chapter 15:

Because despite how much this scene sent my heart racing, amazing dialogue as always 🤙🤙🤙

#s0fti3w1tch #tmnt #rottmnt #tmnt leo #rottmnt leo #there must be something in the water #there must be something in the water fic #rottmnt there must be something in the water #rottmnt there must be something in the water fic #filsamek #tagging them as the creator of the fic being rec'ing #like the OP post says; please mind the psychological horror and the other tags #some spoilers for the fic that is being rec'ing:#so--funny story while i was reading this fic; when i got to the point where leo went to take a shower sometime after going to the #mystic/magic moon pool. ofc; the shower didn't happen right after he came back but it was like his shower after coming back from it.#and me knowing something was wrong with leo by that point due #to in-fic reasons. as well as fic and chapter summary and tags reasons.#but mainly; in this case my knowledge of h20. i thought when donnie and mikey busted their way into the bathroom after leo #was not reacting or anything when mikey was trying to get into the bathroom; which donnie showed up later and saw this and also #tried to get leo to open the door. and when he couldn't either #and then they saw a bunch of water (I think; don't quote me on this)#leaking out from under the door. they decided to bust in. and because of me watching h20 i really thought they were going to find leo #with a merman tail (which i also wasn't expecting to happen so soon. though; in this case they did find leo in this state pretty quickly #but like. everyone; including leo was still very confused by it and things got slowly unraveled about what was going on with leo.#which was very cool) and was really freaking out about it and reading that section slowly because i was freaking out.#leo didn't end up having a tail though so just lol at my freaking out there. tbf though; i went from relief that donnie and mikey #didn't just find leo with a fricken tail to freaking out about leo's general weird state (if you read the fic; you know what i am talking #about when i say weird state or weird states is prob. more accurate). so in the end i was still freaking out. just the reason why changed #wow. these tags got more/longer than i meant. but that seems to happen often to me. lol.#rottmnt fic rec

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catsteeth · 5 months ago

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The Caged Bird & The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 13 ✿:+ What is Loyalty?

Chapter Index | next chapter

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it.

CW: MDNI, SMUT, NSFW themes, Sandor “my wife” Clegane, Unprotected P in V sex, Oral sex (Fem rec), multiple reader orgasms, insecure reader, misogyny, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage,

A/N: We're back at it again. A longer chapter for the come back lol

Word Count: 8.2K

Sandor was part of Jon Snow’s party as they traveled through the lands beyond the wall on their mission to capture a wight. The party walked many many miles. Sandor contemplated what he was doing, he hated the extreme cold, but he reminded himself he was doing it for you.

As he stopped to retie his boot, a tall, but much shorter than Sandor, red haired man approached him.

“You’re the one they call the dog!” The man shouted as he approached Sandor.

Sandor finished tying his boot, “Fuck off.” He huffed casually as he continued on.

The attitude did not deter the man as he followed Sandor, “They told me you were mean. Were you born mean or you just hate Wildlings?”

“Don’t give two shits about Wildlings. Gingers I hate.” He said scowling at the red haired man.

The man amused by his words continued to talk despite Sandors obvious wishes for the conversation to end, “Gingers are beautiful, we’re kissed by fire. Just like you-“ The man said pointing a finger at Sandor's burned face.

Sandor hit the mans hand down and away from him, “Don’t point your fucking finger at me.” He barked at him.

Sandor walked away and yet somehow the man was not put off. He smiled and continued to walk alongside Sandor.

“Did you trip into the fire when you were a baby?” The man pried into Sandor's past.

“I didn’t trip, I was pushed.” Sandor huffed as he kept walking, not looking at the man.

“And ever since you’ve been mean.” The man surmised.

“Will you fuck off?” Sandor annoyingly barked at him.

“I don’t think you’re truly mean. You have sad eyes.” The man tried to understand him, it struck a chord somewhere deep within him. He remembered how you once said something like that to him a long long time ago, whispered in the night as you held onto him. It was his final straw.

Sandor stopped and scowled down at the red haired man, “You want to suck my dick is that it?”

“Dick?” The man asked, unfamiliar with the term.

“Cock.” Sandor translated.

“Oh, dick... I like it.” The man shrugged, amused by the new word he had learned.

Sandor scrunched up his face, now just confused by the entire interaction, “Bet you do.” He mocked, as he continued to walk.

The man still followed him, “No, it’s pussy for me. I have a beauty waiting for me back in Winterfell, if I ever get back there. (Y/H/C) hair…(Y/E/C) eyes…About this tall,” He gestured to your height. Sandor thought for a moment how similar his description was of you. But he was convinced it was a coincidence. “The perfect height for me. .” The man continued on, “Sharp tongued, bravest woman you’d ever seen. A high bred southern bird from a castle in the sky they say.” He said as if the memory of you was a breath of fresh air. However the description of you ran cold through Sandors body.

Sandor stopped, and turned to the man, “(Y/N) Arryn?”

“You know her?” He asked, happy to hear your name.

“You are with (Y/N) fucking Arryn?!” Sandor stepped closer, his words dripping with violent anger.

The man almost shrunk as he explained, “Well not with her yet… but I’ve seen the way she looks at me.”

Sandor scoffed, “How does she look at you?” He stepped closer to him, his words were dark and heavy, “Like she wants to carve you up and eat your liver?” His eyes narrowed onto the man.

“You do know her.” He said, narrowing his eyes back.

“Aye, I know her.” He scoffed as he kept walking, angry and jealous.

“You seen her fight?” He asked, following along with still.

“Fight?” Sandor practically spit his words at him.

“She’s a killer. I saw her take an arrow to her leg, while she bit a man's finger off, then she took that arrow, snapped it in half and stabbed that man in his eye with it.” He spoke of the violent act you committed, as if it were romantic.

Sandor shook his head and scoffed, “You’re a mad fucker you know that?” He knew now for certain you had too much good sense to be with a man like him, too much good sense to even entertain the idea.

The man continued, “It’s true. Cut through four men. Rode an entire army into battle. And fed a man to dogs.” Sandor thought of it, the last he saw of you you were a girl alone with no money, no army, no family, and the iron throne as an enemy against you. How could you have done so much, accomplished “I want to make babies with her. Think of them, they’d conquer the world!”

Sandor snapped, turning to the man and grabbing him by his fur coat, “If you say the word babies again I'll strangle you with your own guts.” He barked loudly at him.

“There will be no fighting on account of my cousin. Not while she’s resting and not while we are on this mission.” Jon said, making Sandor huff and let go of the man.

“She’s your cousin now?” The man with red hair asked. Remembering when he told you you were not his cousin when you first met.

Jon looked down, somewhat regretful of his words, “She showed great loyalty to my blood, her blood. Cousin is close enough.” He said as he continued to walk, “And I will not have any of you fight over her favor when we’ve a matter of great importance to see to.”

Sandor reluctantly continued on, angry and jealous. But now he knew where you were, and knew you were alive. That was enough for him to continue.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You lost so much in the war. Lika was your horse sense you were but a child. She was the first horse you’d learned to ride. You lost the last man who was eternally loyal to you, the last man who loved you in the way only a father could. As if that weren’t enough, your body was now littered with healing scars. A constant reminder of the price you paid.

You sat by the fire in your chamber. You wore a white chemise and wrapped yourself in a fur as you examined the scar on your thigh. Running your finger over it, going over the memory of the pain.

As you did, your chamber door opened suddenly. Making you pull your chemise down and covering your bare legs.

Sansa walked in, closing the door behind her. “You’ve not left your chambers in some time.” She said, gently.

You let your guard down, relaxing. You looked into the fire, “Resting. Rest is needed to heal.”

“You're healed.” She said bluntly, you looked at her, “Well, your leg is healed.” She replied plainly.

You sighed, you knew she was right. You had used your injury as an excuse long enough. “Time they say.” you said dispassionately, “It heals all, though I am not sure of that.” You said gloomily.

Sansa approached you, sitting beside you, “You never told me.” You looked at her confused. “The man you said you loved, that Baelish took from you.” She clarified.

You took a deep breath, looking into the fire, “Sandor Clegane.” A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth at the sound of his name.

“The Hound.” She spoke calmly.

You shook your head slowly as you thought back to it, “I just called him Sandor.” You looked into the fire again. Sansa’s silence made you feel uneasy. You didn’t dare look at her, fearful of her reaction. You knew she and he were in Kings Landing at the same time, maybe she’d only seen the cruelty that was demanded of him. “I know many think he was cruel-”

She interrupted your words, “He clothed me once. When Joffrey ordered his men to strip me while they beat me in the throne room. He didn’t.” You looked at her, you listened to her story as warm tears began to rise in your eyes, and your nose and cheeks began to flush with heat, “He gave me his white cloak.” She placed a hand on yours, “He was kind.” She smiled softly as she spoke kindly of your beloved rather than pass any judgment. You were grateful for that.

You smiled, and sniffed your now runny nose, “Thank you.” You said as she wiped a tear from your cheek, forcing you to realize your tears had begun to fall. You breathed a laugh as you wiped them with the back of your hand. You looked down at the of yours hand that Sansa held, “I miss him.” You nodded, your smile falling, replaced with a frown, “His pain has ended, but… I am in agony.” You covered your face with your hands as you sobbed.

Sansa held you. It reminded you of when you both were in Kings Landing and the roles were reversed. You always held her when she cried, you tried your best to comfort her but it never worked. Now you understand.

You pulled away and swallowed your sobs, wiping away the rest of your tears with it. You took a deep breath.

Sansa tucked your hair behind your ear as she spoke softly, “You hide it well enough to the others.”

You huffed, tired of your emotion. “I have to have my moments of misery. If not I would throw myself from the highest tower I could find.” You let out one deep breath “You’re the only one I’d ever tell that to.”

“I understand the feeling.” She nodded,

You looked at her and focused on her experiences, “You’ve grown so much, you know. Not that you'd have any choice. Girls are beaten into women. But all the same, you’ve grown.” You forced a smile.

“In King's Landing I watched you closely. Every Time I was scared I thought of what you would have done. I learned how to carry myself from the strongest woman I know.” She smiled at you, and you smiled back, gripping tighter onto her hand. “Speaking of, I received this,” She looked down at the letters she received earlier that day.

You opened it, your brows furrowed, “An invitation to King's Landing?” You scoffed at such a ridiculous idea.

Sansa rolled her eyes in agreement, “For the both of us. For the Ladies of the North and East.” She sighed, “I know it is a part of Jon’s plan. But I can’t go back there.” She said defeatedly.

“I won’t leave you.” You said throwing the invitation into the fire you sat beside. “Send Brienne as your representative of the North. I will send Ser Leon in representation of myself.” You said confidently.

She nodded, looked down then back to you, “There is more than this. Bran and Arya have returned to Winterfell.”

You smiled, genuinely. You felt happiness for once in a very long while. Knowing Arya was safe gave you great happiness. You looked at Sansa, grinning from ear to ear. You grabbed ahold of both her hands, “I am happy for you.” You spoke earnestly.

Sansa however looked conflicted “He says he is something called the three eyed raven.”

“He sees visions?” You asked, you’d heard tales of such a thing but did not know if it were real.

“Of the past and the present, it would seem.” She explained, she looked at you with sympathetic eyes, “You should talk to him. Relieve yourself of some of those uncertainties.” You nodded.

You stood and looked out the window, you saw your men stationed in Winterfell. You felt once more the sting of responsibility. Then once more, I felt the weight of your sorrow. Conflicted with what others must have been saying. The maddened lady of grief.

“What are they saying?” You asked, you looked behind you towards Sansa, “About me?” You clarified.

“Stories of your bravery and loyalty towards your men and people have traveled far. They are calling you the relentless lady of the mountain and vale.” She smiled as she stepped towards you.

“A generous lie.” You said, still convinced otherwise.

She shook her head, “I’d not lie to you.” She said as she stepped closer, placing her hands on your shoulders, “Let’s dress you. I believe it is time you continued with your journey.”

You smiled, and nodded. You knew your duty. You knew your oath.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You walked along around the high walls of Winterfell. You looked down upon your men who had camped out front of the walls. Helping Northern houses with the preparations of the coming war. You smiled upon the Knights, you felt pride in them. You were not a northerner and yet still, you could feel the North's appreciation of your mens labors.

“You’re a woman now.” You heard from behind you. As you turned around you saw Arya. She stood taller than the last time you'd seen her. Dressed in black leather and fur.

You smiled, as you approached her, “I could say the same to you. Though you look more like a knight. It suits you.” You placed her hands on her shoulders, then ran them down to her hands.

“Thank you.” She smiled and nodded.

“I often wondered on you. How you were and what you were doing.” You spoke softly as your eyes took her in. Still surprised by how much she’d grown since you’d last seen her.

“If I was dead?” She asked bluntly,

You stifled a laugh, “No. No, I knew you and your needle would survive. You’ve a brave heart.” You said as you looked at her sword.

“As do you.” She said as she removed her sword, handing it to you. You took it in hand and examined it. “Only a brave heart could love a Hound.” She said as you looked at it. Your eyes darted from the blade back to her,

“Did Sansa tell you this?” You questioned her with narrow eyes.

She grinned as she shook her head, “No. He did.” You looked at her with interest as you handed her sword back to her. She put her sword back in its sheath “He took from the brotherhood. To sell me off to my mother and brother, then to aunt Lyssa. Though I suspect it was simply a ploy to get to you… I see it now.” She said as though she were proud of her observation.

You looked down, “What did he say?” You asked, almost embarrassed to ask it.

“He didn’t go on about it. Only that he failed you, and he cared for you.”

“Were you there when he died?”

Her ever present grin faded, “I left him there.”

You looked down, “It has taken a lot within me to hold my own bias aside. I understand he could be… abrasive. Hard for others to understand.”

Arya felt herself feel a slight tinge of guilt, “He fought for me harder than I’d ever seen anyone fight.” She said, attempting to comfort you, “I didn’t like him. But I can respect that.” She nodded, you smiled softly.

“You cannot tell anyone.” You commanded but it was practically a plea as you held onto her hand.

“I won’t.” She shook her head.

“I am so happy to see you.” You said with a smile, finally taking in the fact she was here.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Later in the courtyard you found Bran under the tree. You remembered what Sansa had said to you. You decided to see for yourself.

“Bran,” You announced your presence as you walked closer to him.

Bran looked over to you, “Cousin.” he stated stoically.

You smiled at him, “How you’ve grown. You’re a man now.”

“Almost.” He stated, again without emotion.

You sighed uncomfortably. Unsure of how or if you could comfort him. So you decided not to. “Sansa tells me you called yourself the three eyed raven.”

“I am.” He stated confidently.

You sat beside him, you smiled as you recounted a memory “I’d only heard stories of it, when I was a child. The ladies would tell me of it. Threaten that the three eyed raven would know if I were lying.” You looked at Bran,

“I would.” He stated plainly.

Your eyes narrowed in curiosity “Prove it.” you nearly whispered,

You looked upon you for a moment, “You were with child. Once.” Your blood ran cold. You stared at him with shocked and horrified eyes. “Forced to drink a tea to end it. You wore a blue velvet robe, it had silver flowers embroidered on the sleeves.” He spoke emotionlessly.

“I was?” You asked, your voice wavered as you ignored the rest of his statement. You need not hear anything more.

He nodded slowly “You were.”

You swallowed any emotion that rose. “Thank you.” You nodded. Now fully convinced in his ability, you knew what you had to ask him. “I need to know of my father.”

He looked at you, as if he was surprised you asked. “Littlefinger conspired with your aunt Lyssa to poison and kill your father. But you already knew that.”

You let out a huff, fighting tears, “I did.” you said softly.

“I’m sorry for what's happened to you.” He said earnestly,

“As I am for you.” You said mournfully.

He shook his head, “Don’t be. Or I’d not be what I am now.” You looked at him with concern, and confusion. But you soon understood what he meant.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Sandor and Jon’s mission was a success. However it did have its losses. Daenerys Had lost a dragon and Sandor had lost Thoros. It was hard but they captured the Wright as intended.

Sandor traveled with Jon to be sure his mission was completed and your cousin arrived safely. Soon enough he would be returning to Winterfell.

At the front of the ship Jon and Tyrion stood as they looked upon Kings Landing approaching in the distance.

“How many people live there?” Jon Asked,

“A million give or take.” Tyrion stated coldly.

“That’s more people than the entire North, crammed into that. Who would want to live that way?” Jon asked in disbelief.

“There's more work in the city. And the brothels are far superior.” Tyrion said as he scanned the other ships that had arrived for the meeting. He saw an Arryn ship in the distance. “I see Littlefinger has arrived.”

Jon shook his head, “That ship sails for Lady Arryn.” Tyrion's uncaring demeanor dropped, “The colors are inverted, it’s her claims support.” Jon stated.

“So the stories were true?” Tyrion takes a step closer to the edge of the ship to get a better look.

“Aye.” Jon said, he looked at Tyrion looking off at your ship longingly “You were betrothed to each other?” He asked, uncomfortably.

“We were.” Tyrion stated stoically,

“You loved her?” Jon questioned.

“Might have.” Tyrion said, though he knew he did.

Jon huffed, “You and the rest of the men on this ship it would seem.”

Tyrion, not knowing what he meant, looked behind him at Tormund and Sandor who looked off at your ship longing just as he was. Though all three would be equally disappointed to find out you sent a Knight to represent you rather than appear yourself.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

When in KingsLanding Sandor was in charge of transporting the Wright.

A Lannister Guard approached Sandor,

“What's in there?” The Guard questioned,

Sandor looked back at the man, surprised someone was questioning him, “Fuck off.” He said annoyingly.

Sandor then saw a tall blonde woman, the very one that almost killed him.

Brienne approached him as they walked,

“Thought you were dead.” She stated bluntly,

“Not yet. You came pretty close.” He acknowledged her ability.

“I was only trying to protect her.” Brienne tried to defend herself.

“You and me both.” Sandor sighed,

“She’s alive.” Brienne said, Sandor looking at her in surprise, “Arya.”

“Where?” He asked looking ahead, pretending not to care.

“Winterfell.”

“Who’s protecting her if you're here?” He questioned,

“The only one who needs protecting is the one that gets in her way.” She said with a smirk, shared by Sandor at the thought. Brienne then looked at Sandor once again, “As the same goes with Lady (Y/N).” He looked at her with surprise, “She’s scowled at me ever since she heard I killed you. I assumed it meant something, but I was right.” She sighed.

Sandor looked away trying to remain composed, “She alright?” He questioned,

“No. Though you don’t get names like (Y/N), the brave, the unrelenting, the unconquerable, or the Inured without suffering a great deal.” Brienne said, Sandor felt guilt wash over him again,

“What happened?” Sandor asked, still looking ahead.

“You’ll have to ask her.” Breinne said, knowing that soon he and you would meet again.

Sandor looked at her once more and smiled.

That was until the Lannister guards approached Sandor and the Box the Wright remained in.

“Anyone touches it, I’ll kill you first.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You looked out of your chamber window to see Jon Snow and his armies returning. You tried to look for Ser Leon through a voice behind you interrupted your attempt to do so.

“My Lady,” You turned around to see another knight of the Vale, you smiled and nodded for him to continue, “I am to announce the arrival of Jon Snow and Daenerys Stormborn.” He said,

“Where is Lady Sansa?” You asked, knowing she’d not be happy with the arrival of an outsider.

“Already waiting at the gates, my Lady.” He said,

“We shall join her.” You said as you continued on through the door, on your way to join your cousin.

The Knight nodded, “Yes, my Lady.” He said as he followed you.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

You saw Sansa alongside Bran waiting at the Gates. You approached her,

“You don’t look happy.” You said as you locked your arm around hers.

She smiled slightly at you, “Neither do you.”

You shrugged, “I am hard to please, I suppose.” You looked out at the crowds of men entering Winterfell, “But your brother has returned with a large army for your people. That should please you.” You said as you rubbed her arm with your hand.

She sighed, “He returned with a new Queen, one I don’t know and do not trust. One who wishes to rule this very Kingdom.” She scoffed.

You shrugged again, “Yes, well I suppose that is problematic.” You said as two large dragons flew overhead.

You’d never seen anything so large and magnificent take to the sky. You smiled as you watched the three dragons fly with one another through the sky.

“Hard to please?” Sansa said looking at how taken you were by the sight.

“I’ve never seen one before, much less two. You must admit it is extraordinary.” You said without looking at her, still looking at the dragons in the sky. You finally looked at her, “A little.” you shrugged,

“A clear presentation of her power.” She said irritated.

“Well… If you got it…” You attempted to reason but she gave you a scowl that made you stop. “Apologies.” You said. As you saw your cousin ride into Winterfell, you felt it was not your place to welcome an outsider into Winterfell. Especially since you yourself were outside. “I’ll leave you to make a proper introduction.” You smiled at her, trying to get her to lighten up.

As you walked back into the castle you heard a familiar voice speak,

“(Y/N)?” Tyrion spoke, “Or, do you prefer Lady of the Vale, now?” He breathed a chuckle but he was fighting back heartbreaking emotion.

You felt the guilt you felt long ago surge again, “Tyrion. Or do you prefer Hand of the Queen?” You jested in return.

He took a step towards you, “It would seem you are acting as hand to the Queen of the north said by some.”

You shook your head, “We are kin… we are close. But that is all.”

“Two women betrothed to me who ran away.” He jested, self deprecatingly.

“Don’t feel too bad about it. We both suffered for it.” You said earnestly.

He shook his head, “I did not want you to suffer. I never did.”

“I know. I did suffer though. I still am.” You said quietly.

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to stay here.” He said walking closer to you.

“Where would I go?” You asked, as if his idea were ridiculous. His eyes however told a different story. You could see the emotion, the longing, “No.” You said recoiling from him.

He followed you, “I have loved you since I first saw you.” He pleaded

“Please don’t.” You winced at the word ‘love’.

He grabbed your hand, “I have to know where you went, and why.”

You huffed, not wanting to do this. Not wanting to have this conversation. But knowing that the truth would hurt him, it would also set him free. “I left with Sandor Clegane. He took me with the intention of delivering me to my aunt Catelyn Stark.” You said bluntly.

“Why would he take you?”

“You know why.” You said with furrowed brows, he then looked down, you could see the pain that he felt wash over his face. You sighed “I’m sorry. I am, I tried to love you in the way you wanted, the way that was demanded of me by duty and I couldn’t. I have no doubt that you would have been a doubting and loyal husband. And maybe if we were married I would have found peace. But when he asked me to leave with him I couldn’t help it, I loved him. I never felt that way for anyone.” You walked towards him once more, “You were a dear friend to me.” You held his hand, “Very dear, you gave me consideration no else did.”

“I would have given you everything- anything.” You couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad. Perhaps both.

“I can get it myself.” You said. Never willing to ever use your hand as a bargaining chip for land or armies again.

“That is your way, I suppose. The reason I-“

You interrupted him before he could say he loved you once more, “You wouldn’t want me. You wouldn’t, not really. I am pigheaded and my ambitions are large. We would argue all the time, every time we spoke in Kings Landing it was a debate. Neither of us would be happy.” You blurted out. Just wishing he would see it your way.

“Anything more?” He asked pained,

“No.” You said. He began to walk away, “Except that-” You called out, making him turn around towards you. He nodded wanting to hear what you had to say. You took a breath, “With him gone, Tyrion… I do not believe I will ever wed. Ever find love truly. I don’t believe I will ever carry a child in me, and I don’t believe I will ever be happy.” You shook your head.

He smiled, though clearly upset. “I think you are very wrong about that. I think you will see that very soon. And I will watch.” His smile faded and he walked away.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Later that day Podrick walked with you on the high walls of Winterfell. You and he were tasked by Lady Sansa to take further inventory of the new armies for the coming war. As you walked along the wall you heard a loud Caw! Of a Falcon. You looked to the sky and saw Lenaera. You grabbed an armored glove that laid against other supplies by the wall. She landed on your gloved hand. She fluttered her wings happily and you smiled as you pet her feathers on her head.

By chance you peered down at the courtyard to see a tall and large man staring at you. A man who thought was dead.

“Podrick?” You said, your eyes wide.

“Yes, my Lady?” Podrick asked,

“Am I dead?” You asked sincerely,

“N-no, My Lady.” Podrick responded concernedly

“Dreaming?” You asked again, bluntly.

“No, My Lady.” Podrick again responded with concern,

“You told me the Hound was dead.” You said, Podrick looked down to where you looked and saw the man standing there. Soon his eyes went wide as well.

“I thought he was.” He said shocked.

“Take Laenera.” You said placing her on his arm.

“Yes, my Lady-” He said before Lenaera’s talons dug into his leather sleeves, “Ah!” He hissed as you dropped the glove and ran into the castle.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

You gathered your skirts up as you made hast down the stairs within the castle. As you were running down the hall, you saw a tall and large man running down the same hall from the opposite end. You both stopped at the same time, as if the sight of the other paralyzed the other. You felt like you were looking at a ghost of the man you loved. Your hands released your skirts as you let out a sharp and painful breath.

He stared at you, his eyes filled with emotion, “That fucking birds yours?”

You didn’t respond, still in shock by the man before you. Sandors demeanor calmed, became more earnest, “I heard you were here. Didn’t want to let myself believe it. ‘Case it were horse shit.” He said taking some steps towards you, though he stopped when he saw the tears in your eyes well.

You let out another curt breathe as you held in your tears, a wave of emotion crashed against your form as you heard his voice for the first time in so long. “I heard you were dead.” You said walking closer to him, “I thought you were dead.” A tear fell from your eye, stepping closer “I believed you were dead.” You stopped, your emotion taking hold of you, “You were dead, I-I-” You shook your head unable to understand.

Sandor stepped towards you, closing the space that remained, “I’m not.” He held your face in his hands, you noticed they were rougher than before. “I’m here.” He said gentler than you were used to. You placed your hands on top of his that held your face. “I’m not leaving.” He continued to comfort you.

It took you a moment to realize you were somewhat out in the open. Any Lady or Lord could walk down the hall the two of you stood there. You weren’t used to that. Being in the open with your affection. He would sneak into your chambers in the early hours of the morn or the late hours of the night. Never this. But, there were no more Lannisters, no more Littlefinger, no more Bolton, there was no other person or house that would threaten your status or standing. No one to hold your virtue over your head. So, you did not care.

“You needed me.” He said assertively as if he were angry with himself.

He wiped the tear from your cheek with his thumb, You blinked hard. Swallowing your emotions and taking a breath. Grounding yourself. You nodded, “I did. But I had myself.” You placed a hand on his cheek, “But, I still need you.” You nearly whispered, You looked around for a moment, the hall was still empty but for how long? You looked to your side and noticed you and he were coincidently standing beside the door to your chambers. You held onto his wrist with one of your hands, you pulled him along. “Come inside and be alone with me.” You said in a quiet voice what some might think of a seductive voice.

As you entered your chambers, he closed your door, “Lock it.” You said not realizing how bold it seemed, “Many forget to knock on my door.” You explained as you took a pitcher of water from a table by your door, walking over to the fireplace and extinguishing the fire, to make him more comfortable.

“I can make sure they don’t forget.” He said with a possessive and protective tone.

You missed it, you hadn’t heard it in so long. You walked with haste towards him, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders. He in return, wrapped his thick arms around you. He lifted you up as your lips met.

They met for the first time in so long. Your lips, as well as his, were cold from the northern air. But the heat from his tongue warmed you.

“Are you staying?” You asked breathlessly as you pulled away from his kiss. You searched his eyes, with your own. You missed his gaze dearly.

He nodded, breathless, “With you.” He said, putting you down, “I’ll go where you go.” He vowed.

“I’ve never seen you without armor.” You smiled looking over him as your hands ran over the leather top he wore.

“You have.” He said candidly

Your gazes blinked up to his, “I mean… real clothing.” You said holding back a laugh, “You look handsome.” You said earnestly.

“Fuck off.” He said dismissively, looking away from you, assuming you were lying.

You placed a hand on his scarred cheek. Redirecting his gaze back towards you. His eyes looked into yours seeing that you were honest “I missed you.” You said almost dreamily with an absent minded smile as you gazed upon the face you thought you’d never see again. Your smile faded a bit, you shook your head, “I can’t begin to… explain how terrible it was.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked down. “I know.” He was disappointed in himself, “I thought of you.” He said looking back into your eyes, “A lot.” He admitted.

As you gazed into his soft eyes, you knew he should know. He should know about the babe. He should know the things LittleFinger did. The kiss he forced on you. He should know of Ramsay, he should know of your journey. “There’s things I should tell you.” You said almost shamefully.

Sandors eyes hardened, “You fuck that ginger?” He questioned,

“Gods no!” You said with disgust, you answered quickly, surprised by the question. “His attempts at wooing me have grown constant and boring.” You rolled your eyes, then settled your gaze on him once again “I’d only ever thought of one man.” Your tone is softer.

“He said he wants make fucking babies with you.” He sneered, not angry at you but at the man. He loved you like he loved no one, and he knew he was not the only one.

“You sound jealous.” You said teasingly.

“I am.” He said with a snarl.

“You needn’t be.” You said in a whisper into his lips as you kissed him again. “Let me look at you.” You said running your hands from his face, down to his chest, “you’ve let your beard go.” You said in a melancholy tone.

All the time that had passed truly had gotten away from Sandor. It was then that the emotion hit him. Sandor dropped to his knees. Placed his hands against the small of you back, pushing you forward as he rested his head against your belly.

he was desperate,

you’d never seen him like this. You held his head in your hands, running your fingers through his hair.

“It’s alright.” You whispered, you understood how he was feeling. Feeling that he failed you.

“It’s not.” he whispered back.

“We can start again.” You said as you petted his hair, “We could be together, truly, never hiding.” You said like you were dreaming of it right then and there.

He hummed against your stomach, “I’m not a man of honor.” He said as though he were shameful of himself.

“Men of honor die all the same, I’d rather be with you.” You spoke softly as your hands sweetly ran through his hair, and your other rubbed circles against his back, “Do you not wish for me to be your wife?” You asked, scared for the answer, but needing it all the same.

He shook his head, “I wish it for me, not for you.”

You shook your head and huffed, “Look at us. this isn’t wrong. how could something that feels so good be wrong? You are no longer a piece on a board in Kings Landing. Nor am I. I don’t know about you but I refuse to be one again. Let me be yours and be mine.” You felt silly for opening yourself up like this, in a way you’d never had before. But it was something you had to do. You couldn’t allow for the same cycle you and he fell into King's Landing to continue. “When you were gone, I went to war and felt no fear. No fear because if I died I would see you. I’d be with you again. I cannot go back to wishing for moments with you. I wish for a life with you because I love you and I need you. If you love me then don’t leave me again.” You pleaded softly.

He was silenced for a moment, but then, his hands traveled tighter around your back. He looked up at you, “Be my wife.” He pleaded, his love seeping through his gruff tone.

“Yes.” You said, sweetly. You let out a small gasp as you felt his rough, large hand trail up your leg, “Yes,” you whispered to him, his eyes remaining connected to yours, his hand trailed up to your inner thigh, “Yes… yes” You continued to whispered against his movements, his fingers sneaking their way under your small clothes and toying with your sex “Yes…yes…yes-“ your whispers becoming louder, more breathless and closer to a whine. You ran fingers from his hair to his scarred cheek, you carassed it as you moaned, “My husband-Ah!” you were cut off as his finger slid inside of you, forcing a moan out of you. You grasped his scarred face harder as he did so,

“Say it again.” He rasped as he pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt.

You caught your breath as he hiked your skirts up and over his head, You could feel his beard scratching at your inner thighs, “My husban-nnnd” your voice hitched and drawn out into a moan as you felt his breathe graze across your cunt, soon feeling the heat of his tongue as it lapped up your sweetness. He sucked on your clit as his fingers found your sweet spot, pushing against your velvet walls. It had been so long since you felt someone know your body so well, and he didn't forget a thing about it. You felt the tightness in your belly finally release. As you reached your peak you cried out. Sandor drank you in groaning and fucking his fingers even deeper into you. “Sandor,” you whined, “I need, I need more.” You said with furrowed brows as you gripped onto his head beneath your skirts.

As he stood, his mouth crashed into yours. You could taste your own release on his lips. His kiss was desperate, and passionate. Making up for all the times he wished he could have done it. His hands roamed your body erratically and roughly.

He began to kiss down your jaw and neck, “I’ve missed your tongue.” you said breathlessly with a smirk and heavy eyes.

