#this is a two parter the first part is coming second so they read as one long set >_>
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est-ce que je tâaime? | j.v
summary:
âWhat does dear Jace have to say?â
âI do not like your tone,â you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.
âYou could become my niece, if this continues.â
âOh please,â you answered, not even entertaining the idea. âI am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.â
OR; After having spent almost eight namedays in Oldtown, you longed for your return to Kingâs Landing, to see Jace again. When the day finally comes, you didnât expect to be thrust in the middle of a war for the crown.
pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader, platonic!daeron targaryen x reader
warnings: mention of death (Viserys), canonical violence (follows plot of the show up to Stormâs End), otherwise this part is pretty tame!
word count: 8,2k
authorâs note: i do not know a single thing about daeron except for the tidbits we have learned in the show. the rest is made up (but imo my Daeron character analysis is pretty great finally my bachelor's in english has proven useful). this is gonna be a two parter! the first part is heavily reader x daeron/team green focused, while the second part will focus on readerâs and jaceâs relationship. title is from GIMS' song est-ce que tu m'aimes which also inspired this fic... also @eldrith bc i fear i will be threatened with a gun if i dont... happy reading đ«¶đŒ
⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . âŠ
âI have a letter from the Queen Alicent and and another one from the Prince Jacaerys Velaryon,â the messenger said, bowing as he stood at the door.
âThank you Ser.â
Taking the letters, the messenger bowed to take his leave, and you handed Daeron the letter from his mother before settling into your chaise with Jaceâs letter.
This was how you and Daeron received news from Kingâs Landing and Dragonstone. You hated how you had to wait so long to hear news, longing for the time all of you were at Kingâs Landing together, but you knew that things hadnât been working out with Rhaenyra and her family nor with Alicent and her children.
You thought that was the main reason Daeron had been sent to Oldtown, to shield him from the tumultuous life at court and you along with him, despite that you had been Helaenaâs lady in waiting.
Smiling at the contents of the letter, you tried to imagine Jaceâs voice as he told you of Luke taking flight with Arrax for the first time, failing miserably. It had only been two years since you saw him last, but you knew how boys matured quickly in a short span of time, Daeron being the perfect example.
He had only come up to your shoulders when you first arrived in Oldtown, now, he was almost as tall as you.
âHelaena and Aegon were married,â Daeron suddenly said and your hands stilled, lowering Jaceâs letter.
You glanced at him, noticing how small his voice sounded. Putting the letter away, you clasped Daeronâs arm, offering some comfort. You knew how hard it was for him to be away from his family and hearing about important news like that through letter just made the distance seem even greater.
âTo whom?â
âTo each other.â
âWhat?â
âLook,â Daeron said, handing you the letter his mother had sent him with the official sigil of the Targaryen house. You read through the letter, before sitting back with a surprised sigh.
âHelaena must be devastated,â you muttered, rubbing the side of your temples. You couldnât imagine how alone Helaena must feel, to be married off to Aegon. He had always been a little crude; you doubted he had changed much.
âI cannot believe mother did not even deem it necessary to bring me home for their wedding,â Daeron said with a frown. âAm I even still her son?â
âDonât be ridiculous,â you chastised him. âYour mother sent you away for your own good.â
Even as you said those words, you didnât quite believe them yourself. It had been so long since Daeron has seen his family, you understood sending him away in the first place, but going for so long without a single visit?
With a sigh, Daeron brushed his silver hair back, angling towards Jaceâs letter you had left on the table.
âWhat does dear Jace have to say?â
âI do not like your tone,â you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.
âYou could become my niece, if this continues.â
âOh please,â you answered, not even entertaining the idea. âI am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.â
âSo you have thought about marrying my nephew?â
You groaned and Daeron only cackled when you shoved him.
âGo sit and write to your mother,â you told him with a sniff of your nose and even though he grimaced at you, he sat down at the wooden desk, grabbing a roll of parchment. Even though Daeron was of much higher rank than you, he had adopted you as some sort of older sister ever since you two got to Oldtown, with you being the only familiar person from home that was still present in his life, apart from his uncles, of course.
It pained you, to see Daeron long for his family, who seemed to have discarded him so easily. You wondered when he would get to his family again as you reached for Jaceâs letter to keep on reading;You wondered when you would get to see Jace again.
It was six more years before either of that would happen. However under much different circumstances than either of you had imagined.
âUrgent news from Kingâs Landing!â the messenger said, his breath short as he handed Lord Ormund a roll of parchment. You and Daeron glanced at each other; you were in the middle of breaking fast, the most important meal of the day in Oldtown; it must be incredible important news for the messenger to disrupt the meal like that. His face was stony as he read the contents of the letter, before his eyebrows raised in surprise. He lowered the letter, his eyes finding Daeron.
âYour father has passed. They are to crown your brother Aegon to be King. You are expected back in Kingâs Landing.â Lord Ormundâs eyes found you. âBoth of you.â
It didnât take long for Daeron and you get everything ready for your departure, you barely noticed most of your belongings being packed up, still reeling from the news. You couldnât believe King Viserys had died. Of course you had known from the letters that Daeron had received from his mother that the king had taken quite ill, but still. And he named Aegon as his new heir? You couldnât imagine Aegon, the boy who teased his brother endlessly to become King of the Seven Realms, but who were you to judge?
Your hand was itching to write to Jace, despite your last letter still being unanswered. You werenât sure what had changed, but lately you felt like Jaceâs letters had become scarce, every answer taking longer than the last. You werenât quite bold enough to ask why in a letter, fearing a rejection, but maybe when you saw him, you could gauge his mood. You knew you were to see him at King Viserysâ funeral or the latest at Aegonâs coronation, you would see him sooner than your letter would take to get to him. Despite knowing that, your eyes caught on parchment and quill, so you took leave to Daeronâs chamber to distract yourself.
The door to his chambers stood open as you stepped in, the maids moving in a flurry as they packed his belongings, while Daeron was sitting on his bed, unmoving. Gingerly, you moved to sit behind him, but he barely acknowledged your presence, gazing out of the window.
âIâm sorry about your fatherâs passing,â you told him, nudging him with your shoulder.
âI have been living without a father for quite some time,â he replied wryly, glancing at you. âI suppose it will not feel any different.â
You reached for his hand, squeezing it, hoping to lend him comfort. âI know. But still, I wish he had been a better father to you.â
Daeron only snorted, shaking his head.
âAre you nervous to see your kin again?â
The young Prince let out a laugh, unwinding his hand from your grip to stand.
âKin? I havenât seen them in nearly ten years,â he scoffed, starting to pace. âMother writes to me once in a moon, Helaenaâs letters are more confusing than not, and Aegon and Aemond barely write to me on my name day. I have not seen them since my eighth name day.â
âThey are still your kin, Daeron.â
âBy blood, yes.â
âIs there any other way to be kin?â
You were humoring him, knowing he was frustrated and nervous to see his family but Daeron stopped in his tracks, looking at you.
âYes. You.â
You raised your eyebrows in surprise and he took his seat next to you again, cradling your hand in his.
âYou came with me to Oldtown when you did not have to, gave me a sense of familiarity in this⊠Farce of a home, lent me comfort in a way my own blood failed to do,â he said quietly, squeezing your hand. âYou are my sister in everything but blood.â
âOh Daeron,â you sighed, pulling him into a hug and letting the younger boy - despite him arguing that he was long a man - find comfort in your arms. Ten and six, and the burden of feeling like you were abandoned by your family. You wished he did not have to feel this way, but you were powerless to change it.
âSwear to me you will not abandon me once we get back to Kingâs Landing,â Daeron said, pulling away to hold you at an armâs length, his eyes searching yours.
âI swear it,â you told him, a smile on your face. âSwear to me you will not say any of this to your mother.â
Daeron let out a laugh at that, but you only shook your head, only half-jesting. You know Otto Hightower would fall right to his grave if he had heard Daeron call you his sister. You were high-born, yes, but in no way comparable to a Princess.
A knock sounded on the door, before a squire entered. âEverything has been prepared for your departure my Prince.â
âVery well, we will be right out,â Daeron answered with a nod.
The squire bowed, before leaving again and you squeezed Daeronâs hand, standing.
âI will go fetch my belongings, you go bid farewell to your uncles.â
Daeron nodded, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. âI will meet you outside the city walls.â
You touched his cheek gently before you departed. A knight and two maids followed you with bags of sustenance and personal belongings to the city walls, where a handful of dragonkeepers were eyeing the sky. Lifting your gaze, you saw Tessarion fly over the city in circles, a smile growing on your face, excited to be making the trip back to Kingâs Landing on dragonback.
You had always loved whenever Daeron took you out flying on Tessarion; deep within you wished to feel a bond as special as a dragonrider had with their dragon. You wondered if Jace would take you flying on Vermax, now that all of you were reconvening for the Kingâs funeral rite and Aegonâs coronation.
Tessarion let out a screech before coming to land on the small green meadow, and you knew Daeron must be close. Surely enough, you heard footsteps coming closer before Daeron stopped just next to you, knights accompanying him.
âWill you miss Oldtown?â You asked him, but Daeron only shook his head.
âNothing keeping me here,â he answered, stepping forward to greet Tessarion as she landed, calming her as the knights and maids attached the satchels and bags to the saddle. You let out a deep breath, turning to look at Oldtown for one last time. While Daeron had been right, a part of you was sad to leave, as it had been the place you had called home for the last years.
âAre you sure this is Kingâs Landing?â
The journey to Kingâs Landing had been uneventful and quick, a half dayâs journey only. When you had arrived, flying over the city, Daeron directed Tessarion into the dragon pit, where the dragonkeepers had been waiting. Maids had then taken you into the Red Keep, and you barely had any time to react as you looked at the adornments that decorated castle; countless dedications to the Seven. The busy Keep you had remembered had now been replaced with empty halls and dark walls.
Daeron glanced at you before looking around. âSurely motherâs doing.â
The maid led you into empty chambers, bowing to Daeron.
âThe Queen Dowager will be with you shortly, my Prince.â
Daeron thanked her and she inclined her head at him before turning to you.
âMy Lady, if you follow me.â
âWhere are you taking her?â Daeron, his hand on your arm to stop you from leaving. The maid paused, glancing between the two of you.
âTo her chambers, my Prince.â
âShe will stay with me.â
âDaeron, you should see your mother by yourself, I can come see you after,â you assured him but Daeron merely shook his head, his grip on your arm tightening.
âI shall not meet my mother alone.â
âDaeron-â
âPlease,â Daeron begged, his voice panicked and you sighed, giving in. Only then did Daeron release the grip on your arm.
The maid still paused but she then decided to retreat, but not without bowing to Daeron again. He started pacing in the room, picking up the small trinkets that littered the desk.
âThey just put me in my old chambers thinking it will be like I never left.â
You raised your eyebrows, glancing around before you realized that Daeron was right - you were standing in his old chambers. They had replaced the furniture and added a bigger bed, but it was the same chambers he had stayed in when he was a little boy.
âThey have always kept a place for you to return, is that not a good thing?â
Daeron looked at you with a frown when the doors suddenly opened and Alicent stepped in, in tow with Daeronâs siblings and his grandsire, Otto. Alicent beamed at the sight of her youngest son, though her smile wavered when she saw you, before turning her eyes back to Daeron, opening her arms.
âMy boy.â
âMother,â Daeron replied, his voice hesitant before he fell into her arms, hugging him tightly.
Your heart warmed at the sight and Daeron seemed to lose all of the fears he had been carrying - if only for a split second - as he laid in his motherâs arms. You were content to stay back, let Daeron get reacq with his family again, but you werenât ignored for long, when someone threw their arms around you with so much momentum, it nearly knocked you off your feet.
âOh Gods,â you laughed, a head of silver hair in your face. âHelaena.â
âI missed you,â the Princess whispered and you hugged her back just as tightly, sighing. She gave you one last squeeze, before Helaena pulled away to muster you, running her hands through the ends of your hair.
âYou look well,â she said. âVery beautiful.â
You flushed at her kind words, lacing her hands with yours. âSo are you, my Princess.â
Helaena smiled brightly at you. âYou must meet Jahaera and Jahaerys.â
âThere is time for that later,â Alicent decided, cutting in. Helaenaâs smile dropped slightly and she fled to your side as her mother stepped to you. You bowed your head to greet her, but Alicent grabbed you by the shoulders before pulling you into a hug, surprising you.
âThank you,â she said quietly in the privacy of the embrace. âThank you for watching over Daeron when I was unable to.â
You wrapped your arms around Alicent. âOf course my Queen.â
She pulled away, straightening her dress and you caught a glimpse of Otto talking to Daeron before Aegon and Aemond stepped into your view.
âMy Princes,â you said, bowing. âMy condolences for your father.â
âThank you,â Aemond said. âHe was in great pain, The Stranger freed him.â
His voice was monotone, almost void of emotion and you wondered if any of them mourned their father. Aegon nodded, though he seemed more subdued.
âAre you excited to be King, my Prince?â you asked, hoping to change the topic.
He gave you a wry smile, opening his mouth but Aemond gave him a subtle jab in the side with his elbow.
âUh, yes, of course, my Lady,â Aegon said, clearing his throat. âNow that we have all reconvened, the coronation cannot come soon enough. You are a much better guest than our nephews.â
That made you pause.
âJace and Luke were here?â You asked, your forehead creasing.
âYes. Lord Vaemond challenged Luke as heir for Driftmark and the trial was held at court. They left just shortly before father passed,â Aemond told you, his voice even. You hadnât known that.
âWhen are they expected to return?â
Alicent exchanged looks with Otto, silent conversation passing between them and you glanced at Daeron, who seemed just as confused. Something was going on, something you werenât aware of.
âThey are not,â Alicent then said and your lips parted in surprise. âRhaenyra is upset, rightfully so, that her father had chosen Aegon as his heir, so she decided to remain on Dragonstone.â
Your eyebrows furrowed but you decided not to press the matter, only nodding. The topic was quickly brushed off as Alicent wrapped her arm around Daeron, trying to draw him into conversation, asking about his interests. You only listened half-heartedly, your mind still spinning from the news.
âDo you not think all of this odd?â you asked, your voice low. âI know Rhaenyra is proud, but refusing to show up to the coronation or even pay respects to her late father?â
It was the day after your arrival in Kingâs Landing, the day of the coronation. The day was hectic, the Keep suddenly bustling with servants and maids getting everything ready; you had taken the advantage to sneak into Daeronâs room, something that had gotten much more difficult ever since you got back to Kingâs Landing.
âMaybe thingâs have changed,â Daeron replied, rubbing his temple. âWe have been away for a while, we do not know of the things that have transpired.â
You opened your mouth to argue, but a knock on the door interrupted you, a maid coming to fetch you for the coronation was about to begin. As you walked to the carriage, you were arguing with yourself on the inside, knowing that you were privy of most details, thanks to Jaceâs letters. You couldnât believe Rhaenyra wouldnât rush to Kingâs Landing to bid farewell to her father. There must be something else holding her back.
As you got to the Dragonpit where the coronation was held, you were surprised that it was over faster than you had imagined, almost like it was rushed. Then again, this was your first coronation so who were you to say this wasnât how every coronation went? As Aegon raised his hand to the small folk, eliciting applause, you joined in. The applause ceded when a loud growl shook the entire building. Silence followed, before the floor gave away when a dragon emerged through the stone, countless people falling to their death, trampled by the the huge beast with Princess Rhaenys on top.
Meleys, you thought, stood before the family, and Alicent rushed towards Aegon to shield him, cries and pleads from the smallfolk surrounding you. Criston shielded Helaena, and you grasped Daronâs hand as he only stared at his cousin in shock.
With bated breath, everyone waited - to be burnt, eaten, you werenât sure. But Meleys only let out a deafening roar, before flapping her wings, breaking through the doors to escape to freedom.
âWhat in the Seven Hells was that?â you muttered to Daeron. He gave you a shrug, squeezing your hand as he looked you over, making sure you were unharmed.
The small folk on the other hand were fighting to get out of the building, which seemed to be crumbling in on itself, and Criston began to usher everyone out.
You were the last to come down from the stairs, taking Daeronâs hand he was offering to you when a crunching sound from above made you lift your head, seeing a large part of the roof cave in, falling right down heading straight for you.
âSister!â
Daeron gave a harsh tug of your arm, pulling you behind him, as the large slab of stone fell right in the place you were standing mere moments ago.
âAre you well?â He asked, his voice full of concern as he padded you down.
âIâm fine, Daeron.â
âDaeron.â
You both looked up when Alicent called for him, just to see that they were all staring at you, Otto seeming incredibly displeased as you realized what Daeron had just called you. Seven Hells, you thought, this was precisely what you had been trying to avoid.
âDo you even realize what sort of rumors would be spread if anyone had heard you refer to her as âsisterâ?!â
You were pacing in front of the study, voices muffled through the wooden door. After you had gotten back to the Keep, Helaena and Aegon had returned to their children, while Otto and Alicent had dragged Daeron into the study. Neither of them sounded particularly happy, their raised voices spilling out of the room. You were wringing your hands, something that you had been doing a lot since you got to Kingâs Landing. Not even three nights ago, you were in Oldtown wondering if you were ever to return to Kingâs Landing, now you were back and everything was happening so fast and you felt like you were missing a big part of the story. When did the King change his mind about his heir? Why wouldnât Rhaenyra and Daemon return to Kingâs Landing following the Kingâs death? And why in the Seven Hells did Rhaenys break through the floor with Meleys like she was being held captive? You had so many questions, none of which you had answer to; deep in thoughts, you didnât even notice someone approaching you.
âEavesdropping, are we?â
Letting out a small gasp, you jumped to face Aemond, a hand on your chest as he eyed you, unimpressed.
âGods, you scared me,â you said, shaking your head. âNo, I am waiting on Daeron. Your mother and grandsire didnât want me to come in.â
Clearly.
Aemond didnât say anything else as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest. You eyed him as he stood there, on guard. It was hard to gauge him; you felt like Aemond was waiting for you to make a mistake so he had a reason to get rid of you. You remembered the soft, warm boy he used to be when you first got to Kingâs Landing. You wondered when he had changed, if it was when Luke took his eye or before.
âI should have known Daeron would cling to you after you had gone to Oldtown with him,â he said, his voice slow. âWhat is it, that you are planning to do with him? Make him infatuated with you so you can insinuate yourself into our family?â
Your ears grew hot at his implication. How dare he abandon his brother for nearly all his life and accuse you of having improper thoughts?
âDaeron is like a brother to me,â you said, voice indignant. âI care about him and I mislike being accused of such a horrible things.â
âSo you vow your loyalty to our family, to Aegon as King?â
The way Aemond phrased the question made it seem like you had a choice and you hesitated, the fight leaving you.
âOf course, heâs the rightful heir, is he not?â
Aemond only gave a nod, taking a step back. You narrowed your eyebrows at him, but the door opened and Daeron stepped out, his face in a scowl.
âWhat happened?â you asked, but he only gave a brief shake of his head. He inclined his head, and you followed him, a knight on your trail, while Aemond stayed behind. The two of you walked for a while, until you reached the gardens, the knight staying by the edge as you and Daeron took a seat on a bench. He still seemed agitated, so you placed your hand on his shoulder to calm him down.
âThey accused me of impropriety,â Daeron muttered. âSaid that I was opening our family up for vulnerabilities and rumors.â
âWeâre not in Oldtown anymore, Daeron, everything you do here is looked upon,â you sighed.
âWhat is improper about calling you my sister? You have been by my side since my eighth name day,â he argued. âHow can I call a woman my mother when I havenât seen her since I was a boy? The strangers brothers and sister, when I barely recognize them?â Daeron hissed, his voice rising.
âI know youâre upset,â you said quietly, eyes darting around, not wanting him to get in even more trouble. âItâs hard for them to understand. They are not trying to hurt you.â
âDid they not try to hurt me when they cast me out of the family?â
You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, and Daeron let out a shaky breath, staring out in the distance.
âHow is my brother faring?â
You shut the door to Daronâs chambers quietly to find Aemond waiting just in front. After you had spent the rest of the afternoon in the gardens, you had thought it best if Daeron laid down for a while before supper, hoping it would calm him.
âItâs hard for him to find his footing here. His life in Oldtown hasnât been this⊠Restrictive. It will take him time to adjust.â
Aemond nodded, letting out a sigh.
âI was hoping he would accompany me,â he said. âBut I do not think he sounds well enough to go.â
âWhere are you going?â
âStormâs End. To get Lord Borros to vow for my brother.â
What?
âForgive me but who else would he be loyal to?â
Aemond turned around, looking at you in disdain.
âRhaenyra. She might think she still has some claim on the throne.â
He paused, eyeing you carefully.
âYou should come.â
âMe?â
Aemondâs eye swept over you once more and he nodded.
âYes, it will look good to Lord Borros if someone outside of our family is there showing support to Aegon,â he insisted. âIt will be a short flight on Vhagar.â
âVery well,â you said, a glance on Daronâs closed door, wondering if you should tell him that you would be gone, but it sounded like the trip to Stormâs End wouldnât be long, so you decided against waking him. You could tell him after.
You followed Aemond to the dragonpit, where a maid laid a cloak around your shoulders as you watched Aemond mount Vhagar, the breath stocking in your throat at the size of his dragon. Vhagar was large and old, barely able to turn in the dragon pit without brushing the cave.
âCome,â Aemond said, offering his hand to you before pulling you into the saddle, instructing you to hold on tightly.
âSoves, Vhagar!â
With a loud growl, Vhagar stepped out of the dragon pit before taking to the skies, her enormous wings stretching out several feet. The ride on Vhagar was much smoother than every ride you had ever taken on Tessarion, and it wasnât long before you reached Stormâs End, dark clouds following you. Vhagar landed in the courtyard, you and Aemond climbing off.
âJust in time,â the Baratheon knight said, watching the rain pour from the skies just as you stepped under the roof.
âI am Prince Aemond Targaryen, brother of King Aegon II,â Aemond said, fixing his doublet. âI am here to talk to Lord Borros.â
The knight lead him into the Round Hall, where Lord Borros sat on his seat, seemingly having expected Aemond, his four daughters standing idly next to him.
âPrince Aemond, what can I do for you?â
âLord Borros, I am here to ask you to pledge loyalty to my brother, King Aegon II.â
âKing Aegon, you say,â Lord Borros said, arrogance dripping from his voice. âAnd what do you offer me for my loyalty?â
You were taken aback by his words, but Aemond only smiled, his hands locked behind his back.
âYour four daughters⊠They are still unwed?â
A smile spread on Lord Borrosâ face and he gestured to his four daughters with his arm.
âIndeed. Are you proposing a betrothal?â
Aemond inclined his head. âNot only am I free to marry, but my younger brother, Prince Daeron as well. His lady companion can attest to his formidable character.â
Your eyes widened at Aemondâs words and you glanced at him, anger welling up inside you. So this was why he had wanted you to come. Aemond paid you no mind and you exhaled deeply, turning to face Lord Borros again, putting up a faux smile.
âExcellent, excellent,â Lord Borros said, clapping his hands. âLet us discuss-â
âMy Lord!â A knight called, striding into the hall with quick steps. âAnother dragon has been sighted, headed straight to Stormâs End.â
âAh, that must be my nephew,â Aemond replied easily, your heart skipping a beat. Were you finally going to see Jace again? Lord Borros gestured to the side, and Aemond placed his hand to your lower back to push you along; you fought your urge to slap his hand away from you, eyes darting over to the door.
The heavy rain was still pelting outside, nearly drowning out the sound of the steps as a young boy entered.
âPrince Lucerys Velaryon,â the knight announced. âSon of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.â
Luke, you thought, looking at the young Prince, now old enough to be delivering messages. The last time you saw him, he was round faced, his dark locks curling around his angelic face. Seeing him lessened the fire in your chest, though you were still angry at this whole situation, and you threw Aemond a look. He didnât seem like he was paying any attention anyhow, his focus on his nephew who came further into the hall.
Lukeâs step faltered when he saw Aemond, before his eyes laid on you. You tried to give him a comforting smile, show him you were a friendly face in a crowd of hostiles, knowing Luke was about to be met with a rejection, but he quickly glanced away, facing Lord Borros.
âLord Borros...â Luke started. âI brought you a message from my mother... the Queen.â
âYet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King,â Lord Borros drawled, his tone less warm. âWhich is it? King, or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.â
Lord Borros chuckled in amusement and you could tell Luke was nervous by the way he was shifting on his feet. Aemond seemed to enjoy all of it.
âWhatâs your motherâs message?â
Luke held out the parchment roll and the a knight fetched it, bringing it to Lord Borros, which he readily accepted, asking for the maester. As the maester quietly recounted the content of the message to Lord Borros, Luke glanced to you and Aemond numerous times, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your eyebrows creased, but the corners of Aemondâs mouth tugged up.
âRemind me of my fatherâs oath?â Lord Borros spoke, the message seemingly upsetting him greatly. âKing Aegon at least came with an offer: My swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids⊠Which one of my daughters will you wed, boy?â
Luke hesitated. You pressed your lips together; he had probably expected less of a hostile welcoming. Lord Borros only scoffed at Lukeâs silence.
âGo home, pup,â he sneered. âTell your mother that the Lord of Stormâs End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.â
Luke inclined his head, disappointed at the rejection.
âI shall take your answer to the Queen; my Lord.â
Luke turned to leave, but Aemond stepped forward, calling out to him.
âWait, my Lord Strong.â
You glanced at Aemond, letting out a soft breath, nerves pooling in your stomach. Luke turned, despite the blatant insult.
âDid you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brotherâs throne at no cost?â
Your hand reached out to grasp Aemond, but he slipped out of your grips as he stepped closer to his nephew.
âI will not fight you. I came as messenger, not a warrior.â
âA fight would be little challenge,â Aemond said. âNo. I want you to put out your eye.â
He took off his eyepatch and you pressed your lips together, eyes darting between uncle and nephew, knowing this was about to escalate terribly.
âAs payment for mine. One will serve,â Aemond added, throwing a dagger in Lukeâs direction. âI would not blind you.â
Luke stared at Aemond in shock, his lips parted.
âPlan to make it a gift of it to my mother.â
Lukeâs eyes dropped to the dagger on the floor, before he lifted his head. âNo.â
âThen you are craven as well as a traitor.â
âNot here,â Lord Borros said, but no one paid him any attention.
âGive me your eye!â Aemond yelled, descending upon Luke, grabbing the dagger from the floor, while Luke stepped back, reaching for his sword. âOr I will take it, bastard.â
âAemond!â you shouted, panic evident in your voice.
âNot in my hall!â Lord Borros cut in, his voice raised and Aemond stopped, turning back to look at him. âThe boy came as an envoy. Iâll not have blood shed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon. Now.â
Luke resheathed his sword, throwing one last look at you before he turned, hurrying out of the hall. Aemond let out a huff of frustration, throwing a dirty look at Lord Borros, exiting the hall without waiting for you.
âAemond, wait,â you called after him, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. âYouâre not thinking about following him on Vhagar in this horrible storm, are you?â
âHe cannot get away with it, not again.â
Aemondâs voice was angry and you let out a breath, trying to keep a clear head.
âThis is a thing from the past!â you reminded him. âDid you not gain a dragon from it?â
âYou were not present when he took my eye!â Aemond hissed, taking a turn before you had reached the courtyard, just in time to see Luke on Arrax, flying out of Stormâs End. It was raining so heavily, you could barely see him, dark rain clouds swallowing Arrax and his rider easily.
Aemond was already walking towards Vhagar, the rain soaking, as you stayed put under the roof, hesitant.
âAre you coming, or staying?â Aemond shouted, climbing on top of Vhagar. You could feel the anger rolling off of him, something that Vhagar no doubtedly was feeling as well with the way she was growling and you wanted him to stay, calm down, but you knew it was no use, so you exhaled deeply, lowering your head.
âI am coming.â
You took his outstretched hand and he pulled you into the saddle behind him; you had barely settled in before Vhagar already leapt up in the sky.
The rain felt like small icy daggers in your face as you ascended higher and higher to the sky, easily catching up to the smaller dragon carrying Luke. Vhagar let out a roar, snapping her jaws at Arrax, as the smaller dragon breathed fire in your direction. It was clear that Arrax was no match for Vhagar.
âAemond stop!â
Your voice barely carried over the rain, but Aemond disregarded you, his Vhagar as she darted to the left. You tightened your hold on Aemond, nerves coursing through you.
âWhat is it youâre trying to achieve, Aemond? You yelled, shaking him. âAre you trying to kill him?â
âThat boy needs to learn how to fear me,â he only replied, tightening his reins on Vhagar, the distance between you and Arrax growing.
Aemond let out a frustrated growl, urging Vhagar to fly faster and you could feel the adrenaline rising as you almost caught up to Arrax again. You knew you were at a cross roads, and what would happen next would change everything, with Aemond consumed by his anger, and Vhagar following his emotions, someone was bound to get hurt. You had to do something. So as Vhagar descended upon Arrax, her jaws opening, you let go of Aemond, leaping off of Vhagar, almost immediately regretting it as Aemond yelled out your name, before you landed on Arrax, the wind being knocked out of your chest.
The young dragon let out a screech, dropping several feet down with the sudden added weight, just barely escaping Vhagarâs jaws.
âWhat are you doing?!â Luke screamed, the rain pelting against his face as he held onto his saddle tightly, Arrax roaring.
âSaving your life!â
You scrambled to find anything to hold onto, trying not to fall a gruesome death, your hands gripping onto Lukeâs shoulders.
Vhagarâs shadow disappeared, but you knew her and Aemond were lurking inbetween the stormy clouds, you had to act fast. Your eyes were straining against the heavy rain, hand gripping into Lukeâs shoulders.
âDo you trust me?â
âNot particularly, no!â
You grumbled, knowing his feelings were warranted, but this was not the time.
âWeâre vulnerable. We need to find a spot to lay low, where Vhagar cannot come in.â
âArrax is faster, I just need to get back home. Itâs not that far!â Luke yelled back and you shook your head, even though he couldnât even see you.