He licked up from your neck to your ear, making you moan. “Let me see you.” He spoke in your ear as he untied the back of your dress, though his large hands could hardly figure out the fragile ties.

You felt a sting of insecurity.

You looked down, as your hands aided Sandor in untying your gown. He continued to kiss and lick at your body slowly as more and more of your skin was revealed. Until you were left in your small clothes. Your scars showed, the one on your thigh, the one on your forearm, and even others that had come with time and war. Sandors eyes trailed over you, longingly.

“You don’t have to look.” You said as you looked down, somewhat ashamed of the scars you had earned valiantly. “I know I hurt to look at.”

Sandor stepped towards you, his eyes confused and bewildered. “Fuck are you on about? Feel me.” He said with furrowed brows. You looked confused for a moment until your hand trailed down from his stomach to his mounting bulge, he let out a groan. He hadn’t felt your touch in so long, and you hadn’t felt a man's body in so long, or wanted to. Your eyes snapped from his hardening, hot, and throbbing bulge that your hand caressed, to his gaze. Deeply lustful and full of longing. “Does that feel like you hurt to look at.” He asked as his hand grasped your jaw. His lips connected to your own, his facial hair tickled in a familiar and delightful way. As your mouths danced together you felt his tongue aching for the warmth of yours. To which you happily complied. You could taste yourself on his tongue, it made you all the more wet. As you did he pulled off your small clothes, practically ripping them off.

He stood there looking at your naked body, he let out a groan and you rubbed his hardened cock through his pants again.

“You’re not a woman, take your own clothes off.” You said assertively as you brushed past him laying down on your bed. He let out a dry chuckle as he obeyed your command.

You laid on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched him. You bent one of your legs bringing your knee close to your chest as you pressed your slick thighs together.

He climbed on top of you. Kissing you once more. Passionately, slowly. Taking in the pleasure of your soft and plush lips, relishing in the taste that he missed so deeply. His tongue met yours in tandem as his hands ran over your body erratically. As if he couldn’t believe you were underneath him again, he didn’t know where to start with you but he knew how much he wanted all of it. His attention was soon directed to your breasts. He’d missed them dearly. Thought of them as he worked himself in the late hours of the night.

He slid down and took them in his mouth. Sucking at your breasts, biting them in just the way you liked. As he did you wrapped your legs around his hard back, and rocked your hips against his hard stomach, attempting to soothe the growing ache in your core.

The sounds of your moans created made him even harder than could bare “I can’t wait anymore, I want my woman. My wife.” His voice was dark and deep.

You nodded as he kissed your lips,

You kissed passionately, your lips swollen and wanting. As your lips met, and your tongues found one another again. You felt the head of his cock, already leaking, begin to press against your entrance. As he pushed in you felt the burn of the stretch. You almost forgot how large he was. You gasped and winced, Sandor stopped himself from moving for a moment, looking at you to see if you were alright.

You gripped onto his shoulder digging your nails into him, “It’s been a long time.” You explained.

He nodded as he brushed your hair out of your face, “Too fucking long.” He said, holding back a moan from the pure euphoria of your cunt.

“You haven't taken another?” You asked breathlessly, possibly not the best time.

He shook his head, and in return you held his face and kissed him deeply. “I want all of it.” You whispered into his ear.

He complied, happily. Pushing his cock into your until he was completely inside of you.

You muffled your moans into his neck as you clung onto his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his back. “Fuck!” He barked, “Gods you’re tight, does it hurt?” He asked.

It did, it burned, and you were almost overwhelmed. But Gods, it was perfect. You needed it, badly.

“Husband,” You pleaded into his lips, the words made his cock twitch inside of you, “fuck me.” You whined as you kissed him deeply.

As he thrusted in and out of you with the built up lust and longing he had inside of him. You bit down on his lip as he moaned out. You threw your head back, unable to hold in your moans any longer.

He took pleasure in thrusting in you harder to hear you cry out even louder. “Fuck! I missed your cunt, your sweet fucking cunt!” He grunted, he felt you clench around him harder and harder, “Give it to me!” He groaned, “I want my wife to cum.” He grunted through gritted teeth.

“Yes!” You pleaded as his pace only became more and more furious and erratic, “Ah!” You shouted as you felt yourself release a second time,

“That’s it-” He groaned as he felt your release cover his cock, making it only easier for his cock to slip in and out with ease. It made your cunt even more euphoric, he could hold himself in any longer,

“I want it inside of me,” You begged breathlessly,

“Good.” He groaned against your skin, “Cause I want to fill my wife with my seed.” He said through gritted teeth.

You kissed him deeply as he did just that. He moaned into your mouth as he spilled his hot seed inside of you deeply. Driving you towards another release you didn’t know was there.

After... You laid there, breathing. Trying to catch your breath. Sandor laid there with his head resting against your chest. Listening to your heartbeat. You ran your fingers through his hair.

You laid there in each other's arms for what felt like a lifetime. But you didn’t want it to end.

Soon Sandor spoke again, “That ginger cunt says you killed a man.” His voice was so gruff and deep it almost startled you after basking in the silence for so long.

“I did.” You said stoically.

“That makes two men you’ve killed.” He said as if he were proud.

“Five.” You corrected, he looked up at you from your chest, “Six if you’re counting the one from the riot.” You said petting his cheek,

“I am.” He said, he looked surprised by you.

“Six then.” You nodded, “Killed four men in the battle. Then I killed Ramsay.”

“How’d you do it?” He asked, genuinely interested.

“Ramsay? Hounds.” You smirked, noting the irony.

Sandor chuckled at it as well, “You’re different now.”

“Is that bad?” You asked, running your fingers down his back comfortingly.

“No.” He shook his head, “None of it would have happened if I was there.” He said as though he were disappointed in himself.

“I know.” You were confident it wouldn’t have. But it did, and it was no one's fault but those who committed the acts against you.

Sandor took your forearm, looked at the scar, Lyssa left you with.

“What happened?” He asked protectively, wanting to know who he’d have to kill.

You sighed, “It’ll be a hard thing to hear.” You said sitting up. You wrapped yourself in fur as you laid beside him once more, “You’ll be angry. Furious even. I know because I feel the same way. But this once, just feel the sorrow with me.” You asked him, he nodded.

And so you did. You told him your story. How you were attacked by Lyssa. How Baelish forced you to end your pregnancy. How he attempted to force himself on you. How he killed your aunt. How Ramsay tormented you. You told him of the Battle, you told him of Ser Cole. You told him everything.

Sandor was silent for just a moment. Until he sat up “I’ll kill hi-”

You interrupted his anger as you sat up with him. “No anger. Not here. Not our first night.” You pleaded as you held his face in your hand. Calming him.

He held onto your wrist, “I will take care of you.” He said earnestly, “I’ll protect you.” He vowed.

“You can’t. No one can.” You shook your head.

He looked at you. Saddened that you’d no longer believe in that promise. “I will.” He vowed.

You, still, unbelieving, nodded. You leaned towards him, and rested your forehead against his own.

You didn’t want to love him this much. And he didn’t want to love you this much. And yet here you both were. Your love was formidable, unrelenting, and merciless. There was not a thing in the known world you’d not do for him. And not a thing in this known world that he’d not do for you.

You had an army and now, you had your man. Now that all left to do was to go and get what you were owed.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

NOTE: It's no use (Y/N) we gotta have it out. Also you cannot tellll me that mf wouldn’t pull out the “My Wife” card every chance he got like…. That's all. Also got I feel like I am finally free and can write smut again thank god. We are about to have our own version of the royal wedding lmao K love you, xoxo

Bambi

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minkdelovely · 7 months ago

Text

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter eight

“i want everything i asked for.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: ‘fuck it, do him scared!’ or whatever the saying is, no plot cuz y’all have had enough of that, pheromones are putting in work cuz you have heart eyes, y’all are touch-starved and pent up, half-transformation demon alastor (i hope that makes sense lol), implied demon alastor, little bit of angst or even hurt/comfort at the end? 🥲 smut: clothes ripping, scratching, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, slight degradation & praise kink dynamics, blood play & biting, handjob, orgasm denial, cream pie

word count: 6.6k *maniacal laughter*

author’s note: it wouldn’t be right to start this off without a formal apology for the cliffhanger and then, subsequently, the publishing delay 🥲✨ this ended up being more of a labor of love than i had expected; i just seemed to have such bad luck, this week of all weeks. thank you for your patience, and i hope this makes up for it! @hazelfoureyes one of these days i’ll have some more for you, but until then darling, you ever so kindly ‘asked’ me for smut so… 💅🏻💖

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor meant for it to be chaste, really he did. And while he had desperately hoped for acceptance, the ardor with which you returned the kiss was unexpected. The grip of your hands around his wrists was fierce, pulling him in; fingers like sticky fibers against the patch of bare skin nestled between his gloves and the cuff of his shirt.

So you were hungry, too… He couldn’t help but smile against your mouth at the thought.

Finally, his luck was turning around.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

When you offered your help to Alastor, a kiss was the last thing you ever expected.

Actually, you had been fully prepared for him to hurt you somehow, whether it was his intention or not. He had gotten upset so quickly, you assumed it must have been residual animosity from the meeting with Valentino that he could no longer contain. The more you thought about it, you truly understood how degraded he must have been by the whole affair, filling you with a guilt you worried might never go away. He needed a victory.

So offering your help was the least you could do.

But you never could have imagined the way he took your face in his strong hands, holding you with such care despite the intensity roiling off him in his half-formed demonic state. The strain on his face as he struggled to compose himself, his eyes switching back from black with red dials to that familiar searing red. The storming hunger you saw in them, half-lidded, as he closed the gap between you…

Your mind was practically rendered blank, running on instinct; the warm ache throbbing between your hips quickly taking up any remaining space that was left.

His mouth was softer than you expected but his press against you was firm and wickedly practiced. You felt him smile against you and for a moment you forgot to breathe, the resulting gasp being the perfect opportunity for Alastor’s tongue to snake into your mouth. If your eyes hadn’t already been closed, they would have rolled to the back of your head. His tongue was soft and big and hot, his movements steady and filled with purpose; not a drop of wasted effort. You could only hope to keep up…

It was such arduous work keeping your hands at his wrists, floored by the intense desire you had to reach out and touch him. But you didn’t know your limits here. He was still riled up — if anything, you had heard his antlers grow — and you didn’t want to make any wrong moves.

So you put all your longing into the grip of your fingers and mouth, your mind wandering on the feeling of him. Large, elegant hands cupping your face like glass. His body looming over you, offering shelter you were more than willing to accept. His mouth so hot against yours it would leave you feeling cold once it was gone. And he smelled so good this close, smoky and verdant like a bonfire on a crisp autumn night.

Your thighs rubbed together from the pulse radiating there, and he let out a small groan against your mouth as your nails absently dug into the skin of his wrists. The sound of him simultaneously made your legs weak and fanned the flame between them. His voice had always been nice — he didn’t build a career for himself on the radio for nothing — but you felt a growing fear at the aspect of never hearing something like that again after he was sated; knowing that no matter what it would haunt you for eternity.

I really am so fucked…

He was pecking now, his breath and teeth and tongue ghosting over your swollen mouth and face as he feverishly placed multiple at a time. You wanted to reciprocate so badly, whether with your lips or hands, but it was clear he needed to ravish you first so you stayed put in a shocking exhibit of will-power. But when you felt the tug of his teeth against the corner of your jaw you couldn’t stop the shaky moan that escaped you, not even noticing how your hips rolled on nothing but air.

That’s all it took.

Alastor pulled away and gave a quick kiss to your hands before dropping them to take up the torn fabric of your collar. He gave it a sharp pull, tearing your dress straight through to the waist; the sound ringing out in the quiet of your room with the promise of what’s to come. You were too stunned by the suddenness of the action, but the look on your face must have really been something if the expression you were seeing on his was any indication — ravenous and wild.

Your chest heaved with quickening breath, heartbeat kicking and head empty as you felt all the blood in your body rushing down. Too overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, you dared to bury your face in his chest, grateful to be just tall enough to reach. Mortifying as it was, it was all you could think to do.

Though safety wasn’t the only thing you found, pressing in so close to him like this, your throat going dry at the feeling of his arousal against you. No amount of time or experience could have prepared you for this, for him. You were beginning to think that there would be nothing left once he was through with you.

Just need a minute…

Mercifully, he let you. Even going so far as to cradle you against him, cupping the back of your head with his left hand. You relaxed into him, a hot puff of air leaving your mouth to soak into the fabric of his clothes. Alastor’s pleased hum in response vibrated against your face, and you brought your hands up to grip the lapels of his coat for fear of crumbling at his feet.

As you steeled yourself, he didn’t desist from his poking and prodding at your exposed back with his free hand. It disappeared briefly, followed by the faint sound of something falling to the carpet before the air was ripped from your lungs at the touch of his hot, bare skin against yours. You whined into his chest as your back arched against his palm, your fingers nearly ripping through his coat with the force of your grip, earning a gruff and sinister chuckle from him. Being able to bask in the feeling of the rumble in his chest against you was a lovely consolation, though. And just under that… his heartbeat.

His hand against your back regained your attention then, scratching and massaging at its leisure; nails tracing indistinguishable shapes along your skin. Traveling up and down your spine at first, then your shoulders and, finally, the back of your neck where he paused.

His message read loud and clear: time was up.

Alastor pulled you away from him with a gentle firmness, managing to handle you delicately despite his clear desire for haste. You could see it burning in his eyes with no intent to extinguish any time soon. He was so mystifying like this, you couldn’t help but drink him in. Stately, powerful… beautiful. It felt impossible now to have ever been afraid of him in this state of half-transformation. He didn’t seem to mind the admiration, soft smile and lust-heavy eyes radiating with ego.

His antlers look so handsome when they’re branched out like this…

“Shouldn’t you have offered to take my coat by now? I’m your guest, aren’t I?” he teased as he swiped your dumbstruck mouth with the pad of his thumb. The filter dipped in and out over his quiet, low tone of voice, sending a fresh wave of heat to your core and cheeks as you fought the urge to nuzzle your face against his bare hand. How had he already reduced you to this? “But I suppose I haven’t been well-mannered myself. Just look at what’s become of your dress.”

His face was smug as he played with the decimated fabric, fingers dancing across your exposed neck and shoulders before pulling down the long sleeves. They had been the glue, apparently, your dress falling past your hips with ease and into a heap on the floor in near silence. Goosebumps pricked your skin as you stood before him in your underwear, already feeling naked as he took you in. You noticed him focus in on your shoulder and neck, the draw of his eyebrows confirming your earlier suspicion that he had left a bruise.

“It’s fine, it didn’t hurt,” you lied self-consciously, unable to keep the nerves out of your voice. It sounded like an apology. He hadn’t meant it and in the grand scheme of things was a bruise really so bad? It would be gone before you knew it.

He didn’t seem convinced, a sound of disapproval coming from behind his closed lips before a smile took its place. “Hmm… if you say so. Perhaps a kiss to make it better?”

Alastor wasted no time leaning down to place his mouth there, and you sighed as the heat of his wide, wet tongue swiped over it before he closed his lips with a small smack. As he nuzzled in — kissing, licking, sucking, nipping — your shaky fingers took to the task of unbuttoning his coat as he had suggested. The action earning you a growl and a bite, not yet enough to break the skin but taking your breath away all the same; the fire in your belly now flickering up into your chest.

Once the coat was loose you ran your hands under it, starting near his waist to travel up his chest until you reached his broad shoulders. Was he the one who was so hot, or was it you? It was impossible to tell. You used the top of your hands to start working the coat off of him, and he paused from his effort at your neck to assist with removing his arms from it before tossing it off to the side — his remaining glove along with it. You caught sight of the saliva glistening around his mouth and chin before he resumed his station and didn’t even try to hold back the soft moan that escaped you.

What was the point?

With a snarl — that was the closest thing you could think to call it — his hands hooked behind your knees and hiked you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around him for purchase as you gasped. Alastor’s mouth found yours again and you held his face to keep steady as you hunched over him, tears forming at the corner of your closed eyes from the relief of being able to touch him this time.

This kiss wasn’t as poised as the first had been. It was hurried and open-mouthed, messy and deep. Not enough, not enough, not enough. You broke away this time, seizing your opportunity to explore his face with your lips as he had yours. His claws bit into the flesh of your ass as your mouth latched onto his neck, sucking at the pulse you found there. The resulting buck of your hips from the action and the moan he let out only pulling another from both of you.

You didn’t even notice that he had been walking until you were suddenly tossed onto the bed, his body immediately caging you in beneath him. You hooked your legs around him as he ground into you, your cry of pleasure from the friction echoing off the walls. He did it again and you whined, squirming, his hands on either side of your head as he leered down; red eyes glowing with satisfaction.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor took a moment to take in the sight before him, feeling his eyes glitch as he roamed over your flushed face, but made quick work of grabbing it with one hand to pucker your mouth before returning to explore it with his tongue.

It surprised him how much he was enjoying this; kissing you with abandon, somehow never scratching the incessant itch despite his efforts. He captured your bottom lip with his teeth, resiliently managing not to bite straight through it as you moaned into his mouth.

“Alastor…!”

His name was a song on your breath, scorching down from his ears to his cock, all of which reacted with a twitch.

One string loose.

How many more would he need to cut before you went slack?

Who had bound you up like this in the first place? It certainly hadn’t been him. On the contrary, he was so eager to see you torn open and bare, stripped of all the little secrets tangled like knots on your tether to him. Always keeping your guard up around him wasn’t only irritating… it was selfish. And there was only one of you here allowed that luxury.

Still, this was quite the consolation prize, seeing you surrender to him so easily. He had barely gotten started and you were already making such a pretty face for him; a new favorite, even. Your little pout that normally inspired vexation looked sweet like this, swollen with his kisses. It was an image he would soon not forget, being so much better than what he had imagined.

Your scent had truly blossomed now, dizzying him with the potency of its floral, nutty musk; just a hint of sweetness underneath. It complimented his own smoky, green, and bitter scent so well. But Alastor was ready to make his next new discovery, his hips finally lifting away from you as he gave you a final peck on the mouth.

“Hmmm, delicious as your mouth is, there’s another place I’m quite eager to kiss.” He could feel the wickedness on his face as he said it, unable to contain the static that flared around him as you breathed out a curse, body trembling.

Alastor made a slow descent, teasing you with licks and bites and kisses to draw out as many moans and whimpers as he could from you. Such music you made for him. Only for him. It was a good thing he had already resolved to avoid sleep as much as he could in the future; he wouldn’t get much anyway with the sounds you made ringing in his head like church bells.

He could see the damp soaked into your underwear before he even touched them, already intoxicated by the smell and heat wafting off your core. He’d have to be careful here… not an easy task, but he’d manage. The self-advised warning did little to stop him from tearing the garment in half with ease, enjoying the wide-eyed look you gave him as you quickly propped up on your elbows from the sound.

“I’d apologize for frightening you, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t mean it,” he said, holding your gaze as he palmed your bare sex, thrilled by how wet you already were. You were having such a hard time keeping your composure, serving only to egg him on. He hummed and continued, almost surprised by the words that came out of his mouth, “You don’t seem to mind, though… how lewd.”

Your head fell back with a loud whine, arms giving out so that you were flat on your back again; face scarlet as his fingers moved against you, collecting your arousal. His dick throbbed against him at the sight, leaking onto his skin and clothes. He couldn’t help the hiss that spilled from between his teeth when he tested you with his middle finger, tight as you were wet.

“Oh my… it’s been a while for you too, hm? I’m honored,” he cooed, relishing the way you whimpered and clenched at his words. “I do worry how you’ll fare… Contrary to the restraint I’ve shown so far, I must warn you… I don’t have the capacity for gentleness today.”

Your eyes shot open with shock, and with that he removed his finger and brought it up, putting the entirety of it in his mouth to suck you off as you watched. His eyes closed in pleasure, groaning as his tongue lapped up every bit of you, savoring every second. Clean and tart… like a ripe summer cherry. He couldn’t stop the bit of drool that escaped the corner of his mouth, the rush of saliva incensed by your taste coming on too quickly to swallow it all.

Alastor was breathing hard through his nose, a fresh wave of hunger — he wasn’t sure what else to call it — trembling through him with a fierce burning need. His smile and voice were sharp, static fraying as he spoke, “Hmmm… My imagination wasn’t even close. Aiming to please, dear?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

His fascination with licking you off him would be your second-death. Not only that, but you hadn’t expected him to say any of the obscene things that were spilling from his mouth, let alone the way you were responding to them. You had been subject to dirty talk before and enjoyed it (if done well), but… there was just something about it all coming from Alastor that set your veins on fire.

“Alastor, please, it’s embarrassing,” you pleaded through gasps, watching through half-open eyes as he licked away at his hand. You felt as if you had a fever, your face was so hot, hair already beginning to stick to your forehead with sweat.

As if falling on deaf ears, he merely proceeded to give a sharp tug to his bowtie, removing it in one go before unbuttoning his shirt. Something about the harsh way he pulled his shirt from the belted waist of his pants made you dizzy, but you felt a scream die in your throat watching the way his shoulders and chest moved as he freed his arms, with just the slightest flex of his abdomen; your eyes unable to resist following the trail of hair below his navel that disappeared under his belt.

You had made peace with your budding attraction to him — it was easier that way, considering your near-constant state of proximity — but this felt like being tossed directly into the fire.

Burning at the stake.

As he towered over you, you took in the large, pink scar lacerated across his chest from left shoulder to the right side of his ribcage. There had been mentions of the battle against Adam and his Exorcists within the group; how terrifying it had been, how brave everyone was. The loss of their friend Sir Pentious, who had died trying to help protect them against Adam. That was when the conversation normally tapered off, the grief still too close at his loss, but also because of what led up to it.

From what you understood, Adam had been Alastor’s appointed target to handle. One he was unmatched against, if the scar was any indication. A killing blow he had managed to survive. You hoped the pity you felt wasn’t making its way into your gaze as you looked at him, knowing he’d dislike it. Still… You sat up with hands stretched out, the instinct to touch and comfort him too strong to fight. But he pushed you back down, a shadow coming over his face as he bent over you.

“Patience, sweetheart. I still owe you a kiss.”

You didn’t have time to process the dismissal before he raked his nails on your skin as he dipped down, your back arching up to meet them as you breathed through the small sting of pain. A splash of sobriety hit you as you felt the heat of his breath hovering over your cunt, your stomach tight as he moved closer, a wanton cry as he finally lapped at you with his tongue; a slow, wide, firm sweep from hole to clit. Sealed with a kiss, as promised.

You shuddered and gripped the duvet as if your life depended on it. The image of him nestled between your legs making your brain short-circuit. His eyes were shrouded with a predation that should have terrified you. So why did it thrill you instead?

“Oh my god…”

That wicked grin of his…

“Last I checked, Hell is the absence of God. Let’s try again, shall we?”

He hiked your legs over his shoulders, looped his arms around to grab the top of your thighs, and pulled you to his mouth. You saw white as he didn’t hesitate in setting a voracious pace, his tongue dipped into you — long and thick — as his nose pushed against your clit with every open-and-close of his mouth. His chin providing a pleasant hardness that nearly knocked the wind out of you.

He was incessant.

Sucking, prodding, licking, and swallowing; a starving man who may never eat or drink again. Your hands found purchase on his antlers, a bit smaller now but still looming, earning a moan of approval into your heat that blossomed in your chest. The room was filled with the sound of wet smacks and a harmony of throaty groans from him; keening, breathy moans from you. Both unabashed.

In between breathing his name, words were tumbling from your mouth that you couldn’t register, too lost in the feeling of him on you. Not just your pussy, but your legs, too. His hands gripping your thighs so fiercely as your hips rolled against his face that you hoped for bruises. A keepsake. It was impossible to know if this would ever happen again.

You hadn’t even realized you were slipping away from yourself until he pulled back with a sharp gasp, finally coming up for air, jerking his antlers from your hands. The lower half of his face shimmered with a blend of your arousal and his spit, the sclera of his eyes gone black, dials taking the shape of his red irises. Again, your arms reached out, shaking from the effort as you tried to catch your breath.

“Kiss…,” you barely managed to say, dizzied as you were.

Alastor obliged, climbing up to your open hands as you pulled him down to you, unable to find the strength to meet him halfway. He flinched as you ran your tongue over his left cheek, licking up some of the mess there as he wiped at the other side with the back of his hand. The taste of your combined fluids sent a jolt of pleasure through you and you moaned through the sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that followed. The laugh that escaped him was sinister but sent another wave of warmth through you all the same.

He rewarded you with a finger, followed quickly by another. And before you knew it, another. Pumping in and out of you with a delicious stretch and a maddeningly consistent pace before they curled, teasing your spongy core as his thumb circled your clit at the switch; the sudden onset of your orgasm had your body trembling under his touch.

“Ohh… mm, fuck…! Hmmmnn… Ah—! Alasto—ahh!”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” His voice was rough but soothing. A crackle of static melded into your moans and the wet sounds of your cunt, and he gave his head a violent shake as if to clear it. There was nothing but a growling need when he spoke next. “I’ve got you, don’t fight it. Let me see how pretty that sullen face of yours looks when you cum…!”

It was all too much. Just the intensity of his eyes on yours boxed in between your hands holding his face could have sent you over the edge. But his words again, that pet name…

The tether snapped so viciously you were fairly certain you passed out for a moment, your vision gone black as you screamed. Only to be brought back to consciousness by Alastor’s fingers slowly riding the wave of your orgasm, no longer stroking with purpose — you were clenched around him so tightly his previous pace would have probably injured you both — but with a languid solace. Graciously accepting every roll of your hips into his hand as you moaned his name and gasped for breath.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

God, it was so fucking satisfying to see your face twisted up, eyebrows knit and your pouty lips salaciously framing your open mouth as you cried out for him. Another perfectly shattered expectation, much like the rest of this experience had been. He didn’t even mind that your eyes were shut. The consolation being the glimpse he caught of them rolling to the back of your head before they were out of sight. That, and, this would only be your first. He was determined to get at least one more out of you before this was over, truly unsure how much you could handle.

He was surprising even himself, speaking to you in the manner he was. He enjoyed a good tease, but he couldn’t recall going to this extent before. Perhaps it was a result of the pheromones, but he simply couldn’t seem to help it. The reactions it was pulling from you were too exhilarating to deny himself… and by extension, you.

His static was filling the air, buzzing with the energy of a lightning storm as he sucked you off his fingers once more with a snarl; his free hand sloppily undoing his belt before giving it a freeing tug, desperately hard erection weeping slightly at the bit of alleviation. As the realization that he was preparing to enter you sunk in another ripple of goosebumps pinpricked his skin, causing him to bite down on the inside of his lip from the sensation.

The taste of his own blood came with inspiration.

Alastor tucked back some of your damp hair before bringing his face down to meet yours, swiping at your lips with his blood-coated tongue. Testing the waters. Your eyebrows drew together and you stretched underneath him, as if waking from a night’s sleep, before blinking your eyes open. He watched as your tongue responded with a quick prod of what he had left there, and felt his smile grow when you let out a hum of content.

He would never tire of being right.

“I thought you might like that, my little killer… Have some more,” he whispered against you. Giving your lips another rough lick before taking your mouth again, groaning into each other as your tongue soothed his still-bleeding lip.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Something about this kiss was different.

There was a fierceness this time that hadn’t been there before, no doubt spurred on by the blood pooling in Alastor’s mouth. It had been shocking to taste at first but then… you found that it wasn’t too bad. Diluted with saliva, it was almost sweet, and you relished the way he enjoyed your tasting of it.

Your hands traveled up to the back of his head, gently scratching the prickly velvet of his undercut with one while the other pulled at the hair on his crown. His hiss into your mouth made you moan with another jump of your hips, and you felt him shift over you then; vaguely aware of the sound of him unceremoniously tugging down his pants before he took your hand from his crown and brought it between you.

The gasp that escaped you was sharp, your hand instinctively wrapping around his length as he guided you through stroking him. He was so hard, wet, and heavy, burning to the touch, but distant alarms were ringing about your ability to take him all. It scared you how much you wished to try.

His moan of relief was another keepsake, the sound of it so soft and pleading in your ear that you nearly sobbed from your desire. You couldn’t help but wonder what his face looked like, making a sound like that, and found yourself jealous of the skin of your neck he was hiding in. You stayed like this for a moment, his hand leaving you to work on its own as he cradled the opposite side of your head to lick and kiss your neck between gasps and moans. With a final nip to your skin Alastor pulled back, the mattress dipping as he put all of his weight onto his forearm to the right of your head as he adjusted himself.

“Don’t close your eyes,” was all he said before pressing into you, the tip of his cock already threatening to overwhelm you as it teased your entrance.

It was not an easy task, your eyebrows drawing together in such a way that it nearly blurred your vision. You whined between closed lips, doing your best to breathe through the sweet stretch of him finally entering you. Despite his direction, he didn’t seem to be doing much better; sweat beading on his forehead over furrowed brows, kiss-swollen mouth open with panting breaths. Flushed cheeks. Even in the state he had reduced you to, you were trying to sear the image of his lust-strained face into your psyche.

He was rocking his hips slowly, allowing you to adjust to him with each little thrust as your arousal coated him, easing his advance; breathy moans collecting between you in puffs of steam, joining the two of you together in all the places you weren’t touching.

All the while, your eyes were locked on each other. Had anyone else ever seen his the way they were now and found them beautiful instead of horrifying? You moaned as you stared at him; taking in his large, elegant antlers and sweat-damp hair, reminding you of the bedhead you had seen the other morning. His handsome and sinister face. He could easily tear you to shreds — and in a certain way, he was — but you were overwhelmed at the amount of care he had shown you so far, even with his earlier warning.

His thrusts were building in sharpness, parting you with a tantalizing push-and-pull until he finally bottomed out with a growl. You cried out from the fullness he gave you, already twitching around him despite his stillness as he gave you both a moment to try and catch your breath.

Alastor peppered your face with kisses and licks as you relaxed into him, testing you with a shallow thrust that had you biting down on your lip. Another. Another. Another. Until your mouth was hanging open, your hands traveling up to hold onto his triceps in your need for stability and to keep him close. Suddenly you felt him leave you completely, not even able to process the emptiness before he slammed back into you with a harsh grunt that made you squeal; writhing as he pressed up into your cervix.

He must have really enjoyed that, because he did it again. And again. And again. Settling into an excruciatingly blissful pace, his hard length massaging knots out of your body you didn’t know where there. Your legs instinctively hooked around him, nails digging into the flesh of his arms as you gasped and whined.

“So — ah..! Good… Alastorrr…!”

“Fuck!” he hissed between gritted teeth as your hips bucked, brows knit tight as he shook his head as if to clear a fog.

You didn’t know he was actually trying to keep something at bay, the additional inch of growth in his antlers lost on you in your current state.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor’s hips stuttered for a moment before muscle memory guided him back to rhythm, desperate to regain the ecstasy that was torn from him. It had been a close call, but he managed to keep the switch from happening. Though the monster inside was still there, clawing at him just below the surface.

He felt as your hands moved from their place on his triceps (which he had quite enjoyed) to settle on his chest, your fingers delicately tracing his scar. The line wasn’t steady though, perforated by the impact of his thrusts, which you were handling with a surprising welcomeness.

It was almost…

There it was again, lying in wait; that ravenous, goading shadow roiling inside of him.

Take the risk…

Could he, though? Composing himself was practically second-nature, after all…

Say it!

Alastor exhaled, somewhere between a growl and a sigh. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” He allowed himself to relish the sound of your cry and the blissed out look on your face, which in turn provided a moment to steel himself before continuing, “I didn’t think you’d be this greedy.”

“Fuuuck…! Alast — oh my god…!”

A fresh wave of your arousal flooded over him as you desperately rolled your hips to meet him, but the intention had been to make you climax — and judging by the way you were spasming around him, you were close. Not drive him to his own at the sight of your glowing eyes, just as they had that day in the alley.

He had miscalculated.

With an agonizing force of will he pulled out of you, harsh breaths straining his lungs as he got off the bed to hastily remove his pants and shoes. He groaned through the ripple of adrenaline that was tearing through him, heartbeat pounding in his ears like a drum, the feeling of it causing his hair to stand on edge. Fuck. He wouldn’t be able to hold it off… not this time.

“What’s wrong?” Despite the question, your voice was still so thick with lust that it made his back hunch over.

It was taking all he had not to wrap his arms around himself in what he knew would be a useless attempt at containment. Even breathing was painful. The air saturated with the smell of sweat and sex and Valentino’s goddamn pheromones!

I really am going to kill that son of a bitch!

“Alastor…?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Burning at the stake.

It had been a good way to put it.

He had been burning you alive before dousing you with ice.

What had gotten into him? What had gotten into you? No one had ever said something like that to you before and received anything but a slap in the face. Greedy… The word made your heart stutter, some of the blood from the lower half of your body traveling back up to your face. Was it true?

Embarrassment was beginning to sober you up. Had you gone too far? It seemed strange that you had, considering the words came from his mouth and not yours. Fuck, all of this had started because of him. How else had he wanted you to react? Or was he ashamed of himself?

Was he regretting this already?

“What’s wrong?”

You watched as his back arched up like a spooked cat, the force of his breathing revealing the ribs and notches of spine under the skin. He looked like he was in pain… Maybe the scar on his chest wasn’t as healed as it seemed? You climbed off the bed and made a timid approach.

“Alastor…?”

He flinched at the touch of your hand with a hiss, the shock of his reaction making you trip over yourself and fall back onto the bed. He kept his back to you when he spoke next, the absence of his filter making you shiver in pleasure and worry.

“You remember what I told you earlier, yes?”

I don’t have the capacity for gentleness today.

How could you not remember that?

“I do,” you answered, just above a whisper.

He straightened himself then, still turned away from you and managing to look regal despite his trembling. “I need you on all fours… and you must promise not to turn around. Do you understand?”

It was a question that didn’t leave room for any response other than yes. So you just positioned yourself on the bed, facing your headboard and gathered the pillows there underneath you for support. You had just finished settling when you felt his weight dip the mattress behind you, heart in your throat as he ran his nails down your spine before slipping his fingers into you.

You both sighed as he pumped you, filling the room with that familiar lewd sound between breaths. Stoking the embers of your stolen orgasm with every drag, until he removed them completely. You whined at his absence, the tightness in your belly teetering somewhere between pleasure and pain as you heard him shudder through stroking himself. His free hand resting now on your hip.

“Don’t get comfortable. If you cum facing away from me I’ll never touch you again.” His voice was tight with effort, the filter over it harsh and pocketed as he adjusted himself behind you, the grip of his hand on your left hip promising to bruise.

To your shame, the threat alone almost made you, a graceless moan tumbling out from your chest as you barely managed to nod your head in confirmation; your cunt flexing around the words echoing in your mind. The obscene sight of it drew out a sound from Alastor that could only be described as animalistic, earning the plump skin of your hip a few punctures as he thrust into you, bottoming out.

It was a brutal pace, his cock nearly leaving you with every thrust before plunging back in. He still had one hand on your hip while the other grabbed your shoulder, the slapping sound of your skin meeting quickly overpowering the gasps and moans falling from your mouths.

“Haahhh… nnghh…! …fuck!”

“Alastor…”

You felt him twitch inside of you at the sound of this name before he practically shouted, “Again…!”

The blush burned down from your face into your chest, but you complied and whined his name again. And again. Until it seemed to be the only word you knew.

“Ohhh, fuuuck…,” he hissed, followed quickly by a snarl.

You could’ve sworn you heard fabric tearing before a green glow reflected off the lacquered wood of your headboard. Alastor’s huge silhouette taking shape as it intensified; invoking the image of a nightmarish spider more than the deer demon you knew. You closed your eyes and buried your face in the pillows you had gathered, refusing to turn around despite your instinct to do so. And even through the fear, you still felt your orgasm building, the battle to keep it at bay quickly turning against your favor.

“Alastor… I… I can’t… I—”

The words were stolen as he suddenly bit into your shoulder, his mouth so wide you felt his teeth sink in from shoulder blade to collarbone. You screamed into the pillows as his hips stuttered, until there was a final thrust so deep it would have pained you if it weren’t for your throbbing shoulder. His seed spilled out hot and thick, fueling the aching fullness inside you as he grunted into your flesh; teeth still latched to you as if making a primal claim.

Hot tears fell down your face as he rode out his orgasm behind you, unsure if they were caused by the savage bite to your bruised shoulder or lament over the deprivation of seeing his face. But you had done as you were told, managing not to turn around or climax. The bite he was now nursing with licks and sucks and kisses providing plenty of distraction.

Almost too much…

As he tried to catch his breath, you could feel him shrinking behind you as he pulled out, his slick torso laying flat against your back as he lapped up the blood dribbling from the bite. And in between his kisses that traveled from your shoulder to your tear-stained face, his hands were petting you with such a tenderness it only wrought more tears.

His soothing whispers of shhh, I know, I’m sorry, I’ve got you, I’m sorry ringing in your ears as he brought you to lie down, cradling you to him as he caressed your face with his hands that inflicted such pain and comfort… protection.

For what seemed like hours, the two of you laid in silence, looking into each other’s eyes as his thumb stroked your cheek. Until finally you buried your face into his chest, hands over his heart.

And slipped into shadow.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

ps: phew! we fucking made it y’all… i truly hope it was worth the wait. but i do want to announce here that i will be taking a little break. i know this one was already late, but it kinda took a piece of my soul lmao since we only have two more chapters i need to make sure i have all my ducks lined up to wrap this with a pretty little bow. thank you for your patience and love, i really do appreciate you. and i’ll see you on may 5th 💖

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmic-lavender

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #slow burn #alastor slow burn #song fic #if i can't have love i want power #love and power #x reader #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #alastor x reader slow burn

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jayswifeshh · 4 days ago

Text

all talk | p.js

there has always been a simmering tension between you and jay ever since you joined their friend group, hidden beneath playful banter and teasing remarks. but things changed when what started as a carefree night out with your seven friends quickly spiraled into something far more unexpected. between the music, the drinks, and the charged glances, the playful teasing shifts into something much more intense.

《 park¡jongseong x female¡reader

《 content - smut, a little fluff, teasing, protected sex, praise kink, drunk sex, jealously, oral, self-pleasure(jay), the reader isn't submissive and she's low-key a freak. probably missed a lot but it's my first time guys i'm so sorry!

if you're into a quick smut story this probably isn't for you. got carried away and it ended up being way longer than expected (i just like to yap a lot sry again babes)

《 wc - 9k

heesung and jake play a big role in this lol. jungwon's mentioned too just at the very end.

___________________________________________

you and jay… that was always a topic of confusion—for others, and sometimes even for yourselves.

this entire, incredibly eventful chapter of your life began when you met enhypen during one of your calvin klein photoshoots. it was a collaboration you hadn’t expected, and yet everything about it felt oddly seamless.

from the moment you met the group of boys, it felt as though you’d known them forever. they were warm, funny, and easy to talk to—qualities that made them stand out, especially since most of your friendships had been with girls.

what really caught you off guard was how quickly you became a part of their circle. suddenly, you were being invited to hangouts every other week when your schedules allowed, and you didn’t mind one bit.

all seven of them welcomed you with open arms, making you feel at ease in a way that was new and unexpected. it was strange to think about because kindness should be the standard, but your past experiences with men had left you guarded. this shift in dynamic, though refreshing, often felt too good to be true.

your relationship with each one of them was unique in its own way, but you seemed to connect best with one in particular— park jongseong.

your bond with jay was unlike anything you shared with the rest. from your very first exchange, there was an easy flirtation between the two of you that only grew stronger over time. the others teased you both relentlessly, saying how perfect you were for each other and insisting you should stop pretending and just make it official.

you and jay, however, would always dismiss their comments, laughing it off and insisting that you were just joking around. of course, the others never believed you, carrying on with their relentless teasing.

still, it never fazed you or jay. maybe it was because, deep down, the idea didn’t seem all that bad? you never stopped to analyze it, though. the truth was, you never had a “what are we?” conversation, and you weren’t exactly in a rush to have one either. you weren’t actively looking for love, and having a flirtatious dynamic with a man sculpted like a greek god certainly added some much-needed excitement to your life. who could complain? it was just innocent fun—you never crossed any boundaries or did anything beyond playful banter.

little did you know, though, that someday words would turn into actions.

the night everything changed began with a casual invitation. the guys were in new york city for a concert and decided to go clubbing in their free time. they wanted you to join.

the place they chose was nothing short of extravagant—a blend of a nightclub and bar, with a formal dress code and an exclusive guest list. it was an entirely new experience, especially since most of your outings with them were more casual: dinners, movie nights, or just hanging out at someone’s place.

the chance to dress up, drink, and let loose was too tempting to pass up. without a second thought, you said yes, not knowing that this night would mark a turning point in your relationship with jay.

after stepping into the upscale club, the eight of you naturally dispersed. some rushed off to the bar, others disappeared into the pulsing crowd, lost in the music and lights. a few mingled effortlessly with strangers, their laughter blending into the vibrant hum of the room.

you stayed back with jay, jake, and heesung, settling into a plush, semi-private corner on an l-shaped couch. the spot felt perfect—close enough to feel the energy of the club but far enough to offer a sense of privacy. from where you sat, you could watch the sea of bodies moving under the strobe lights, yet here, the music was muffled just enough to allow for easy conversation.

a sleek glass table in front of you was already cluttered with expensive liquor bottles, mixers, and half-finished drinks. you sat in the middle, jay on your left, so close that his knee brushed yours every time he adjusted his position. heesung occupied the far side, and jake sprawled casually on your right, his arm draped over the backrest.

the conversation was lively, flowing effortlessly from deep, reflective topics to ridiculous, out-of-pocket jokes that had all of you clutching your sides with laughter. the alcohol helped, loosening your words and deepening your bond as time slipped away.

it didn’t take long for you to feel the telltale signs of drunkenness. your cheeks felt warm, the edges of the room seemed softer, and your words occasionally slurred together. the guys weren’t far behind, their flushed faces and increasingly playful banter a clear indication of how much they’d had to drink.

but through the haze, you couldn’t help but notice jay. he’d always been charming and tactile, but tonight, something about him felt different—intensely focused. every so often, his hand would graze your bare leg, the touch fleeting but electric. occasionally, he’d reach out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering near your cheek in a way that made your breath hitch.

and then there were his hands—always finding ways to touch yours. jay had a habit of playing with your fingers, something you’d grown used to, but tonight, it felt more deliberate. his thumb traced slow, lazy circles on your skin, his touch so gentle it sent shivers up your spine.

his gaze, though, was what undid you. whenever his dark eyes locked with yours, it felt like the rest of the world faded away. there was an intensity to the way he looked at you tonight, as if he was trying to tell you something without saying a word. it made your heart race in a way you couldn’t quite control, and the alcohol only amplified your awareness of him.

jake and heesung weren’t blind to what was happening. every time jay’s hand lingered a little too long or his gaze softened when he looked at you, the two of them would exchange amused glances. jake smirked openly, while heesung occasionally raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching as if he was holding back laughter.

you noticed their silent teasing, of course, but jay seemed entirely unfazed. his focus stayed on you, as if the rest of the room didn’t exist.

as much as you tried to brush it off, blaming your racing thoughts on the alcohol, you couldn’t ignore the effect he was having on you. jay looked absolutely stunning tonight. his dark hair framed his face perfectly, soft strands falling effortlessly across his forehead. his black sweater clung to him just right, dipping low enough to reveal the sharp lines of his collarbones, while his tailored dress pants fit him like a dream. every detail about him seemed designed to make you lose your composure.

the night continued like this, the four of you huddled together while the others flitted in and out. occasionally, one of the members would stop by to join in on the conversation, only to dash off when a song they couldn’t resist came on. the corner you’d claimed felt like its own little world, insulated from the chaos of the club.

at one point, jay excused himself to the bathroom. you watched him go, your gaze lingering longer than you intended. the absence of his presence was immediate, like a sudden chill. the warmth of his touch, the weight of his attention, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you—it all left you reeling.

jake chuckled beside you, breaking your train of thought. “you good?” he teased, raising his glass in a toast. heesung just smirked knowingly, leaning back into the couch. to which you nonchalantly stated you're okay.

you shook your head, brushing off the slight unease from jay leaving. you leaned back into the cushions, letting the warm buzz of alcohol dull your thoughts. it wasn’t a big deal, you told yourself—he probably just needed a moment. the energy of the club, the thrum of the music, and the laughter from jake and heesung were enough to distract you. for now, the thought of jay and his lingering touches faded into the background.

but as the conversation flowed, jake leaned closer, his smirk catching your attention. “so,” he began, dragging the word out in a way that immediately put you on edge, “you know jay likes you, right?”

heesung, lounging comfortably, nodded with a sly grin. “oh, for sure. it’s not even subtle at this point. the guy can’t keep his hands off you.”

you froze for a second before letting out a laugh, shaking your head as you waved them off. “oh, come on. jay’s always like that—he’s just naturally touchy. it’s not out of the ordinary.”

jake raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “sure, but he doesn’t act like that with anyone else. have you seen him with us? the guy barely even gives us a pat on the back, let alone all the…” he mimicked brushing imaginary hair behind his ear, earning a snicker from heesung.

“exactly,” heesung added, crossing his arms. “jay’s different with you. it’s written all over his face. you’re the only one he looks at like that.”

rolling your eyes, you chuckled, trying to ignore the way their words made your heart skip. “you’re both drunk. he's flirty all the time—it’s just jay being jay.” you shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “he probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.”

the two exchanged another look, one of those silent conversations that only close friends could have. “okay,” jake said, dragging the word out again as if to humor you. “whatever you say.”

heesung smirked, leaning back into the couch. “denial is a river in egypt,” he muttered, earning a laugh from jake.

“and you two are delusional,” you shot back playfully, though the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed your confidence. you quickly changed the topic, refusing to let their words linger, but deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if they might be right.

heesung, however, wasn’t done. he leaned in dramatically, his voice lowering as if he was revealing some deep, dark secret. “you know, i don’t know why you’re pretending to be all innocent here.” he shot you a mischievous grin. “you’re just as flirty as jay—if not worse.”

before you could protest, he straightened up, then leaned forward again, dramatically acting out what he claimed was your behavior. “oh my god, jay,” he said in a mocking voice, fluttering his eyelashes. “you look so good tonight. i can’t stop looking at you.” he threw in a hair flip for good measure, causing you to laugh despite him making fun of you.

you gaped at him. “i do not do that!”

he grinned wider, clearly enjoying the playful torment. “sure you don’t,” he teased, pretending to sip from an invisible drink. “and then you throw in some accidental touches here and there, just like jay. like this” he reached over and lightly brushed your arm, his touch exaggerated and playful.

“stop!” you laughed, swatting his hand away. “you’re ridiculous, heesung!”

jake chuckled beside you, clearly enjoying the teasing. “you can’t deny it. you’re just as bad, if not more obvious, than jay.”

you crossed your arms and tried to hold your ground, but the heat in your face betrayed you. “whatever, you two are crazy.” you leaned back, trying to mask your flustered state, but deep down, a part of you knew they were right.

silence filled the air when you thought...wait... let’s make this fun. you leaned in closer, deciding it was your turn to stir things up.

“so, who’s the better flirt?” you asked, your voice dripping with playful confidence as you shot them a daring smirk.

heesung didn’t miss a beat. “you, obviously,” he replied with a matching grin, his quick answer making you sit a little taller.

you were about to feign modesty when jake jumped in, completely unfiltered. “oh, that’s not even a debate. you’re smooth, like dangerously smooth. it’s effortless—sensual, even. jay, though? he looks like a mix of a horny teenager and some creepy old dude who’s trying way too hard.”

you couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped, your stomach aching as heesung nodded in agreement, both boys delighting in tearing down jay’s flirting game.

“so, you’d fall for it?” you pressed, leaning into the teasing, letting your voice drop just enough to make them squirm.

their reaction was immediate—eyes wide, sharing a glance, before jake cleared his throat awkwardly. “i mean… yeah. probably any guy would… shit even girls,” he admitted, his voice quieter now.

you turned to heesung, raising an eyebrow as if to ask, well? he scratched the back of his neck, looking at everything but you. “yeah, same,” he mumbled. then, with a nervous chuckle, he added, “but don’t let jay hear that. he’d kill us, and honestly? i’d rather not go out like that.”

you giggled at their flustered answers, but you weren’t done just yet. a wicked thought crossed your mind. you leaned back against the couch, sighing dramatically, letting your body arch slightly, chest subtly pushing forward.

oh, so now they go quiet, huh? you thought to yourself, biting back a smirk.

you shifted back into your normal position, glancing at the two of them. for the first time tonight, they weren’t shooting off quick remarks or teasing you back. instead, they were trying way too hard to act like they were fascinated by the crowd around them, clearly avoiding letting their eyes wander to how your dress hugged your figure just right.

“you guys are so boring,” you teased, breaking the silence with a pout. “maybe i should test my charm with you two to see if it really works,” you added, voice low and dripping with suggestion.

the way they stiffened was almost comical. they exchanged panicked glances, their nervous laughter giving them away immediately. jake cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. “nope, nope, nope. you’re jay’s future wife. we can’t be a part of this madness,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender.

you huffed dramatically, pretending to give in. “fine, i guess you’re right.” a pause hung in the air before you slyly added, “besides, i don’t think you could keep up with me anyway.”

jake’s jaw dropped, his expression a mix of offense and disbelief. “okay, now that was just uncalled for,” he protested, pointing a finger at you like he was scolding you.

you leaned in closer, locking eyes with him, your voice soft yet teasing. “you sure about that?”

“as if jay can,” he scoffed, laughing at his own joke. “but yeah, i’m sure. besides, like i said, you’re practically the future mother of his kids, and—”

“okay, that’s enough,” you cut him off quickly, unable to handle the forwardness of his words. “can we please stop talking about jay for one sec—”

heesung interrupted, grinning like he’d just uncovered some big secret. “guys, i think jay’s busy with his other future wife.”

you and jake froze, immediately following heesung’s gaze. sure enough, jay was leaning casually against a wall, unfazed as a girl who was far too enthusiastic leaned in closer, laughing and touching his arm a little too much for your liking.

“nah,” jake laughed, breaking the tension, “he looks mad uncomfortable"

“damn though, how does he get all the girls while i stay bitchless?” heesung muttered, still focused on jay and the overly eager girl practically draping herself over him.

jake chuckled, but you couldn’t resist poking at heesung. “i just gave you the opportunity of a lifetime, hee,” you teased, referring to your earlier playful flirting, as heesung remained captivated by the unfolding scene of jay and the mystery girl.

he finally tore his gaze away, smirking mischievously. “if jay gave me the green light, i wouldn’t even hesitate, gorgeous,” he shot back smoothly, his words bold and his tone dripping with confidence. he added a wink for good measure, which only made you laugh.

“heesung!” you exclaimed, your voice half-scolding, half-amused.

jake groaned, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “seriously, man? and no, jay would never allow it. neither would i.”

“a guy can dream, can’t he?” heesung shrugged nonchalantly, but the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips made it clear he wasn’t entirely serious. when he noticed the way you and jake were looking at him, though, he quickly backtracked. “what? come on, guys, i’m joking!”

your gaze shifted back to jay, who was still caught in the same uncomfortable interaction. the girl was leaning far too close, her giggles annoyingly loud, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of jealousy in your chest. not that you’d ever admit it to them. instead, you waved it off casually.

“well, hope he has fun with her,” you said breezily, already trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. you weren’t about to let them notice the little twinge of irritation creeping in. besides, comparing his body language with you and her, jay truly was different with you. his smiles, his touches, his attention—it all felt more genuine when it was directed your way. that alone was enough to ease your nerves.

“are you crazy? go save your man!” jake urged, his voice insistent.

“he’ll be fine,” you replied, brushing it off with a casual shrug, though the sight of the girl inching closer made your stomach twist just a bit more.

a pause hung between you before heesung spoke up, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “you know... i heard from a very reliable source that jay likes it when a girl gets jealous...”

you raised an eyebrow, the skepticism clear on your face. “oh, does he now?”. it sounded out of character for jay. he was mature and grounded, the type of guy who would probably find possessiveness off-putting, or so you thought.

“seriously,” jake chimed in, nodding earnestly. “he thinks it’s hot when a girl gets territorial over him. like, it’s his thing or something.”

you hummed thoughtfully, swirling your drink. their sudden insistence felt suspicious, but you couldn’t deny the idea intrigued you.

“go,” heesung urged, motioning for you to stand up. his expression was equally playful and determined.

you sighed dramatically, leaning back against the couch as though the mere suggestion exhausted you. “what if i scare my number one hoe away?” you joked, your voice laced with sarcasm.

the boys burst into laughter but quickly recovered, their expressions shifting to something more earnest. jake shook his head. “nah, you’re good. he’s your hoe, and he knows it.”

their encouragement made you hesitate. part of you wanted to stand your ground, but the other part of you—the side that had been waiting for some kind of signal from jay—felt the push. maybe they were right. maybe this was the moment.

heesung, ever the instigator, leaned closer, his smirk teasing. “what, are you scared now? all that confidence earlier, and now you're pussying out?”

his words struck a nerve. without another thought, you grabbed your drink in one hand and reached for jay’s drink with the other, standing up with newfound purpose.

before heading off, you turned to them, narrowing your eyes in warning. “if this messes things up with jay because of your little scheme, we’re gonna have a serious problem.”

jake and heesung exchanged triumphant glances, their grins growing wide. “awh, so you do care about him,” jake teased softly, his voice dripping with adoration.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips as you turned and made your way toward jay. behind you, the boys exchanged triumphant looks, dapping each other up and eagerly shifting in their seats to get the best view of the chaos they’d just unleashed.

if you were sober right now, this would’ve been much harder. but walking through this high-end club with liquid courage warming your veins made it feel almost too easy. heads turned as you passed, lingering stares trailing over your figure. the way people looked at you—like you were the only person in the room—only fueled your confidence. but your eyes were locked on one person: jay.

every step you took toward him felt like a small victory, closing the distance between you two. your heart pounded in anticipation, but you pushed the feeling aside, focusing on your goal. the world around you blurred, the dim lights, music, and whispers fading into the background.

jay noticed you before you reached him. his expression shifted from mild confusion to relief, and finally, a soft, welcoming smile. he seemed caught off guard by your determined stride, as if trying to piece together why you were heading straight for him.

when you stopped in front of him, his gaze locked onto yours, his dark eyes searching your face. without missing a beat, you offered him a warm smile and extended his drink—the one you’d deliberately taken earlier to sell the illusion. “babe, what took you so long?” you teased, your tone light but purposeful, laced with playful mischief.

jay blinked, taking the drink from you, his brows furrowing slightly. before he could question you, you slid your arm around his back, your fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt as you pulled yourself closer. leaning in, your lips pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. the simple act was sweet, innocent even, but the way your lips lingered for just a second longer than necessary made it impossible for him to dismiss.

he. was. stunned.

his body stiffened slightly under your touch, and as you leaned back, you caught the way his jaw subtly tensed, his lips parted in shock. the confident exterior jay always carried faltered, and the rare sight of him flustered filled you with a quiet satisfaction.

you turned your attention to the girl standing beside him, who had gone completely silent. she stared at you, her expression uncertain, her confidence visibly shaken. you extended your hand toward her, your movements poised and deliberate. “hi, i’m y/n,” you said smoothly, your tone polite but firm, like you were both introducing yourself and reminding her of your place beside jay.

the girl hesitated, glancing between you and jay before awkwardly shaking your hand. she mumbled her name in response, her voice lacking the boldness she’d shown just moments earlier.

you took a slow sip of your drink, studying her with a small smile. “oh, was i interrupting something?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, your tone feigning innocence but carrying an undercurrent of teasing.

before she could answer, jay’s voice cut in. “no, of course not,” he said firmly, his gaze flicking to you, his tone making it clear that your presence wasn’t unwelcome.

the girl, however, looked like she wanted to argue, her lips parting before snapping shut again. she fidgeted awkwardly before finally speaking. “oh, um, i guess i’ll see you around, jay,” she said, her tone quieter now, unsure.

you watched her turn to leave, noting the stiffness in her stride as she hurried back to her friends, who immediately erupted into cheers and claps. the scene was almost laughable, but your attention was drawn back to jay, who had relaxed against the wall. his signature smirk slowly returned, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“why’d you do all that?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, yet there was a hint of something deeper—curiosity, maybe even hope.

“what?” you replied, your voice casual as you leaned against the wall beside him. “you looked uncomfortable.”

jay chuckled softly, shaking his head. “bullshit,” he said, his smirk widening.

“oh, so you weren’t?” you shot back, your eyebrow raising in challenge.

his silence spoke volumes. his eyes, dark and focused, roamed your face, lingering on your lips before meeting your gaze again.

“were you jealous?” he asked finally, his voice dipping lower, the smirk never leaving his face.

your heart skipped a beat, but you refused to let him see how easily he got under your skin. instead, you rolled your eyes, a smirk of your own forming. “did you want her all over you like that?”

jay’s expression shifted slightly, the teasing glint in his eyes sharpening into something more serious, more deliberate. without warning, he pushed himself off the wall, closing the distance between you in a single step.

his free hand found your waist, the warmth of his palm searing through the thin fabric of your dress. “so…” he murmured, his voice a mix of challenge and seduction. his fingers brushed against the curve of your hip, slow and deliberate. “you wouldn’t be jealous if i was this close to her?”

his lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “if i touched her like this?” he continued, his hand sliding lower, his fingertips grazing the small of your back.

“if i kissed her?” his voice dropped further, his lips brushing your neck, the faintest, softest touch that sent a wave of heat flooding through you.

your breath hitched, your body betraying you as a sharp jolt of desire coiled low in your stomach. his scent surrounded you—woodsy, rich, and utterly intoxicating. your knees felt weak, and you gripped your drink tighter, the only thing keeping you steady.

jay pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning your face, waiting for your response. “hm?” he prompted, his tone daring, his smirk back in full force.

you swallowed hard, struggling to regain control. his presence was overwhelming, every inch of him drawing you closer, making it impossible to think straight. but you weren’t going to let him win so easily.

locking eyes with him, you returned his daring stare. “we both know who you’re taking home tonight,” you said, your voice low, steady, and full of confidence.

his eyebrow quirked, intrigued by your defiance. “that doesn’t answer my question, baby,” he murmured, the pet name rolling off his tongue with a smoothness that sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

you inhaled deeply, trying to steady your breathing. “i think you already know the answer,” you whispered.

“i want to hear you say it,” he demanded softly, his voice laced with authority.

you let out a shaky breath, your walls finally crumbling. “you make me crazy,” you admitted, the words barely audible.

his hand slid lower, his fingers teasing the curve of your ass as he leaned in closer. “is that so?” he whispered, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

but you weren’t done. your hand lifted, fingers trailing along his neck, down his chest, and lower, stopping just above his belt. gripping the leather lightly, you tugged him closer, your lips brushing his ear. “take me home and find out,” you murmured, your voice sultry and filled with promise.

jay’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching slightly as his gaze dropped to your lips. for a moment, it felt like the world stopped, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

without another word, he pulled back, his phone already in his hand. “bet,” he said simply, his voice steady but his eyes still burning as he stepped around the corner to order a cab.

you leaned back against the wall, your heart racing, your skin still tingling from his touch. this was new—this was something neither of you could ignore. and as the anticipation bubbled in your chest, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing the night was far from over.

as jay disappeared around the corner to order the cab, you leaned back against the wall, attempting to steady your racing heart. his touch lingered like a trail of fire on your skin, and you couldn’t shake the way his voice—low, teasing, and possessive—had made you feel utterly weak. you took another sip of your drink, the coolness doing little to extinguish the heat that had spread through your body.

your gaze wandered, and it didn’t take long to find jake and heesung. they were still on the couch where you’d left them, and the moment your eyes met theirs, you regretted looking their way.

they were putting on a full-blown performance, clearly reenacting what little they’d witnessed of your interaction with jay.

jake had an arm slung dramatically around heesung’s shoulders, doing his best impression of your earlier actions. heesung batted his eyelashes, clutching an imaginary drink as he leaned into jake.

“oh, stop, i’m blushing!” heesung teased, pretending to giggle as he tilted his head like he was expecting a kiss on the cheek. jake leaned in with exaggerated slowness, and the two burst into laughter before they could even finish the mock kiss.

it didn’t end there. heesung suddenly straightened up, pulling an invisible belt like he’d seen you do with jay, his action dripping with playful exaggeration. jake let out a cackle, wheezing, barely able to contain himself.

their antics caught the attention of a few people around them, who were now glancing over and chuckling at their over-the-top performance.

you groaned inwardly, rolling your eyes. of course they’d turn what little they saw into something absurd. but as ridiculous as they were, you couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto your face.

jake was the first to notice you watching. his grin widened, and he immediately elbowed heesung, nodding in your direction. they both froze, their expressions turning comically innocent like they hadn’t just been clowning you moments earlier.

it didn’t last long. heesung gave you an exaggerated thumbs-up, his grin shameless.

“you’re welcome!” he yelled across the room, loud enough for you to hear clearly over the music.

you sighed, lifting your hand to flip them off with a slow, deliberate motion.

jake clutched his chest in offense, gasping dramatically, throwing himself against heesung like he’d been struck. heesung shook his head, laughing, clearly enjoying the moment far too much.

you rolled your eyes, unable to hold back the grin that tugged at your lips. no matter how much they teased, you knew they’d be cheering you on the whole way through. with one last amused glance at their ridiculous display, you turned your focus back to the moment ahead.

because as much as they enjoyed their antics, they didn’t know what had just transpired between you and jay. and judging by the fire still burning in your chest, you weren’t ready to share it with anyone just yet.

jay came back shortly after, his presence as confident as ever. “you ready?” he asked with a teasing smirk, his hand slipping effortlessly into yours. the simple gesture made your stomach flutter, but you masked it with a coy smile, letting him lead you back toward the couch.

as you approached, it was painfully obvious jake and heesung had been up to no good. they sat there pretending to have the world’s driest conversation about the “architectural integrity” of the club’s interior. their poorly hidden giggles betrayed them, and you could practically see the mischief radiating off them.

the moment their eyes landed on your intertwined hands, their mouths stretched into matching, shit-eating grins. they exchanged a quick look, clearly bursting with pride at their matchmaking success.

“we’re leaving,” jay announced nonchalantly, his tone cool and indifferent. “heading to y/n’s place.”

their grins widened, barely able to contain themselves.

“guysss,” jake whined dramatically, leaning forward with his chin in his hands. “don’t you wanna hang out with us a little longer? it’s been such a fun night.”

jay didn’t even blink. “don’t ask dumb questions,” he said flatly, leaving jake mock-offended as he clutched his chest and let out an exaggerated gasp.

“wow, okay, guess we’re just chopped liver now,” heesung chimed in, shaking his head as if deeply betrayed.

you giggled, amused at their dramatics, as you walked around the table to grab your purse. but before you could escape, the boys were on their feet, ready to send you off with one last round of chaos.

heesung clapped jay on the back and said goodbye with a knowing smirk, but it was jake who went in for the kill.

as you bent down to pick up your bag, jake leaned in close, his voice low and teasing. “be a good girl, yeah?”

you froze for half a second before whipping your head around to give him a sharp look. “jake,” you warned, your tone laced with disbelief.

he laughed, brushing it off like he hadn’t just said something that would replay in your mind for the rest of the night. before you could respond, he pulled you into a suffocating hug, swaying you side to side like an overly affectionate big brother.

“jake,” you groaned, your voice strained. “if you don’t let me go, i’m gonna throw up all over your ridiculously overpriced suit.”

he released you immediately, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “fine, fine,” he said with a grin. “but you owe me for being such a great friend.”

jay shook his head, amused, as he stepped forward to dap up jake. meanwhile, you turned to heesung, who was already smirking as he pulled you into a hug.

“do everything i’d do,” he muttered into your ear, his tone dripping with mischief.

you leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “hee, i think you’ve got that saying wrong.”

he shrugged, his grin widening. “nah, you heard me.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. their antics were relentless.

as you turned to leave, heesung suddenly called out, “wait, jay—one more thing!”

jay sighed, already looking annoyed, but walked back over to him anyway.

heesung waved him closer, gesturing like he had some urgent, life-changing information to share. jay leaned down, and in one swift motion, heesung slipped something into his hand.

jay straightened up and opened his palm to reveal an xxl condom. your jaw dropped, and you clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

jay stared at the condom, then up at heesung, who was already grinning like a fool. jake was no better, nearly doubled over in silent laughter.

after a beat of silence, jay let out the most sarcastic laugh you’d ever heard, his expression deadpan as he raised his hand to dap up heesung.

heesung, thinking he’d succeeded in his prank, lifted his hand eagerly—only for jay to drop his own and toss the condom back at him with a straight face.