âThatâs what Aemond is counting on! Please Luke, I know you donât trust me, but I am trying to keep both of us alive.â
Luke groaned in frustration before tightening his reins on Arrax.
âIlagon, Arrax!â Luke instructed. âÄȘlon jorrÄelagon naejot jurnegon syt ruaragon.â Down, Arrax. We need to search for cover.
Arrax roared before you dropped several feet, flying by a range of mountains. You squinted your eyes trying to see anything in the rain, when you saw a cave several feet down.
The opening was small, too small for Vhagar to get in, but large enough for Arrax.
âLuke,â you said, squeezing his shoulder and pointing to the cave. âDown there.â
Luke nodded, leaning down to guide Arrax into the cave, and soon enough, the both of you were back on solid ground.
Arrax whined and Luke whispered to him gently, stroking his snout. âLykiri, Arrax,â he said, leaning his head against his dragonâs. âÄȘlon jÄhor jikagon lenton aderÄ«, syt sir, ziry iksos daor Èłgha. Lykiri, issa valonqar.â Calm down, Arrax. We will go home soon, for now, itâs not safe. Calm down, my boy.
Arrax let out a soft whine, before curling in on himself, letting out a puff of smoke. With slumped shoulders, Luke sat down against the cave wall. You took off your cloak, laying it down so it could dry off before you sat down next to Luke, even as the boy avoided eye contact with you.
For a while, the two of you sat in silence with the occasional huff of Arrax, listening to the storm raging on outside. You hoped Aemond would cease his need for revenge soon. As a particularly loud thunder sounded, Luke jumped and you glanced at him, your heart aching.
âAre you well?â
Luke glanced over to you, trying to hide his tense shoulder by tightening his wet cloak around himself.
âNo. But Iâm unharmed,â he replied, his lips unmistakably shivering.
âIt is better when you take off wet clothes, otherwise it might make you sick,â you said, leaning over to him to help unfasten his cloak, but Luke flinched away at your touch and your hands froze midair.
âI am sorry,â you said, breath bated. He must still be shaken, after seeing The Stranger right in the eyes. Luke let out a small breath, his fingers tightening in the fabric of his cloak.
âDid you know my uncle came to Stormâs End to kill me?â Luke asked, his voice small. âDid you come to make me lower my guards?â
âForgive me?â
You knew their family affairs were difficult, strained from what had happened in the past, but you were stunned that he would expect this from Aemond, or you.
âI cannot speak of Aemondâs intentions,â you said truthfully. âOnly of mine. I never wanted to harm you, and I did my best to keep you safe as soon as I realized that Aemond was too blinded by his need for revengeâŠâ
Luke sniffed, wiping his cheeks and you moved to sit down in front of him.
âIâm only here to help you,â you assured him, holding your hands up in defense. âArrax would turn me to ashes if I even touch you the wrong way, right?â
Arrax let out a soft growl at that and Luke gave you a small smile, nodding.
âYes he would.â
âSee, youâre in no danger,â you told him, your hand slowly reaching for his cloak, careful, as to not spook him. âNow take off your cloak and lay it down, it will dry off faster this way.â
Luke nodded, unfastening his cloak and laying it down next to yours before he took a seat beside you. Even though he had grown considerably in the years you had not seen him, he still was the little cheeky boy you remembered from before you had left Kingâs Landing.
âYou have grown into a fine young Prince,â you told him. âI almost did not recognize you when you walked into Lord Borrosâ hall.â
Luke quirked a smile at you, ducking his head. âIâm almost as tall as Jace now. He despises it.â
You grinned, pulling your legs close. You could imagine Jace just all too well, squinting at the mirror standing next to Luke.
âHow is Jace?â you asked, your chest tight. You couldnât believe how it was mere moonâs turns ago where you were exchanging letters, wondering why his replies seemed to become rarer.
Luke let out a small sigh, like it was a question that plagued him.
âJace is⊠Angry. Ever since my uncle usurped the throne he has been trying to take action, fight for my motherâs claim.â
Your forehead creased.
Usurp?
âPardon⊠Are you saying Aegon is not the rightful heir to King Viserys?â
Luke stared at you, mouth agape. â⊠Yes. He stole my motherâs inheritance.â
You only blinked at him, letting the news sink in as you leaned back against the wall, stumped.
âNow everything is falling into place⊠Why Aemond was questioning my loyalties, Rhaenys! Gods!â You covered your face with your hands, a gasp escaping your lips. âDaeron. Iâve left Daeron at Kingâs Landing without telling him that Iâve gone.â
You didnât want to imagine what story Aemond has spun to make you a villain, to draw Daeron on his side.
âIâm sure all will be well,â Luke assured you, patting your hand consolingly. You only nodded, even though you were making up the worst scenarios in your head. Luke gave you a small smile, turning his hand when a yawn overtook him; Arrax had long curled up, his snores filling the cave.
âYou should get some rest,â you told him, glancing over to the entrance of the cave where it was still pouring rain. âIt might be a while before the rain ceases. I will wake you, when it is safe to leave.â
Luke semed hesitant, but then gave in, settling back against the wall, closing his eyes. As he slept, you noticed how he looked even younger, too young to be thrust into a war like this. Was this the fate that would meet Daeron, Helaena or even Joffrey? The thought unsettled you.
Time passed for a while, and it seemed like the clouds would never pass, but surely enough, the rain lessened, before stopping completely.
Gently, you shook Luke awake, feeling bad for waking him, but you knew heâd want to go home as soon as possible.
âLuke, the rain has stopped,â you told him, waiting for him to blink at you sleepily before you got to your feet, collecting your cloaks off of the ground. You handed Luke his cloak, fastening your own around your shoulders.
âIt should be safe now. Aemond must be long gone.â
Luke nodded, glancing at Arrax and then back at you, hesitating, and you knew what he was thinking. You had been thinking it ever since you got to the cave.
âIt is alright, Luke. Arrax is too small to carry us both all the way to Dragonstone. Go.â
You tried to be brave, giving Luke a smile but your voice was shaking, whether it was from fear or cold, you werenât sure. You were a high born lady, you were in no way capable of fending for yourself. Luke leaving you here would mean a certain death, but he didnât need to know that. Luke looked at you with big eyes, saying nothing before he walked over to Arrax, whispering to him as he stroked his dragonâs neck gently.
You let out a small breath, taking another look around the cave, resigning yourself to your fate when Luke called your name.
âCome, we need to leave before the weather turns again.â
âLuke, no,â you argued but Luke shook his head.
âYou saved me. I am not leaving you behind. I would never forgive myself, and neither would Jace,â Luke said, and you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. âArrax can carry us both, it is not much longer until Dragonstone.â
You ducked your head, a smile on your lips. Rhaenyra really raised amazing children.
âVery well.â
The two of you squeezed into the saddle on top of Arrax, who let out a small huff as he walked to the entrance of the cave.
âMÄre mĆrÄ« kipagon gĆ Ä«lon issi lenton, issa valonquar,â Luke said to Arrax, gently caressing his neck. âSoves.â One more flight until weâre home, my boy.
Arrax leapt into the air, letting out a screech before stretching his wings, making his way home. As you flew through the skies, your eyes darted around constantly, looking for any sign of Vhagar, but it seemed like the coast was clear. Soon enough, you could see the outline of Dragonstone, and just in time; as you had noticed Arrax growing tired the more you lost on altitude.
âÄȘlon issi bÄ konÄ«r, Arrax. SepÄr mirrÄ« tolÄ«.â We are almost there, Arrax. Just a bit more.
Lukeâs voice was gentle as he spoke to Arrax, despite his nerves. You nearly sighed in relief when Arrax flew towards the small opening to the dragon mount, and you thanked all the Gods when both you and Luke climbed off of Arrax onto solid ground again.
âPrince Lucerys!â
A knight came hurrying into the dragon pit, his eyes flickering to you before turning his attention back to Luke.
âHer Grace has been awaiting your arrival.â
Luke nodded, watching Arrax climb into the depths of the cave to get some much needed rest before he turned to the knight. âTake us to my mother.â
The knight bowed, leading you and Luke into the Keep, stopping in the doorway. Rhaenyra was pacing in front of the fire, her face worried. You hadnât seen her for so long, but she looked almost exactly the same.
âPrince Lucerys, your Grace.â
Rhaenyra ceased her pacing, looking up and the relief was obvious on her face as she ran toward her son.
âLuke!â
âMother!â
Rhaenyra threw her arms around her son, embracing him tightly and your breath stocked in your throat as you stayed back. You couldnât believe how everything could have played out so differently if you had not intervened.
Rhaenyra pulled away, cupping Lucerysâ face with her hands.
âWhat happened?â
âAemond and Vhagar were already at Stormâs End when I arrived. Lord Borros refused to stand by his oath⊠When I left Aemond followed me on Vhagar; if she hadnât intervenedâŠâ
Lucerys paused and Rhaenyra glanced over to you; you, who had stayed behind to give them privacy.
You bowed your head, mostly out of respect but also because you had no idea what to do.
âYouâre Helaenaâs lady in waiting,â Rhaenyra said.
âI was. I have spent my last eight name days in Oldtown with Daeron.â
Rhaenyra gave you a small, grateful smile, but before either of you could continue your talks, shouts interrupted you.
âMother! Luke!â
You turned around just to see Jace storming into the hall, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your heart stopped in your chest as you saw him again for the first time in so many years, relief washing over his face as he saw his brother stand with his mother unharmed. Then his eyes laid on you, and you gave him a shy smile. Jace only blinked at you, eyeing you from head to toe before his eyes widened; and for a second, you thought heâd be happy to see you. Instead, his forehead creased and his mouth curled downwards.
âWhat are you doing here?â
⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . âŠ
authorâs note: omg the drama...what are we thinking??
#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jace x reader#jacaerys x reader#jace x you#jacaerys x you#jacaerys velaryon x you#jacaerys velaryon fanfiction#jacaerys velaryon fanfic#jacaerys velaryon imagine#jacaerys velaryon fic#jacaerys velaryon#house of the dragon#hotd
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Two Intertwining Melodies || Sung Jin-woo (Part 2 of 3)
Siren!Jin-woo x Deaf!Omega!reader
A/N: Hello again everyone! Thank you so much for all of your interest and feedback on part one of this series. Due to the sheer enormity of the second chapter, I've decided to expand the siren au into a trilogy rather than a two-parter. My dear friend and beta reader @forbidden-sunlight has been an absolutely incredible source of support in the creation of this story. She also wrote the imagine that inspired this au. Links to the prologue and first chapter are posted below. Do be sure to read them first before continuing. And as always, heed the content warnings that are listed.
â°â†Previous Chapters
đŠȘ Prologue by @forbidden-sunlight đ§ââïž Part 1: Master and Apprentice
Content warnings: 18+MDNI, canon divergent, graphic descriptions of gore, death, and violence, afab!reader, reader is a makeup artist and hair stylist in the entertainment industry, a/b/o dynamics, heavy mentions of heat cycles, knotting, and breeding, threats of assault/non-con made by Kang Taeshik towards the reader (Jinchul intervenes and protects her), suggestive themes, some sexual descriptors, mythical creatures au, yandere!Jin-woo.
Word count - 9.6k
Summary - You find yourself returning to your childhood home of Jindo Island after receiving the offer of a lifetime. However, you can't shake the feeling that someone or something is watching you.
Dividers by @anitalenia and @firefly-graphics
[Skill: "Monarchâs Domain" Has Been Activated.]
âCome on out!â
A cacophony of deafening blasts, wails, and the clash of steel rings across the crimson-tinged horizon of the one hundredth floor of the Demonâs Castle; a perfect accompaniment to the Armageddon currently taking place. Infantrymen by the hundreds emerge from the shadows to skewer Baranâs forces while Iron, Igris, and Tank slaughter the larger and more formidable combatants with wanton brutality. Issuing a non-verbal command, Jin-woo orders Fang to incinerate his enemies with âSong of Inferno,â and a calamitous ball of flames bursts forth, eradicating most of the battalion. Â
âAmazing⊠on all the top floors Iâve been with him, Iâve seen nothing quite like this,â Esil whispered in awe. Although she was a demon princess who grew up in this wasteland and had seen many spectacular sights, the power of commanding shadow soldiers was most certainly not one of them.
In contrast to his companion, Jin-woo calmly observes the cataclysmic destruction with a piercing gaze. Despite gaining the upper hand against his troops, Baran remained steadfast in his refusal to engage directly in the ensuing fight. This simply would not do. Jin-woo needed to secure his victory in this decisive battle, and fast.
Jinwooâs opponent possessed the last ingredient required to craft the Holy Water of Life: The Purified Blood of the Demon Monarch. A fortnight of endless fighting had culminated to this moment, and he was on the precipice of triumph. But the Demon King was unlike any adversary he had ever faced before. Jin-woo could gauge just from the sheer murderous energy emanating from him that Baran was in a league of his own. And his power spoke for itself: endless demon hordes at his beck and call, a wyvern as a mount, and an insurmountable supply of mana that showed no signs of running out. Jin-woo would need to approach his foe strategically lest he lose this war of attrition.
At long last, as if he could sense the sirenâs impatience, the Demon King makes his move. He bids his draconian steed to fly at a lower altitude. Once within range, Baran unhinges his jaw and unleashes a massive beam of white lightning. Within seconds, thunder runs rampant throughout the land, devastating everything in its path. However, Jin-woo and his shadow army stand strong regardless of the imminent danger. The siren even has the audacity to smirk.Â
So Baran thought he could defeat him with electricity? Excellent. He really could not have asked for a better opponent. As luck would have it, Jin-wooâs oceanic nature gave him the edge in this situation. The surface of water, acting as a conductor of electricity, causes high voltages and amps to spread rapidly. With this in mind, Jin-woo launches a counterattack.
âWreak havoc on all who dare to stand in my way, Charybdis!â
Powerful torrents of black seawater manifest from the shadows just before Baranâs attack could hit him. The rushing stream then runs across the land and coalesces into a violent maelstrom in the sky. The raging vortex absorbs most of the lightning in its maw before redirecting its flow towards the Demon King. Baran wills his steed to evade by canting to the left, but Fang incapacitates him by striking the wyvernâs wing with a blast of fire magic. The Demon King leaps from his mountâs back before itâs forced into the whirlpool and electrocuted. He lands gracefully on his feet and shoots a sinister grin at Jin-woo.
âIt was worth it to let Fang have the sphere,â the siren remarks nonchalantly, as if it was just any other day and not a fight to the death. âIâm glad youâre finally on the ground. Constantly looking up was making me tired.â
With the Demon King grounded, Jin-woo no longer required the aquatic effects of Charybdis. The dark water above evaporates as it returns to the abyssal depths of the ocean, its job now complete. With this hindrance finally gone, Baran doesnât hesitate to release another beam of white thunder, this one even greater than the last. Fang attempts to lessen the impact with âSong of Protectionâ, but the force of taking a direct hit ends up obliterating him. Undeterred by his comradeâs demise, Iron bellows at Baran and slashes at his body with his axe. But he proves to be no match for the speed of the Demon King, who ruthlessly splits his head in half. Igris then valiantly joins the fray and swings his great sword at the demon. However, this too is a fruitless endeavor, as Baran swiftly catches his blade and wipes him out with a flick of his wrist.