“you’re actually insane,” jay said, shaking his head in disbelief as he turned to grab your hand.

you couldn’t hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter as jay tried to pull you toward the exit.

“what, dude? we just don’t wanna be uncles yet!” jake called after you, his voice full of fake concern.

without missing a beat, you turned your head back to them and shouted, “don’t worry. i have my own!”

their laughter exploded as jay finally led you away, his own chuckle slipping out as he shook his head. your friends were a pain, but you couldn’t deny they’d played a part in making the night unforgettable.

stepping outside into the crisp night air, the chill brushed against your skin, but it wasn’t the cold that sent shivers down your spine. it was the situation. your mind, slightly hazy from the alcohol, began to clear as reality hit. this wasn’t just another playful night with jay. there was something electric about this moment—something that made your nerves buzz and your heart race. despite the countless teasing and bold words exchanged between you two, the idea of acting on them felt entirely new, thrilling, and terrifying.

jay noticed the goosebumps on your arms almost immediately. without hesitation, he slipped off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. the weight of it, the lingering scent of his cologne, enveloped you, and your pulse quickened. it was a simple gesture, but the effect it had on you was anything but. little did he know the goosebumps weren’t from the cold—if anything, the alcohol had kept you warm—but from the thought of him, his touch, his presence.

“the cab’s going to be here in a couple of minutes,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the stillness of the night.

you nodded, leaning your back against the wrought iron fence in the dimly lit parking lot, your eyes trailing over him. jay looked impossibly handsome under the soft glow of the streetlights, his dark hair slightly tousled, his features sharp yet softened by the gentle lighting. you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you admired him openly.

“what?” he asked, his usual confident tone faltering slightly as your gaze lingered.

“nothing,” you replied with a grin, your voice light and teasing. “you’re just really handsome.”

he rolled his eyes, a soft laugh escaping him, but the faint blush dusting his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed. “you’re impossible,” he murmured, though the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed him.

he stepped closer, leaning his shoulder against the fence beside you. the proximity made your heart race, and when his eyes met yours again, the world seemed to slow down.

you shifted, turning your body fully to face him, the playful air between you giving way to something more vulnerable. “so,” you began, your voice softer now, “who was that girl really?”

jay raised an eyebrow, his smile growing wider. “so you were jealous.”

you quickly shook your head, though you couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped. “i wasn’t jealous. just curious,” you countered, though even you weren’t convinced by your own words.

he chuckled, his laugh warm and low, sending a shiver down your spine. “she was no one. honestly, she stopped me outside the bathroom and just started talking. i think her friends dared her or something—she kept glancing back at this group of girls, and they were all staring and giggling like maniacs.” he shook his head, laughing at the absurdity of it.

you snorted, the ridiculousness of the situation breaking through your earlier tension. “sounds like quite the encounter.”

his gaze shifted then, darkening slightly as his teasing tone faded. “but what about you?” he asked, his voice dropping. “why were jake and heesung being so flirty with you?”

you smirked, leaning in slightly. “now look who’s jealous.”

he scoffed, his hand brushing against yours as he closed the small gap between you. “of course i’m jealous. how could i not be?” his voice was lower now, his words deliberate and dripping with sincerity. “just look at you.”

you tilted your head, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “what can i say, jongseong? you’re one lucky man.”

his expression softened, his eyes scanning your face like he was memorizing every detail. “i am,” he admitted quietly. “you’re… unreal. like some angel who just fell out of the sky. i know it sounds cheesy, but… i’ve never felt like this before. not about anyone.”

his words hung in the air, their weight settling over you and making your chest tighten. you’d always known jay was smooth with words, but the raw honesty in his voice now was enough to leave you speechless.

“shit,” he muttered, his eyes dropping to your lips. he trailed off, but the way his body leaned into yours told you everything he didn’t say.

and then his lips were on yours, hot and insistent. the kiss was everything you’d imagined and more, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. you responded immediately, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

his hand found your waist, gripping it firmly as his other braced against the fence behind you. the feel of his body pressed against yours, the heat radiating off him, was intoxicating. every nerve in your body seemed to light up under his touch, and when his teeth grazed your lower lip, a quiet moan slipped from you.

the sound seemed to embolden him, but before either of you could take it further, a car honked nearby, pulling you both out of the moment. you turned to see a sleek black car pulling up to the curb, the driver glancing your way with an unreadable expression.

jay let out a soft laugh, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment before he pulled back slightly. “cab’s here,” he said, his voice still husky.

he took your hand, guiding you toward the car and opening the door for you. you slid in, rolling your eyes playfully at his gentlemanly ways but secretly loving every second of it. he climbed in after you, settling beside you and reaching over to buckle your seatbelt before you could. the small, intimate gesture made your heart flutter, and you leaned back into the seat, trying to compose yourself.

as the car pulled away, the tension between you two was palpable. the driver’s presence kept things quiet, but you could feel jay’s thigh pressing against yours, his hand resting dangerously close to your own.

“uh,” he began, clearing his throat awkwardly. “sorry if i was too forward back there. i—”

you cut him off with a quiet “shut up,” turning to him and pressing your lips to his once more.

jay stiffened briefly before relaxing, his hand finding its way to your thigh as you twisted to face him. the kiss deepened, your hands wandering over his chest, tracing the lines of his body. his fingers gripped your leg, sliding slightly upward, and your breath hitched at the contact.

you knew this was reckless, making out in the backseat of a cab with a stranger just feet away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. all the tension that had built between you two over the past months was finally spilling over, and you weren’t about to stop.

jay groaned softly when your teeth grazed his lower lip, and the sound sent another wave of heat through you. your lips left his, trailing kisses along his jaw and down his neck, and he leaned back slightly, giving you better access. you were just about to leave a mark when the car came to a sudden stop.

the abrupt halt had you both groaning in frustration, and jay pulled out his wallet, handing the driver a wad of cash—far more than necessary. probably his way of apologizing for the awkward atmosphere you two had just created.

the driver nodded, clearly unimpressed but grateful for the generous tip. you climbed out of the car, jay’s hand finding yours again as he led you toward the entrance of your apartment complex. neither of you spoke, the tension still crackling between you, and you knew the night was far from over.

you rushed into the building, gripping jay’s hand tightly, your heels echoing against the floor as you practically dragged him toward the elevator. his fingers intertwined with yours, his palm warm and firm, grounding you even as anticipation buzzed through your veins. the cool air from outside had barely faded from your skin, but the heat between you two was already rekindling, more intense with every step. jay trailed close behind, his free hand brushing lightly against the small of your back, the touch sending sparks up your spine.

as soon as the elevator doors slid open, you stepped inside, your focus solely on the buttons as you pressed the one for your floor. jay, however, was far more interested in you than the machinery. the moment the doors closed, he moved behind you, his hands slipping around your waist to pull you against him. the action was gentle yet possessive, his lips already brushing the side of your neck.

“couldn’t wait until we got upstairs?” you teased breathlessly, tilting your head slightly to give him better access.

jay chuckled lowly, his voice a soft growl in your ear. “not when you look like this.” his lips pressed against the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses from your jawline down to your shoulder. the heat of his breath and the softness of his lips left you shivering, though it had nothing to do with the air conditioning in the lift.

you let out a soft sigh, leaning your head back against his shoulder, your body molding itself against his. the faint scent of his cologne mingled with the lingering alcohol on his breath, a heady combination that made your thoughts blur. his hands began to roam, one slipping to rest on your hip while the other grazed the curve of your waist. each touch was slow and deliberate, as if he were trying to memorize every inch of you.

your breathing hitched when you felt his arousal pressing against your lower back. jay’s movements grew bolder, his lips finding a particularly sensitive spot on your neck that made you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

you spun around to face him, breaking his trail of kisses. the look in his eyes—dark and filled with need—made your stomach twist in the best way. before he could say anything else, you grabbed his collar, pulling him down for a kiss. it was immediate and desperate, your mouths moving together as though you were starved for each other. your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently, and the low groan he let out only fueled the fire building inside you.

just as his hands slid lower, grazing the curve of your ass, the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal your floor. reluctantly, you pulled back, your lips swollen and your breathing heavy. jay didn’t let go of you, though, his hand finding yours again as he guided you out of the elevator.

his steps faltered slightly as he looked down the wrong hallway. “this way, right?” he asked, glancing at you with an innocent smile.

you rolled your eyes, tugging him gently in the opposite direction. “wrong way, loverboy,” you teased, your voice light despite the tension simmering between you.

he chuckled softly, following your lead, though he couldn’t resist letting his gaze wander. walking behind you, his eyes drifted to the sway of your hips, and before he could stop himself, his hand reached out to deliver a light slap to your ass. you turned your head to glare at him, though the amused smile tugging at your lips gave you away..

as you approached your apartment door, you let go of jay’s hand, fishing through your purse for your keys. your fingers fumbled slightly, whether from the alcohol, the adrenaline, or jay’s wandering hands, which had returned to your waist, sliding over your curves with deliberate slowness. his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, and you could feel his smile against your skin.

“be patient,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder to meet his heated gaze. “i’m not going anywhere.”

jay let out a low chuckle, but his hands betrayed his growing impatience, gripping your hips tighter. finally, you managed to retrieve the keys, unlocking the door with a satisfying click. before you could step inside, jay pushed the door open, his movements swift as he guided you in and closed it behind you. the door locked with a decisive snap, and just like that, the tension between you reignited.

his lips were on yours in an instant, the kiss messy and frantic. your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just hard enough to draw a low growl from him, while his hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of you he could reach. you were drowning in him, lost in the heat of his touch and the intoxicating pull of his lips.

but just as your fingers found the buckle of his belt, jay abruptly pulled back, his hands falling to his sides as he stepped back slightly. the look on his face was one of hesitation, his brows furrowed as though he was wrestling with himself.

“are you okay?” you asked softly, your chest still heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

jay ran a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze for a moment. “i just… are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “we’re drunk… i just… i want our first time to be special.” his words were hesitant, uncharacteristically shy for someone usually so confident.

you blinked at him, his concerns sinking in. part of you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it—after all, you knew exactly what you wanted, and it was him. but the sincerity in his eyes stopped you. he wasn’t just stalling for the sake of it; he truly cared.

he hesitated again, looking away as if he were afraid of your reaction. “i just don’t want this to mess things up between us. i don’t want you to regret it in the morning.”

you sighed, slipping off his jacket and hanging it neatly on a hook before toeing off your heels. “if you think that’s best, then we don’t have to do anything,” you said, stepping closer and cupping his face in your hands. “i trust you, jay.”

but despite your calm words, frustration simmered beneath the surface. he had left you on the edge, your body practically vibrating with need, and now he wanted to stop? you couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry at how ridiculous the situation was. still, you respected him too much to push.

jay bit his lip, his expression torn. “it’s not that i don’t want to,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “trust me, i’ve never wanted anything more. but…” he trailed off, his eyes darting to the floor before meeting yours again. his teasing smirk returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “how about we pick this up tomorrow? first thing in the morning?”

you raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed but choosing not to argue. instead, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “sure,” you murmured, though your tone betrayed your irritation.

you walked to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, trying to cool off in more ways than one. jay followed, leaning against the counter in silence. his jaw was tense, his eyes focused on some distant point as though deep in thought. it was clear he was second-guessing his decision, his discomfort only heightened by the obvious strain in his pants.

you smirked, an idea forming in your mind. setting your glass down, you leaned over the kitchen island, deliberately arching your back to give him a perfect view of your ass. the action snapped him out of his thoughts, his eyes darkening as they locked onto you.

“i’m going to take a shower,” you said casually, flipping your hair over your shoulder to expose your neck—the same neck he had been so eager to mark earlier.

jay’s lips parted as if to say something, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed on you.

you started to walk away, throwing one last smirk over your shoulder. “goodnight, loverboy,” you teased.

“wait,” he called out, his voice strained.

you turned, feigning innocence. “yes?”

he hesitated, his fists clenching at his sides. “are you sure… we’re on the same page?”

you bit back a laugh, recognizing his internal struggle for what it was. stepping closer, you looked up at him, your lips curving into a sly smile. “sure,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “but honestly? i think you’re all talk.”

the words hit their mark, his jaw tightening as his ego flared. “fuck you,” he hissed, before pulling you against him, his lips crashing down on yours once more. his hand found your jaw, tilting your head to the side as he resumed his assault on your neck, this time with more intensity.

you grinned in success. finally, nothing was standing in your way.

he captured your lips again, his hands firm yet gentle as he guided you backward until the couch pressed against the back of your knees. without breaking the kiss, jay’s fingers skillfully found the zipper of your dress, pulling it down in one smooth motion. the fabric fell from your shoulders, pooling at your feet to reveal the black lace lingerie you’d chosen earlier that night. he pulled away momentarily, his gaze sweeping over your figure with a mix of admiration and desire.

as he began trailing kisses back toward your lips, his mouth left a burning path along your skin—starting at your thighs, teasingly brushing against your clothed heat, moving to your stomach, breasts, collarbones, and finally back to your neck. each kiss was slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every inch of you. he unclasped your bra, sliding it off and tossing it carelessly to the floor before his eyes returned to your bare chest.

jay’s lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he just stared, taking in the sight of you completely exposed before him. a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “you’re just too perfect, aren’t you?” he murmured, his hands cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing lightly over your sensitive peaks. “seriously, how the fuck did i get this lucky?”

his lips found your skin again, marking you as though he were leaving a map of his journey across your body. you rolled your eyes at his teasing, though a smirk of your own played on your lips.

“maybe i’m the lucky one,” you shot back, sliding your hands beneath his sweater and tugging it over his head, revealing his toned chest. the sight of his defined muscles had your pulse racing, but you didn’t let it distract you. with newfound determination, you moved to unbuckle his belt, picking up where you’d left off in the heat of the moment earlier. in one swift motion, you pulled his pants and boxers down together, his erection springing free.

the size of him caught you off guard, your eyes widening slightly as you connected the dots about the xxl condom heeseung had teased him about. jay noticed your reaction and let out a low chuckle, his confidence only growing. “looks like i wasn’t the only one talking a big game,” he teased, his smirk widening.

your gaze snapped back to his, a spark of determination flaring in your chest. you were going to prove him wrong. you sank to your knees in front of him, your fingers brushing against his thighs as you prepared to take him in your mouth, but before you could, he grabbed your waist, lifting you effortlessly and laying you back onto the couch.

“you first, princess,” he said, the nickname sending a shiver through you. he grinned at the way your body seemed to melt beneath his touch, leaning down to kiss your lips one more time before shifting lower.

his hands found the sides of your hips, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and sliding them down your legs. the cool air against your bare skin only heightened your anticipation as he tossed the fabric aside. his gaze lingered on your glistening core, and he let out a low groan.

“fuck, you’re flawless,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “and so fucking wet.”

“just for you, seongie,” you teased, the nickname making his head tilt slightly as he bit his lip. the effect it had on him was clear, and you took advantage of it, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. “don’t make me wait,” you whispered impatiently.

jay’s tongue traced a slow, deliberate line along your slit, and the sensation had your body trembling almost instantly. he smiled against you, the vibration of his amusement only adding to the intensity. his lips wrapped around your most sensitive spot, sucking gently before his tongue began working in circles. your back arched involuntarily, a string of soft moans spilling from your lips.

“jay,” you managed to mumble, though your voice was barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. hearing his name roll off your tongue so sweetly made him hum in response, the added stimulation pushing you closer to the edge.

the knot in your stomach tightened, your body reacting to every flick and stroke of his tongue. an idea sparked in your mind, and with a shaky breath, you tugged lightly at his hair, pulling him back just enough to speak. his face was glistening with your slick, his lips swollen and his pupils blown wide. he looked utterly wrecked—and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

“touch yourself,” you said breathlessly, your voice laced with both a command and a plea.

his lips curled into a smirk, but he didn’t hesitate. one hand disappeared between his legs as he dove back in, his tongue working you over with renewed vigor. the combination of his moans and yours filled the room, each sound pushing you both closer to your breaking points. your hips bucked against his face, seeking more, and he didn’t hold back, gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he devoured you.

the tension in your core finally snapped, and your release crashed over you in waves, your body trembling as you cried out his name. jay groaned against you, his movements slowing as he licked you clean, savoring every drop of your climax. his own hand stilled, though it was clear he was still achingly hard.

when he pulled back, his face was flushed, his lips parted as he caught his breath. his gaze locked onto yours, his eyes dark with unspoken need.

you reached out, brushing your fingers against his jaw. “my turn,” you murmured, a mischievous glint in your eye.

jay leaned back against the couch, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. a satisfied smirk played on his lips, a mixture of pride and disbelief settling in as he replayed the last few minutes in his mind. he couldn’t help but feel impressed with himself for holding it together as long as he had—especially considering how hard it was not to lose control the moment you kissed him in the cab. inwardly, he gave himself a silent pat on the back.

you, however, weren’t finished. sitting up on shaky legs, you closed the gap between you, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. it was messy and unrestrained, your tongue brushing against his as you tasted yourself on his lips. the act alone sent another wave of arousal through your body, and jay groaned into the kiss, his fingers grazing your jaw to pull you closer.

breaking the kiss, you slid down onto your knees in front of him. jay’s dark eyes followed you, his body tense with anticipation as his chest heaved. his gaze was heavy, and you could see the thin layer of sweat glistening on his skin. he leaned back into the couch, spreading his legs slightly to give you better access. the weight of his arousal was evident, his cock flushed and rigid, standing tall between his thighs.

you started slow, trailing light kisses along the inside of his thighs. his muscles twitched under your touch, and a low groan escaped his lips. your fingers wrapped around his length, stroking him gently as you worked your way closer. jay tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as he let the sensation wash over him. but that wasn’t what you wanted. you wanted his attention—all of it.

you paused abruptly, releasing him from your grasp. his eyes snapped open, the confusion and slight panic evident as he looked down at you. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice husky and laced with concern.

you tilted your head, your tone firm but teasing as you commanded, “look at me.”

jay’s brows furrowed, and a soft, involuntary moan slipped from his lips. there was something about the dominance in your voice, the way you took control, that drove him wild. “yes, ma’am,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes locking with yours.

satisfied with his obedience, you resumed your teasing, your tongue flicking out to lick a slow line from the base of his shaft to the tip. your movements were deliberate, your eyes never leaving his as you circled the sensitive head with your tongue, tasting the salty bead of precum that had already formed. his breath hitched, and his hands clenched at his sides as he fought to keep himself grounded.

when you finally took him into your mouth, jay’s hand instinctively found its way to your hair. he gathered it into a ponytail, his grip firm yet careful, as though he were afraid of hurting you. you started slow, taking as much of him as you could manage, though his size made it a challenge. your cheeks hollowed as you sucked, and jay let out a deep groan, his hips shifting slightly.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained as he tried to keep himself in check. but the sight of you on your knees, your lips wrapped around him, was too much. his resolve was crumbling, and he knew it.

each time you slid him deeper into your mouth, the tip of his cock brushed against the back of your throat, making you gag softly. jay noticed your struggle and let out a low chuckle, his voice tinged with both amusement and lust. “you’re doing so good, baby,” he praised, his hand gently guiding your movements as he pushed and pulled on your hair.

you used one hand to stroke the length you couldn’t take, your movements synchronized with the bobbing of your head. occasionally, you pulled back to catch your breath, your hand continuing to work him as you pressed kisses and sucked lightly along his length, teasing him further. jay was a mess, his lips parted as he panted, his head falling back against the couch. his other hand gripped the cushion tightly as he tried to keep himself together.

“let me hear you, jay,” you murmured, your voice soft but commanding. “don’t hold it back.”

his head snapped back up at your words, his dark eyes meeting yours as he finally let go. a string of deep, guttural moans poured from his lips, each one making your core tighten with need. the sounds of his pleasure were addictive, spurring you on as you sucked harder, your cheeks hollowing to intensify the sensation.

you quickened your pace, your hand and mouth working together seamlessly. jay’s grip on your hair tightened slightly, his hips bucking up involuntarily as he lost himself in the pleasure. “fuck, baby, i’m close,” he warned, his voice shaky and breathless.

with one final swirl of your tongue around his tip and a firm stroke of your hand, jay’s body tensed. his release came in hot, thick spurts down your throat, and you swallowed every drop without hesitation. his moans echoed through the room, raw and unrestrained, as his body shuddered from the intensity of his climax.

you pulled back slowly, licking your lips and catching any stray drops that had escaped. jay looked completely wrecked, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his composure. his head lolled back against the couch, and his eyes fluttered shut as a satisfied groan escaped his lips.

but you weren’t done. the ache between your legs was unbearable, and the sight of jay so undone only made it worse. your thighs pressed together instinctively, trying to find some relief, but it wasn’t enough.

jay opened his eyes, his gaze heavy with exhaustion but still laced with hunger. he noticed the way you were squirming, your need evident in the way you looked at him. a lazy smirk spread across his face. “looks like someone needs a little more attention,” he teased, his voice low and teasing. you bit your lip, your cheeks flushing slightly as you nodded.

jay reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek before trailing down your body. “then let me take care of you,” he murmured, his smirk shifting into a soft, genuine smile.

jay smirked at the match of energy you gave him, his hands resting on your hips as you slowly adjusted yourself in his lap to straddle him. your eyes locked, the unspoken tension in the air making your breaths heavier before you leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was far more heated than the ones before. it was raw, passionate, and both of you couldn’t help the soft moans that escaped into each other's mouths as you tasted the combined remnants of yourselves on each other’s tongues.

his hands traveled down your body, settling on your ass and squeezing firmly. the action made you gasp against his lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss further. when he broke away, he trailed his lips back down to your chest, focusing his attention on your breasts once more, kissing, sucking, and lightly biting the sensitive flesh. sweet hums slipped from your lips as your fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him exactly where you wanted him.

you started grinding against him slowly, your arousal evident as you rubbed yourself along his length, desperate for more. jay groaned into your skin, his hands moving to hold your hips firmly in place. one of his hands slid down between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit and circling it softly, the touch sending jolts of electricity through your body.

you pulled his lips back to yours for another deep, messy kiss, the moan in your throat muffled as you whispered, “please, jay.”

he froze for a moment, your plea echoing in his mind. he didn’t even need you to beg, but hearing those words fall from your lips so willingly ignited something deep inside him. "fuck, princess," he murmured against your lips before leaning forward to reach for his pants, holding you steady with one hand so you wouldn’t fall back.

jay pulled out a condom from his pocket, his lips quirking into a grin. you laughed softly, tilting your head back. “how ironic,” you teased. “i was wondering why you didn’t take the ones from hee earlier. now i guess i know why.”

he laughed against your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. “you’re making me look crazy, like i planned this whole thing from the start.”

you bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. “you didn’t?” you asked, feigning offense.

“it spawned in my pocket, okay? end of topic,” he quipped, his grin wide. “now kiss me and forget we even had this conversation.”

you shook your head, laughing, but complied, leaning in to kiss him deeply as he fumbled to open the condom behind your back. once it was ready, he leaned back slightly, rolling it on before meeting your gaze.

placing your hands on his shoulders, you slowly lifted yourself, adjusting to align yourself with him. the anticipation built as you began to lower yourself, his tip stretching you inch by inch. you both groaned at the overwhelming sensation, your tightness making it difficult to take him in completely.

jay’s hand came up to stroke your head gently, his thumb brushing soothingly along your temple. “slow down, princess,” he murmured, his tone soft and reassuring. “i’m not going anywhere.”

his words sent a wave of calm through you, allowing you to relax and adjust. a small giggle escaped your lips, and jay smirked at the sound, pleased to see you loosening up. with a deep breath, you lowered yourself fully, gasping as he filled you completely. his hands settled back on your hips, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

“you’re doing so good, baby,” he praised, his voice filled with genuine admiration. the way he said it, so sweet and sincere, made you lean forward and kiss him again, your lips pressing against his in a needy, desperate way. slowly, you began to move, grinding yourself up and down his length.

the initial sting of pain dissolved into pure pleasure as you found your rhythm, your hips rolling fluidly against him. jay met your movements halfway, his own hips snapping up to match your pace. his grip on your waist tightened as his other hand trailed up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple.

the sounds in the room were sinful—breathless moans, gasps, and the slick sound of your bodies meeting in perfect harmony. your brows furrowed, your lips parting as waves of pleasure rippled through you. jay cursed under his breath at the sight of you, his own restraint faltering as he felt his release creeping closer.

“fuck, you’re perfect,” he groaned, leaning forward to capture your lips once again. his lips trailed down your jawline to your neck, where he nipped and kissed, leaving faint marks behind. the added sensation made you tremble, and your movements quickened, your thighs burning as you chased your high.

jay’s fingers found your clit again, rubbing circles against it in time with your thrusts. the overwhelming pleasure sent you over the edge, a loud, broken moan escaping your lips as you came undone. jay wasn’t far behind, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself deep inside you, releasing with a guttural groan.

you collapsed against his chest, both of you struggling to catch your breath as you came down from the high. your foreheads rested together, your sweaty skin sticking slightly as you shared soft, lazy kisses. the silence that followed was peaceful, filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing.

jay broke the quiet first, his voice soft and unsure. “be my girlfriend?”

you laughed lightly, lifting your head to look at him. “you should’ve asked that before we had sex,” you teased, your tone playful.

jay’s face lit up with laughter, his deep chuckles shaking both of your bodies. “okay, fair,” he admitted, nodding. “may i be your boyfriend, then?” he asked again, this time with a slight pout that made your heart flutter.

you smirked, pretending to think it over. “you’re getting closer…”

he tilted his head, pretending to be deep in thought before blurting out, “be my wife.”

you laughed, poking his chest. “that’s a little forward, don’t you think?” you teased. then, softening, you added, “but… yes.”

jay’s eyes lit up, and he pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss, his hands cradling your face as he grinned against your lips. the moment was interrupted by the sharp sound of a phone ringing. jay groaned in frustration, leaning back to grab his phone from where it had fallen in his pants.

when he checked the screen, both of your eyes locked on the caller ID. “cupids' worst minion?” you giggled, amused at the nickname.

jay sighed. “jake,” he muttered, earning a laugh from you. “he’s the worst at giving advice... but i guess it worked out. might have to rethink that nickname later.”

he answered the call, putting it on speaker. “oh, god, jay, you picked up?” jake’s voice came through, laced with panic. “i don’t know if that’s a good sign.”

you giggled as jay rolled his eyes. in the background, you could hear faint laughter and the unmistakable voices of the rest of the group. “ayo, you busy right now?” jungwon’s voice cut through, and you both exchanged amused looks.

“kinda, yeah,” jay replied, smirking at you.

“okay, i’ll be quick,” jungwon said hurriedly. “how’s it going with your future wife? hee and jake told us everything—details and all—and i’m losing it. give us an update!”

both you and jay burst into laughter, the sound making the other line fall silent. jay smirked at the phone. “yeah, we’re locked in,” he said confidently.

silence followed for a beat before the loudest cheering erupted from the other end. you and jay laughed along with them, the sound of your shared joy filling the room.

#park jongseong x reader #park jongseong #jongseong smut #jay smut #jongseong x reader #jay #jay x reader

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daphwritesworld · 11 days ago

Text

Chapter 3— Fool.

a/n: welcome back to the Be My Baby series! Sorry y'all, I left with some with friends and it went on waaaaay longer than I thought it would lol. I'm gonna break this chapter up into 2 parts so I can get it posted tonight. So an extra chapter will be added!! Chapter 4 will just be the part 2 of this one, and after that it'll be back on schedule. Oh and don't worry— chapter 4 will be out tomorrow btw!! that's where the big boy angst comes on. so y'all are safe until then. thank you for your support and happy reading < 3

(p.s. sorry I didn't proof read this again, lol. I will later & edit any details that need touching up. Again sorry this is late, but I hope getting part two and the Keira fic tomorrow will make up for it haha.)

content: sick!Reader, caretaker!Leah, straight up no smut (CRAZY I KNOOOOOW), mostly fluff, and some angst.

warnings: talks of not hydrating & eating properly, the flu, A&E/ER, confusion caused by sickness

synopsis: You wake up sick and you call the only person you can think of for help.

word count: 3.0k

Series Masterlist: here.

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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The sound of your alarm doesn’t jolt you awake this morning. You’re already lying wide awake before it rolls around this time. You’d woken up early and your mind drifted to Leah, your whole situation together, barca, and the inevitable moment when they all come crashing together like a high speed train accident. Is it severely toxic and self destructive? Oh for sure…but who’s gonna stop you?

You stretch out your limbs as you set up in bed, turning off your alarm as you settle back into your own skin. There’s a rolling storm of anxiety filling your gut, and as your feet touch the ground it flies up to your throat. You run to the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet in time, emptying out your stomach contents. Which at the moment is just your bile. The sweating must’ve started when you were in bed; because you quickly notice the dampness of your shirt from the temperature drop in the bathroom. The cold tiles seep through Leah’s sweats and chill your body down. You shiver after a few minutes, staying seated on the floor as you take a moment to catch your breath.

You make quick work of going to grab your phone and sending your boss a quick message. As soon as it's sent you make your way to the shower. It's only when you bend down to take your pants off that you realize how sick you truly are. Your vision goes blurry and your head starts floating in and out of dizziness. You slowly lower your body, your hands making contact with the floor as you set yourself down. It's then that the headache starts— like your brain is pounding against your forehead on repeat. It's sharp and never ending, leaving you to crumble down into tears.

You don't have a car, and even if you did— you are in no state to operate a vehicle right now, and you definitely don't feel confident enough to order a taxi like this. So you are left with one option. One you know you're gonna regret when you're not sick and delusional, but it's the one thing your broken mind can think of…You call Leah. You crawl across the tiled floor and get your phone off the counter, dialing her number as you pray she picks up. And of course she does, because by the third ring her voice is greeting you through the speakers. "I knew you couldn't resist me, darling. I've just been wait—"

"Le…" you cut her off with a sob of her nickname. Your head is painfully throbbing now, and your mouth is so dry your throat is scratchy. She can tell just from the small amount of your voice she hears.

"y/n, hey— what's wrong? I'm on my way, alright? I'll be there soon, just stay on the phone with me," Leah's moving before the first word even leaves her mouth. She's leaving her breakfast on the table as she slips mismatching shoes on her feet. Running out of her flat with nothing but her keys and her phone in her hands.

"Something's wrong, Le. I'm sick and I-I..I'm sorry. I didn't know who else to call," your voice breaks at the end. It's like a knife plunging into Leah's heart as she hears it; the absolute brokenness of your words. She knows there's a deeper meaning behind your them, but she won't push it. Leah knows any of the girls would come to help you in a heartbeat, so what's got you believing otherwise? Or maybe the better question is, who has you believing otherwise? She'll investigate that later.

"Hey, hey, calm down. You're alright, love. Take a deep breath for me, okay? I'll be there before you know it, and we'll get you to the doctor," Leah's voice would normally calm you down, but your brain is still running a million miles per minute…and it's only making you feel worse. It's like you can't focus on a singular thought, and the confusion only fuels your distress. Leah presses down on the gas pedal when she doesn't get a response from you. She can only hear your cries filling up the empty space of her car. She gets to your building in record time, and only then does she realize she didn't bring her wallet.

"God dammit," she chastises herself under her breath, trying to not let you hear her frustration as she searches for a on-street parking spot. She just had to forget you live in a fancy ass building with paid parking, today of all days. "I'm parking now, love. I'll be up in a few minutes." Thankfully she gets one across the street, rummaging through her center console for some change coins. She puts way more than needed in the parking meter, but that's not her main priority right now. "I need you tell me if the door's unlocked, okay? I know you don't feel well, but can you unlock it if it is?"

You close your eyes as you take a deep breath, gathering all your mental strength to answer her. "N-No. There's a key under t-the welcome mat though…I don't think I can walk by myself. I-I'm so sorry, Leah," you can't stop the embarrassment from filling your body. You hate having to ask people for help— especially when you need it the most. It makes you feel weak, helpless, and like a burden. It's a deep seated insecurity you can't seem to shake, but it's not like you've really ever tried to correct it. We all know Leah's stubborn, but you? You can be even worse than her. It's not like you mean to be, but you're just…broken. In more ways than even you would like to admit.

Leah sees right through it though— she always has. She is the one person in your life that sees you for who you are. Not the persona you put up for the rest of the world. You two may of only spent a short time together that year ago, but oh what an impact it made. Spending every waking second with a person for weeks on end does something to a person. You either ending up hating each other, falling in love, or whatever the fuck you two got going on.

"You don't need to be sorry, y/n. You definitely need a better hiding spot for your spare though, that's just bloody awful! You're asking for a break in!" Leah feels herself get a little frustrated as she retrieves your key. Her voice picking up into a scolding tone as she jiggles with your doorknob. You whimper out as you move the phone from your ear, the slight rise in her voice making your head hurt more. "Too loud," you say as she walks into your home. She makes sure to shut the door lightly, before smacking herself in the forehead for raising her voice with you. "I'm sorry, love. I just worry about you. Now which room are you in?"

"My bathroom," your voice sounds so small now. Like a child getting in trouble.

"I'm on my way to you now, okay?" Leah says as she climbs the stairs. Her eyes flit over your walls and she notices the lack of pictures. You have bare hallways and they look so, so lonely. She walks into your bedroom and she sees the void of no decor or really any of your things at all. It makes her sad, but mostly it leaves her wanting to ask more questions. Questions she knows she can't ask right now, but will get the answers to someway.

Nothing could have prepared Leah for what she sees behind the wooden door of your bathroom. You're clad in a mist of sweat, all the color drained from your face, and you're shaking like a leaf. It isn't until she's running up to you and falling to her knees that she sees the extent of your state. Your pants are still sitting halfway down your thighs, and Leah quickly moves to redress you. She makes sure not to look at you inappropriately, only doing what's needed to get you comfortable and less exposed. She knows how vulnerable you are right now, and she's doing everything she can to make sure you're okay. She sheds her Arsenal hoodie off, sliding it over your head as she encourages you to push your arms through.

“Hey love, let’s get you stood up– that’s it.” She helps you get to your feet, letting you lean all your body weight onto her. Leah guides you back towards your bed, sitting you on the edge as she goes to grab a pair of your shoes. It doesn't take her long before she's rejoining you and sliding some slip-ons over your feet. she pats your legs when she's down, looking up to see your disheveled appearance. "You ready to go?"

"Mhm," you nod your head along. Talking is only making your headache worse, so you've opted for noises instead.

With that, Leah is helping you back up. But before you can rest your weight back onto her side, she's picking you up bridal style. Your arms instinctively go to wrap around her neck, burying your face in the warmth of her embrace. You don't have the energy to argue with her, and honestly it's a relief to not have to walk right now. She carries you like you weigh nothing, shutting and locking your door like she isn't holding an entire human being. If you didn't feel like death you'd be obsessing over how hot she is, but right now you're just thankful.

You must've fallen asleep, because the next thing you know you're waking up in a A&E bed. You blink a few times to adjust to the lights above you, small groans slipping out as you try to stretch the cramped feeling out of your limbs. Then you hear her softly speaking on the phone across the room, and you go back to lying still. You close your eyes as you focus on trying to hear her conversation. "I know I should've called first, but you didn't see her. She couldn't even stand on her own, and she fell asleep in my arms before we even made it to her building elevator! She's in bad shape, and I'm not just gonna leave her here all alone in a country she doesn't fucking know. I'm the Captain and it's my responsibility to look after everyone— I don't fucking care that she's not a player! She's on our team, our crew, and she deserves our support. Call me back when you get your head out of your ass," and with that she hangs up.

You try and force yourself to just back to sleep and forget everything you've heard, but of course that's not how things work out. Your stomach starts turning again, complicating feelings swirling around with the uneasiness. The tears come falling down your cheeks before your eyes even open, your chest starting to tighten up as the sobs claw at your lungs to get out. It feels like you can't breathe, and honestly maybe you aren't. Not as you see flashbacks of Barca passing through your memory, a wave of dread blanketing over your body.

"What hurts, love? Do I need to get the nurse?" Leah's by your side the second she notices, a hand out grasping your forearm. Her fingers dance little patterns into your skin, and it actually starts to ground you. "Come on, take deep breaths with me again, okay?"

You nod your head, and then she's holding both your hands. You follow her lead as she sucks in a slow breath and holds it, before exhaling just as slow. She repeats the process with you until you're calmed all the way down. It doesn't take too long, but honestly Leah isn't going to leave you anytime soon anyway. "Nothing hurts," you say it so softly she barely hears it. Your eyes stay locked down onto the bed sheets below you, never making any eye contact with her.

"Then why were you crying, y/n?"

"Because I heard you on the phone…and I don't know. I guess I freaked out, and went spiraling into a self hate hole for a second. I'm okay, really."

"oh bloody hell! I'm so sorry you heard that, darling. I should've went into the hall or something—"

"It's okay, Le. I'm just sensitive, and really really delulu from whatever sickness I currently have…plus it was nice to hear you stick up for me, Captain."

"The mystery sickness is indeed just a bad case of the flu…but uhm, the doctor said it was made worse from you being dehydrated and probably not eating enough from the looks of your blood work. I'm not gonna judge you or yell at you. But I am taking you home with me when they discharge you. I'm your official caregiver until you're well enough to take after yourself again," Leah doesn't let go of your hand as she says it. She tries to connect your gazes, but you don't allow it. Actively avoiding her eyes as you feel them burrowing holes into your skull.

You wish you could argue with her and tell her she's wrong…but you can't. You've been skipping out on meals ever since you moved here. It's not been on purpose, you just haven't been able to eat. It's like your body hates the idea of eating, always growing nauseous after every few bites. So you've been drinking some meal replacements…not enough apparently. "Okay."

"…Okay? Really? That was a whole lot easier than I thought it would be," Leah is staring at you with her biggest look of, 'be so for real, bitch' written across her face. But you just shrug as you sink back into the uncomfortable mattress underneath you. You're so mentally and physically wore out right now, there's just no fight left inside you. Right as you're about to re-close your eyes, the doctor finally comes back in. After getting the run down from him, he lets you know that you can be discharged and to pick up your antibiotics before going home. Leah helps you redress again, and this time it has you giggling at the way she makes her eyes go anywhere but at your naked body.

"Hold on…how'd you get the doctor to tell you what was wrong with me before I even woke up? Aren't there some rules against that?"

"…I might have told everyone that you're my fiancé," Leah smiles at you nervously.

"Fuck you, Williamson! Take yourself on that date Thursday!"

"Oh, so you're finally agreeing that it's a date?" Leah smirks at you, only hearing the parts of what she wants to hear.

"Well, I guess we'll never know, now will we?"

She rolls her eyes at you for that, holding her hand out for you to take. And you do, still leaning against her some to walk. She helps you to the car, and once you're both secure she's driving you to your new home for the next few days…or weeks. God you hope only days. It feels weird to be back inside a house with another person, and it's extra fucking weird that it's Leah. You know this stay is when you have to put down some boundaries with her. To stop whatever there is between the two of you. It makes the previous pit in your stomach increase by double, because deep down you know you care about her...you're just lying to yourself about it. You can push every feeling down your throat, but they will all come spilling out at some point. That's what you've learned to be true over the years, but will you accept that as truth? Hell no! At least not anytime soon. Your worst problem is that you always get in your own way.

When she finally gets you inside, Leah starts cooking and letting her mind wonder to think of you. More importantly to the phone call you overheard in the A&E. She'd been talking with her manager, and completely snapped on him. He'd said something about how Leah 'follows you around like a lost puppy' and well…. it hurt her fucking feelings. Of course she isn't doing all of this just because she's one sided sickly in love with you…right? Sure she thinks of you literally every second of the day, and she's been day dreaming of you for the past year, but that's all totally normal...RIGHT?

Leah doesn't get to spiral into her romanic crisis for too long, because before she knows it the timers going off. She drains the gnocchi before putting it in a bowel for you, making her way back to the living room where she left you. She laughs at the sight that greets her— you snuggled up asleep in her Arsenal hoodie she'd given you when she first saw you. Leah just sets the gnocchi aside on the coffee table, opting to cuddle you instead of waking you up. She pulls you onto her body, your face resting on her chest as she tries to adjusts you without waking you up.

She finds herself running her fingers through your hair, and before long they're running softy across the features of your face. Leah lets a deep sigh come out of her chest. She truly feels like a fucking fool. Leah doesn't chase girls— they chase her. So for the first time in this game, she is the one crying. She's clinging onto any crumb of attention you'll give her, and she'll keep doing it for as long as it takes. Leah has you sleeping against her chest once again, and it's nothing like she's day dreamed of. You two aren't confessing your feelings, running around town making memories, or god forbid actually dating…but she'll keep feeling like a fool and waiting on you. She'll keep searching for your love until she finds it, because she knows she's felt flashes of it. She knows that carefree, wild, truly happy girl from Ibiza is still inside of you somewhere. Leah doesn't know what took that extra bright sparkle out of your eyes, but she is determined to see it light up your face back up.

#bmb.daph #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso writers #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x y/n #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson fluff #leah williamson fanfic

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liveyun · 3 months ago

Text

EYES LIKE STARS | 1

banner by the amazing @itaeewon 🌧️

summary. “He was everything you were not. He was perfect—too perfect. Always kind, always excelling, always loved by everyone, even your own parents, like a reminder of everything you weren’t. And you hated this. You hated him. You hated the way he always included you, the way he tried to help, as if you ever needed his pity. He was always there, almost like a shadow you could never escape.

Returning to the town that holds both your earliest memories and silent secrets, you’re forced to confront not only the unsolved knots you’d left behind all those years ago, but the boy who was always at the center of your pain. Whose eyes have always seen right through you : Jungkook.”

title. Eyes like Stars

pairing. Jeon Jungkook x afab reader/oc

status. ongoing

rating. M (18+)

genre. e2f2e2L (you get it), angst, drama, romance, boy next door sorta situation, emotional baggage, slow burn, eventual smut

wc. 9.5k +

warnings. (for this chapter) coarse language, OC being in denial and this is just the beginning LOL , parental negligence / toxic parenting , flashbacks, slight mention injuries (knee scraping) and crying , panic attack :( , oc is kinda.. eh, SOMEONE is introduced 😵‍💫, this is it for the first part, lmk if i missed any other warnings, “english isnt my first language” so can contain grammatical errors, not proof read + the last part omfg

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Some doors, no matter how tightly shut, always find a way to open.

The sun was up after the drizzle, which bathed the town in a subtle golden haze, the kind that made everything feel a little too warm, a little too nostalgic. You walked slowly, almost as if your feet were dragging against the weight of the years you’d left behind. A part of you did not really want to be here, but a greater part of you knew you cannot continue to run away from everything like you always have.

Such a coward.

Your home stood at the end of a narrow lane, tucked away like a secret that had been kept for far too long, to the point you felt like it maybe didn’t exist anymore. The house looked the same, yet different, almost as if it had aged in your absence - funny, because although it looked pretty worn out, nothing really felt off. Or did it? The paint was chipped, the garden overgrown, the lawn and grass both destroyed.

But it was still the place you’d once called home—a place that had witnessed more arguments than apologies, more silence than understanding. You pause, staring at the old, browned door as if it’s a portal to another world— always has been— to a world where you were always second best, always compared, always found wanting, longing, no— yearning for the bare minimum. Your own once called home which always felt like a far distant place for you.

It still does.

The windows stare back at you, blank and lifeless, just like the eyes that used to watch you so closely, judging every move, every breath. You don’t want to go inside, but you know you have to. You cannot keep on running away anymore. You are tired, but you dont exactly know if doing something which has your gut churning with disdain can be exactly considered as rest or relaxation.

You notice that the shabby WELCOME door mat which was once a home for mites is no longer at the front door anymore.

As you drew closer, your eyes involuntarily flickered to the house next door. The garden was well-tended, prettiest of the flowers scattered in the greenery in full bloom, just like how you’d remembered.

As always.

The house stood as if nothing had changed there— as if time had preserved that house and all its memories in a neat little bubble. Always so full of life, always so welcoming. You bite down the bitterness which floats up your chest at the thought. Push down the small voice in the back of your head which insists that you will never be welcomed the way a static house makes you feel.

A part of you, the part you’d tried to bury, kick away— wondered if he still lived there. If his parents still looked out from the same windows, waiting for their golden boy to come home.

Who cares.

You quickly turned your gaze away, focusing on the worn steps leading up to her own front door. Your hand trembles as you reach for the doorknob, the cold metal biting into your skin. You’d previously informed your mum through a text message that you will be visiting them, which you didn’t bother or have the energy to check if she’d actually seen.

Your hand on the knob stills, and you purse your lips in thought. You’d decided it’d be a bit courteous to knock instead of just barging in — perhaps some basic decency to spare — although if it was your own home — as if it ever was. You raise your fists to knock— and the door creaked open before you could really.

There she stood.

The same face that had greeted you with tired smiles and even more tired expectations, back in the days when her face was devoid of wrinkles, and full of youthful beauty. The same person who’d cradled you on her bosom and cherished you; the same person who at least tried to make an effort to mend some broken ties, although when she was very well aware it was way too late.

“You’re back,” your mother said, her voice heavy with something that wasn’t quite disappointment but wasn’t quite relief either. She sounded tired— and your mind partially thought if it was because of you. You really felt overwhelmed by emotions, you really did.

You felt the back of your eyes burn with tears — that familiar feeling which you’d remembered was a staple one when you used to live here back in your teenage days. You wanted to engulf her in a hug and just cry, hoping that you could just, for once, forget about whatever had ever happened, and truly be a child once again.

“I’m back,” you reply, deciding to push aside any fleeting emotions which dared to threaten you. You stepped inside as soon as your mom moved aside and let the familiar scent of home—of old furniture — of broken communication — of forgotten dreams —wash over you.

— — —

Inside, the house was just as you’d remembered it. The wallpaper was still peeling in the corners, the furniture still arranged the way it had been since you were a child. It smelled like old wood, dust, the old sandalwood diffuser — and something bitter that lingered in the air, like the remnants of a fight that never really ended.

The walls seem closer than you remember, the space smaller, suffocating. Everything is the same, yet different, distorted by the journey of time and the weight of all that’s been left unsaid. Was any of the furniture ever even moved ever since you’d left? You’re in doubt.

However, the air was thick with unspoken tension, a tension that had always existed— but was now more prominent, more suffocating. You could feel the weight of your mother’s gaze on you, as if she were waiting for her to say something, anything, to break the silence that had settled between them like thick snow.

Although it’s been so long, surprisingly, you didnt really have anything to break the ice with.

Or even if you did, you didn’t want to.

You move through the house on autopilot, your feet carrying you to the living room where you remember the echoes of your parents’ voices being the loudest. You felt disgruntled — upset, at how memories of your parents fighting are the only prominent thing you can remember vividly inside this house. You wanted to laugh ; you can almost see them standing there, locked in yet another battle of wills, their words sharp and cutting, slicing through the air like knives, and you— you ?

Perhaps standing in some corner with your favorite old teddy bear, covering your ears the best you could, trembling with sobs, wondering if this would ever stop. Their words, though, are like a very vague memory to you. Almost as if someone is tingling a metal glass in the back of your head, far away, and the echoes which reach you are the only thing audible.

They were always fighting, always tearing each other apart, and you were always caught in the crossfire, collateral damage in a war that wasn’t even yours to fight.

But it was you who paid the price, every single time.

You hear footsteps, and your throat goes dry. The realization that you recognize the footsteps is beyond disturbing to you, as the fact that you even know who the owner of the footsteps is.

From recognising footsteps to vehicle horns, you grew up, and this would never not be able to turn on a switch in the back of your head. You knew the footsteps, their urgency, or even their tone, may you be called crazy. And you perhaps are delusional to think that maybe these steps are rather relaxed and slow. . .

perks of growing in a strict family, you guess.

Your father emerged from the kitchen, his steps slow and deliberate. His eyes, now very much lacking of the light they used to radiate, widen ever so slightly, but then again, come back to their usual resting form. Almost as if he tried to mask his. . . disappointment?

You weren’t sure, and his expression wasn’t one of happiness, either.

He looked older, more worn, but his eyes held the same disapproval you had seen so many times before. The kind of disapproval that was never voiced but was always felt.

A kind of disapproval you felt in your veins even before you were faced to force it, almost as if it was imprinted deep in your veins, that no matter what you’d do, you’re going to get this stamp of resentment passed onto you.

“Long time,” he muttered, his eyes flicking over yours as if assessing the damage of the years. The silence which has stretched all over these years. You were surprised that he even decided to speak up, remembering the time when you departed.. wasn’t exactly as serene as a teary goodbye sounded like, but that was a memory you refused to unlock.

“Yeah,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

You grimace at how dry you sounded, but you couldn’t help it. Maybe because it’s partially the fact that you didn't know what to answer, or maybe because..

Well.

You stood there, the three of you, now, in the cramped living room that had never felt like a home to you. You wonder if it did to them too, or was it just the forced idea of it being a home to rest their heads in made them used to the idea that it was a home. Misunderstandings which haunt you, as their child, you sure are to know that they must haunt them too.

You were someone who tried fixing them, who never once tried to do that themselves, right in the place where it all began, pretending it was home, when all it ever felt like was a place they were too tired to leave.

The silence in the room felt heavy, oppressive, broken only by the faint ticking of the old clock on the wall which seemed to drag time over and over.

It once again felt like their eyes pierced your very own soul, trying to burn you with their gaze.

“I’ll get dinner started,” your mother echoed, turning away before anyone could respond. It was easier, you supposed, to keep busy than to confront the reality of your return.

Or her expectations. Who knows.

You nodded, more to yourself than to anyone else, and followed your mother into the kitchen. You weren’t surprised that your father opted to go outside — a habit you’d recall which was so frequent back in the olden days when everything was a frenzied mess. Either he used to be out puffing out nicotine, or simply. . . didn’t return home until he felt like it.

— — —

The kitchen was smaller than you’d remembered, or maybe you’d just grown up. The shelves were no longer as tall as Burj Khalifa to you, and neither were the long random cabinets— who were the same dull brown, the countertops cluttered with the same appliances that had seen better days.

Your breath stuttered at how even the products you’d seen were the same, not a single new thing filled there— from the good ol’ crunchy cereal cornflakes (which was barely even consumed for breakfast,) or the chilli crisp you’d loved to drizzle on top of nearly any dish you’d had.

Truly, nothing really had changed.

“You’ve been gone a long time,” your mother’s voice reached out to you as you nearly flinched, not having expected her to begin a conversation. She was diligent in her chore; her question was like a soft command which demanded an answer, not looking up from where she was peeling potatoes, with that same old lilac handled peeler.

“Yeah,” you repeat, this time truly not knowing what else to say. To say you felt like a dumbass was an understatement; because truly, after so long, you seem to have lost the spark to even think to answer.

However , you didn’t want to explain yourself, didn’t want to justify why you’d stayed away for so long. You didn’t owe them that. You didn’t owe them anything.

At least, that’s what you told yourself. It felt better that way.

The silence returned, heavy and uncomfortable. You found yourself staring out the small kitchen window, your gaze drifting to the house next door. You could see the top of the garden wall, the vibrant green of the plants that lined it.

It was strange how one small thing could hold so many memories, how one small thing could make you feel so much. Much more than being inside of your own house ever did, or ever could.

Yet, something about it feels different now, like a memory you’ve revisited too many times, its edges blurred with the weight of all you’ve carried inside you for decades.

You can almost see him there, in the yard, surrounded by laughter that wasn’t just his—it was a magnet, he was like a magnet, pulling everyone into its orbit, everyone except you. You were always on the outside looking in, (and it’s nearly ironic how you are now too,) your heart a silent witness to the joy you could never touch, never reach.

Even when he reached out, trying to pull you into that magnetic circle of warmth, you resisted. Your pride was too wounded, your envy was too sharp. How could you join in when every smile of his was a reminder of everything you could never be?

.....

Fuck.

You quickly look away, focusing on the mundane task of setting the table, very well knowing that your mom is gonna do that again. But the curiosity lingered, like a small fucking bug, a small, nagging feeling that you couldn’t quite shake out of you.

You did not want to think about him. You did not come here all the way to remember someone who has always just,. . . you sigh, gritting your teeth. Here were you again, fretting and sweating. Your mind whirred, not wanting to remember the way his smile had once made you feel both seen and invisible at the same time.

— — —

You decide you could take a walk around to fuck around and.. uh, find out, maybe? (You weren’t sure what exactly, though.)

As you maneuver through the hallway, your gaze drifts to the old family photos hanging on the wall. They seem. . out of place, like relics from a time that never really existed, or more like pieces on . . a museum? A museum where no one cared for its content , and everything was just randomly added to make something out of nothing.

You were always smiling in those pictures, but it was a smile that never reached your eyes—a smile that hid the exhaustion inside you. And there, in the corner of every photo, was him.

Even in those memories, those old photos, he was perfect. The golden boy with the bright eyes and the easy smile. His eyes were so bright and full of a happiness that seemed to come so naturally, would crinkle at the corners when he smiled—an easy, effortless smile that lit up his entire face.

His hair, always a little tousled from running around, caught the sunlight in a way that made it glow, adding to the image of him as the golden boy. You remember the way his front teeth, slightly larger and giving him that bunny-like appearance, would peek out when he grinned, adding a touch of innocence to his already charming features. He’s grinning widely in this picture, his nose crinkled up and his fingers poised in a victory sign, aligned to his face, right above his eyes, a smile so infectious that you feel your lips stretch to a smile even before you know it.

Your heart drops to your ass.

You’re smiling.

You can still hear their voices,though. Dripping with disappointment every time they said his name, their expectations pressing down on you like a weight you could never lift. You were expected to be someone’s walking copy— perfect and what not. You were the one who couldn’t measure up, the one who always fell short, who always came last in the race.

You take a deep breath, but it feels like you’re inhaling shards of glass, each breath painful, deep and cutting. The silence in the house is deafening, only the distant noise of your mother chopping up vegetables with that same dull thud against the chop board audible.

It doesn’t take you long to realize that the absence of your parents’ voices is more suffocating than their arguments ever were. You had always wished for the fighting to stop, but now that it has, you find yourself wishing for the noise, the chaos—anything to drown out the silence that presses in on you from all sides.

Maybe you had finally gone insane.

You had run away from it all. From the piercing noises, comparison, disdain, disappointment, everything. You were so young back then, with no knowledge of the outside world or its secrets.

You’d try to settle in different parts of the world, failing miserably each time because that feeling of something missing in your soul— that deep longing and yearning for anything that wasn’t as quick as getting a quick whiff of dopamine.. never quite left following you.

And now, here you are, back where it all began, and nothing has changed. Except, perhaps, you. You’re not the same girl who left this place. You’ve seen too much, been through too much. The world has carved its mark on you, left you scarred and weary, and you’re not sure if there’s anything left of the girl you used to be.

But as you stand there, looking out at the endless pictures which hang on the old plastered walls where the past that still haunts you, you realize something.

You’re not just angry anymore.

You’re tired.

Tired of carrying this weight, this burden of resentment and hurt. Tired of blaming all the misunderstandings that were woven into the delicate fabric of your mind as you grew up, to someone who perhaps wasn't even slightly related to your pain.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it wasn’t really him you despised, but the circumstances that had pushed you to see him as the source of your pain, which had settled like dust in the chambers of your heart. The misunderstandings that had tangled themselves into the delicate fabric of your mind as you grew up, weaving him into the narrative of your suffering, were unfair to you both.

It felt easier to blame him than to confront the truth—that your pain had roots far deeper than just one boy with a bright smile and kind heart.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let go.

The thought surprises you, shakes you to your core. Where the fuck did that come from?

The thought not only surprises you, but mostly, scares you. You take a cautious step back. It comes with a dozen questions which you fear that you don’t know the answers to, or are way too confused to even think about them.

You’ve held onto this anger for so long, let it define you, shape you. Who will you be without it? Can you really let go of something that has been a part of you for so long?

Did it really take you this long to realise this, all that, too in the place where you desperately ran away from?

You don’t have the answers, not yet. But standing here, in this place where it all began, you think that maybe you’re ready to start looking for them.

And that scares you more than anything else.

You find yourself staring at a sketchbook, after dinner, which was all just . . . once again, all silence. You remember how you realised that the food tasted bland, despite having a home cooked meal after nearly a decade. You tried adding salt till it was way too salty, and you had to gulp down each morsel because it became too bitter for your taste. The suffocating silence was broken when the bubbling hot stew burnt your tongue, as you yelped in pain. The only relief you got was gulping down a whole bottle of iced water from the fridge.

Your tongue feels numb now. Great.

Your eyes roam over the sketchbook again, its once pristine pages now yellowed with age. It was a relic from your childhood, buried deep in the attic with dust for years until your return home unearthed it. As you trace the lines of the drawing on the first page, you remember the day you made it—a simple scene of a house on a hill, surrounded by trees and bathed in the warm glow of a sunset, and those huge “V” shaped birds marked randomly near the sun.

You remember that you were so proud of that drawing, each line and color carefully chosen by your younger self, an attempt to capture a world that felt safe and beautiful.

An imaginary place where you’d even thought of making stick figures to show you and your parents, a world where they lived happily, but the vague pencil traces underneath the pastel scribbling show that you’d decided it was better without it.

But the memory of showing it to your parents is what lingers most. You remember how your excitement had bubbled over as you presented the drawing to your parents, your young heart brimming with pride. You’d spent hours on that piece, the house on the hill, the yellow-ish hues of the sunset, the trees swaying gently in the imaginary breeze. You thought it was the best thing you’d ever created.

But when you placed the sketchbook in front of them, eager for their approval, their reactions were far from what you had hoped.

Your mother’s eyes had flickered over the page, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t say anything at first, just handed the sketchbook over to your father, who barely glanced at it before returning to his newspaper. It was your mother who finally broke the silence, her voice flat and dismissive. “It’s… fine,” she’d said, and that single word was like a bucket of cold water on your excitement, your hard work.

You remember vividly, how your heart sank, how the colours of your drawing seemed to dull right before your eyes. How hours of scribbling felt like it’d all been to waste. The pride you’d felt moments before quickly evaporated, replaced by a hollow ache in your chest. You were too young to understand why her words stung so much, but old enough to know they did.

But then your mother’s tone shifted, a hint of something sharper creeping into her voice. Her eyes, dark and clear, were on you. “You know,” she’d continued, “Jungkook showed us a drawing he did just last week. It was a landscape too, but he added so much detail. The way he captured the mountains and the way the light reflected on the water… It was really impressive. His technique is really improving.”

Your father chimed in, not even looking up. “Yes, he’s always had a good eye for these things, hah. Natural talent, I suppose.”

You’d just stood there in the corner, your limbs feeling way too weak and shaky to hold you up.

You’d tried to keep your expression neutral, tried to swallow the hollow pain in your chest, but it was no use. The resentment boiled inside you, twisting something in your chest until all you could feel was the unfairness of it all. You had wanted to create something beautiful, to show them what you were capable of, that you could do better, but instead, your drawing had become just another reminder of how you didn’t measure up.

The sting of their words burned hot behind your eyes, and before you knew it, tears were blurring your vision. You didn’t want to cry in front of them, didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing how deeply they had hurt you. So you bolted from the yard, the sound of their conversation fading behind you as you ran, feeling even hurt that none of your parents bothered to ask about where you were going.

But your vision was too clouded by tears, and as you reached the stairs, you’d feel your foot catch on the edge of a step. You stumbled forward, eyes widening, your arms flailing as you tried to catch yourself, but it was too late. You’d fallen, hard, the impact of your knee against the hardwood sending a sharp jolt of pain through your leg.

You remember the way your mother had smiled when she talked about Jungkook’s drawing, a soft, admiring smile that she rarely directed at you. It wasn’t just the critique of your work that hurt—it was the realization that, in their eyes, Jungkook would always outshine you. No matter how hard you tried, how much effort you put in, he was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong, while you were just… there.

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, partly from the pain, but mostly from the overwhelming sense of rejection and inadequacy. You sat there on the stairs, your knee scraped and bleeding, the ache in your chest even worse than the one on your knee. The drawing that had once filled you with pride now felt like a cruel joke, a reminder of how you would always fall short, no matter how hard you tried.

You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, angry at yourself for crying, angry at them for making you feel this way, and angry at Jungkook for being the perfect son they never had. The resentment grew deeper, and with it, so did the belief that you were never going to be good enough for them, no matter what you did.

— — —

The moon is full overhead when you finally change into some comfortable PJs and finally feel sleep knock on the back of your eyelids and exhaustion making its way to move gradually along your body. Today wasn’t exactly eventful, but rather a concoction of memories which tickled and stung you like a thousand bees over and over.

You’ve decided to keep the windows open, . . .for tonight, atleast, because you do not dare sleep without feeling suffocated here. It sounds silly, but having nice ventilation feels. . . fresh, or more so.

You were around fourteen, you think, as you remember sitting on the edge of the playground, kicking at the dirt with the toes of your worn sneakers. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the field, and you could hear the other kids shouting and playing, their voices mingling with the distant hum of traffic.

You weren’t interested in joining them. Your eyes were fixed on a figure in the distance, one you knew all too well.

Jungkook.

He was standing by the swings, laughing with a group of boys who seemed to hang on his every word. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he pushed it back, and his smile—God, that smile—was so bright, so beautiful, it almost hurt to look at. You hated that smile. You hated how perfect he seemed, how effortless everything was for him. And you hated how, no matter what you did, you could never seem to escape his shadow. No wonder the girls were so hung up on him, even the class president— it was ridiculous.

That day had started like any other, with your parents reminding you how you should be more like Jungkook. They praised his grades, his athletic abilities, and his charm. Either a direct implication of “Why can’t you be more like him?” or something like “You know, Jungkook— blah blah blah, all that bullshit about how he was better than you in every aspect. Even if it was the topic of increasing acne on your face, not realising—or maybe not caring—how their words cut you down. You knew they meant well, or maybe not, but each comparison felt like a knife to your heart, a reminder that you would never be good enough.

That you’ll never be him.

You were lost in your thoughts when you felt a presence beside you. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Hey,” Jungkook said, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “Why are you sitting here alone?” His voice was always so soft. So gentle.

You hated his voice. Why did he sound so. . . sweet ? so smooth, almost with a slight undertone of a rasp. Why did it make you want to surrender and break down into the frustration which was pent up inside you since ages?

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak. Your throat felt tight, your chest heavy. You wanted to tell him to go away, to leave you alone, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Because as much as you resented him, wanted him away from you, you somehow wanted him near you, a feeling which was hugely perplexing to you. It was a twisted, painful contradiction that you didn’t fully understand, nor you’d ever wanted to.

Jungkook sat down beside you, right on the dusty ground, his knee brushing against yours. The contact sent a jolt, a feeling of fleeting emotions through you, but you didn’t move away. Instead, you kept your eyes fixed on the ground, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears that were threatening to spill over.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Of course he’s gonna be concerned.

And that was the thing about Jungkook—he was always so kind, so considerate, even when you didn’t want him to be. It only made you feel worse. It only made you feel like utter shit, like you were not meant for anything, not even basic human compassion.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your emotions in check. “I’m fine,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook didn’t seem convinced. He shifted closer, his shoulder pressing against yours. He smelled like baby powder mixed with sweat. Irritating. “You know you can talk to me, right? If something’s bothering you.”

You almost laughed at the irony. How could you talk to him when he was the source of so much of your pain? When everyday you had to just, suffer because of him? How could you tell him that every time you looked at him, you felt like you were drowning in your own inadequacy? That every time he succeeded, it felt like another reminder of your failures? While he was always praised, always encouraged, while you were left to wonder why your efforts never seemed to measure up?

But instead of saying any of that, you just nodded, giving him the answer he wanted. Because you couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing you as weak, as vulnerable. You couldn’t let him know how deeply he had affected you.

There was a long silence between you, the kind that felt like it was stretching out forever. You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, feel the tension in your chest building with every passing second. And then, just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, Jungkook spoke again.

“You know, you’re really talented,” he said, his voice slightly higher than usual, a habit you hate to have noticed when he gets excited about something. “I just saw your abstract sketches the other day. Holy shit dude, they’re amazing!”