Just as Igrisâs body fades, Jin-woo emerges from the ashes in his true sirenic form, Knight Killer and Barukaâs dagger at the ready. âScylla!â He snarls a second incantation that brings forth another wave of black water, this time in the shape of a six-headed beast. The aqueous leviathan slams into Baran, crushing his body under its weight and submerging the entire floor of the dungeon in water. The Demon King swiftly breaks free from the tides and springs onto the roof of one of the sole remaining towers. Soaking wet and surrounded by large bodies of water, Baran ends up on the defensive; if he were to use his lightning, he risked electrocuting himself. Jin-woo was also in an environment that favored him, and the Demon King could not pinpoint his whereabouts while he was swimming underwater.
Even with this advantage, the gap in power was still significant between the two. Knowing this, Jin-woo doesnât allow him a moment of reprieve. He uses his tail to project his body from the currents and launches at the Demon King with his daggers. The demon responds in kind, countering his onslaught with a flurry of strikes from his own weapons. Jin-woo holds his own against the extraordinary speed of Baranâs slashes. But he was low on mana, and fatigue was rapidly building up. While oceanic magic was incredibly effective, it incurred a high cost of mana. This, coupled with an extended exposure to a dry, fiery atmosphere, was having a seriously detrimental effect on his endurance. It was time to end the battle after dragging it out for so long. Jin-woo just needed an opportunity to catch the demon off guardâÂ
Klang!
A loud noise reverberates in the dungeon as a lance ricochets off Baranâs head. The demon redirects his focus to the sheepish face of Esil. Huh? I thought I told her to head for higher ground. When did sheâŠ? Jin-woo ponders briefly before banishing the thought. He requested a distraction, and someone kindly provided him with one. He wasnât about to squander his only chance.
Using Baranâs hesitation to his advantage, Jin-woo discards his short swords and sinks his fangs into the Demon Kingâs neck, crushing down on his windpipe. As Baran struggles to throw him off, Jin-woo unsheathes his claws and gouges out chunks of flesh. The demon howls in agony, his pained cries music to the sirenâs ears. âHow stupid of me,â Jin-woo sneers, his voice deepening in pitch as his actions became more monstrous, âI was fighting you like a man this entire time, when this is who I really am. Heh, I guess being disguised as a human for so long made me forget.â
Summoning all his strength, Jin-woo uses his muscular arms to tear Baranâs torso from his body. The vicious mauling completely eviscerates the demon, with only his entrails being left over in its wake. His victory now secured, Jin-woo exhaustedly slumps to the ground and reverts to his human appearance. The throes of battle destroyed most of his clothes, much to his chagrin. The only apparel that remained intact were his tattered jeans, and those only just spared his modesty. He scoffed in annoyance; heâd need to purchase a new wardrobe soon to make himself more presentable for you âŠ
âJin-woo, sir!â Esil dashes towards him with a worried look on her cute face. The siren smirks, satisfied despite the many setbacks he faced during this confrontation.
âEsil, tell your father the Radis clan is now the number one family.â
âJin-woo sir,â the demon girl responds exasperatedly, âOur family name is Radir.â
6:00 AM, on the outskirts of Jindo IslandâŠ
Jin-woo deeply inhales the crisp morning air as he soars through the endless skies. Much had transpired in the short time between the conclusion of his showdown with Baran and now. He had gained the Purified Blood of the Demon Monarch, along with the World Tree Fragment, and Spring Water from Echo Forest. With these three components, he was at last able to craft the Holy Water of Life. Once finished, he cradled the precious vial in his palm, as if trying to ascertain proof of its existence. Afterwards, Jin-woo deposited it into his magical inventory for safekeeping.
Of course, the elixir was just one of the many spoils of war he had claimed. Kaisel, the wyvern who now served as his mount, was his for the taking after Baranâs death. The gift of flight had expedited the journey home, much to his joy. A rune stone had also provided him with the skill, âShadow Exchange,' a means of trading places with any of his soldiers scattered throughout land and sea. Thanks to this new ability, he was able to leave that hellish landscape. After being gone for what felt like eons, Jin-woo was desperate to return. To his family. To Ashborn. To you.
Heâs relieved when the familiar cityscape of Jindo-gun comes into view. He estimates it would take roughly 15 more minutes for them to arrive over the briny waters. However, before they can make it past the coastline, the spellbinding fragrance of bergamot and vanilla overwhelms Jin-wooâs senses. This could mean only one thing: you were nearby. The headiness of your musk had also gotten more potent in his absence, signifying your fertility.
âFuck!â Jin-wooâs hisses as desire courses hot and heavy through his veins. He tries to resist the temptation of your pheromones, but you smelt so damn good; so ready and willing for him and his knot â
Jin-woo grunts as he bites down hard enough on his bottom lip to draw blood. The pain causes him to regain some mental clarity, and he wills himself to calm down. But itâs of no use. His thoughts were currently being clouded by lust and the instinctual drive to breed. Those two weeks he endured in the Demonâs Castle had significantly intensified his longing for you, and the pent-up sexual frustration was coming to a head. Jin-woo really had to nip this in the bud. His stamina was at its limit, and he was in no condition to be seen by you. The siren also desperately needed to go home and check in on his mother and Jin-ah. He was the only alpha and protector of their family after the disappearance of his father. He couldnât afford to waste anotherâ
The wind carries your scent as it blows past Jin-wooâs face a second time. It was as if you were beckoning him like some sort of enchantress. Unable to ignore your maddening aroma, Jin-woo at last gives in. He knew the decision he was about to make was foolish, reckless even. But he must heed the call of his omega.
He silently apologizes to his mother and Jin-ah and asks them to wait just a little longer. âIâll only introduce myself⊠maybe I can even get her name,â he tries to reason with himself while slowly succumbing to delirium. His mind made up, Jin-woo commands Kaisel to deliver him to the area where your scent is the strongest. The wyvern then returns to the void shortly thereafter, leaving the worn out siren to his own devices.
Grainy sand molds against his bare feet as stumbles across the beach in search of you. âShit. If this keeps up, I might not make it back to Mom and Jin-ah.â Jin-woo mumbles softly. He really was in poor form. Maybe it had been a mistake to depart immediately for Jindo island without taking a break in between. Damn.Â
As black spots start to obscure his vision, Jin-wooâs gaze finally lands on you. His lips quirk into a tired smile. Even through blurry eyes, you looked absolutely stunning while standing in the sunlight. Like an earthly goddess.
With his consciousness ebbing further and further away, the siren musters up the last of his energy to stagger towards you. He makes it only two steps before his body gives out and he collapses. Rather than hitting the hard ground, a soft and warm embrace met Jin-woo. He blearily cracks open an eye, curious about what broke his fall. It was at that moment your lovely, albeit worried face greeted him. Pretty, he thinks, exhaustion finally taking its toll on him. The last thing Jin-woo remembers before the darkness overtakes him is the soothing smell of bergamot and vanilla.
Two weeks ago, someone or something had been watching you. It was during the first day of filming the mystery-thriller, âMurder on the Cerulean Seaâ, a passion project by renowned producer, Go Gun-hee. The man had an incredible work ethic, with a career spanning over 40 years and numerous accolades to his name. He had recently come out of retirement, and the entertainment industry was buzzing with anticipation. Known as a cinematic miracle maker, every motion picture Go Gun-hee produced set box office records. Suffice to say, you had been over the moon after finding out you were amongst the few who made the cut for makeup artists hired to work on set. Although the instant you found out where the filming location was to take place, you immediately felt your enthusiasm dampen. Jindo-gun. At one point, this had been your home. Now, it was but a distant memory.
You had spent most of your childhood on the island of Jindo. Its scenic beaches, sprawling forests, and crystalline waters made it ideal for shooting a film based on a luxury yacht charter. There was one major caveat however: the sirens. Several pods of these unpredictable creatures resided off the coast of Jindo, and the alphas were infamous for their aggression, especially during the height of the mating season.
Growing up, your parents warned you time and time again not to walk alone along the shores at night. "Donât ever go to the beach by yourself after dark," your mother had signed this to you almost every day. A constant reminder to stay safe and vigilant of your surroundings. Townsfolk also gossiped and shared sordid stories about the lost souls who fell victim to the sirens. But this wasnât just word of mouth, a childâs fairytale, or mere superstition. These deadly apex predators were very much real, and a troublingly high number of homicides were committed by them each year. Unfortunately, this did little to dissuade foolhardy tourists and arrogant fishermen from pouring into the island during the hotter months of spring and summer.
Eager to escape the foreboding atmosphere, you had applied to and been accepted into a 2-year cosmetology program in Busan shortly after finishing high school. Makeup had always been a strong interest of yours and with the support of both your parents you flourished in your craft.
Although you had been nervous about the transition from quaint suburbia to the big city life, you found yourself quickly growing accustomed to the fast-paced environment. Your school had also been very accommodating, providing you with a sign language interpreter and captioning services for your classes. A kindhearted young woman by the name of Lee Joohee had been assigned as your interpreter during your time in Busan. You became fast friends and remained close even after graduation.
After receiving your license, you relocated to a small apartment in Seoul and began working as a hair and makeup artist in stage productions, commercials, and musicals. You greatly enjoyed the creativity and networking opportunities of your profession, often getting to bump shoulders with many well-known actors and actresses. Within a few years, your portfolio grew considerably. This enabled you to broaden your horizons by breaking into the film industry. âMurder on the Cerulean Sea,â would be your first foray into this competitive market and you wanted to prove yourself as a newcomer to the scene. So, despite your reservations, you begrudgingly agreed to board the private jet headed for Jindo island.
If you recall correctly, the mating season for the sirens wouldnât take place for another four months, so everything should proceed without a hitch⊠right? Â
You began to feel a little more at ease when you found out Cha Hae-In and Yoo Jinho were cast in major roles in the movie. You had first met them when they were both burgeoning stage actors. Cha was surprisingly camera shy and preferred to keep a more subdued profile whereas Jinho was outgoing and incredibly humble despite his privileged background. The bubbly brunet was the youngest son of the chairman of Yoojin Construction Company, a major industrial conglomerate in South Korea.
Although you came from different walks of life, the three of you had hit it off right away, finding common ground in your passions for campy horror films. You even taught them a few signs, and this inspired Jinho to devote himself fully to learning sign language. Cha also practiced her signs with you whenever she had the chance, but her busy schedule often made it difficult for her to find spare time. Nevertheless, you were deeply touched by the efforts made by both of your friends.
While taking a break on set, you felt a pair of eyes boring into you as you were relaxing with Cha and Jinho. At first, you chalked it up to paranoia. It had been years since you visited the island, and youâd nearly forgotten how oppressive the ocean seemed at night. But it was the middle of May. The mating season for the sirens would not take place until September at the earliest. Regardless, the sensation of being watched still lingered even after the mysterious presence had left.
There was also the enthralling scent of lavender and sandalwood thickly permeating the air. It had a distinctly masculine undertone to it that had piqued your interest. It was far too strong to be from a couple spritzes of cologne or perfume, yet more subtle than the pungent smell emanating from many of the alphas who composed the cast and crew onboard the yacht. Their musk was overbearing at best, but this fragrance was entirely different. It was sweet. Delicate. IntoxicatingâŠ
You had to find the source of it. Making up an excuse about wanting to get more fresh air, you stay behind on the deck of the ship while your friends return to their accommodations to retire for the evening. As you lean over the railing to scope out the scent, an intense wave of heat suddenly ignites in your lower belly causing you to gasp and buckle at the knees. It briefly lingers in your abdomen before shooting directly to your core. You bite back a moan as your eyes flutter shut from the pleasure spreading throughout your body. Slowly but surely, you were entering into a primal state; one of pure unbridled arousal. You should be concerned. No, you should be horrified. You were so vulnerable, so out of sorts. And yetâŠ
You had never felt so exhilarated. It was as if ecstasy became you. You were ascending higher and higher to parts unknown, all semblance of rationality long since abandoned. The coil in your gut was wound so tight, it was at its breaking point. If this continued, you would inevitably plummet over the edge and succumb to your baser instincts â Â
The metallic odor of copper violently infiltrates the air, abruptly bringing you back to your senses. Your eyes bolt open, and you release a shaky breath. Youâre surprised to find yourself on your knees. They mustâve given out on you at some point. However, your shock shifts to horror when you catch sight of an unruly mop of purple hair from the corner of your eye.
It could only belong to one individual: Kang Taeshik.
Shit. Youâd been acquainted with the man just yesterday, but he terrified you. Taeshik was an up-and-coming actor on the scene; one who excelled in any role he played. In spite of this, the first impression he left on you was enough to make you keep your distance. Although Taeshikâs demeanor was docile, there was a cold and calculating look in his eyes that made you shudder. It reminded you of a predator eyeing its prey. The most off-putting aspect of the man, however, was his stomach-churning scent. He positively reeked of blood.
You could feel panic setting in as he began to saunter towards you, a lascivious smirk spread across his face like a dark promise. Youâre unable to rise to your feet, still weakened and lightheaded from the erotic sensations affecting you earlier. Worse yet, you feel a lump in your throat, making it difficult to shout or scream for help should the need arise. You were essentially cornered, defenseless, and alone with a menacing alpha. And if the pungency of his musk was anything to go by, he was on the verge of a rut. You sink back into yourself in fear and begin to tremble uncontrollably.
You can see Taeshikâs mouth moving as he closes in on you. Youâd become adept at lip reading over the years, although it was difficult to decipher everything he was saying in the darkness. The only words that you can make out are "little omega" and "whore." Your blood curdles. Someone, anyone, please help me! You silently plead, knowing it was futile. For a moment, you foolishly imagine the owner of that enticing scent coming to your rescue.
Thankfully, just before Taeshik can grab you, a large hand envelops his wrist in a vice grip.
The purple haired nightmare cants his gaze to the side and narrows his eyes. Heâs greeted by the furious expression of none other than the filmâs director, Woo Jinchul. Relief floods your chest at the sight of him. Thank God, you think.
Taeshik rips his arm away and leaps back, creating some distance between himself and the taller man. Jinchul quickly assumes a protective stance in front of you. His broad back prevented you from seeing your would-be assailant, something you were extremely grateful for. For a few tense moments, you can only sit and stare at Jinchulâs imposing figure as he confronts the other man.
Despite how scared you are, you wish you could partake in the conversation if only to defend yourself. Taeshik may try to manipulate the situation by implicating you as an instigator or seductress, something many male actors in the industry unfortunately got away with due to their connections or wealth. It was despicable and made you seethe with anger at the salacious lies and rumors spread by the press and social media.
After several painstaking minutes, Taeshik departs with nary but a shrug of indifference. Apparently Jinchulâs status and power as director did nothing to intimidate him. He waits until Taeshikâs figure disappears before turning to face you. Thereâs an uncharacteristic warmth in his usually hard gaze, and youâre able to catch a whiff of his natural scent: cardamom and cedarwood, a calming combination.
Jinchul gently offers his hand and effortlessly hoists you to your feet. Your legs are still somewhat stiff but functional now. He permits you to steady yourself by grasping onto his shoulders and it doesnât escape you how oddly intimate these actions are. As if to further prove this, Jinchul, in a strange display of affection, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your breath hitches.