You didn’t know if your heart hammering in your chest sounded more or the silence after his praise did. He, however, didn’t stop there.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but they only served to twist the knife deeper. Because at that moment, you realised that he didn’t understand. He couldn’t. To him, everything came so easily—success, praise, admiration. But for you, it was a constant struggle, a battle you fought every day just to keep your head above water.

You turned to look at him then, really look at him, not caring if your eyes are brimming with unshed tears or if your nose is runny with snot and tears.

And for the first time, you saw the boy behind the perfect image. There was a softness in his eyes, a sincerity that made your heart ache. And for a fleeting moment, you wanted to believe him, to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were more than the sum of your insecurities.

But then reality came crashing back, and the bitterness you had tried so hard to suppress bubbled to the surface.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice flat, on the verge of cracking, devoid of the warmth you knew he was expecting. “But I don’t need your pity.”

Jungkook blinked, his doe eyes widening, taken aback by your sudden harshness. “It’s not—”

“Just leave me alone,” you’d hissed, standing up abruptly. You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you turned and walked away, your heart pounding in your chest, your blood rushing onto your face. You could feel his eyes on your back, but you didn’t dare look back. Because if you did, you knew you would see the hurt in his expression, and you couldn’t handle that. Not when you were already so close to breaking.

And so you ran. Ran so fast, so hard, that you felt your chest constrict and gulp for air— the static breeze feeling like wind on your face as you ran, ran, ran. Ran till your limbs gave away and your head hurt, till you feel your insides eat you up with a strange mix of emotions—anger, regret, sadness.

But most of all, you felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness, even if you felt like you did the right thing. Because in pushing Jungkook away, you had also pushed away the one person who might have understood, who might have been able to help you. . . only if you hadn’t pushed him away.

But it was too late now. The damage was done, and you were left to pick up the pieces alone.

But as you stare at the sketchbook now, under the glowing moonlight, running your fingers over the faded lines of the drawing, the sketches you’d made again — you see it with different eyes—eyes that can appreciate the innocence in those lines, the earnestness of a child who only wanted to create something beautiful. The proportions might not be perfect, almost nothing in those sketches were — but there’s a charm in their simplicity, a warmth in the colors that you hadn’t noticed before. They were all good drawings, you think, not because of their technical skill, but because they were a reflection of who you were back then—hopeful, imaginative, and full of dreams.

And maybe, just maybe, you had been a little too hard on yourself all those years ago.

You hadn’t even planned to be here.

The moment your father casually mentioned that the Jeons still lived next door, you felt that familiar, uncomfortable pressure building in your chest. You didn’t absolutely know why that information passed on, especially when after a heavy restless night of feeling like crap, your muscles aching from exhaustion , your brain unable to process every thought which you’d thought, you were finally up to join your parents for an early evening tea.

His voice was cheerful, like he had no idea the gravity of what he was suggesting, but you felt it immediately. Every time the conversation veered toward your neighbors, it dredged up feelings you weren’t ready to confront. The Jeons—his parents—meant one thing, and ultimately, one thing only: Jungkook.

The mention of their name was enough to send your mind into overdrive, painting images of polite conversation and awkward laughter, images that twisted into something far more unbearable—seeing him. You could already hear the follow-up conversation in your mother’s saccharine sweet voice, “Why don’t you come over and say hello? Catch up with the Jeons?” And worst of all, they’d ask about you. You felt despondent to even think of the conversation, if it ever took place.

You weren’t used to the warmth which Mr. and Mrs. Jeon had shown you throughout the years, which only made you doubt if they ever knew the thick wall of ash between their son and you. They were so copacetically well humored, it almost hurt to be in a conversation with them.

Almost as if you never were used to this form of decency, that it shocked you to your core.

Jungkook’s parents would definitely ask, and you'd be expected to stand there and smile like you hadn't left everything behind. You know they definitely wouldn’t mean anything hurtful, but you do not believe your mind.

Not yet, atleast.

Before your parents could suggest anything more, before they could casually lead you down that path of small talk and forced interactions, you’d mumbled a vague excuse. Something about needing to stretch your legs, or needing some air.

You really did, though.

You’d slipped out the front door like you were running away, and you shook away the bitterness forming in your throat. You weren’t sure where you were going, only that it had to be away from that conversation, away from the chance of seeing him.

As your feet carried you through the familiar streets, your mind raced faster than your heart. The narrow, winding streets were the same, the faded signs on shop windows were the same, but the memories that clung to the air—they were suffocating.

You’d always thought coming back would be simple. Walk down memory lane, see familiar faces, and pretend you were someone new. But the weight of those memories hung over you, each one sharper than the last. With every corner you turned, you felt the tug of your past, a pull you couldn’t quite shake away, no matter how hard you’d tried to shrug it off.

— — —

You found yourself slipping into a small café you hadn’t noticed before, just off the main road, desperate for a reprieve.

What’s the name— 134340? Quite strange, you think, but shrug it off once again. People are creative with their business requirements, even if that means that you probably make out nothing from eyeing the café from outside. except the fact that. . . it’s possibly space themed?

Now that is strange for a coffee shop.

You think that it’s quite new. Or, who even knows. It stands out from the dull shops lit nearby, and there’s quite a buzz which attracts you here, although you’d prefer a quiet café over a bustling one any day.

Well, fuck it.

The smell of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries greeted you as you stepped inside, the hum of quiet conversation and the soft clink of mugs providing a much-needed escape. It’s surprisingly cozy, something you’d never guessed from the odd name and the theme previously. The café is small, actually smaller than most you’ve been to. Though, it’s nice, there are fewer people here, and you quite find yourself at peace already. You chose a table near the back, away from the windows, trying to create some distance from the life outside.

You hadn’t planned to stay long, but the peaceful atmosphere lulled you into a false sense of security. You let out a long breath, allowing the tension to ease from your shoulders as you sipped your coffee. Ha, thisfelt nice. For a few blissful moments, you felt like you could breathe again. Almost like. . . maybe you could handle this return to your hometown after all.

And then, the door chimes.

You barely looked up at first—just another customer, maybe a loner like you, someone else in this quiet café. But then the barista’s voice cut through the room, clear and distinct.

“Macchiato for Jungkook!”

Huh?

Your hand froze halfway to your cup. The familiar sound of his name hit you like a punch to the gut, making your breath hitch.

No fucking way.

Your gaze shot up, almost instinctively, and that’s when you saw him. There, standing by the counter, picking up his drink like it was the most casual thing in the world. Him.

Your heart seemed to lurch into your throat. It couldn’t be him—it couldn’t. And yet, there he was, right in front of you, a few inches away.

The room seemed to shrink around you, your pulse quickening as your eyes locked onto him. You felt yourself gasping for air, your peace long broken. Your body felt suddenly too warm, your chest tightening painfully as every nerve in your body screamed for you to look away.

But you just couldn’t.

He had changed.

The boy you left behind had grown into someone you barely recognized. His back was visible to you— his frame was broader, more solid than you remembered, and his shoulders— God, what the fuck? they seemed to stretch forever beneath the dark jacket he wore. His hair, slightly tousled, deep raven — as you’d remembered— framed his face in that familiar, careless way, but it was sharper now. Defined. There was no mistaking the confidence in the way he carried himself, something he hadn't fully grown into back then.

But what stood out most—what nearly knocked the breath from your lungs—were those— were those. . . tattoos peeking underneath his jacket?

Jungkook's arm, the one that used to be bare, now carried intricate black ink that snaked from his wrist to his elbow, disappearing under the sleeve of his jacket. The lines were bold, winding and curling, and you felt your jaw drop, even if he was standing at a distance. The tattoos seemed to catch the light as he reached for his drink, each motion of his arm drawing your attention like a magnet.

You couldn’t stop staring. The boy you remembered—the one who had always been so kind, so open—had become someone else entirely.

One who stood in stark contrast to the memories you had clung to.

And he was alone.

Jungkook had always been surrounded by people. He was known to be the crowd attractor, always having his admirers petting him by his neck. He was never the type to go anywhere without friends trailing behind him, their laughter filling the spaces around him. But here, now, in this café—he was by himself. There was a stillness about him that you didn’t remember, something quiet and self-assured.

Now, it almost felt like he didn’t need anyone around him to validate his presence. He was comfortable in his own skin, by himself.

That realisation hit you harder than you expected. He had changed in ways you hadn’t anticipated, ways that made your chest tighten with emotions you couldn’t even begin to name.

And then, just as you thought your heart might explode from your chest, Jungkook turned slightly, his eyes sweeping across the café—casually, as if he were taking in his surroundings—and your stomach dropped.

Fuck, fuck. The coffee was so strong, you feel it lurching up your stomach now.

You flinched, ducking your head quickly, heart pounding so loud you thought he might hear it across the room. Did he see you? Could he have recognized you after all these years? Your breath was shallow, uneven, panic rising in your throat as you wrestled with the urge to bolt from your seat.

You weren’t ready for this.

You weren’t ready to face him. Not here, not now. Not when you were still so caught up in your own thoughts, still trying to piece together the fragments of what your brain showed you. You’d come here for a cup of coffee— some peace— and seeing him again, after all this time, felt too much, and too little at once. It was like a bomb, or a bucket of ice cold water thrown directly at you.

It was overwhelming.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for your bag, your movements jerky and uncoordinated. Your heart was racing, and every instinct in your body was telling you to run. But you hesitated, torn between the undeniable urge to leave and the part of you that wanted to look at him just once more. Just to see if he had really changed as much as you thought. Just to see if he, unlike this town, your home, had changed.

But you knew better. You couldn’t stay. Not with your emotions so close to the surface, threatening to spill over. If he saw you, if he recognized you—if he spoke to you— you didn’t know if you could handle that.

Because you know you can’t.

The café, once so peaceful, now felt stifling, the walls closing in on you as your breath quickened. You couldn’t breathe. You needed to get out of here, needed to escape before everything came crashing down.

With one final glance at his figure, standing there by the counter, you pushed your chair back, the screeching sound drawing more attention than you would have liked. But you didn’t care. You grabbed your things and bolted for the door, your pulse pounding in your ears, your steps quick and uneven.

You’d nearly made it. The door was just a few steps away, and all you had to do was keep your head down and walk.

Your heart was still hammering in your chest, the anxiety twisting your insides as you tried to steady your breathing. Jungkook hadn’t seen you—or at least you hoped he hadn’t. You prayed to heavens and hells that he hadn’t. But just as you reached for the door, you saw him lean against the counter, much closer now. Far closer than you had anticipated.

Fuck. Fuck!

The café’s single door was right beside where he stood, and there was no way out without passing directly by him.

Oh no.

You shouldn’t have chosen this café. Was there no other cafés for you to try? Did HE necessarily have to be in the same café as you?

Your stomach churned, your pulse thudding in your ears, drowning out everything else. He was right there. Right there. And you could feel the heat radiating off him even from where you stood. Panic crawled up your spine, making your movements sluggish and jerky. You just needed to keep your head down and walk—walk past him without glancing his way, without catching his eye. But he was so close, and as you stepped forward, trying to make yourself as small as possible, you caught it—his scent.

That familiar scent, one that had changed just as much as he had. He no longer smelled like baby powder. It was manly now, deeper, some sort of an expensive cologne, which was strong on its own— yet soft, almost comforting in a way that made your chest constrict painfully. The scent wrapped around you, making your knees feel weak, and for a second, you nearly lost your footing. You fought the instinct to look at him—to take one glance and confirm that yes, this is the Jungkook you left behind, the one who had grown into a man. But you couldn’t. If you looked at him, you’d be done.

You were beyond cooked.

Your legs carried you forward, faster than they should have, your mind racing with every step. You felt your arm brush something—him, the edge of his jacket maybe, or his hand on the counter—and your pulse spiked violently.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

You shoved the door open, your breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as you stumbled outside, the cool air hitting your face like a hard slap back to reality.

You were outside. You’d made it. But the world around you was spinning, the street and the sky blurring together as your heart continued to pound in your chest. You leaned against the wall just outside the café, your hand pressed to your chest, trying to catch your breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside you.

Your palms felt uncomfortably clammy and you felt a sweat head run down your temple. Your thoughts were a mess—disjointed. Everything was hitting you at once; you had run away again. You had seen him, been close enough to touch him, and you had run. Just like before.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the ache in your chest spreading as you tried to pull yourself together. It was stupid. So stupid. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid ! You were an adult now, one with full responsibilities for your actions, and yet here you were, fleeing like a scared child.

You took a deep breath, forcing the air into your lungs. Maybe you could handle this. Yeah, you needed to clear your head. It’s just the coffee messing with you. Maybe you could—

“Excuse me?”

Your entire body froze at the voice directed at you.

That voice.

Deep. Smooth. Rich. The sound of it sent a shiver down your spine, catching you off guard, wrapping itself around you like a tether, pulling you back toward the very thing you were trying to escape.

It wasn’t the voice you remembered—but it also very much was— heavier, weighted with a kind of maturity that made your breath catch. The boy you once knew had never sounded like this. This voice was deeper, more assured, like it had weathered years of life since you last heard it. The softness which his voice held in your memory still was back somewhere, but you couldn’t find it. And that hit you hard. He wasn’t that same boy anymore. The boy who used to tease you, who laughed with that bright, carefree chuckle—he was gone.

And now, that very voice was speaking to you.

You slowly turned to face him, your heart thudding violently in your chest as your eyes locked onto his face.

Yeah, this was your end.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Jungkook.

He was right there, just a few feet away. And this close, you could see everything.

The sharpness of his jawline hit you first, carved out and more defined than you ever remembered. It was strong, angular, like someone had taken the softness he once had and sculpted it into something more. . . commanding. His lips, parted slightly as he waited for you to respond, were full and soft, but even they held a sense of control, like every movement was deliberate. Fuck, was that a piercing at the corner ? His nose—perfectly straight, leading up to those eyes.

Those eyes.

Dark, deep, and searching. They hadn’t changed much in shape, but the way they looked at you was different now—more intense, more aware. His gaze wasn’t filled with youthful curiosity or mischief anymore. It was deeper. Grounded. Like he saw more, understood more.

He was a man now.

Your stomach twisted violently, and you had to force yourself to breathe.

Your gaze traveled up, noting the way his thick brows framed his face, darker and more defined than you remembered. They furrowed slightly as he watched you, as if trying to figure out why you were staring, why you hadn’t taken the phone from his hand yet. The small furrow in his brows only made his expression more serious, more focused. He was looking at you—not just glancing, but looking.

His dark, inky black hair brushed just above his brows, a few strands falling forward in that effortless, tousled way. It was longer now, framing his face, giving him an edge that made your chest tighten.

But it wasn’t just his face. Your eyes flickered down for just a second, barely able to handle it. His neck—strong and sinewy, leading to broad shoulders that seemed even broader now in the fitted jacket he wore. He’d filled out—a lot. His arms were no longer just lean muscle from teenage years of sports. Now, they were thicker, more muscular, straining against the fabric of his sleeve. Oh my God.

Your mind raced, every detail crashing into you at once, overwhelming your senses. Your chest felt tight, and you felt like your hands were shaking by your sides.

The more you looked, the more you realized how much had changed. How much you had missed. How much you had run away from?

It felt like the world was tilting, spinning, and you couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the flood of memories, the weight of time lost, the realization that Jungkook had grown into someone you barely recognized—yet you knew it was still him.

He was still him.

You were losing yourself in it, in all of it, your thoughts spiraling out of control, unable to process the fact that he was standing here, holding something that belonged to you, waiting for you to take it from him.

Your eyes flickered back to his face, your heart clenching painfully. He was watching you, studying you in a way that made your skin prickle with awareness. And yet, as much as he was looking at you, he didn’t know you. Didn’t recognize you. Not yet, anyway.

That hit you harder than you could’ve expected. How could he not know who you were? How could he not see it in your face, in the way you were trembling, in the panic written all over you?

But then again, why would he?

You were no longer the same girl he once knew.

And as his eyes narrowed in mild confusion, his brow furrowing just a little deeper, it became clear—he didn’t see you as the person who had disappeared from his life. Not yet.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked softly, his voice sending a tremor down your spine. You couldn’t miss the concern in his tone, the slight edge of worry that made your throat tighten even more.

Fuck. Of course he’d be concerned.

You blinked, the world rushing back into focus, feeling like your pupils zoomed like crazy— and suddenly, you realized you had been standing there for far too long, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Standing there like a damn weirdo.

Your phone. He is holding your phone.

For a split second, your eyes met his, and time seemed to freeze.

His gaze locked onto yours, and for the briefest of moments, something flickered there—something like recognition. You feel your eyes widening, bells ringing at the back of your head. His eyes softened, just slightly, as if he was searching your face for something familiar, something from the past. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that same polite curiosity.

For a moment, you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Your eyes flickered between his face and the phone in his hand, your chest tightening with each passing second. What should you do? He was right there, right in front of you. He was close enough for yoh to reach out and take back what was yours.

But you couldn’t.

Your hand now actually trembled at your side, your body frozen in place. The air felt too thick for you to gulp in, and your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

“I—” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, trying to force the words out, trying to make your body move. But you couldn’t.

You just couldn’t.

He tilted his head slightly, concern flickering across his face as he waited for you to take the phone. Why is he so concerned!? But you just stood there, rooted to the spot, like your feet had been glued to the ground. You felt the panic rising inside you again, the walls closing in as your chest tightened painfully, slowly.

“I—” you tried again, but your throat was too tight, and the word came out as nothing more than a strangled sound, like a muffled voice.

He took a step closer, and that was it. That was it.

Your body went into overdrive. Without thinking, without even trying to reason with yourself, you turned on your heel and bolted down the street, not caring if people stopped to look at you, thinking if you possibly were either a lunatic or someone who just won a lottery.

You didn’t care. You ran, ran, feeling your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you ran. Your legs felt shaky beneath you, your pulse pounding in your ears as you darted around the corner, as far away from him as possible.

You couldn’t do this.

Your heart was hammering so violently you thought it might burst right out of your chest, and all you could think about was getting away. Far, far away.

You ran till you feel your chest burn, you ran till you felt like your limbs would give up. You ran till you feel like nothing again, you ran till your mind was empty.

When you finally slowed, your breath came in harsh, ragged bursts, and your vision blurred with tears you hadn’t realized were there. You collapsed onto a bench, your whole body trembling violently as the weight of everything crashed down on you.

You had run away.

Again.

And this time, you didn’t even have an excuse.

a/n : phew.. 😵‍💫 if you’ve made this far, thank you for reading 💜 what do we think? i’d be very glad if you let me know your thoughts 🫶🏾 if you want, there’s an anonymous feedback box where you can drop your thoughts anonymously 💌

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gingernut1314 · 16 days ago

Text

Just A Bedtime Story ch. 4

Summary: You are out for a swim during your work break, only to stumble upon a fight on the docks. A fight starring a very familiar face.

Content: female reader, gendered terms, pre-season 1 arcane, introduction to Sevika and Nadia (my oc...though technically she's low-key canon lol), Canon typical violence (description of a fight), young Silco, young Sevika, young reader, reader using water manipulation, confirming friendship, slight Arcane season 2/League of Legends spoiler (Janna)

Word Count: 3.7K

A/N: This is a bit of a long one sorry. I caught a little too much in their interactions. Next chapter we will finally get them all aged up!! I hope you all enjoy!

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The waters of the Undercity had always been a comfort to you--a second home. No matter how freezing--no matter how polluted they got, you always found yourself swimming within them.

People who knew you often said if you didn’t need to breathe, you would stay down in the inky depth. And they would be very much corrected.

It was truly too bad you hadn’t developed gills and webbed fingers.

You had just resurfaced to take a much-needed breath when a sound other than lapping water and the creaking of wooden ships caught your ear. It was faint. So faint you found yourself swimming out from under your boss’ dock and toward the sound.

Not only were you an avid swimmer, but you were nosy as hell. A nosiness that got you in trouble more times than not.

The closer and closer you swam, the clearer the sound grew.

Sounds.

Stomping and shuffling feet, grunts and shouts, bone hitting flesh, the sharp zing of a blade flying through the air and cutting through the skin.

It was a fight you were hearing.

You swam toward the ladder on the wall and climbed slowly upward, water dripping off your body and making too much noise. You doubted whoever was fighting could tell the difference between the water swooshing against the wood and your body leaving it, but you could never be too careful.

Peeking your head up over the wooden dock, you found a cluster of boys all around your age or older. You recognized them all instantly as the gang that thought they owned the docks. As the gang that tormented you to no end. Who you had stolen from only two months prior.

They had stayed under the radar since then. You could take a pretty good guess as to why, that being they were embarrassed about their defeat. They were bloodied, bruised, and some dead, and word of their loss had spread like wildfire.

Partially because you had fanned the flames.

But even when you knew they knew you had spread the word, they hadn’t come out of hiding. Not until now.

You pulled yourself a little further upward, trying to catch a glimpse of who they were beating on this time. Slowly and carefully you scanned over the scene and…

There.

You found them. Him. And fucking hell--

It was Silco.

You wondered what the hell he was doing all the way over here? Especially since The Last Drop, his territory, was located in the heart of the Undercity while the docks lay closer to Piltover’s borders. Too close to your liking but you really couldn’t do anything about that.

You wondered why the hell he would draw their attention when he knew they would be out for blood--his blood specifically. While Vander had beat them into a bloody pulp, Silco had killed a good handful of their members.

You had greatly enjoyed this fact, but it still didn’t make it a good idea for him to be wondering about over here where they knew the area best.

It was a ten-on-one fight. Seemingly unfair odds but somehow Silco was still standing. Somehow he was making it nine then eight then seven against one the longer the fight went on.

His movements, while not the most graceful, were ruthless. Movements you knew spoke volumes to the amount of fights he had waged. To the number of fights he had won.

You were awestruck by it. So hypnotized by his fighting that you failed to spy one of the fallen members get back up. To see him grab a loose plank of wood and rush at Silco, who was busy fending off two nasty-looking members.

You and Silco both didn’t see the plank until it was crashing over the back of Silco’s head. He went crumbling to the ground, his knives clattering beside him as he went.

The gang seemed to hesitate. Like maybe they believe he was faking it. Hesitated as if he were some beast who would snap up and crush them between his jaws, but Silco stayed down and your throat tightened.

You rushed up the rest of the ladder, pulling the attention of most of the remaining members just as they went to beat Silco further into the ground.

“Little fishy,” You were disappointed to see Rotting Teeth was still standing, blood running from a deep cut on the ridge of his nose. “I’d say you were here to save your little boyfriend, but your weak as all shit.”

“Good to see your mush-filled skull can still come up with shitty insults.” He grits his rotting teeth at you.

“You still haven’t learned your place, have you?” You blinked at him slowly.

“My…place?” You spoke, mocking confusion. “I don’t know what you mean?” He growled, too easily annoyed.

“You bitch--”

“Oh, gods.” You groaned. “Where is the originality? Little fishy’s good, but bitch? Really? Everyone uses that.”

“Here’s what's gonna happen, bitch.” You shook your head in mock disappointment. “I’m gonna kill your boy toy and then I'm gonna kill you. Understand?” He pulled a very dull-looking knife from his pocket, brandishing it your way like it might scare you.

“No. I don’t think I do, because you won’t be killing anyone.” Rotting Teeth and his gang gave howling rounds of laughter at your words. Laugher you used as a slight distraction as you felt for the water below your feet. Water your magic sung the same melody with.

“Get--” But before Rotten Teeth could give his commands, you yanked the water upward, it hissing sharply as it shot between the planks.

Startled shouts sounded from the gang. Shouts that turned painful as you moved your hands around, guiding the water to shoot into their eyes and nose.

The breath in your lungs grew heavier the longer you used your magic. Magic you knew you could only control for so long before growing too exhausted.

So, with great effort, you willed the waters to wrap around the throats of the remaining eight gang members. They gave strangled and fearful yelps before you were yanking them towards the waters below with a great grunt.

As soon as you heard them splash into the cold waters below, you released your magic quickly. The strain of using such power had you stumbling forward, your vision blurring and every breath pulling in with a slight, whistling wheeze.

Janna had told you to start out small. Exploding the flask being a perfect example. It was at your skill level and you could do it without much thought anymore.

Fully manipulating water like it was a second limb? While very cool, it definitely was still something you were working on…even when you wished to prove the wind spirit wrong.

“You have magic.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement and it was coming from Silco who had at some point regained consciousness.

“Magic’s just a bedtime story.” You huffed and puffed out. Swallowing down air, you wobbled over to him only to nearly trip over his long legs, which were still sprawled out over the dock.

“Bedtime--I just saw you control water.” You gave another swallowed-down bit of air, your vision starting to focus and breathing finally beginning to even.

“I think that asshole hit you harder than I thought.” You knelt down in front of him, grabbing a hold of his head to shove it down and get a better view of the back of it.

“Get your hands off of me.” He hissed, slapping your hand away. You gave a little fake ow at the hit.

“Wow…not even a thank you for saving your life?” You gave a mockingly hurt shake of your head. “That hurts.”

“Oh please.” He all but rolled his eyes, pulling his legs under himself as he prepared himself to get up. “I had it under control.”

“Okay. Yeah. ‘Under control’. We can call it that.” Silco ran one of his hands over his face, showing off his newly split knuckles.

“Where did you even come from?” You held out your hand for him to take. He eyed it for a moment, as if to deny your further help, but reluctantly took hold of it. You helped pull him upward, savoring the feel of his chill skin against yours before it ended a few seconds later.

“Went for a swim. Heard you getting your ass beat--”

“I was not--”

“Swam over here and saved it.” Silco gave you an exasperated sigh through his nose. “This makes us even, ya know. You saved my life, I saved yours.”

“Fine.” He gruffly said. It pulled an all too cheerful smile to your lips that only seemed to annoy him further. “Just don’t tell Vander, yes?” The words quickly fell from him as he passed you. So quick that you almost didn’t catch it.

You had planned on telling Vander the next time you made your way to The Last Drop, but that look in Silco’s eyes…you couldn’t place your finger on it, though your ability to understand emotions was growing much better thanks to hanging around actual humans.

It was a look that was--near animals. Like the thought of Vander finding out you had saved him was turning him into a cornered animal. One that would snap its jaw at anyone that came too close.

Whatever it was, you didn’t like it.

You hopped to his side, wanting to follow him wherever he was heading.

“Okay.” Silco looked at you like he didn’t quite believe you. “If you really don’t want me to, I won’t.”

“But--why?” You gave a shrug.

“I cut into a fight you definitely could have won.” You added a bit of a playful tease to your tone. But even when you kept things playful, you willed your eyes to remain serious. To try and tell him silently you wouldn’t. “Why would I want to brag about my own dishonor.”

“Dishonor? I didn’t know there was honor between thieves and murderers to begin with.” Silco ran his thin fingers through his shaggy hair, trying to tame back the frizzled mess it had become in his fight.

Your own fingers itched as you watched him.

You wanted to do that.

“Oh yes. There’s a code and vow and everything. Very official.” You gave a dead serious nod. “Did you miss that meeting?” An amused smile pulled at the very corners of Silco’s thin lips. Lips you wanted to see sport a full smile. One you wanted wide enough you could look at the V-shaped chip there fully.

You felt bad about it, but damn it was cute. It just completely complimented him.

“Damn. Must have.” You gave him a small chuckle as you came upon your boss’ shop.

“This is where I work.” Silco looked over the gray, stone backing of the shop. Took in the small sign above the door and empty, fish gut-stained crates lining the back door.

“Are you working now?” You a small nod.

“Breaks about to end.” Silco gave a matching small nod, seafoam eyes landing on you once more.

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” Silence filled the space between you two. A silence you didn’t like and was quick to fill. “Why’d you come all the way over here anyway?” Silco ran his fingers through his hair once more, eyes falling away from you as he kicked at an invisible pebble.

“Vander’s helping open The Last Drop. Went for a walk. Ended up here.” You really couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your lips then.

Had he come here to find you? Had he come here to--dare you say--hang out?

It had a giddy feeling bubbling in your chest you had to shove far down.

“Do you want to come inside? I can introduce you to Nadia and Sevika.” He glanced back up at you, brows furrowing the slightest bit.

“And they are…?”

“My friends. Nadia is super sweet. She can clean and wrap your knuckles and take care of any of your other wounds.” Silco subconsciously looked to his bleeding knuckles. You knew he probably wouldn’t take the offer but it was there if he did.

“And the other?”

“Sevika?” He nodded. “Well, Sevika’s…Sevika.” You shrugged. “She’s great. I think you’ll like her.” You grabbed hold of the door handle, which was dented here and there. “Come on. I can sneak you some food too.” At the prospect of food, Silco perked up instantly.

“Fine. But only for a moment.” You beamed at him as he followed after you.

The clatter of plates and pots filled your ears as you shut the door behind Silco, the kitchen a beehive of cooks and dishwashers and the heavenly smell of food. The chef shouted something to one of the other cooks who shouted right back as you reached to grab hold of Silco jacket sleeve.

“Okay so…try not to be so tall.” You whispered, beginning to pull him from behind the wall.

“Wha--am I not supposed to be in here?” You shushed him much to his dislike.

“Technically no. Boss isn’t a big fan of men so…” You thought of how your boss didn’t even like Nadia’s husband, who was probably the sweetest man on this earth. Boss hated men so much she only hired women to work in her diner and on her ship. Hated them so much she only interacted with male customers if it was absolutely necessary.

Silco gave a great sigh, so you tossed him a mischievous smile.

“Don’t worry. She stays in her office most of the day.” But just as you spoke, the door leading out into the front of the house swung open, making you startle so bad it showed physically.

A lithe woman came through carrying a plate of food that looked like it had been picked through by an all too picky customer. Her wild, ruddy red hair had been wrestled into a ponytail that was fighting to escape its confines, and her pale, near pearlescent skin was covered in faint speckling of freckles.

“Chef, I fear they--” Her burnt gold eyes flickered over you, pinkish lips pulling thin. “What have I told you.” She spoke again, her accent thick yet added another layer to her melodic voice. “If you go for a swim you must dry off. Dragging a mess in with you.” She shook her head, “I left a towel for you--” Again she cut herself off when her eyes looked just past you to Silco.

“Nadia, this is Silco.” Her eyes lit in recognition of the name. A name that may or may not have been spewed from your lips many, many times since you first met him. She gave a small shake of her head once more, blowing a deep sigh from her lips.

“Take this,” She all but shoved the plate of food into your hands, before rushing you and Silco into the locker room. “Give me a moment.” She smiled kindly Silco’s way before rushing back out of the door, washing the room in silence.

“See. Food.” You flopped down on one of the wooden benches, crossing your legs as you placed the plate beside you. When Silco continued to stand in the middle of the locker room looking too out of place, you waved him over. “What? Are you scared?” Silco rolled his eyes, following your gesture and sitting down beside the plate.

“Of course not.”

“Then stop acting like a chicken.” You teased, grabbing a few french fries and all but shoving them into your mouth. “The fish is fresh. Caught it this morning.” You spoke around the food in your mouth. Silco’s nose wrinkled at you in slight disgust but he wasted no time in ripping a bit of the fried fish.

“You caught it?” You hummed in yes, grabbing a bit of the fish yourself.

“Boss takes me with her when she goes out to sea. Calls me her good luck charm 'cause we always catch a good haul when I’m around.” Silco nodded, chewing the fish slowly.

“Because of your magic?” You were quick to shush him again. “Oh, would you stop--” Another long shush.

“It’s not magic.” Silco rose a brow at you, not believing it for a second. “And if it was…sure. Maybe that’s the reason.”

“Is it maybe the reason you can swim submerged in the waters and not reap the consequences as well?” You watched him for a long moment, slowing your own chewing.

“I don’t like this line of questioning.” Silco ripped another bit of the fish off.

“Well, magic is rare. As you said, just a bedtime story. It is only natural I would be curious.” He popped the fish into his mouth.

“It is just a bedtime story.” You insisted, messing with a fry between your fingers. “But…probably. But I think it also has to do with how my guardian found me. Just a newborn drowning within them. Someone threw me in.” You held a hand up showing your inky black fingertips, the darkness fading out around your knuckles. Silco’s own eyes scanned them over, then your face. “Use to be worse. Use to have glowing black and red eyes too.”

“That is…horrid.” You shrugged, popping the fry you had been messing with into your mouth.

“Eh. Seen worse.” You mused, grabbing up another fry. Silco’s seafoam eyes darkened in understanding.

They’d all seen worse. Experienced worse.

It came with the territory. It was the unfair truth they all had to live or it would crush them if them is they tried to deny it.

“Why tell me?” Silco’s voice came out quieter. Soft. Like he didn’t even want to ask but needed the answer.

“Because you asked.” You shrugged again.

“That can’t be the reason.”

“I mean--it’s you.” Silco’s eyes narrowed slightly in confusion to your answer. “I--you’re my friend. We’re friends. And…I guess I trust you to know. I want you to know.” You suddenly felt your stomach hollow out and your palms begin to sweat.

Nervous.

He made you so nervous.

You hated it but found you wouldn’t try to change it.

“We’re…friends.” Silco carefully said. Like it was a secret itself.

“I mean--I guess we don--” Silco shushed you just as you had him. It was an unexpected thing for him to do. One that had you gasping.

“We’re friends.” He confirmed, offering you a small smile. A smile that only made your heart twist and turn in your chest. One you couldn’t help but copy and copy brightly.

“Yes. Good. I’m glad.” He gave a small nod, turning his all-too-seeing eyes back down onto the plate between you two.

Oh, you could giggle. Oh, you could jump up and down and giggle.

“After I get off of work--” But your words were cut off by the door to the locker door banging open.

Nadia was hushly shouting, grabbing hold of Sevika’s strong arm and yanking as if she could actually move the girl.

Silco was quick to his feet, readying for a fight he might have to wage against the girl. You watched his calculating eyes take in the muscle-ripped teen as if already searching for weaknesses to exploit.

Sevika went right up to him, bending down to look him straight in the eyes when she truly didn’t need to. It was just her way of telling him she saw him as inferior until he proved otherwise.

“This is him?” Sevika asked, eyes never once leaving Silco’s own.

“Sevika, enough of all this.” Nadia tried again, but Sevika was quick to shake her off.

“I’m not doing anything, Dee.” She responded nonchalantly, but her demeanor was anything but. Nadia turned to look at you for help but you just shoved another fry into your mouth.

Silco’d be okay.

“Awfully close.” Silco calmly said. Though, just like Sevika, his demeanor was anything but.

“Small room.” She shrugged. “Come to see her?” Sevika shoved a thumb your way.

“She found me wandering.”

“Wandering? So far from the heart of the city?”

“It gets a bit boring staying in one place for too long, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I guess I would.” Sevika leaned in ever closer. So close you were almost jealous, wanting to be that close to him too. “You gonna hurt her?”

“Hasn’t given a reason to.” Sevika nodded at this, gray eyes having yet to soften into their normal gaze.

“Play cards?” Silco nodded back.

“Of course.” Sevika's eyes finally softened, her plump lips pulling as she gave a laugh. Silco’s shoulders loosened as she backed away, looking back to you and Nadia.

“Didn’t tell me he played cards.”

“Why would I ask that?” Sevika gave a deep, almost irritated sigh that was only teasing.

“Come on, guppy. That’s the most important question.” You gave an elongated sorry. “Guess you wouldn’t ask, seeing as you suck ass at playing any kinda card game.” You dramatically gasped, throwing a fry her way. The bit of fried potato bounced off her skin like she hadn’t even felt it.

More shouting sounded from within the kitchen. Shouting that had you, Naida, and Sevika all tensing at the sound, Silco the only one not privy to who it belonged to.

“Boss’ll kill him.” Sevika laughed. “See you ‘round, Silco. If you escape.” And back out the door she went.

“Oh dear, oh dear.” Nadia was ringing her apron between her hands. “You must go.” She insisted to Silco, “Oh dear--forgive Sevika for us. Oh, and your knuckles.” She gave a look like his wounds were her wounds. “Forgive me. They look painful.”

“He’ll live.” You waved her off, the shouting growing closer. Shouting now joined in by Sevika trying to keep the boss at bay.

“Will I?” He asked as you shoved the half-full plate into his hands.

“Probably.” You gave him a mischievous wiggle of your eyebrows. He opened his mouth as if to say something against whatever you were about to do, but you grabbed his wrist and yanked him back out the locker room before any sound could leave it.

You’re boss all but bellowed your name, Nadia’s nervous voice trying to calm her down as you threw open the back door and shoved Silco out of it. You watched him stumble out, losing a few fries, before turning back around, looking very much bewildered.

“I get off work at seven. I’ll bring you dinner, yeah?” You called to him. Silco had just started saying your name as you shut the door in his face.

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aihoshiino · 19 days ago

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chapter 166 thoughts

As of chapter 166, Oshi no Ko has finished a roughly four-and-a-half year run started back in 2020. While there's some speculation about an epilogue or some extra content in volume 16 when it drops, this is where the main story ends. And you know what that means!!!

OSHI NO KO HAS OFFICIALLY ENDED WITHOUT ADDRESSING OR ACKNOWLEDGING THE FACT THAT RUBY KISSED HER BROTHER IN CHAPTER 143

please understand that this is FUCKING BOGUS

I'll probably do a longer post on this subject specifically, but my main critique of 143 when the chapter dropped was that while I liked the individual beats in it and I was really glad to see Akasaka finally addressing this tension bubbling underneath Aqua and Ruby's relationship, the immediate swerve away from showing us the aftermath of that kiss felt to me like an admission that the story was going to needlessly draw this out even more. Now that the story has ended and we can see that moment had literally no impact on the plot or even the character dynamics, I'd like to revise that statement - it feels like an admission of compromise. It feels like crumbs thrown to AquRuby fans to tempt them to keep reading and to stir up the waters of the ship wars, so people would keep reading and stay invested in the manga right to the very end. But most of all, it feels deeply disrespectful to both Aqua and Ruby as characters. Rather than exploring their feelings and giving both of them interiority and complexity in relation to incest or even just fucking acknowledging that the kiss had happened and letting their dynamic evolve, the series just memory holes the entire event and asks that you do too. Rather than letting Ruby have any development whatsoever as pertains to that relationship or, god forbid, let a female character move on romantically from the male lead, the series ends with her feelings so up in the air that I literally could not tell you what she thinks of Aqua by the time he dies.

ANYWAY… FINAL CHAPTER. BREATHES OUT VERY HARD.

I really can't believe it's taken us until the final chapter to actually deal with Ruby's grief over Aqua lol. We got a snippet of it last chapter but it was so brief that it really just felt like a tease. I also just think it's kind of bizarre that we're spending this little time on Ruby having feelings about Aqua's death to the extent that I have no idea how or when she found out about it.

It's also kind of hard to feel particularly strongly about Ruby's grief when the chapter doesn't really bother to explore it all that much. It's just a montage of Ruby quite literally Screaming, Crying and Throwing Up while Akane dispassionately narrates it all. The art also doesn't really help in terms of connecting with the emotions at play - I usually really like Mengo's expression work and the way she depicts extreme emotions but this all just felt like of… I don't know how else to put it. Goofy??? Is that an insane thing to say about Ruby grieving her brother???

Idk, something about both the panelling and just the extreme on-the-noseness of Ruby, again, literally Screaming, Crying Throwing Up while she's wearing a Burning cosplay Just In Case You, The Audience, Didn't Get It only for her to abruptly be done crying with no exploration or insight as to what's going on in her head that allows her to move forward.

Honestly, this is kind of the issue with everyone in the cast. The resolution is just sort of "Aqua died and we were sad about it but then we stopped being sad". I know what the story is trying to go for here - it's trying to express that even when you're in pain, life goes on and so you have to find a way to go on with it. But the result is that we spend all this time oogling at their pain without spending equivalent or even meaningful time on their recovery process.

It feels both excessive and undercooked at the same time and I'm left with the same icky, voyeuristic feeling I got from Aqua's funeral last chapter. This should be the point in the story at which we empathize with Ruby the most, but she remains a frustratingly distant figure right to the final pages. Part of this is an unfortunate consequence of Akane's narration directing these final chapters meaning that we're hearing about Ruby from an outsider's perspective and thus don't really see what's going on in her head… but if I can be frank, this has been an issue of Aka's with Ruby in particular basically nonstop since chapter 123.

As others & myself have noted, despite the absolutely catastrophic downward spiral Ruby is in at that point, Aqua revealing himself as Gorou basically flips it all off like a switch. There's some mild lipservice paid to the idea that Ruby is just using her dependency on Gorou to prop herself up and it's pointed out that the issues that contributed to her breakdown haven't actually been resolved - but none of these issues are ever even acknowledged again, let alone resolved. So, functionally, that reveal does fix all Ruby's problems in the space of a single chapter and the result is, again, that we spend multiple chapters gourging on depictions of Ruby's absolute rock bottom only for her to ping back to normal like a lightswitch. As such, the depictions of her pain feel less like explorations of Ruby's interiority and more like voyeuristic oogling at Ruby's misery and trauma and the effect is that the resolution to it all is both unsatisfying and a little gross. The result is that it feels like Akasaka is just indulgently mining the imagery of cute girls suffering because it causes simple thoughts neuron activation but doesn't respect these girls enough as characters to build them back up.

It doesn't help that this is basically the in-universe excuse for Ruby's career further skyrocketing. Instead of Ruby becoming a star on her own merits as the story keeps insisting she was supposed to, she's artificially buoyed by the public's morbid fascination with her tragedy. If I was feeling charitable towards the story right now, I would say this is an avenue of intentional critique but… well, I don't feel super charitable about the story right now lol

I WILL say that the one part of this chapter I did just uncomplicatedly like was the beat of Mem trying to suspend activities (presumably in the wake of her grief for Aqua) only for Kana to basically immediately explode into her room and help her get back on her feet. It's a beat that would've been much more effective if we'd, you know, seen it, but I otherwise enjoyed it and I thought it was sweet.

But. pbbbbtttt. I guess I can't talk around it any longer… let's get into the Dome concert.

To start things off on the immediately worst note possible, Akane describes Ruby performing at the Dome as being 'everyone's dream', including Aqua's. I'm reminded once again of the strange turn the story took in insisting that um, actually, performing at the Dome was totes Ai's dream all along (even though she literally didn't give a shit even a week before she was due to perform there herself) so Ruby performing there is fulfilling that dream for her!!! and I can't help but wonder if this abrupt shift in focus is an attempt to make readers forget what Ai's actual dream was - to see her beloved children grow up happy and healthy. Hell, it wasn't even really Aqua's dream, until the story suddenly had to try and convince us that his entire purpose for existence was to kill himself so Ruby could be an idol for slightly longer than she would've otherwise. The only people whose dreams she's textually fulfilling are Ichigo and Miyako and Ruby herself, but…

Honestly, is this really Ruby's dream anymore?

Who is Hoshino Ruby? What does she want? Why does she want it? These should be the very least of what we can concretely say about not only a protagonist but a character who has become a central figure of the entire story as Ruby has, but with the way Oshi no Ko has warped and distorted her, I find myself increasingly unsure of what the story wants her to be or how I should answer those questions.What does Ruby feel about Aqua? Was she still in love with him? Had she moved on, romantically? Was she still waiting for a response to her confession? Did she finally realize it was probably kind of shitty to respond to her brother going "lowkey wanna kms" by sticking her tongue down his throat? I Guess We'll Never Know.

This extends to whatever the fuck Ruby's relationship with idols and being an idol is. Almost the entirety of Ruby's time in the story has been spent reiterating over and over that Ruby cannot just be an idol who imitates Ai and that to truly shine, she needs to step out of her mom's shadow and shine in her own way. Ruby even literally tells Kana in no uncertain terms in 137 - "I'll be a star in my own way. I won't be like Mama."

While this has always been the text of the story, as I've pointed out before, the actual art with which Ruby's idolhood depicts her basically just as Ai 2.0. It relies so heavily on mining the imagery of Ai's charisma and personality as an idol and using them as the measure of Ruby's success as an idol that Ruby essentially has no visual or conceptual identity of her own as an idol. She's just Ai, But Arbitrarily Better, For Reasons The Narrative Fails To Actually Establish But Hopes That You Just Accept Anyway. This was always kind of annoying, but now that friction seems to have been resolved by… just making her Ai 2.0, But Arbitrarily Better (etc, etc) in the text as well. The fact that we're given no further insight as to Ruby's feelings and continue to just have Akane Explain Ruby's Character Arc to the camera also doesn't help.

All this combines to make the Dome concert and the final few pages feel exceptionally cold in a way I really don't think was intended by Akasaka. Yes, that splash page was nice and flashy but… I just felt nothing. I have no idea if or why Ruby cares about this. And even though the Dome concert has been hyped up through the entire story as the peak of Ruby's achievements as an idol, I feel no sense of accomplishment in her finally being there - not just because her journey to it was basically sneezed at us across two panels, but because it just feels hollow as a victory lap for Ruby. Again, she feels so distant and abstracted as a character that I can't bring myself to feel very strongly about her good or bad.

I think the perfect encapsulation of this are the final four pages of the story. Ruby's words here are very clearly intended to be a callback to Ai's words to Gorou in chapter one but as @all-of-her-light pointed out in our initial discussions of the chapter, Ruby very much does not have an equivalent to Ai's conclusion that she nevertheless wants and values the opportunity to find personal happiness and fulfillment outside of being an idol. Are we supposed to believe that simply being an idol is all that Ruby needs to achieve a similar degree of happiness and fulfillment? Is there no more to her than that?

I've seen a lot of people interpret this ending as exceptionally bleak and, as usual, gleefully predicting Ruby's immanent suicide because her beloved oniichansensei isn't around but this is indulging in, if you'll allow me to be frank, some pretty transparently ship-motivated flanderization. Despite what certain sections of the fandom would like to believe, Aqua and Ruby's lives, past and current, have never revolved around each other to the exclusion of every other relationship in their life. Ruby has a massive support network of people who love and care for her and actively want her to get back on her feet. I can one hundred percent believe that she does not need Aqua in her life to be happy and content.

The issue is that we don't see enough of Ruby to understand that ourselves. Again, she has become such a distant figure with so little insight into what she's thinking and why that this ending is basically a Rorschach test in which you can interpret basically whatever the hell you want or assume because we have so little canon basis to support or debunk our assumptions.

and yes. don't think i didn't see them. it IS both grimly hilarious and weirdly tonally appropriate for this ending that ruby has a bunch of oshi goods of ai and aqua including their fucking autographs set up to say goodbye to every day.

AND…… WE'RE DONE!!! THAT'S OSHI NO KO, BABY!!!! well, technically, there's going to be a 20 page extra chapter in volume 16 but I don't see it being big or substantive enough to meaningfully change my feelings about the ending so… I guess we're leaving it here. Damn. Feels crazy to be done with it.

I'll probably do a bigger post down the line about my thoughts on the ending as a whole but in terms of just How This Chapter Made Me feel, I guess the word is just… meh! It's definitely not an ending I like and I think the execution is sloppy and rushed but I also just don't really have the energy to feel angry about it. Maybe that's sad in its own way but tbh… I still really love Oshi no Ko! I still find it engaging and I find the characters I enjoy rewarding to talk about. I like the artistry of the anime adaptation. I don't blame anybody else for being so turned off by this ending that they're done with the series but for me, I like what I like about OnK too much that this ending could retroactively ruin it for me. Whatever else happens with the OnK franchise, whatever directions the anime and live-action take, this will always be the series that gave me Ai and the Hoshino family and. look at me. look at what she's done to my brain. could I really ask for anything more than that?

That being said, I'm definitely not done with discussing the series! I have fics to write (including a VERY exciting large scale project lined up with some friends), my Ai analysis post to finish and I also want to do a re-read of the series and finish my anime rewatch. I'll be here to discuss Oshi no Ko as long as I have things to say about it and as long as you guys will have me! Despite how the series ended, I've had a genuinely wonderful experience in the fandom and I really don't want to let go of the little community we've built together just because the series is done. I'm Ai's fan for all eternity!!!

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk spoilers #chapter reviews #IT ALL... RETURNS..... TO NOTHING....#IT ALL COMES #TUMBLING DOWN TUMBLING DOWN #TUMBLING DOOOOOWN

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penkura · 6 months ago

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last forever [8/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, referenced sex (waaaaaay later on), mutual pining, Zoro is bad at feelings but what's new there, eventual romance I promise, mention of past attempted assault (I'll warn in that chapter), creepy older dude later on

Note: This is my personal favorite chapter I've written. That's all I have to say lol.

Taglist:

@misfits1a

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3] ● [Ch. 4] ● [Ch. 5] ● [Ch. 6] ● [Ch. 7]

“Hey, Sanji. Do me a favor.”

Sanji's nearly unconscious as Zoro speaks to him, his favor loud and clear before the blond passes out, leaving the swordsman to face Bartholomew Kuma alone.

You thought Zoro was going to die, you had convinced yourself he wasn't going to wake up. You'd stayed by his side, praying, ever since Sanji and Chopper brought Zoro back into Moria's mansion to treat his wounds and let him rest. Sanji won't tell you a word of what happened, no matter how much you beg him to.

“Mosshe– Zoro wouldn't want you to know. I doubt he wants anyone to know. Least of all you and Luffy.”

Whatever Sanji meant, you don't know, and right now you don't even care about what had Zoro knocked out the last little while.

Finally he was awake, it felt longer than it really was, three (agonizing) days, he had freakish healing like Luffy did, of course. But seeing he's awake, you can't help it, you throw yourself at him saying his name over and over like a mantra as you cry. Of course it freaks him out a bit, once he bites back a heavy groan from the pain you've just inflicted on him with your tight hug, it takes Zoro a moment to register you hugging him before he's able to do anything about it.

And he returns your hug slightly. Loosely wrapping his arms around you, one around your shoulders, the other barely touching your waist, an attempt at comforting you while you cry.

Damn it, he's tried so hard to push your feelings away, get you to stop looking at him like he was your world, but now Zoro realizes he's only stoked the flames by doing so, only made your feelings stronger without meaning to.

But, maybe he doesn't mind. He'd seek you out each morning, mostly asking if you'd gotten anything from your parents about your little sham marriage, but he'd also ask you to train with him if you weren't busy, and even be the one to go into town with you whenever the Sunny docked for a day or two. You never asked, you just knew he was coming with you so you waited for him, waited until he was by your side and then you'd smile and lead Zoro into the town to shop for whatever your heart desired (and your wallet could afford). In the time he'd started doing that, Zoro noticed different things about you.

The way you laughed with store clerks as they told you about an item you were looking at, your eyes would sparkle with every new find, how you'd hold onto his wrist to make sure he didn't get lost, you staying beside him when he'd nap on Sunny, you making sure he had enough water during his workouts.

How you'll help anyone on the ship with anything they need. You'll bring Nami the supplies she needs to make maps, help Usopp and Luffy fish for dinner, wash the dishes after dinner despite Sanji telling you he'd do it. You've been learning from Chopper how to treat wounds, you'll sit with Robin and listen to her tell you about history, you've even started helping Franky with his projects and helping to perform maintenance on Sunny if needed.

Then with him. With Zoro you're content to sit quietly while he naps, or watch him while he trains, never expecting a conversation. You willingly bring him whatever he needs, whether it's water or sake, you fix his shirts if they get torn, you even stay up when he has night watch and share drinks with him. He never thought someone would want to spend all their time with him or that he'd accept someone being so close to him, what had changed that made him actually want company during times he'd normally want to rest and be alone?

You. Damn, it was you.

You whose inner demons would infiltrate your dreams, causing you to slip into his bed for comfort, stability, as he slept soundly which gave you peace to do the same, a silent promise after the first time of yes, I’ll keep you safe. You who he had saved from drowning more times than Luffy and Chopper combined. You who made him feel like he was on fire with the slightest touch, even a brush of your fingers against his at dinner. You who had stitched him up multiple times, the first one turning into a jagged scar that if asked he'd say was his favorite. You who cared enough to stay sober in bars to drag him back to the hotel or the ship when you knew he needed to stop and rest.

You who would tell him every detail about the books you were reading, the ones you'd purchased or borrowed from Robin. The one time you told him the main love interest of a romance novel reminded you of him, making his face burn red out of embarrassment before he told you not to say such things, especially in front of the others (mostly Sanji).

Even after telling you in Alabasta that nothing was going to happen, you two weren't going to become a couple, he wasn't here to play romance with you or anyone else. Even after all that, you still stuck to his side almost like glue and didn't let it change anything.

Even with your argument after Robin joined, nothing much changed between the two of you. If anything, Zoro felt more drawn to you than anything or anyone else. He wanted to spend more time with just you and him. What a change from just a few months ago, he just realized.

Even once you kissed him and he returned it in Water Seven, you attempted to apologize soon after, before he stopped you. There had been nothing to apologize for, not from you anyway. If he'd thought about it at the time, Zoro would have apologized for not giving you a proper response then. For making you go to bed alone that night.

Damn it all.

What has happened to him? Ever since your sham marriage began something has been creeping into his mind every time he looks at you and remembers "Oh yeah I'm married to her" that makes him want to pull you away from everyone and damn it, he wants to kiss you again. There's another feeling of wanting, needing to protect you, despite how strong you are in your own right. Everything about this is weird, yet somehow comforting as well. Who put this spell on him, who made him have feelings like this? Are you secretly a witch on top of a swordswoman?

"Zoro…?"

Zoro breaks out of his thoughts when you speak his name again, this time as a question, your voice shaking as you hold him tighter, trying your best not to hurt him again.

"I…” your voice shakes again, and you hide your face in the crook of his neck, briefly wondering if this was the smart thing to do, before the words fall out of your mouth, “I love you…"

He pulls you closer, just a bit, your whispered confession only loud enough for him to hear. He doesn't have a response, not right now, but you're fine with that. You'd accepted long ago he may never love you back, but you had to tell him. He had to know.

After nearly losing him, you had to get these feelings out.

So when he ever so quietly thanks you, pressing the softest kiss to your temple, it makes you cry even more. You feel there's a chance, however small it may be, that Roronoa Zoro may come to have feelings for you one day.

Chopper returns a moment later, not wanting to pull you two apart, but he's so happy to see Zoro's alive and awake that even he cries a little, before checking the swordsman's wounds as you release yourself from him, Zoro allowing you to continue holding his hand for comfort.

Not only for you, but for him as well.

“I probably won't make it out of this…so take care of her for me, got it?”

+!+

"I told Zoro I love him."

It becomes so quiet you can hear a pin drop after that. Nami had asked why you were so spaced out that day, she and Robin now both so surprised at your confession. Nami's jaw drops and Robin has a small smile, before they look at each other with one thought in mind.

Impromptu girl's night.

"I'm getting extra blankets and pillows!"

"I'll ask Sanji for some wine and snacks."

Once everything is together and all the pillows and blankets are spread on the floor, you have glasses of wine and small snacks, Nami demands to hear every detail and you tell her and Robin everything about your love confession.

"He…he thanked me and kissed me–"

"On the lips again?!"

You laugh and shake your head, taking a small sip of your wine. "No, just on my temple this time."

Nami squeaks a bit, Robin laughing lightly at her reaction and the longing look on your face. As soon as she joined she'd seen the love you held for Zoro on your face, anytime you spoke of him or someone else did, your eyes would light up and your cheeks would burn pink.

You were deeply in love with him, even though he showed no romantic feelings for you. Robin had given you a romance novel once specifically due to the fact the love interest even reminded her of Zoro, which you quickly agreed with and finished the book in nearly three days which surprised her.

Nami, knowing you and Zoro were married, wanted you two together from the start. Every time you told her something that made you fall more and more in love with him, she'd giggle alongside you which always got a strange look from Usopp and Luffy, who thought you were both insane. She'd push you two together so often, that when Zoro started following you off the ship she thought it was a good sign, since she didn't have to bribe him with reducing his debt or anything. He just went on his own.

"That's such a great sign!" Nami throws her arms around you in a hug, making you laugh while Robin nods. "He's starting to fall for you! Finally!"

"I wouldn't go that far, Nami."

"I would! After all these months, you guys could be a real couple!"

"Nami, let's calm down a bit," Robin smiles and puts a hand on your shoulder, "She and Zoro will need to talk things out eventually, but let's see if anything changes since she's confessed her love to him."

Sighing loudly, Nami nods but still holds onto you, seeing a strange look on your face. She's not sure if it's one of concern or what, but it makes her hug you a little tighter.

"I'm sure he loves you, maybe deep down right now, but, he's gonna tell you one day."

You smile a bit with a slight nod, hugging Nami back. You believe her, you really do. Even if it takes a while for Zoro to say anything back to you, it doesn't matter. You'll wait as long as it takes and not give up.

For Zoro, you'll wait a lifetime.

+!+

You're crawling into Zoro's bed a few nights later. Your nightmares had turned from your neglectful parents to losing him at Thriller Bark, waking you with tears and sobs that Robin tried to help you through, calming you down enough for you to tell her you were going to slip into his bed like you'd done every time before. She simply nodded and let you go, promising to tell Nami nothing about it, you didn't want her worrying.

Zoro's fast asleep, as always, as you quietly sneak into the boy's bunks and step over Luffy who had fallen out of his hammock. You hear him mumble something about meat in his sleep while Usopp snores and Chopper sleeps happily beside him, but you pay no mind to it. You feel lucky Franky's in his workshop, Sanji's still busy in the kitchen, and Brook is out on the deck playing his violin. None of them should cause you any problems this time, but does it matter if they do?

Your thoughts are entirely on Zoro and making sure he's okay. He's still injured, but you have to be certain nothing is wrong.

You quickly and quietly slip into his hammock once you reach it, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his back, hearing a slight groan from him due to his wounds still not being fully healed. You feel bad waking him, even as he turns around and throws one of his arms over you, looking at you as if asking what was wrong, even though he thought he knew. It's been a while since you've last done this, your nightmare must have been particularly awful for you to return to this habit he'd thought you'd stopped.

"You okay?" His brows are furrowed while he wipes a few of your tears away. He's never seen you this upset after a nightmare before.

You try to speak but all that comes out is a whimper and a quiet sob, making you grip his shirt tighter as you shake your head. You can't tell him, you can't get the words out that it was a nightmare about him dying after he’s told you numerous times he wasn’t dying until he became the world’s greatest swordsman. He came so close to death at Thriller Bark that you were just terrified deep down about it becoming reality.

Instead of inquiring further, Zoro just nods, pulling you closer in an effort to calm you down.

"You're safe here. Nothing's gonna get you while I'm around."

You feel the quickest of kisses on your forehead before Zoro tucks your head under his chin, closing his eyes to sleep again, and it's all so strange to you. You've not had time to sit and talk since you told him you love him, but he's treated you slightly differently lately. Still going into town with you, training with you, but now sitting beside you at every meal which pissed off Sanji at times, purposefully leaning against you while he napped as you read a book.

He let you hold his hand the other day in town, even stopping at a small café with you for lunch and refusing to let you pay for your own meal despite his own money problems.

Zoro may not be in love with you yet, but you can tell he definitely cares for you in how he treats you. He saw through your façade of acting like all was well while you were still nursing the pain from your parents treating you like property and trying to sell you off to someone nearly twice your age just for money, the pain your brother tried his hardest to lighten before he helped you run away. He'd noticed from the moment he met you that there was something you were keeping from him and when he got it out of you one night, he said he'd keep you from having to go back. That was why he married you, you had more to give and do than be someone's third bride, he'd help you achieve it himself.

"Thank you, Zoro."

He's still awake, but once you finally fall asleep, he opens his eyes and watches you, finally peaceful. He feels bad he doesn't have a true response to you yet, he’s still working things out in his own mind and heart. Telling you once before that he held no romantic feelings for you, but now realizing that his thoughts have changed, it’s hard to work through that without letting anyone know. He doesn't want to get your hopes up just to tell you he doesn't feel the same in the end.

But, Zoro thinks that maybe, maybe staying married to you won't be so bad. Maybe, once he works out his feelings, he'll try to properly court you, give you a relationship you deserve, he'll protect you from anything and anyone else.

And then, one day, you could revisit this being a married couple thing, maybe actually live as husband and wife.

+!+

There's a slight bit of teasing the next morning from Franky. He'd finally gone to bed at one point and was surprised you had snuck into Zoro's hammock, the swordsman having an arm around you as you both slept. Granted he's seen how close you two are, especially after the fiasco of Thriller Bark, but didn't think you were that close.

He's also surprised by none of the others, apart from Brook, saying anything about it either. Was this normal for the two of you, to share a bed like that? If it was, why didn't Zoro just join you in the women's bunks? Surely your bed was more comfortable than his hammock.

Your face feels like it’s burning all through breakfast, the same as when Sanji first caught you in Zoro's hammock and made a fuss about it. Zoro just sets a glare at Franky anytime he says something about you two getting cozy with a grin that tells him your shipwright is getting the wrong idea. You two hadn't done anything, you slept like the other times, there's no reason for this teasing.

Zoro eventually has enough and slams his hand on the table, frightening most of your crewmates, standing up and continuing to glare at Franky.

"Would you just shut up about it? She had a nightmare and came to me for help, that's all. Come on, let's go."

Luckily you're done with breakfast when Zoro tells you to go with him, nodding and doing so as you hear Sanji and Nami reprimand Franky, who's now wondering why Zoro, of all people, got so angry about a little bit of teasing.

"I don't get what the big deal is," Franky leans back in his seat, ignoring how Nami is still looking like she's going to smack him, "So what if they're together? Not like it's against the rules or anything."

"Except they aren't together." Sanji responds before Nami can, and all it does is make Franky question the situation even more. He's trying to diffuse the situation, making sure your arrangement with Zoro doesn't get out before you either annul or Zoro decides to stay with you.

Luffy nods, before saying "They're married though, but don't tell anyone else!"

"Luffy!!" Nami doesn't even wait to smack him over the head, making your captain whine and ask what that was for. "That's not our secret to tell!"

"Well they're gonna get an annulment thingy anyway, so why does it matter??"

"Wait what, what the hell?"

“I didn't know Zoro and [Y/N] were married!” Chopper sounds beyond excited, while Brook laughs.

“Yohoho, what a surprise!”

Franky and Brook try to question Luffy and Nami about the whole thing, while Robin smiles to herself.

She's heard you and Sanji talking about your marriage to Zoro every now and then, and knew most of the details already, but knowing your feelings for him, she’s sure it’s only a matter of time before you two actually became a couple.

Though, she’s also fairly certain that if you heard your marriage had been revealed, you'd crawl in a hole and die while Zoro would seriously consider throwing Luffy overboard, before saving him in the end.

+!+

"I don't think Franky was trying to be rude about it."

"He was being obnoxious is the point, [Y/N]."

Nodding in agreement, you keep your eyes on your book once Zoro comes back from showering after his morning workout. He'd gone straight to the crow's nest after leaving the kitchen, you running to get a book and joining him once you'd picked one out. You've been sitting there ever since, having small conversations with Zoro while he worked out, eventually leaving long enough to take a shower before coming back to you in the same spot. He didn't want to talk about the morning's events anymore, but you felt like you had to say something no matter how obnoxious Franky was about the whole situation.

Zoro sits beside you, and you barely glance over a few times, wondering if now was a good time to talk about your confession and what's next for the two of you, before he speaks first.

"Anything from your parents?"

Ah yes, that makes sense. He hasn't asked yet today, that's what was missing from this day.

Shaking your head, you close your book and lean back to stare up at the ceiling. "Not a word. Makes me think they forgot they had a daughter."

"We're three days out from having to divorce, right? So there's probably no chance of them responding in time."

You're not sure if you hear annoyance or concern in Zoro's voice, but again you nod.

You don't know how to voice that you don't want to annul or divorce, that your confession to him after he woke up at Thriller Bark wasn't a heat of the moment thing or simply crewmate concern. You really are in love with him, that was a fact you've come to know over the last few months but were only able to voice recently.

Why do feelings have to be so complicated?

"You meant what you said, after I woke up?"

He's very quiet, you almost miss him speaking, but your breath catches in your throat, and its all you can do to just nod, a small 'yes' coming out of your mouth.

Zoro's not at all surprised as he nods, trying to plan his next words carefully. He's not ready to say the same love confession to you, but he might be willing to try. Try a relationship with you and keep you safe, whether your parents ever reply to you or not. He's willing to give the two of you a shot.