A beat passes before the realization of what he just did hits him. Jinchulâs eyes widen, and he quickly snatches his hand back as if he was scalded. And was it your imagination, or were his ears turning pink? He awkwardly clears his throat before opening his mouth. âAre you alright? Did Taeshik harm you in any way?â You read his lips closely, appreciating the pauses and slow enunciation of his words. Jinchul was aware that you could lip read rather efficiently, and this made it easier to communicate with him since he would not have to always rely on an interpreter.
You shake your head and see him breathing a sigh of relief. âHe wonât ever be allowed near you again; I will make sure of it.â Jinchul is back to his usual no-nonsense demeanor it seems. But what had caused him to act so⊠tender towards you? And Taeshik? The man had always been creepy and taciturn, but he never went out of his way to torment you. If Jinchul hadnât arrived at just the right time, you could have been assaulted. You feel bile rising to your throat at the thought. Why was this happening? You were always careful and made sure to take your heat suppressants every day. None of the alphas you worked with had ever tried to hurt you before, so why? Unless you were going into heat, but that shouldnât be possibleâŠ
You suddenly break into a sob, overcome with emotion. Your distress causes Jinchul to spring into action. He promptly removes his blazer and drapes it over your shoulders to ward off the chill of the night. Jinchul then produces an embellished handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to you. He hesitates before placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and his lips move again. âIâm here for you,â he mouths. You wipe away the tears with the handkerchief and stifle your cries into its soft fabric. All the while, Jinchul remains by your side and grants you as much time as you need to collect yourself. When the tears finally run their course, you lower the ruined towelette from your face and chance a timid glance at him.
Jinchul regards you with a pensive expression on his sharp features. He withdraws his hand from your shoulder and reaches back into his pocket to pull out his phone. He then begins typing away and once finished with his message, he hands the device over to you, displaying the contents of his notebook app.
"As director of this film, I want you to know that I will always prioritize the wellbeing of our cast and crew. With that being said, the actions I witnessed Kang Taeshik commit tonight were morally reprehensible. I wonât disclose the full details of the discussion I had with him, as I do not wish to cause you any further emotional distress. I will say that I can personally attest to the fact that Kang Taeshik sought to menace and harm you while you were in a vulnerable state of heat."
You feel your heart sink into the pit of your stomach as you skim over the last sentence. So Jinchul knew you had unexpectedly gone into heat? Of course he would; he was an alpha. How could you have been so stupid? The director was most certainly going to see you as a liability now⊠you may even end up losing your job.
You reluctantly force yourself to continue reading. If this to be the conclusion of your tenure, then at least you would see it through to the bitter end.
"Please do not blame yourself for what has happened. Your disposition as an omega has no bearing on your contract or employment, nor does it offer an excuse for an alpha, or anyone for that matter, to harass you. It is with impartial and sound judgment that I have made the executive decision to terminate Kang Taeshik and remove him from production effective immediately. This will cause some inevitable delays, but an impromptu casting call can be arranged in the meantime. Iâm willing to run over schedule if it guarantees everyoneâs safety."
You exhale and feel all the tension dissipate from your body. So, you werenât the one being let go, Taeshik was. You hadnât known much about Woo Jinchul beforehand, but you were thankful that he was a man of good character. This was becoming exceedingly rare in an industry composed of unscrupulous and morally bankrupt members of the upper echelons.
You type back a response before handing him his phone.
"I am so sorry for all the trouble Iâve caused you. I really donât understand what happened. Iâve been taking suppressants for years, and an alpha has never tried to threaten me before. Thank you for stepping in to protect me. I really donât know what he was planning to do."
You couldnât help but apologize even though Jinchul had vindicated you. What leaves you reeling, however, is the reply he gives you when the mobile device is back in your hands.
"I should be the one to apologize, not you. My behavior towards you earlier was incredibly uncouth, and for that, I am deeply sorry. As director, I should be conducting myself in a manner that is more befitting. Instead, I allowed my instincts as an alpha to impair my judgement. I promise this shall not happen again."
Uncouth behavior? Did he mean when he was brushing your hair from your face? How could he be apologetic about something so innocuous?  The implications donât fully register until you replay that last sentence: My instincts as an alpha. InstinctsâŠalphaâŠ!?!
He was reacting to your pheromones.
That evening, Jinchul insisted on having you treated at the on-site infirmary. Alas, with few medical staff and even less equipment it was difficult to determine what was causing your symptoms. Was it possible your medication was no longer working? Omega suppressants were highly effective, but that didnât mean they were infallible. A missed dose or interaction with another drug could negate the effects. But you werenât taking any other medications, and you never missed a dose.
Needing a second opinion, you were transported to the emergency room at a nearby hospital for further evaluation. Jinchul had opted to let Cha and Jinho drive you there after explaining your circumstances to them (minus the issue with Kang Taeshik; he was keeping it under wraps for now). Unlike him, they were both betas which made them immune to your pheromones.
You ended up being kept overnight for observation. After running a series of tests, including labs to assess your hormones and an ultrasound, you were found to be undergoing a pseudo estrus or âfalse heatâ as itâs more commonly referred to.
Unlike a regular heat, a false heat occurs only when a highly compatible alpha is within close vicinity of an omega. This in turn triggers a massive release of pheromones leading to an increase in libido, fever-like symptoms, cramping, and fatigue. Whoever this alpha was, their presence was so virile that your heat suppressants were fully canceled out by them.
You were questioned extensively about your experience by the healthcare team. "Do you have any partners? Are you sexually active? Is there anyone you work with who is an alpha? When did you first start experiencing the signs of your heat?" The list was never-ending. With the help of an interpreter, you answered everything to the best of your ability. And by the end of it all, you were still at a loss.
No one on that yacht had been emitting that scent, you were sure of it. It had to have been someone wholly unrelated. Perhaps a fisherman or a swimmer? But it was late and everyone who was local to the island knew better than to risk the waters at night. Everyone except you and the entourage on board the yacht, that is.
Frustrated, you eventually gave up on trying to figure out the identity of your potential mate. Your physician, a compassionate fellow omega by the name of Min Byung-Gu, strongly recommended an entire week of bed rest for you. This was to serve as a means of letting the heat cycle run its course. You were also provided with prescription medications to alleviate your symptoms.
Resting was crucial. Any physical stress or strain could worsen your condition, and omegas were particularly susceptible to injury or illness while at their sexual peak. In addition to this, your doctor recommended ceasing all contact with alphas, effectively barring you from returning to work. You were crestfallen at this, but you acquiesced knowing it was for the sake of your recovery.
To avoid any mishaps, Jinchul arranged for you to stay in a penthouse for the time being. The lavish suite was situated on the very top floor of a deluxe condominium, affording you all the personal comforts and privacy you would need. You couldnât help but snort when you opened the door to your new living quarters. It was like you were a goddamn princess trapped in a tower.
As if that wasnât enough, your boss had also hired two very intimidating bodyguards. Both were betas who had been tasked with protecting you during your heat. The first to be introduced was a hulking beast of a man called Thomas Andre. He was huge, with a herculean frame that looked to be made of steel rather than flesh and blood. A wild mane of blonde hair and intricate patterns of black ink also adorned his chest and arms, making him even more imposing.
The disarming smile he gives you is anything but, however. Heâs also surprisingly gentle with you when he shakes your hand.
Your other bodyguard had a physicality that was far less egregious, but his razor-edged gaze, unnervingly calm composure, and the bulging muscles of his arms revealed a powerful aura that was not to be underestimated. This man had gone by the name of Liu Zhigang, a master swordsman of the highest caliber and one of the strongest individuals in China.
He too, had been unexpectedly friendly, even going so far as to ruffle your hair and calling you a âgood girl,â in his native language. Your interpreter had been particularly scandalized while signing this to you after you were insistent on finding out what he said. You, on the other hand, thought it was rather cute, especially when juxtaposed with his tough guy image. There had also been no ill intent or malice in his words; he was being genuinely amiable to you, just as Thomas Andre had been.
Perhaps you could make do with this situation. But you could only imagine how hefty of a price tag these two highly skilled warriors could warrant. Jinchul was sparing absolutely no expense on you. He must have felt terribly guilty about your traumatic experience that nightâŠ
You make a vow with yourself not to take his generosity for granted.
And so, the next week passes by rather uneventfully. You ended up becoming stir crazy right from the beginning. You had been so accustomed to the fast-paced lifestyle of a makeup artist and hair stylist that the very concept of wasting the day away seemed foreign. Gone were the 12â14-hour shifts that had once encompassed your daily routine. It was maddening, this sudden lack of purpose.
Sleeping, reading, eating, and binge-watching dramas with closed captioning had been your main escape from the dullness of being confined to bed all day. No one, not even your parents, Jinho, or Cha had been permitted to visit you while on bedrest. Jinchul and Min Byung-Gu had advised you to limit all external stimulation while you were in heat. You understood the importance of this, but it did nothing to prepare you for the overwhelming loneliness that awaited you.
Sure, your bodyguards had been cordial to you, but they were preoccupied with keeping watch over the premises and warding off any intruders. Neither one had time to engage with you beyond a simple greeting or farewell. Even your interpreter kept her presence scarce, coming only twice per day to check in with you and to relay messages from your friends, family, and the director.
It was as if you were a bird in a gilded cage. Locked away, out of sight, and out of mind. You hated every second of it. You wanted to curse the cruel hand you were dealt, to resent the alpha who had caused you all this misery in the first place. ButâŠ
You couldnât bring yourself to do it no matter how unbearable the isolation became.
Once those seven agonizingly slow days were over and done, you were given medical clearance to resume your job. You never thought you would be so happy to work again. Of course, you still had some restrictions in place. Jinchul wanted you to take it easy, so he requested that you work no more than 4-6 hours per day. At this point, you were willing to do anything if it kept you out of that forlorn penthouse.
In addition to this, you were prescribed a significantly higher dosage of oral heat suppressants. It was to be used as a prophylactic to ensure you would not enter a second heat. The side-effects had been merciful, with nothing more than the occasional bout of nausea and a loss of appetite to show for.
Jinho and Cha were ecstatic to see you again, although your other colleagues were far less enthusiastic. The attentiveness and apparent favoritism towards you by the director did not go unnoticed. You were predictably met with the cold shoulder by many of your peers upon your return. It didnât help that Jinchul had kept the confrontation between him and Taeshik confidential. Only executive producer Go and your bodyguards were made aware. This was done to protect you and to prevent the besmirching of your character by the media. The rest of the cast and crew had simply been told that Taeshik had departed from the film due to âirreconcilable and creative differences.â The purple haired manâs PR team, for their part, also appeared to be going with this story.
Frankly, you could care less about what your coworkers thought of you. You were just glad that you never had to be around a horrible psychopath like Taeshik ever again. Cha and Jinho, on the other hand, had taken it upon themselves to act as your newly appointed bodyguards in Thomasâs and Zhigangâs stead. Any nasty gossip or snide remarks were met with a frosty glare from the blonde woman and threats of litigation from the heir apparent of Yoojin Construction.
You couldnât have asked for better friends or a more considerate boss, but you were starting to find the constant protection and coddling from them to be too much. You were a woman with her own autonomy after all. And yet you were being treated like a piece of glass, as if you would shatter with the slightest gust of wind. It was suffocating and your newly toxic work environment certainly wasnât making matters any better.
To keep yourself grounded (and from going insane) you had taken to embarking on early morning walks along the beach. The peace and tranquility were a welcome solace from the tumultuous reality of your situation. You could spend hours getting lost in the beauty of the dawning sun.
You should have known this temporary serenity was not to last.
That Sunday had started out much like any other morning. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, changed into a pair of leggings with a matching sports bra, and slid on some comfortable running shoes. It was a little before dawn, and you were hoping to catch the breathtaking sight of the sunrise along the sandy marshes of the island. You werenât scheduled to work, so you had all the time in the world to explore and enjoy nature. You planned to make the most of it.
You start off by walking to a well-known bakery to purchase some freshly made kkwabaegi. The crispiness of the fried dough complements your coffee perfectly. After eating your sweet treat, you continue your journey, heading southbound for a local beach. The area was usually a tourist trap in the summer, but it was much less populated at this time of day.
The moment your foot connects with the sand, you are instantly hit by the familiar smell of lavender and sandalwood. You begin to panic.
 Shit! It was that alpha from a few weeks ago!
You know the right thing to do, the reasonable thing to do, would be to turn back and run. You were all alone in a secluded area with someone who was potentially dangerous. The last time you were near them, you had been rendered completely helpless just from their pheromones alone. If you got too close to them, you could end up going into another heat.
The other possibilities were more nightmarish. Youâd heard horror stories about depraved alphas who would kidnap omegas and force them into becoming their mates against their will. Dominance amongst alphas these days was often synonymous with entitlement, something many of them would use to justify their disgusting actions. If this person nearby was of the same barbaric mindsetâŠ
Despite the storm of conflicting emotions raging within you, you remain rooted to the spot. It was just no use; you couldnât convince yourself to retreat. Curiosity and the need for closure far outweighed your fear and anxiety. You had to find out the identity of this individual, regardless of the risk.
You steel yourself before nervously trudging in the direction of the scent. For whatever reason, the strength of the alphaâs pheromones was nowhere near the same extent as it was on that night. It was soothing this time, like a hot shower at the end of an exhausting day. Had the increased dose of your heat suppressants been responsible for this? Well, no use in questioning it now.
As the aroma grows stronger, you find yourself heading closer towards the sea. The sun was starting to peak over the tussling waves, and you briefly turned your head to avoid receiving an eyeful of blinding light. Itâs in the periphery of your vision that you finally see him: the alpha that had been evading you for so long.
Even from a several yards away, you can tell heâs quite tall; standing at a height of around 185 cm. Heâs also naked from the waist up, with only a pair of shredded jeans on his figure. But what captivates you most is the feverishness and intensity of his gaze. No one had ever looked at you like this before. It was almost reverent. Like you were some kind of deity.
The man staggers towards you slowly. Had he been hurt? There didnât appear to be a scratch on him, although his remaining clothes were a mess. You reason that he must be experiencing heat exhaustion. This would explain why he had taken off his shirt. Your hackles lowered, you decide to throw caution to the wind and approach the man.
His body gives out just as you begin to close the distance between the two of you. You immediately pick up the pace, turning your walk into a jog. Youâre able to catch him right before he falls face first into the sand. That was a close one, you think, releasing a breath you werenât even aware you were holding. Youâre able to fully take in the manâs appearance now that he was close enough to hold.
He was unspeakably handsome. As a stylist in the entertainment industry, youâve seen your fair share of gorgeous celebrities. But all of them paled in comparison to the robust beauty of the man before you. Unblemished olive skin that was smooth to the touch. Silken ebony tresses that you were tempted to run your fingers through. And a God-like physique that had your pulse quickening. What youâd give to caress the rippling muscles of his torso...
Just who in the world was this ethereal alpha? And how was he able to sleep so soundly in the arms of a virtual stranger? The man had even nuzzled his face in between the valley of your breasts as if it was the most natural thing on earth! Oddly enough, you werenât put off by his actions. In fact, you found them to be endearing. Was this what it was like to form a predestined bond with someone?