It's strange, how just six months ago you were in tears to him about the arranged marriage and he quickly offered to marry you and keep you from going home, from leaving him. At first, he tried to convince himself it was because you were useful, you worked well with him when taking down bounty targets. You knew how to use a sword and could perform recon work on your targets, all of that was more than what he needed in a bounty hunting partner, when he'd never thought of having one before. Not until he met you in that dinky little bar when you were running away from home, nearly passing out when you ran into him because you'd had a fever and he kept you from hitting the ground. He lost a couple days of work taking care of you, a complete and total stranger, that you were so grateful to him you offered to help and he only let you do so after you sparred with him. You lost obviously, but Zoro was impressed enough to let you follow him if you wanted to.

The year and a half you had traveled and worked together was enough, he knew it when he told you he'd marry you. You didn't know it, still don't to this day, and Zoro would likely take the truth to the grave with him, but at this point he knew it.

He knew he had feelings for you, it was just telling you. That's the difficult part right now.

You'd said your side of it, Zoro just needed the right place and time to return your words.

"I want–"

There's shouting from down on the deck that snaps you both out of your little world you're in, and you sit up to look out the window, seeing what looked like a large fish tail and Sanji freaking out over something. You wonder what's going on, before looking at Zoro, who looks less than thrilled you two were interrupted.

"Something's going on! Let's go see!"

He doesn't fight or grumble while you grab his wrist and pull him up, there's nothing he can do about it now.

Maybe tomorrow I guess.

+!+

“What’s with the bird?”

You don’t even have the chance to untie the letter from your parents before Zoro asks, you just smile before petting your family’s carrier bird on her head, giving her a few scratches as she perches on your shoulder.

“My parents are wealthy, so they have their own carrier birds. We’ve had Chisa here since I was little, she brings me mail and letters all over, wherever I am she’ll find me.”

“Seriously? All of that just to flex their cash?” Zoro rolls his eyes when you nod with a small giggle, opening the latest letter you’d been sent by your parents.

Every one so far had been a demand to return home and “fulfill your duty” of marrying the man they’d chosen for you. It was ridiculous, you’ve let Zoro see a few of them, even though every letter says the exact same thing. The only one that had been different was a letter exclusively from Elias, telling you about his marriage because he knew you’d be happy for him.

You start to follow after Zoro as he attempts to lead you back to the town you’re staying at, not even sure why you’re reading the letter that’s most likely just their demands for you to come back, until you catch a new line in the letter that makes you stop in your tracks.

The second he hears your breathing pick up, Zoro stops and looks over his shoulder at you, eyes widening just a bit when he sees your shoulders shaking and it almost seems like you’re about to have a panic attack.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” he’s almost instantly in front of you with his hands on your shoulders, Zoro knows he isn’t good at this stuff, but he’s got to get you to calm down, “What’s wrong? What’s in the letter?”

“I…I’m eighteen.”

“Yeah…? So what about—”

“Shit, shit, they’re gonna,” Zoro can barely keep you from hitting the ground while you crouch down, still holding the letter but putting your hands on your head to try and calm yourself down, “They’re gonna find me and force me to marry him.”

Zoro takes the letter from you while you start crying over your fears of being forced back home, reading the letter himself to see there’s some caveat in the agreement between your parents and alleged fiancé, where you’d be legally married soon after turning eighteen whether you had a wedding or not. Scowling, Zoro starts to rip to letter up, watching you fist your hair and close your eyes tight. Whatever you went through while dealing with this arranged marriage situation, it’s left a bad impression on you, he’d be surprised if you ever chose to get married one day because of it.

After a few minutes, Zoro helps you back up, holding your shoulders again, before trying to speak to you.

“What—"

“I can’t go back, I can’t!” Finally looking up at him again, you’re still in tears and griping his shirt so tightly, almost desperate for some way out of this arrangement, some way to keep from being found and dragged back there. “I won’t go back, Zoro, please, help me!! I can’t marry that man!”

What is he supposed to do? There’s very little chance your parents haven’t sent people out to find you, or sent your name and picture across government facilities that honor small village traditions, no matter how dark or outdated they may be. He doesn’t know what to do, this is so foreign to him! How is he supposed to keep you from marrying someone?

“I’ll marry you then.”

“W-What??” This isn’t what you expected for help, not even in the slightest. You don’t even think Zoro knew he was going to say that, or planned to, it seems like it just came out with no rhyme or reason.

But, it would fix the problem. If you married someone else, your parents couldn’t rightfully force you to marry someone else, whether they had chosen the person or not.

“I…” You shake your head, not wanting Zoro to feel like he has to do something, it’s not his job. All you’ve done is follow him the last year and a half, he’s not supposed to be your protector or anything like that, just a friend that let you go with him so you didn’t have to go back home, back to what you’ve fled. “We can’t! I mean, we aren’t—"

“If I marry you, will that keep them from forcing you home?!”

“I…I think so?”

Nodding, Zoro takes your hand off his shirt, watching you for any signs of rejection or if you want to say anything else. There’s something in his eyes, you don’t know what it is, you probably never will. But he holds your hand so tightly, keeping you from pulling away before he says it again.

“Marry me, [Y/N].”

For a moment, you don’t respond, wondering if Zoro’s screwing with you or not. But that’s not like him. You’ve only known him for about eighteen months, but you know that he would never joke around about something like this. He might be a little closed off still, but he would never play with someone’s feelings this way.

After another minute or so, you nod.

“I’ll marry you, Zoro.”

+!+

You’ve not thought about how Zoro offered to marry you in quite a while, the memory waking you up from a dead sleep in the village you’ve been in the last eighteen months. After receiving Luffy’s message about when to meet your crew again, you ended up staying in a village that excelled in training swordswomen, working your hardest every day and improving to the point very few of the other women even tried to spar with you.

Now I can’t sleep.

Sighing, you get up from your bed and go to the balcony in your little apartment you’ve been granted use of. Remembering the proposal that’s put you in this situation still, where you’ve been legally married for two years, have told Zoro--who was supposed to be your temporary husband--that you’re in love with him, and it seems like he might be starting to feel something similar towards you. It’s still all so strange, but it makes you smile while you watch the stars for a few minutes, silent prayers for your crew’s continued safety, and hopes that you and Zoro can make things work out.

“Happy anniversary, Zoro.”

+!+

You’ll be surprised to hear, one day in the future, that Zoro had the same dream about his impromptu proposal around the same time you did. He even realizes that it would’ve been your second anniversary at the time, give or take a few days, Mihawk doesn’t have a calendar or bother to keep him and the ghost girl up to date on what’s going on outside the island.

The dream isn’t enough to wake him the way it does you, but it does linger in his mind the rest of the day, even as he trains. It gets to the point that Mihawk stops him, asking what on earth could be distracting the twenty-one-year-old so badly that he’s making beginner’s mistakes, and Zoro decides to tell him, just to get it out there. Maybe that will help him clear his mind.

“Just… thinking about my wife.”

This earns a raised brow from Mihawk and a shout from Perona.

“A wife?”

“You’re married and never told us?!”

“You aren’t my crew!”

Perona sticks her tongue out at him, demanding answers about you and your marriage, questions Zoro refused to answer right now, before Mihawk interrupts them.

“I care not that you’re married. You can think about your wife later, focus on training now.”

Though Zoro knows Mihawk is right, he should be focusing on his training, thoughts of you and your strange marriage don’t leave his mind, despite his nodding.

“Right.”

I’ll talk to you soon then…[Y/N].

#zoro x reader #one piece x reader #reader insert #last forever #fem!reader #roronoa zoro x reader

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tehrevving · 2 months ago

Note

Did you have a scenario of Vincent getting condoms? The idea of this tall brooding man purchasing is funny.

You know what Anon, I hadn’t actually thought of a scenario when I wrote that chapter, but it sounds like fun, let’s do it! (Tumblr exclusive for now. I’ll get this on Ao3 eventually lol)

18+, with spoilers for Chaos Theory Chapter 17.

It is far too close to the planned departure time when Cid finally relents and stops arguing. The man’s insistence on always needing to have the last word made the entire navigation discussion an utter nightmare. Eventually Vincent had just walked out, heading down the airstairs without saying a word. He has things to do, well one important thing that he needs to do before departure, though he is extremely reluctant to actually go through with it.

He’s still somewhat blindsided about what had happened last night. He hadn’t planned on taking his clothes off and showing you everything that he’d been hiding. He hadn’t expected your reaction, kissing across his scars instead of reacting with repulsion or disgust. He can’t stop thinking about how good your hands and lips had felt on his body. You had brought his monsters to the surface, instinct simmering just underneath his skin. He had been able to handle it, everything had been fine, until you had soaked his chest and turned him into an animal.

He had almost lost control and it’s not good enough. He had been so close to giving in. Somehow, he’d ended up with the head of his cock rubbing bare against your folds. You had been so wet for him, slick, hot and desperate. You had been begging verbally for him to fuck you, and your body had been recklessly trying to pull him inside. He can’t suppress the shudder that shoots down his spine, suddenly feeling a cold chill in the hot, coastal heat as he remembers everything. He doesn’t know how he is supposed to resist you, how he’s supposed to stop thinking about you. He doesn’t understand how you make him lose control, or why he doesn’t seem to mind when you cause it.

He needs to be prepared, he needs to have options. You have previously mentioned having a materia, but just a mention is not enough. He is not going to make assumptions or take unnecessary risks. He is sure that you have also made preparations, but he can’t rely on that either.

So, reluctantly, Vincent enters the first pharmacy that he comes across, to buy condoms.

The woman behind the counter stares as he walks in, her head craned back to look up at him. Her eyes widen as they follow his attire and take in his general strangeness. He tries to relax his shoulders, he doesn’t want her to think he might be dangerous.

“E-excuse me Sir,” she stammers, managing to find her voice half way through a practised spiel. “Can I help you with anything?”

“No,” Vincent replies dismissively, walking straight past her. He hates that he was rude, but he will not see her again. He does not have time or the patience to make small talk.

The aisles are labelled with the ridiculous, standard font for this era. He can read it of course, but the typeface is looped, slanted and difficult for him to understand at a glance. Frustration fills him, but he quickly finds what he is looking for, the aisle labelled ‘family planning.’ He tries to not let his disgust for the term show on his face.

There is far more choice than he was expecting. His eyes scan over an overwhelmingly large assortment of boxes, the brands unfamiliar to him. He sighs, he had hoped this would be straight forward. He remembers the brand that he used to buy, from a past life far too long ago, but of course that no longer exists.

He scans the aisle, surprised at the assortment. Flavoured. He wonders if you would prefer for him to taste like—his lip curls with distaste—banana or strawberry. Definitely not.

His eyes find a box in the next row, the words ‘extra lubricated’ written in large font on the packaging. He gives a small smirk underneath his cowl. That certainly will not be required. If anything, he may encounter the opposite problem, but he’s not concerned, he will just use his tongue to remove any excess if you end up too slippery. He forces himself to look back at the aisle and focus. He does not have time to be distracted by thoughts of your taste.

There are multiple boxes advertising patterns, boasting that they are, ‘ribbed for her pleasure.’ He is not familiar with those. Would that even be pleasurable for a woman? He’s not sure, but then you had enjoyed his glove last night, so maybe there is some merit. He considers purchasing some, but then decides it would be strange. He is perfectly capable of pleasing you without any external aid, and does not want to imply otherwise.

He keeps looking, eyes glazing past words like, ‘tingling,’ ‘long lasting’, and ‘minty.’ Modern people truly are degenerates. Finally, right at the bottom, where he has to bend at the knees to be able to inspect them, he finds normal ones. He selects a smaller sized box advertising a reasonable amount of lubrication and a larger than average length. That will do. This has all already wasted too much time.

The woman at the counter gives him an extremely funny look as she rings up his purchase. He supposes he can forgive her. He probably does look ridiculous, an inhuman monster purchasing condoms. Her eyes narrow when he pays with coins instead of the plastic cards that everyone now seems to use. She struggles to count the change for him, the world truly has gotten worse in his absence.

He walks back towards the Bronco, squinting in the sunlight, new purchase weighing heavy in his pocket. The sunlight is harsh, burning at the pale skin of his face. He disappears as much as he can into his cowl. It is still uncomfortable being outside, even though he has managed to grow more used to it over the past few months.

He spots Barret as he turns the corner to head to the dock. The man beckons Vincent over and he sighs, tempted to just keep walking past the man staring daggers at him from behind dark sunglasses.

“If you hurt her,” Barret grunts, gesturing towards the plane with his head. “I’ll shoot you.”

The man is clearly serious. “Noted,” Vincent replies. He appreciates Barret’s protectiveness but it is not required. If anyone ever hurts her, even accidentally, well, Vincent was a Turk, he knows how to make people disappear.

Thankfully, Barret dismisses him with a wave of his gun arm. Vincent walks past him, thankful the conversation had not been excessively painful.

Vincent walks down to the dock and immediately sees you, standing underneath one of the plane’s broken wings speaking to Aerith. You are even prettier today than you had been yesterday, eyes bright and clear. Vincent can see the pleasure he gave you last night in the relaxed set to your shoulders, and the slight twitch of your thighs as your legs move, it fills him with a selfish pride.

Your face lights up when you catch sight of him and you wave. He pauses as you walk over to him. You stop in front of him, looking up at him with those sweet eyes and a soft smile. He wants to pull you into his arms, but he stops himself, though he can feel some of the tension leave his shoulders now that he’s close to you.

“Can you help Aerith and I reach something?” you ask, voice sweet before you trail off. “We’re both too short,” you pout.

He nods, hiding a smile behind his cowl, though he thinks you can see through his hidden expression. He could never deny you anything.

“Thanks,” you smile, turning around with a wave of your hand, a gesture for him to follow. He falls into step behind you, immediately distracted by the sway of your hips and the curve of your ass. He is going to have you tonight, even if he has to stage a commotion to get you alone.

#vincent valentine #vincent valentine x reader #chaos theory #ffvii #ffvii rebirth #chaos theory wrap party #rev writes #my writing #do ya'll know how fucking hard it was trying to get into Vincent's head to write this? lmao

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scoonsalicious · 8 months ago

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 10, Uneasy - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, insecurity, nosey gossip, some shady actions, Jade Carthage (she's the worst), Pocket's approaching her bullshit limit.

Word Count: 4.1k

Previously On...: You had a good heart-to-heart with Pepper, who suggested you start going back to therapy to deal with your constant feelings of jealousy and insecurity.

A/N: ::lobs shit at fan like hand grenades:: I'm sorry. I was up writing Chapter 20 from about 6pm yesterday through 5am this morning, and I'm pleased to say it's finished! I think it's the longest so far, with ten parts. And it's dark. I can't believe how dark I went with it, as it was absolutely not my intention, but there was a lot of negative stuff that needed to happen, and I kinda wanted to keep it to one chapter so I didn't have to dwell on it. I might have to take a day or two off from writing to kind of clear my head and reset my emotions, lol.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls

Your feet pounded the treadmill, sweat dripping down your forehead, breathing heavy. You were approaching the end of your ten-mile run and about to go into your cool-down in the Avengers’ training facility of the Tower. Bucky had left early that morning for a training session with Jade. Between his obligations and your therapy sessions, you were seeing each other less than ever before– and having less sex. Between all the additional training sessions and demands on his time, you’d sometimes be lucky if you got a kiss goodnight from Bucky, let alone getting him to make you come. You tried to convince yourself that wasn’t the end all, be all, but you were left with a plethora of pent-up sexual energy that needed to be released. You'd thought about taking Nat up on her offer for a sparring session, but every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was Bucky in less than family-friendly situations, and you knew if you had any hope of going up against the Black Widow, you needed all of your wits about you, so the treadmill it was. At least this way, you could let your mind wander without getting your ass kicked.

The treadmill slowed itself to a stop and you pulled your earbuds from your ears while you caught your breath. Picking up your hand towel, you wiped at the sweat on your face and took a look around the training room. The space was occupied by SHIELD agents in various states of exercise, but you noticed a small crowd had gathered around one of the sparring mats in the far corner of the room. Curiosity getting the better of you, you grabbed your water bottle and made your way over to see what was going on. People moved aside to let you by, and you heard whispers of "his girlfriend" as they watched you pass, so you knew that, whatever people were gawking at, Bucky had to be at the center of it.

When you reached the front of the crowd, your eyes were immediately drawn to Bucky as he moved slowly around his opponent in a predatory circle, sweatpants riding low and showcasing his Adonis belt, and for a brief moment, you saw yourself on your knees, running your tongue along the defined musculature. You shook your head to clear it of the image. God, you needed his dick. Desperately.

You focused instead on the way his body moved, lithe and graceful on his bare feet, like a lion ready to pounce on its prey. And the prey... Well, fuck. His prey was Jade Carthage, and she looked ready to devour him as they circled each other. They danced like that for a while before she launched herself at him at such a high speed, your eyes could barely track the movement. The crowd around you cheered as she lunged for his midsection, but Bucky managed to side-step her, using her momentum to his advantage. He tapped her on the back of the knees, sending her to the mat, but she was up in an instant, throwing herself onto Bucky's back and wrapping her legs around his midsection and her arms around his neck as she tried to pull him down.

"God, they make sparring look so hot," said a voice to your left. You turned your head and saw two SHIELD agents, a male and female, making commentary on the match before you. "Do you think they're fucking?" the male asked.

"Pfft," the female agent scoffed, "Barnes would never. He's with Stark's CTO. From what I hear, he's absolutely rabid for her." You couldn't help the warm feeling that bubbled in your stomach at the idea of Bucky being rabid for you.

"Yeah, I know, but come on-- there's no way some science nerd is going to compare with her," he said, nodding his head toward Jade, who now had her thighs wrapped around Bucky's head, much to the delight of the crowd, and the warm feeling in your stomach turned into a cold, heavy rock. "I mean, look at her; she's a fucking goddess. She's got the serum, too. I mean, guy like him, think he's going to be satisfied with a normal girl long-term? Nah, give it time; he'll get bored. Vixen's much more his speed. Fifth floor’s already placing bets on when he’ll start doing her on the side."

"Wow," said the female agent, sarcastically, "aren't you the romantic?"

"Just watch them," the male said. "There's something happening there."

The female agent cocked her head and studied Bucky and Jade as they traded blows. "Okay," she conceded, "maybe there's something."

"Maybe you two should mind your own fucking business and not speculate about things you know nothing about," a husky voice said from behind them. You turned to see Natasha, hands on her hips, glaring at the two agents, who, under the former assassin's scrutiny, had the good sense to look ashamed… and a little frightened. "Now, why don't you stop gawking and go do something useful with yourselves, considering, in case you happened to forget, you're on the fucking clock." She narrowed her eyes and tapped her fingers against her hip impatiently as the two muttered apologies before slinking off into the crowd. She watched them go before turning back to you and slipping her arm around your waist. You draped an arm around her back and leaned you head on her shoulder in thanks.

"Don't listen to a word those dumb fucks say," she told you as she watched the sparring match continue to unfold in front of you. "They're just stirring up trouble for shits' sake."

You hummed in agreement, but the seed had been planted, and you were terrified everyone else was seeing something you were being willfully oblivious to. You watched as Bucky and Jade moved, trading blows and blocks in a blur of motion. You knew he didn't have many opportunities to spar with someone on his level, who could keep up with him in strength, skill, and stamina, but there was something about the look in his eye as moved around the space, an excitement, a hunger, that made your stomach feel like it was full of lead. It was a look you knew well-- you saw it every time he pinned you beneath him, whispering sweet, sinful promises into the crook of your neck as he thrust into you and took you beyond reason.

“They’re not blind, though, are they Natty?” you asked, your voice small. As you watched, the sight before you shifted subtly as Bucky reached for Jade, his large hand enclosing around her wrist before twisting swiftly, forcing her arm behind her. He guided her to the ground, his body close against hers as he kept her in place. The interaction was professional, strictly within the limits of their training session. Yet, it unsettled you. You felt a pit of discomfort growing in your stomach as whispers bubbled from the crowd around you.

“You know Barnes better than anyone alive, Pocket,” Nat assured you, squeezing your waist gently. “I’d say even better than Steve at this point; do you honestly think there’s something there?”

You couldn’t answer her, every insecurity you’d had about Jade Carthage bubbling to the surface with a renewed vengeance. Especially now that you’d heard other people giving voice to your deep-seated fears that Bucky was out of your league and it was only a matter of time before he realized that, too, and left you.

Throughout it all, Bucky seemed oblivious to the audience or perhaps he was just too focused on Jade to give them any attention. As he released her and backed away, giving her space to rise, his gaze was trained entirely on her. His eyes were darkened with a serious intensity that stirred something within you, an overwhelming cocktail of fear, jealousy and a raw possessiveness a thousand times stronger than anything you'd felt before.

You fucking hated it.

Jade went on the offensive, swinging out to attempt a roundhouse kick to Bucky's chest, but the super soldier's reflexes were too quick; he grabbed her ankle before she could make contact and threw her off balance. With the grace of a gazelle, Jade used the momentum to spin, crouching low to sweep Bucky's legs out from underneath him. You watched as he fell back to the mat, and quick as lightning, Jade was on top of him, thighs straddling either side of his waist as she held a sparring dagger to his throat. They were both panting heavily from the exertion, but Bucky smiled up at Jade, pride evident on his face.

Sensing that the show was over for now, the crowd began dispersing, almost as if the current moment between the former combatants was too intimate for them to witness, leaving only you and Natasha at the side of the mat. You watched as Jade leaned down to whisper something in Bucky's ear, and he laughed his beautiful, genuine laugh.

The reaction made you squeak in discomfort. It wasn't a loud noise, and no normal person would have heard you from that distance, but Bucky Barnes was no normal man. At the sound, his eyes snapped to where you stood and, to your absolute horror, his face fell. You watched his smile falter as he saw the expression on your face, replaced with something looked alarmingly like guilt.

Jade's dark eyes followed his gaze and when she saw you, she broke into a wide grin, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Don’t get your panties in a twist, (Y/L/N). Just a friendly spar, right Barnes?" She asked, her voice ringing out clear across the room. Bucky nodded, looking stunned and incapable of speech as he continued to meet your gaze.

You watched as she rolled off him, extending the contact of their bodies a little longer than necessary, and extended her hand. Bucky stared at it for a moment before accepting the help and heaving himself off the mat. He shook his head at her, his gaze slowly returning to yours. This was not how you had envisioned your day unfolding.

Natasha squeezed your waist, attempting to offer some comfort, but it wasn't enough to shake off the dark cloud of unease that was settling over you. Ignoring the murmurs of reassurance from Natasha, you pulled away from her and made your way towards Bucky, who was now standing with Jade, both of them looking a little worse for wear after the intense sparring match. Bucky watched your approach with apprehension in his eyes, clearly unsure of what you were going to say or do. Jade smirked at you, her eyes twinkling with amusement, but there was something else behind that smug façade – an insidious satisfaction.

"Barnes," you greeted him, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Sweetheart," he replied, reaching out to touch your arm. You flinched back from the contact and noticed how his expression fell even further.

Jade opened her mouth to speak, but you cut her off with a wave of your hand.

"I need to speak with Bucky. Alone," you said, giving her a pointed look. Jade looked surprised for a moment before she shrugged and walked away, leaving the two of you alone on the edge of the training mat.

Bucky looked like he wanted to say something, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times before just clearing his throat. He ran a hand nervously through his hair, the sheen of sweat on his brow glinting in the overhead lights. His gaze flickered between your face and the floor, savoring every second as if it might be his last.

"I... I,” he stuttered, helplessly. You knew he was lost, unsure of how to navigate the waves of anger and hurt that rolled off you in palpable tides.

You crossed your arms over your chest defensively; your heart thudded painfully against your ribs, threatening to break free from its cage. You wanted to yell, cry, demand to know what was going on between him and Jade... But most of all, you just wanted to reach out and touch him, assure him that everything would be okay.

"Bucky," you finally said, your voice trembling slightly under the weight of your emotions. "What's happening between you two?"

Confusion passed over Bucky's face, "Wha- what do you mean?" he asked, his gaze steady on your eyes.

"You and Carthage," you clarified, hating how your voice hitched at the end of her name. "There's something going on between you two. Something... something more than just sparring partners. I want to know what it is."

His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment he looked genuinely shocked before it was replaced by a dawning comprehension. His shoulders sagged as he sighed deeply, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

"No," He murmured desperately, reaching out to grip your hand. This time, you didn't pull away. Instead, you watched as his thumb traced circles on the back of your hand, as if trying to comfort you. "I promise there's nothing going on between us."

"Then why does everyone who just watched that match think that there is?" you questioned quietly, biting down on your lower lip to stop it from trembling.

Bucky paused for a moment, his gaze shifted from your eyes to the hand he held. His thumb had stopped tracing circles and instead was now holding onto it as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"I might just be her trainer, maybe even her friend, but we get onto that mat, it has to become more than that. Something different." He paused, a look of deep concentration transforming his face as he searched for the right words. "We have to push each other to be better, stronger. Fighting skills determine whether you live or die out there, and that unlocks something in here. Emotions run higher, because you know that every perfected move, every successful hit landed, decreases your chances of coming home in a bodybag. Your partner’s victories are your victories, because the better they are, the better they’ll be at keeping you alive. It makes things seem more intense then they actually are, creates a connection that only exists here” he pointed to the mat, “and in the field." He gave a heavy exhale before his eyes met yours again, a pleading look to them. "She's not you."

A bitter laugh escaped from your lips before you were able to stop it. "No. She's a fucking superhuman goddess and I'm just a boring science nerd."

Bucky moved back as if you'd slapped him. "What-- Where-- Why would you ever say something like that?" He reached for your hands, cupping them in his own.

You couldn't meet his gaze. "People talk, Buck. I'm not the only one who looks at you two out there and sees fucking foreplay. And they're gossiping about it. Fuck, Bucky, people are placing bets on how long it's going to be before you get bored of me and start sleeping with her."

His eyes widened at your words, his grip on your hands tightening. "Who? Who the fuck is saying that? How fucking dare they?!" He looked horrified and angry; a dangerous combination for the likes of Bucky Barnes. As he opened his mouth to respond, you cut him off.

"Only because of how you're acting, Bucky! The chemistry between you two on the mat is undeniable." You tried to pull your hands from his, tried to put some distance between you, but his fingers only tightened around yours. "And even if it's not true...there's a part of me that believes it. Because why would you settle for me when you could have someone who's your equal in every goddamn way?"

Bucky was silent for a few moments, looking at you with such intensity that you felt like he was trying to see into your very soul. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, the intensity disappeared from his face, replaced with a look of utter resolve.

"Then let me make it clear for you," he said, voice low and determined. "I may spar with Vixen. I may laugh with her, talk with her, and yeah, even enjoy her company, as much as you might hate to hear it. But it ends there. I’m her trainer inside the gym and her friend outside of it." He paused, his gaze never leaving yours. "But you, you're something entirely different."

He reached up to gently cup your face, his cool metal hand providing a stark contrast to the heat flushing your cheeks. "You’re my solace in this fucked up, too fast future I found myself in. When I'm with you, I'm not the Winter Soldier or another Avenger. I'm just... Bucky. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be, and I only get to be him when I’m with you." The earnestness in his voice was nearly enough to make your heart break on the spot.

"Your love is my strength," he continued. "And your faith in me... that's the redemption I’ve been searching for, the amends I’ve spent so long trying to find." His fingers were soft against your skin as he pushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I love you in ways that I can't begin to express. All I care about is you. You, who's never boring, constantly keeping me on my toes with your wit and sense of humor. I love that you’re a science nerd, the most brilliant and beautiful woman I've ever met, inventin’ and creating things no one’s ever even imagined before to make the world a safer place. You, who sees past the metal arm and the nightmares, and loves me for who I am."

His hand moved along your jaw, his thumb softly grazing your cheek. His gaze was intense, filled with so much love and longing that it took your breath away.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he reiterated the words you’d spoken to him the night he’d confessed his own insecurities to you. "And I'm certainly never getting bored of you. So yeah, Vix may be my occasional sparring partner, but you...you are my life partner, and you’re going to be until the day I die. She’s never going to come close to you."

His words echoed in your ears, shattering the wall of uncertainty within you. Swallowing hard, you met his gaze, trying to find any trace of insincerity or doubt. But all you found was love – raw and beautiful love that rendered you speechless. He took your hands in his again, gently squeezing to emphasize his words.

"Promise?" You asked, your voice trembling with vulnerability.

Bucky gave you a soft, reassuring smile. "I promise. On everything that I am, and everything that I'll ever be," he said with certainty. His grip on your hands tightened, as if to emphasize the truth in his words.

Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision. You blinked them away, not wanting to break this moment of connection. His expression was open, vulnerable; it was a sight reserved for you and no one else.

"Just… I just need you to tell me if your feelings ever change," you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. "I can handle any truth but, if you lie to me, it’ll destroy me."

Bucky's thumb brushed away a tear that had managed to escape from the corner of your eye. "Nothing will change, doll. Not how I feel about you." He then leaned in closer until his forehead gently rested against yours. "You're stuck with me, remember?"

A small laugh bubbled out of you even as more tears spilled down your cheeks. You wrapped your arms around him, allowing yourself to melt in the comfort and warmth of him. "I'm sorry for being so insecure," you murmured into his chest. “Therapy is supposed to be helping me get over this.”

"Hey," he said, tipping his face up to meet his gaze, "there's no need for that. If you can work me through my insecurities about Steve, this is the least I can do for you. Besides, therapy’s a process, not an over-night cure."

His words brought a small smile to your face. The sincerity in his voice was soothing, like the soft lull of the ocean against the sand. "Do you think we're crazy, Bucky? For being like this?"

Bucky chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through his chest and into yours, "I think we've both been used and hurt, doll. Damaged." He kissed your forehead and you closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of his lips on your skin. "And I think that's made both of us terrified that we're not worthy of being loved the way we deserve. But no, I don't think we're crazy. At least, not about this, anyway."

You huffed out a laugh. "I love you so much," you murmured into the fabric of his shirt. "I don't know what I would do if I lost you. How I would survive."

"You won't lose me, doll," Bucky said, his voice a soothing balm to your fears. "As long as there's breath in my body, I'll always be by your side. I will fight for you, for us."

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his gaze resolute. "And if it ever comes down to it," he added, his words barely above a whisper, "I'll choose you. Over anyone else, over anything else. Always."

There was something in the way he spoke, the conviction in his voice that made your heart flutter in your chest. You believed him. You believed in him. You believed in the both of you, together.

"Promise?" you asked again, needing the confirmation more than you had ever needed anything else.

"I promise," he said instantly, pulling you closer into his embrace.

The warmth of his body against yours was comforting; it felt like home. It was as if all the pieces of your broken past were being put back together; mended by Bucky’s words, his promises, and the unconditional love he held for you. You pressed your face further into his chest, your tears soaking the fabric of his shirt.

"Hey," he said softly, his hand coming up to gently lift your chin so you were looking into his eyes. "Why are you still crying?"

You tried to laugh at yourself through your tears. "Because I'm relieved... and a little overwhelmed."

His thumb brushed away your tears again and then his lips were on yours in a tender kiss that told you without words just how much he cared about you.

As the kiss deepened, it was as if all the chaos of the world simply melted away. It was just the two of you in that moment, connected by not only a kiss but by the beating of two hearts that echoed the same rhythm - a testament to your shared love.

"Alright, you two," came Natasha's voice, finding its way into your bubble, "break it up. While I'm thrilled you're good, this is a training facility, not a lover's lane."

Bucky smiled down at you at Nat's words. "She's right, doll. Besides, I think I owe you a special sparring match of our very own."

You looked at him, an incredulous laugh leaving you. "Buck, I love you, but there's no way in hell I'm going to spar with you; you'll destroy me."

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, so softly you doubted Natasha could hear him. "I was thinking more along the lines of the naked sparring we could do upstairs in your room. Can't promise I won't still destroy you, though," he added with a wink.

"Oh my God," sighed Nat, who apparently could hear him, after all. "You two are disgusting. Get out of here before you start humping in the middle of the floor."

"That is an excellent idea, Natasha," you said, taking one of Bucky's hands in both of yours as you began to walk backward toward the exit, pulling him along. "Let's get out of here, Barnes. See how many times you can pin me before I scream for mercy."

Bucky threw his towel at Nat as he followed you, his gaze locked on you with a hunger that far surpassed the look he had in the ring with Jade. It sent shivers down your spine and set your heart racing.

God, you loved that man. You loved him so much that you were more than willing to ignore the little voice in the back of your head that kept asking "If there was nothing for you to worry about, why had he looked so guilty when he realized you'd been watching them?"

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