You briefly consider texting your friends to get help for the man but decide against it once you start weighing your options. If he was transported to the hospital, there was a chance he would be forcibly separated from you. Whatâs more, if it was found out that he was the one who caused your false heat, there could be far reaching consequences. You were still being monitored on set, and Jinchul might deem this man to be a threat to you.
He didnât look to be injured, at least not physically, so you rule out the hospital. You deliberate for a few more minutes before ultimately choosing to wait and bide your time until he regained consciousness.
The two of you remain entangled in this strange embrace as stunning shades of orange, red, and yellow paint the sky. The waves shine incandescently in the sunlight, and you find yourself facing the ocean, distracted by its splendor. After a few minutes, you feel something shifting in your arms.
You return your focus to the man. Heâs finally started to stir, groggily raising his head from your chest. Â You both lock eyes, your wide-eyed gaze contrasting with his half lidded one. You see his chapped lips open and close, mouthing only one word: 'Omega.'
You feel a shiver run down your spine. Alpha, your inner omega silently preens, instinct taking over.
The man attempts to talk to you again, but you hush him with the gentle press of your index finger to his lips. He obeys right away and makes no further efforts to speak. You had many questions that you wanted to ask, but that could wait for just a little longer. Your alph â no, this alpha, was in desperate need of some water. He looked awfully parched.
You unzip the tote bag you brought with you and sift through its contents before producing a canteen filled with water. You open it and push the lid to his mouth, motioning for him to drink. He follows your orders without a second thought, taking several generous gulps. Rivulets of excess water drip from the corner of his mouth, down his Adamâs apple, and you find yourself getting distracted by his body again. You internally curse as you feel yourself growing wet. You discreetly press your thighs together, hoping to dull the ache building between them.
You fail to notice the flare of the manâs nostrils or his blown-out pupils as he watches your actions from the corner of his eye.
When heâs finally had his fill, you cap your canteen and place it to the side. You then reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. The man shoots you an uneasy look when he sees it in your hand. Was he unfamiliar with mobile devices? You type a quick message in your notebook app and turn the screen towards him.
âIâm going to use my phone to communicate with you because I have a hearing impairment. Is that alright? I just want to make sure you arenât hurt.â
The boyish look of surprise that crosses his face while he reads doesnât escape you. He must not have been expecting you to be deaf. You anxiously await his response, unsure of what his reaction will be.
His expression morphs into something akin to barely concealed wonder, and he nods his head. You breathe deep and type away on your phone again. Your next message elaborates on your concerns.
"First, can you tell me if youâre in any pain or if youâre injured? If you are, I can get an ambulance for you. My name is Y/N, by the way.â
His eyes quickly flit over your words. In response, he dips one of his fingers into the wet sand. Youâre curious at first, until you start to recognize the shapes that heâs drawing as letters. Why was he writing in the sand? Was he not comfortable with using your phone?
Once finished, his message reads:
âIâm unharmed. I do not need help. Thank you for the water.â
Great, so he wasnât hurt. Now you can finally focus on getting some damn answers!
You start typing furiously, pouring all your heart into unspoken anger. As soon as youâre finished you nearly slam the mobile device into the manâs face. He blinks owlishly, looking adorably confused by your actions. You donât know whether you want to slap or kiss him.
âNow that I know youâre okay, can you please answer a few questions for me? Tell me, were you sailing near a large yacht a few weeks ago? There was this scent that day, an alphaâs scent. It smelt incredible. Ever since then, Iâve been trying to find this person. And then I came across you! You have the exact same smell as them! And youâre obviously an alpha yourself since you recognized me as an omega right away. Â Please, just tell me who you are! I ended up going into heat because of that alpha, and I feel like Iâve been losing my mind over them!â
The manâs face flickers from shock to guilt as he reads your explosive words. You regret typing them almost immediately when you see the sadness in his steel gray eyes.
He tries to use your phone to write back, but heâs clumsy and ends up swiping his fingers over a bunch of random characters. He huffs and bites his lip, clearly embarrassed. Crap, now you were feeling even worse about unleashing your tirade on him. Youâve always had a temper on you, and it often led to you lashing out and hurting the people you cherished most. And now you had allowed your mounting frustration to get the better of you in front of this poor man. For all you knew, he could be an innocent bystander who was just trying to get some help after becoming overheated.
You had to set things right.
You gently take the phone from the manâs hands, place it in your lap, and cup his cheek. He nervously glances at you, afraid that youâll still be mad at him. But heâs greeted by your warm smile instead. Reassured, his shoulders relax, and he leans into your touch. After a few moments, you withdraw your hand, eager to continue the conversation. You canât help but mourn the loss of contact as you resume your typing, however. Your next message reads:
âIâm so sorry! I shouldnât have taken out all my anger on you, especially when you probably donât have anything to do with this. Please, allow me to start all over again and explain everything to you. Just so I can confirm if youâre the same person I bumped into several days ago. And donât worry about having to use my phone. Iâve got a pen and a notebook you can write on.â
His eyes take on a hopeful sheen, and you have to force yourself to part from him in order to get to your bag. He really was too charming for his own good, this strange alphaâŠ
That reminds you, you still hadnât gotten his name!
Once the writing utensils are given to him, he starts scribbling away. His chicken scratch is barely legible, but it was better than nothing. Your handwriting wasnât necessarily the best either, if you were being honest. He wrote:
âOmega, you are not at fault for anything. I should be the one asking for forgiveness. I wasnât there for you when you needed me most. My name is Sung Jin-woo, an alpha from Jindo-gun. I am the person who was exploring the area around that large boat several nights ago. I became worried when I smelt an omegaïżœïżœïżœs scent. It was you; you were the omega I was seeking that day. I should have shown myself to you sooner. What happened to you after I left? Did any other alphas approach you?"
Sung Jin-woo, huh? It suited him. He had an oddly formal way of writing though, one that clashed with his youthful appearance. This time, you donât miss the possessiveness in his eyes as he writes that last sentence.
âDid any other alphas approach you?â
You gulp, reminiscing over the entire ordeal with Kang Taeshik. Should you even tell Jin-woo? By now the problem had been resolved and Taeshik was already fired. There was no reason for you to make Jin-woo feel even worse about causing your heat.
In the end, you choose not to mention Taeshik. He was out of the picture, and you didnât have to worry about him anymore.
You resume typing in your notebook app, your response stating:
âNo, not really. My boss found me on the verge of passing out, though. Heâs an alpha so he could tell why I wasnât feeling well. I was taken to a hospital by my friends since theyâre both betas. I had to stay in bed for a week, but as you can already tell Iâm alright now. Iâm just glad I was finally able to meet you, Jin-woo đ You see, I work on that big ship. Iâm a makeup artist and hair stylist, and the yacht is the set for a movie thatâs being filmedâŠâ
The next few hours pass in companiable silence as you communicate through pen strokes and text messages. Both you and Jin-woo had shared a considerable amount about one another over this time span.
You learn that Jin-woo had grown up on the island, much like you. He lived with his mother and little sister on the outskirts of town and served as the sole provider of the family after his father passed away. When you question what he did for a living, he paused before writing he was a fisherman. This would explain why he was out so early in the morning. The most ideal times to fish were sunset and sunrise. But how had his clothes gotten torn up like that? When you asked, he merely answered that he fell off his boat and had almost gotten swept up in the propellor. Apparently, his shirt and pants had been destroyed by the turning of the blades. You were incredulous at first, given just how dangerous that sounded, but Jin-woo had a way of selling you with his words. You eventually found yourself believing him despite your previous skepticism. He must have also been fishing that night two weeks ago.
Jin-woo had asked you many questions as well. He seemed particularly concerned about your heat cycle. When you disclosed the cause of it was your compatibility with him, his entire body tensed. Jin-wooâs hands then started to shake and you took one of them in your own to calm him. He glances at you, and youâre taken aback by the fire in his eyes. For the briefest of moments, you fear that you mightâve revealed something you shouldnât have. Before you can compose an apology, Jin-woo releases your hand, picks up his pen, and starts writing again. Once finished, he gives you the notebook with an expression of apprehension on his face.
âIs this something youâre comfortable with? Now that weâve met, Iâm really interested in getting to know you more. But how do you feel about me? Do you want to continue this conversation? I understand if youâd want me to leave after everything you were forced to endure.â
How did you feel about him?
You mull over all thatâs occurred since returning to your hometown. You had never expected to encounter so many trials and tribulations. By all accounts, you had every right to cease any further contact with Jin-woo. But you were undeniably intrigued by him. He had been nothing but respectful of your boundaries, and you found yourself being drawn in by his earnest personality. If nothing else came from this meeting between the two of you, then at least you could become friends.
You type an honest response and wait on bated breath as he reads it:
âIâm not sure how I feel about us right now. Honestly, I donât believe in things like destiny or fate when it comes to finding a soulmate. But I do want to continue seeing you. I also would like to learn more about you as a person. Maybe we can take things slow and figure it out from there. What do you say, Jin-woođ?â
All the anxiety seems to melt away from Jin-wooâs face. A cute grin tugs at his lips, lighting his darkened visage.
His answer is succinct:
âIâd really like that, Y/N.â
Your heart skips a beat. That was the first time he used your name.
A small part of you starts to wonder if the two of you really are fated to be together. Cheesy as it sounds, you were more than willing to take a chance on this budding relationship with Jin-woo.
Little did you know this meeting would set in motion a series of tragic events that would shatter countless lives and forever leave a stain on the islandâs reputation.
đ± To be continued...
Tag list 1:
đȘŒ @the-dumber-scaramouche @ghostdoodlen @skylar896 @phisen @eliciana
Tag list 2:
đŹ @asylrd @mochinon-yah
#solo leveling#solo leveling x reader#solo leveling fanfic#sung jinwoo x you#sung jin woo x reader#sung jin woo#sung jinwoo x reader#sung jin-woo#sung jin-woo x reader#yandere x reader#siren x you#siren x reader#yandere siren#yandere x you#solo leveling x you#sung jinwoo#monster x reader#manhwa x reader#sung jin-woo x you#sung jin woo x y/n#sung jin woo x you#yandere monster#yandere fanfiction#siren au#afab reader#reader insert#x reader#abo au#abo fic#omegaverse
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Hi!!
I am totally obsessed with your fics!!! Your writing đ€đ
I just wanted to request a fic where the reader is new to the task force but she's experienced and tough. Vibez similar to Ghost to elaborate she's more scary than Ghost cuz of her past maybe she was experimented on or trained brutally....
Reader is working hard to prove herself even if everyone knows she's the most lethal person. So one time she gets injured badly while protecting someone from the 141( probably Ghost đđ) and she wakes up has an emotional moment Ghost comes know about her Trauma . More like hurt/comfort....
Happy Writing đ
Guilt-Tripped
CW: Mentions/references of kidnapping, torture, canon typical violenece Part 2, Part 3 Hiii Anon!! First off, thank you! Secondly, I am so, so, so sorry for how long this tookđ I did make this a two parter, the first part is kinda like backstoryish and the second part will be the actual story. I was gonna wait until I finished both to post but you have been waiting for way to long so I'll give you the first part now instead of waiting, again I am so sorry! I hope you like it :)) Summary: F!Reader was a part of a special program(LMK if you can guess what it is) and once she was released she joined the military.
WC: 1467 As always, I didn't proof read so lmk if there are any mistakes :3
Life had not been kind to you. Ripped from your family at a very young age, you had never known the type of love and safety a nurturing home could provide. Instead, you grew up in the confines of a Russian base, with cruel instructors and a dwindling group of girls as your only companions.
From the moment you could walk, you had been told you were a weapon. A lethal force to be honed and trained, nothing more than a tool for others to use to further their games. Brainwashed, tortured, and trained into submission, a perfect puppet. Both your brain and body were sculpted into absolute perfection, a rigorous process most people did not survive. By day, they trained to be a lethal force, an unstoppable, unnoticeable, killing machine. At night, you were handcuffed to your bed, listening to the screams of students who did not make the cut.(to this day you sleep handcuffed)
You watched, at first in horror, then with a sense of detachment, as your friendsrivals bit the dust, unable to keep up with what the program demanded of them. It got better as you got older, less girls died from their tasks. But in some ways it got worse. It was a competition now, a fight to see who would remain victorious, to see who would come out on top. It was not a place for friendship and comradery, and you learned that quickly.
You stopped trying to make friends with the other students when you were forced to shoot your best friend in the head after giving her some of your dinner when she was being punished. You were 8. And you stopped trying to even just be friendly with the other girls at 10 years old, when the instructor broke every bone in your hands after your bunkmate framed you for something you didn't do. To this day your hands are not the same, always hurting and forever scarred.
Your world was kill or be killed, and you'd be dammed if you didn't come out on top.
And come out on top you did. You graduated top of your class, a position you had fought and killed for, won through bloodshed and pain. If you had a conscience, it would have been screaming at you for the things you had done to get to the top(You laid awake every night consumed by guilt and grief)
The program was disbanded(re: destroyed) when you hit 18, just two weeks after your 'graduation'. You were given two options: Join the American military, or face a life sentence in prison.Â
You had a lifetime of sins to atone for, and knew there was only one way to even begin to ease your guilt. Two days later your background was sealed up and you were shipped off to boot camp.Â
And you excelled. This was nothing to you. What was a six mile run when you used to run until you passed out, then wake up and keep going? What was surviving on four hours of sleep when sleep deprivation had been the norm your whole life? What was any of this compared to what you had been forced to do everyday since you were five?Â
You scared your instructors. And the other recruits. And everyone else you came into contact with. And you were fine with that. You didn't like when people got close to you anyhow.
Love got you nowhere in the world. It was a lesson you learned hard and fast. You did not care for others, they did not care for you. And you liked it that way. Until you met the 141.
A woman named General Laswell came to you one day with a job offer. Well, not a job offer exactly, but more of aâŠtransfer of positions. A small, (mostly)four-man team that she oversaw.
You had gotten disciplined for beating the ever-loving shit out of a recruit the week before, and Laswell had watched it all unfold. She went back to her office, read your full file, and decided you would make a good fit for John's team.
You took a look at your bunk, at the trunk that held zero worldly possessions, realized there is nothing for you here, and said yes.Â
Price had not wanted a new recruit, and told Laswell as much. She simply said he had a penchant for picking up strays and left your file on his desk. It took him a week to actually get curious enough to read it. A paper copy, the only one in existence that had your full, undisclosed background. He pretended he didnât see her smug grin when he hit accept on your transfer application.Â
You had been trained since youth to fight and to kill, yes, but your true purpose was espionage. You were trained to study those around you, to lie, to mold yourself to the expectations of those around you. You excelled at fitting into your surroundings, at assimilating perfectly with your peers. It was all you were good for, in your opinion. So you asked Laswell for files on your new teammates. And she gave them to you. They were full of gaping holes and redacted information, but there was enough there for you to profile them.Â
Soap would be the most receptive to you. He most likely would also be the one to not give up in trying to get you to be open with them. Gaz would be receptive as well, but you know that your sealed background would put him on edge, Ghost, wellâŠGhost was a lot like you from what you could piece together. Yet another person who learned that the world was cruel and unforgiving, who had learned the lesson that love does nothing but hurt. And because he was like you, you knew he would trust you the least.
You felt a small pang in your chest when looking at this masked photo that you hadnât felt in years. Not quite sadness, butâŠpity? No. It was different, it was sympathy. It weirded you out.Â
It was hard at first, joining the 141. You had court-mandated therapy you had had to attend, and you had slowly come to realize that some trust was good, necessary even, for life. You knew you wouldnât be able to open yourself up to them, that you would never be able to feel the sense of brotherhood you had seen amongst other soldiers, but you wanted to try.Â
It was harder than you thought it would be. Hard joining men who already had comradery, who had a bond that had been forged with blood, sweat, and tears. men who weren't sure how to fit another person, much less a female, into their group.Â
As you suspected, Soap was the most receptive. He was fun, you thought. His Scottish accent and affinity for filling the silence made him a very pleasant conversationalist. You didnât have to do any of the talking.
Gaz was wary of you, but did a good job of not showing it. As you suspected, he stopped inviting you out after you said âno thanksâ for the third time.Â
Ghost didnât like you. You could see it in the slight tensing of his muscles when you walked in the room, the way his eyes pinched when you spoke.Â
It was a rough, rocky start, full of distrust and misunderstandings. Everything about you set his senses on high alert. They way you could sneak up on him completely silent, the way you could hold your own when you sparred with him, even the way you moved had his hair standing on end. It wasnât until a mission that would have ended with Soap's death if you hadnât risked your life to shove him out of the way that Ghost began to trust you.Â
And then he began to notice something else about you. And the more he noticed, the more concerned he grew. He noticed the way you threw yourself into battle, what little regard you held for your own life. He noticed how you never instigated conversation, never gave away the slightest bit of information that could be used against you. Noticed that you always wore gloves. In fact, he's never once seen your hands.
His constant observations of you had an unintended side effect. The longer he watched you, the more he realized you were a lot like him, the more he was drawn to you. And vice-versa.Â
You found yourself willfully seeking Ghost out, willingly sharing information with him. Nothing about your past, no, you would never tell anyone the things you had done. But little things, how you liked the food served this week, how your mission went, that your new pants were really itchy. And he told you things too. Told you really bad jokes, told you Soaps stupid Scottish saying of the week. And slowly you branched out, agreeing to go to the bar the next time Soap asked you, telling Gaz that you liked his new sunglasses.Â
It was nice, having people who looked at you like you meant something to them. Having people who didnât know what youâd done, people who didnât look at you with disgust and distrust. It was nice to haveâŠfriends.Â
So of course everything had to go downhill from there.
End scene :3 let me know what you think!!6 and be on the look out for pt.2, I hope you're ready for a buttload of angst >:) Also requests are open <3
#hehehehe#sorry for how long it took#i am so tired lmao#i don't even know if this stuff makes sense#cod fanfic#ghost fanfiction#ghost x reader#cod x reader#cod#simon ghost riley#angst#no beta we die like men#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#john price#call of duty#simon riley x reader#sorry i disappeared#honestly don't know what i'm doing#but whatever#kate laswell#black widow#marvel
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â Â growing pains
series synopsis : people say that youâll experience three kinds of love in your lifetime. the first is an idealistic love, the kind that feels straight out of a fairy tale. the second is the hard love, the kind that will leave you with lessons about yourself and the love you want and need to experience. finally, the love you never see coming. this is the story of your three loves. pairing : svt 97 line x gn!reader genre/s : non-idol au, coming of age, angst, fluff, my attempts at humor
act three : the unexpected love
after years studying and working abroad, yn is finally back home to a new job and new faces. all they want now is to focus on nothing else but their career and one of their coworkerâs friends, minghao, makes it all the more interesting.Â
part fifteen : infinite mornings (1/2)
previous  â€Â act three, part fourteen next  † act three, part fifteen (2/2) growing pains  † masterlist
from reese, with love
hiiii , apologies for the long wait ;-; this little update got me giggling ynhao make me so soft and i hope you missed reading them as much as i did writing them. insane to me how close we are to the endingâŠ. but we have a little two parter for part 15 / 20! tysm for reading and for your patience. iâd love to know what you think, all asks/replies/rbs are much appreciated (also serves as a little interest check for me that u guys are still here after the loooong pause in updates haha). hope youâre all doing well and taking care ^^
#đ â growing pains!#seventeen x reader#minghao x reader#seokmin x reader#mingyu x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen fluff#seventeen smau#seventeen series#svt x reader#svt imagines#svt fluff#svt smau#minghao imagines#minghao fluff#minghao smau
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Next to Normal, part 2
Joel Miller x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst
Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count:Â 9k Warnings: Reader's age isn't pinpointed but you/she are old enough to remember the way the world worked before the Outbreak. Swearing, food. References to reader's past, trauma responses, Joel being the absolute softest and most gentle partner. Emotional vulnerability. Mutual nudity. Fingering. Hand job. Summary: In the months since you started your relationship with Joel, he has never pushed you for more. But Ellie thinks it's time to take the next step. Notes: As usual, I apologize for any typos that I might have missed. Ya girl is sleepy and there's a lot going on in life these days. This story was only going to be a one shot. And then it was juuuust going to be a two-parter. Well...this is part two of three. Stay tuned next week for the conclusion!
Read part 1 here!
Ellie fidgets at the table, frowning at the plate of breakfast that Joel put in front of her. Not because she doesnât want it, but because sheâs thinking hard about how to approach her question. It seems straightforward to her, but sheâs learned in the last several months that he is touchy when you are the subject of conversation. Heâs always in protection mode when it comes to you. She picks up a piece of unevenly toasted bread and frowns at it like itâs offended her until her eyes track back to Joel. âAre you gonna ask her to live with us?â She asks finally, knowing she doesnât have to clarify who she means.
Joel stops with his fork halfway to his mouth, his own eggs nearly falling off as he stares at Ellie. âWhy? What do youâ has sheââ he stops and drops the fork. âWhy?â He wonders if youâve dropped hint or if this is just the girlâs curiosity.
âThatâsâŠwhat youâre supposed to do right? LikeâŠold people style courtship?â She doesnât really know what adult dating entails except that Joel seems to be spending every second of free time with you, and she likes you. Youâre fun to have around and a lot easier to talk to than Joel or Tommy about some of the shit that sheâs dealing with. âShe hasnât said anything. I just wondered.â
âSometimes.â Joel admits, picking up his fork again and looking back down at his plate. âWhat do you think about that?â He tries to keep it casual, in untested waters dealing with this. He had never really dated while Sarah was young, too busy trying to keep everything together.
âSheâs nice.â Ellie says, as though it was the easiest thing in the world. âAndâŠwe can trust her. Thatâs a hell of a lot better than some other people in this town.â In general she likes Jackson, but people are people and not everyone is trustworthy. Ellie knows that better than most. âWould you, likeâŠmarry her? Like Tommy and Maria?â
âI donât know if she would ever want to get married.â Joel hasnât discussed any of your past with Ellie, so she might not be aware of some of your hangups. Heâs not ever even mentioned marriage just in case it might have been one of them. Not like he was a wedding vows kind of man himself. âI would. If she wanted to.â
âBut youâre not gonna ask.â Ellie nods vaguely, not quite understanding why anybody bothers to get married anymore anyway. It seems like one of those things that doesnât make sense in this world. A relic. âSoâŠâ The only part of it that still matters is safety, and the emotion behind all of it. âShe could be here with us all the time, and Iâd pretend like I donât hear you doing stuff and thatâs it? LikeâŠâ Her eyes tick up to Joelâs with rivers of curiosity in them. âLike a family?â
Joel snorts, amused at that comment because beyond kissing, doing stuff hadnât happened. âKind of like that. If she did, she would have say over what happens here.â He cautions. âAnother adult to âruin your lifeâ.â He had rolled his eyes and laughed the first time she had come out with that statement. A true measure of a teenager, even in the shithole state the world was in, Joel could ruin her life.
âSheâs better at it than you,â Ellie announces immediately, tongue stuck out as far as it will go. She doesnât want to admit that youâre the one she goes to for advice most often now. Not him, not Maria, and definitely not Tommy. She goes to you, and you always answer her honestly.
âRuining your life?â He lifts a brow and hums. âMaybe I need to ask her for tips then.â Heâs joking, but itâs nice to see that she has found a mother-like figure in you.
âSheâs better at advice.â The teen clarifies, not wanting Joel to think youâve done anything wrong. âI meanâŠIâm not gonna ask you about girl stuff.â
Joel snorts and shoots her a grin. âWhy not? I love everything about women.â
âBut you arenât one.â The exaggerated roll of her eyes calls him an idiot and she huffs. âWhatever. You should ask your girlfriend to live with us. Thatâs all I was saying.â
âYeah?â He hums and shrugs. âIâll see what she thinks. She can sew here, she does often enough.â
ââKay.â She mumbles simply, as if she didnât just suggest an enormous change to both of their lives as casually as commenting on the color of the sky. Ellie finishes her breakfast in three bites and pushes back from the table abruptly. âSchool,â she adds, before grabbing her supplies from the counter nearby.
Joel watches as she bolts out the door. Since itâs not a FEDRA school, Ellie has actually been enjoying going each day. Picking up his coffee, he shakes his head. Itâs Chicory but itâs better than nothing. Expecting you in a few minutes, he finishes his breakfast in peace with your own plate still warm on the stove.
The soft knock at the door comes just minutes later, and you crack the door open to slip inside without letting any heat out. The typical place for your sewing is in a large canvas bag unless it's a delicate project, so you can move it between your house or Joel's without effort. All those years of making costumes by hand for plays and parties has truly paid off. "Joel?" The smell of breakfast is welcome and comforting, and you peak around the corner to find him sitting at the table. "I just passed Ellie on her way to school. Seemed like she was in a good mood."
He chuckles and stands up, ready to pour you a cup of the coffee that is still simmering in the percolator. âShe should be.â He snorts. âChristmas is coming early, apparently.â
"Or very late, depending on how you view it." Now that spring is here and the winter is solidly behind you, Jackson is flourishing again. It seems to be affecting everyone, including Ellie. A soft murmur of thanks comes with accepting the cup of coffee he has made â Joel's is far better tasting than your attempts ever were â but you set it down on the table to step closer to him with a smile. "Good morning kiss?"
âOf course.â When you ask him for a kiss, or to hold you, heâs never turned you down. Nearly in disbelief that you are so affectionate despite the past years. He steps towards you slowly and bites his lip. âCan I hold onto your hips, beautiful girl?â Sometimes you want him to and other times you would rather he not, so he still asks where you want his hands.
"Yes, please." You're feeling brave today, maybe reinvigorated by the spring just like Ellie is, and you nod as you step closer to him so he can hold you close. Maybe it's the spring, or maybe it's months of Joel always calling you his beautiful girl finally starting to sink in. You never thought anyone could think of you that way ever again, but it seems so easy with him.
He hums softly, licking his lips and shuffling closer. You are the one who moves quickly when you feel like it, but he still treats you delicately. Not because he is afraid you will shatter, but because you deserve it.
His short hair is always the perfect place for your fingers, and your arms come up around his shoulders so you can play with the hairs on the back of his neck when he leans in. These morning moments are your favourite, if you're honest. The bright sunlight and birdsong make it seem like a romantic little cottage scene, and it makes you wish that you had had the courage in the colder months to suggest that he sleep over. Or that you sleep over his place. Even just to sleep side by side would be wonderful, but you try to be cognizant of not changing things too much on Ellie all at once.
His lips are much softer since heâs been kissing you. Not as dry. Tommy rags on him, making him roll his eyes, but he would never admit that he does put a little oil on them at night to keep them from chapping and cracking when itâs his turn to stand watch at the gates.
The domesticity of the whole thing is appealing in ways that harken back to the feeling of near normalcy that Joel gives you, and youâre smiling when you finally force yourself to lean back from kissing him. âBusy day? Or do I have you to myself until Ellie gets home?â
âNahh.â He shakes his head. âMudâs too thick to try to set more posts, so we are waiting for it to dry in the southern area of the community garden.â He tells you. âSince I had to pull watch last night, Iâm off for the next day or so.â
âIt wasnât too bad, I hope?â Overnights are tough just for the sake of a sleep schedule, but you know Joelâs shift ended at dawn and itâs a fair few hours past that now. âDid you get a nap in?â
âNot yet.â He hadnât wanted to sleep while you were over. Not when he could spend time with you. âI will when I get tired.â He promises.
âI would have waited until after lunch to come over.â You pout at him, rather viciously, but arenât really upset. You just donât want Joel tiring himself out for you.
âAnd I wouldnât have slept then, either.â He grumbles at you and motions towards the stove. âEaten yet? I made you a plate.â
âThank you.â Though you couldnât put a finger on when it became tradition to eat breakfast together, it has certainly become a mainstay. âI brought over a few things that Iâm mending for Maria, so I have plenty of work to keep me busy.â Or not is the unspoken follow up. There are definitely days that you spend entirely wrapped up in Joel.
âThatâs good.â Joel nods as he motions you towards the table and brings the still warm plate over with a small hiss when it burns one of his fingers. âItâs hot.â
âCareful!â Though how he can feel anything through those callouses on his hand, you just donât know. âDonât need you burning your fingers off over a plate of eggs.â
He rolls his eyes and sits down beside you with a groan. âEat.â He tells you, pointing to the food. âPretty sure you skipped dinner last night.â
âNot intentionally.â There had been a call for anyone available to come help out with chasing some escaped animals up on the pasture north of town last night and you had gone out to help without hesitation. âBut thank you for looking out for me.â
âOf course Iâm going to look after you.â He huffs off your thanks and sits back down with you, his own refreshed coffee in hand. âEllie wanted me to talk to you about something.â
âOh?â That has you stopping with your fork halfway to your mouth. âIs everything okay?â
âYeah, yeahâŠeverythingâs good.â He quickly reassures you, frowning because he hadnât meant to worry you. He doesnât like the scared look in your eyes, like youâre about to be punished for some imaginary wrong. âAll good, I think.â
âOkay.â Dropping the tension from your shoulders is automatic â you didnât even realize you had seized up until you were relaxing again. âWhatâs going on?â
âNot sayinâ weâre doinâ this, or that we gottaââ Joel reassures you to start with, knowing that you might not think that itâs a question. âBut Ellie was asking me about the future, me and you.â
âWe havenât really talked about it.â For the simple reason that in this world, the future can never be determined. Thereâs usually no point in betting on a horse if you donât know it will even finish the race, so a lot of people â you and Joel included â have chosen to remain undefined. Other people, people like Tommy and Maria, have held onto the old relationship conventions as a comfort in an ever changing world.
âNo, we havenât.â Joel admits. âBut maybe we should. She â and me too â we were wonderinâ if maybe itâs not a bit silly that weâre trackinâ back and forth between your place and ours.â
âItâs not too much trouble, is it?â The ice cold fear in your heart is instant, and even though he had said that nothing was wrong, you canât help the feeling of doomed certainty that the inevitable end has been reached in this otherwise happy arrangement. It was bound to come, sooner or later. Or, at least, youâve feared that it would.
âNo,â he can see that youâre still worried and he offers you his hand. Silently asking permission to hold yours and he squeezes yours gently when you slip onto into his. âWe were thinkinâ that maybe you could justâ live with us?â He ventures softly. âI wouldnâtâ you donât have to worry about me expectinâ anything moreââ he promises quickly. âMaybe we could just, I donât know, sleep in the same bed? If you donât want that, Iâll sleep on the couch.â
âJoelâŠâ It isnât a great commendation of strength on your part that you start to tear up immediately, but itâs an honest reaction if there ever was one. You squeeze his hand tightly in yours for the half-second it takes you to move out of your chair and to his side. âCan I hug you? Please?â
âOf course you can.â The fact that you ask him is probably due to him asking you. Or needing to make sure you wonât get in trouble on some subconscious level, but he easily stands and holds his arms open.
The crush of how hard you push into his arms to hug him exactly as tightly as you can gets a small oof out of him, but his arms come around you just as securely. âIâve been trying to think of how to bring it up for weeks,â you admit quietly, feeling silly about that now that heâs broken the topic himself. âAbout⊠sleeping together, I meanâŠâ
âOh.â Heâs not sure if you mean sleeping together or sleeping together, but he doesnât ask. âYou should have said something, beautiful girl.â He murmurs quietly into your neck, enjoying the way that you curl into him.
âI wasnât sure how.â Joel is the only person youâve been able to be completely candid with about your fears and anxieties, and if anything it has only made him more protective. But really? You donât mind that. âBut Iâm feeling braver.â
âDo you like the idea?â He asks softly. âI know you have your own space and are used to it, but we can share ours. Ellie loves the idea, so no teenage pushback.â
âI had considered asking you to move in to mine,â you admit, overwhelmed tears turning to happy in an instant. âBut I didnât want to displace Ellie.â
âIf you want that, we can see what she thinks.â Joel immediately offers. âBut I think our place is a little bigger. And yours is closer to everything.â
âBigger is better.â You can agree to that right away. The room you could give Ellie in your own house is too small to be comfortable. âI donât mind being a little further away from town if I get to be with you.â
âYeah?â Joel smiles slightly at the comment and nods. âOkay. Well, weâll get you moved over here as soon as you want.â He knows you will bring your supplies so he nods towards the little nook off the living room. âThinkinâ that could be your little shop, unless you need more room?â
âI think it should work.â The little reading nook off of the living room has space for a chair and a desk, and even a small closet built into the wall of the house that has shelves for your supplies. âIf you donât mind sacrificing the space, I think it might actually be perfect.â
âWas thinkinâ I could make you some organizers for your cloth and threads and such.â He tells you, leaning into the idea. âThe bookshelves would be good for that.â
âYouâll spoil me if you do that.â It sounds wonderful, and you prop your chin on his chest to look up at him. âBut Iâll spoil you with cooking if you let me.â
âIâll get working on them today.â He promises with a grin. His cooking is okay, but yours is amazing.
âAnd Iâll make us a celebratory supper.â Itâs the least you can do, really, but the smile on your face is bright and wide.
âYeah?â He grins at the idea and nods. âDo you wanna start moving stuff over? I can get Tommy to help.â
âThat would be a heck of a surprise for Ellie.â And you laugh a little at the idea, enjoying the ease of it. âLeave for school just having posed the question, and come home from school to find me moved in.â
âUp to you.â Joel chuckles. âShe likes the idea of a family.â He wants you to know that, that the girl wants you here with them.
"I know she isn't technically either of ours." You shrug slightly, not wanting to specifically bring up the children that both you and Joel have lost. "But sometimes it feels like it."
âWe worry enough about her. Annoy her enough.â He frowns slightly. âSometimes family isnât always blood, but the people you wish were blood.â
"Family can be the people that you adopt along the way. Or the people who adopt you. It works both ways." The two of you sit back down again, hands twined together at the table as you slowly work your way through the modest breakfast that Joel made you. "After this I'll go back to my house and pack some things up while you go see if Tommy is able to help?"
âSounds good.â He clears his throat and bites his lip. âI donât expect you to do any more than weâve established youâre good with.â He reminds you quietly. âIâm gonna knock before coming into the bedroom. In case youâre, uh, changing or something.â
"I can change in the bathroom," you assure him, putting down your fork to concentrate on the far more important conversation at hand. "Or...maybe it's time we crossed that bridge. Maybe not all the way to the other side, but...we could put off a little of the moving to have...private time? Before Ellie comes home from school?" Reminding yourself that you have been feeling braver lately is the key. Joel has proven endlessly that you are safe with him, and never once given you reason to doubt it.
âIs that what you want?â Joel asks seriously. He doesnât want you to think you have to push yourself into something you arenât ready for because of where you will sleep at night.
"I want it, and I want to be ready for that step." Wanting is the key. Or at least you hope it is. "And I hope I know you well enough to think that you won't be upset if we reach a point that I'm not comfortable with."
âYou just say the word and Iâll stop, beautiful girl.â Joel can easily promise you that. âIf thatâs what youâre wanting, then I guess you better finish your breakfast.â
As nerve wracking as taking that next step is, you do want to. Letting fear rule your life helps no one, and reclaiming your own strength through large and small steps is something that Joel has really helped you with. Nothing says that today has to be the day that you throw off every worry, but as you finish your breakfast you do feel absolutely certain that the decision to put one proverbial foot in front of the other and move toward intimacy with the man youâve genuinely fallen in love with.
He lets you think about it quietly, taking his own plate and coffee cup over to the sink to start on the dishes. Knowing that despite what you might say, you could change your mind before you even finish your meal. That's okay with him. He's never pushed you, even when he's straining under his jeans and has to take himself in hand when he gets home after leaving you. He would still never push, not with something like this.
He doesnât let you do your own dishes when youâre done eating, but he never does. Joel has deeply ingrained caretaking tendencies even if he doesnât like to admit it. âWe shouldâŠgo upstairs,â you murmur, leaning against the kitchen counter beside him. âItâs more comfortable than the couch.â
Joel watches you for a moment and then nodes carefully. âWe can. Do youâ uh, want me to give you a minute?â He asks, unsure of what you want and how far you want this to go. âLet youâŠget ready?â
âIâd rather have you next to me.â His presence is, after all, what makes you feel safest. For this next step youâll need that more than ever.
âOkay.â Reaching out, he offers you his hand with a reassuring nod. âYou are in charge here.â He reminds you.
âI donât really have any expectations for this except that weâll lay in bed together and have some privacy.â But you can now fully admit that you hope to have the courage for more. âLetâs justâŠstart there and see what happens?â
âThat sounds good to me.â He guides you towards the stairs and lets go of your hand so he can let you go up in front of him. âWeâll take it nice and slow.â
The last time you were this nervous about being in a bad with a boyfriend was probably losing your virginity in high school, but there is a hell of a lot more emotional weight involved this morning than there was then. Joel means more to you than any of the others ever did, and that just makes you want this to go well even more. At the top of the stairs heâs beside you again and you slip your hand into his.
The walk to the bedroom doesnât take long, the door open and his bed still rumpled. Heâs never been a make the bed kind of guy and he bites his lip a little sheepishly. âDidnât think youâd be up here.â He admits with a rueful grin. âWould have at least tossed the comforter over everything.â
âI like it better knowing the real you.â Your hand in his slips around his waist to keep him close.
Joel hums and walks towards it and then pauses a few feet from it. âDo you want to lay down with me, beautiful girl?â
âI feel like I should at least take my sweater off first.â The t-shirt you have on underneath it is typically worn but comfortable, and you find that today stripping off your warm sweater feels like taking off a lot more clothes than it really is.
Joel takes off his boots, but he leaves everything else on. Itâs just a t-shirt and a flannel with his jeans. âMake sure youâre comfortable. What side of the bed do you like?â Heâs a middle of the bed sleeper, so wherever you want is fine with him. Heâll adjust.
âThe left, usually.â Being boxed in doesnât feel particularly good to you, for obvious reasons. That doesnât matter right now though, and you take off your own boots to leave to the side with Joelâs, socks stuffed neatly inside. âIs that okay?â
âPerfect.â He nods and motions to the bed. âTest it out. See if you like yours better.â If you do, he will drag that damn thing down here.
You wonât, you know that, but getting into Joelâs bed with him is a surprisingly emotional moment. Without any extra preamble â only because youâre restraining yourself from babbling out of nerves â you slide under the rumpled covers and inhale a breath of the scent that is purely his. Itâs infinitely relaxing, and you close your eyes for a second to revel in how right it feels. Fear has made you think it might be awkward, but no. Youâre supposed to be next to Joel. This is where you belong.
Joel is slightly tense beside you. Not wanting to jostle you too much, but he clears his throat. âIâm going to put my arm behind your head. Is that okay?â
âLetâsâŠâ looking between you, you know that Joel asks about every single action to be courteous. To be cautious, even. And while you donât mind being delicate to him, this might be a chance to start moving past some of that hesitance. For you, too. âLetâs just say weâre going to get comfortable?â You suggest. âAsking about every single movementâŠitâs going to make this harder than it needs to be. SoâŠitâs okay with me that you touch wherever you need to while we figure this out. ThisâŠhow to be comfortable together.â
He huffs out a small laugh at himself and nods. âIf you donât like something, you tell me, you got me?â He tells you, raising his brows seriously. âThis bed, itâs gonna be your refuge, not your prison.â
âOkay.â Nodding, you slide closer to him under the blanket and move your arm so he can slide his under your pillow if he wants to. âIâm sorry if this is awkwardâŠâ
âYouâve got nothinâ to be sorry about.â Joel chides softly, used to hearing that when you want to pull back. âWeâre just getting comfortable, thatâs all.â His hand settles on your arm and he strokes his fingers over your skin lightly. âWe got all the time in the world.â
Shifting even closer, you tuck yourself into his side and sigh at the bulk of him. It really is something primal in the way it relaxes you, having that broad frame of his nearby but never threatening. Sliding your arm around his waist is easy like this, and you press yourself into him comfortably. âKinda wish Iâd gotten brave enough for this ages ago,â you admit quietly.
âItâs okay, beautiful girl.â He promises, slowly sliding his hand up and down your back as you start to slowly cover half his body with your own. He pauses for just a moment before his hand ventures very sedately past the small of your back and over the swell of your butt. Giving you time to tell him no if you wanted.
Instead of hesitating it actually makes you grin, the slow and careful way that he reaches forward. Feeling admittedly cheeky, you shift your hips to wiggle your ass under his tentative fingers and end up smiling again. "It's okay, handsome," you assure him, giving him the permission that he's silently seeking. "Go ahead."
Joel groans and cups your ass firmly. âYou have a great ass.â He growls softly. âThought so from the beginning.â
"The beginning, huh?" It's something of a relief to find out that Joel was just as interested in you as you were in him early on. The first time he'd admitted it, you had literally sighed. There was a breath then, like there is now, that you didn't realize you had been holding. "I'm glad you like it."
He smirks slightly and moves to caress your ass like he had your back. âWhen youâre feelinâ up to it, my lips are lonely.â He teases, puckering them slightly.
It's small, and it's teasing, but it lifts so much of the tension in the room that you actually laugh and move in a little more with eagerness. If there's one undeniable truth about Joel Miller it's that he's a fantastic kisser, and you're not one to give that up when it's being offered. Especially not right now. Not when your time alone with him is both assured and indulgent.
Your lips arenât hesitant this time. They are sure and still curved into a smile when you press them to his. Making his own laugh into your mouth that much sweeter. He wanted this to light, thereâs so much heaviness in your lives, this should be as light as it can. Especially with your past. Taking the moment for the simplicity that it is.
There's something different about the taste of him this morning, like kissing Joel is somehow sweeter for the pure and simple reason that you're in bed together and nothing else. Your hand creeps up his arm and around his shoulder so your fingers can find their way into his hair, and the bubbly, joyous feeling in your chest bubbles over when you summon the courage to be the one to run your tongue along his lower lip in an open mouthed kiss. It's probably bolder than you've ever done before but the rightness of this feeling just can't be overstated.
Humming in surprise, Joel settles back slightly and lets you take charge of your kiss. Waiting to see if you would slide your tongue into his mouth or if you will leave it at just opened mouth to breath into each other. His hand squeezes your ass gently, encouraging you to do whatever you want and immediately goes back to caressing like it had before.
His hand feels huge like this, but not in an overwhelming way. In a way that makes you feel precious and...unexpectedly...a little worshipped. Up here in this bedroom nothing can hurt you, and that is another step forward in this sort of emboldening feeling that is brewing inside you. It's that burst of boldness that has you pushing into his side just a little bit more, tongue sliding into his mouth to relearn that part of him that you have explored only a handful of times before.
Joel grunts, his cock twitching and starting to harden in his pants, but he ignores it. Focusing on you as he continues to kiss you and caress you. Enjoying how you are unfurling for him.
The heat that rolls off of him in waves is intoxicating, making your head swim like it does whenever the two of you let the urge take over. It isnât often, but itâs always good, and this morning feels even better.
The kisses are slow, languid. Pretending that time doesn't exist and every breath shared between you is suspended. He feels the way you are slowly starting to grinding on him, his thigh between yours.
Shallow, short, panting breaths are all the two of you can manage. Some gulps of air and soft, muffled moans. The floods your mind and your instincts and for the first time in over a year pleasure is what overtakes every thought, not fear.
He watches you, your eyes closed and your finger tight in his hair. Not because you are afraid, but because you are wanting more. He groans into your mouth and his hands settle on your hips, encouraging you to move if you want to with a small nudge.
It's like your mind has gone blank of everything except him, and the bliss of it is that you finally can let it go blank. The only thing you even need to know about in the world is Joel, and he is right here beside you. Half underneath you, technically. He not only wants you here with him but is actively devouring you at the same rate you are devouring him, and the freedom is nearly electric. Rocking hips have a mind of their own, and it really does take longer than you're proud of to realize that you're evening doing it. Catching yourself, you barely manage to pull back and force yourself to look Joel in the eyes through hazy vision. "Is...I didn't ask...if it's okay?"
âItâs always okay, beautiful girl.â Joelâs voice is rough, lust filled. âWhatever you want, you just do it to me.â
âIâI donât really know what I want,â you admit, trying to catch your breathe and keep your entire body from setting on fire in his arms, but not succeeding very well. âExceptâŠmore.â
âYou could let meâ unbutton you jeans?â He asks as he nudges his nose against your pulse. âUse my fingers to make you feel good?â
It would be a lie to claim you hadnât imagined what it would feel like. That you hadnât actually dreamt about how pleasurable time with Joel would play out. While this isnât quite like any of the scenarios you had dreamt up, it is real and it is happening right now, and you nod fiercely before pushing in again to kiss him with every ounce of courage built up inside you.
He knows this is a big step for you and he doesnât rush it. Kissing you back while he slowly pulls his hand around your back to the front of your jeans. Pausing for a second to wait for any protest before he flicks the button open and leisurely pulls down your zipper.
He gets no protests at all, but a deep sigh bordering a moan that comes out of you with that deceptively small act of opening your pants. Your free hand slides just under the hem of his shirt, hot skin burning your fingers at first contact but only in the very best way.
âTell me if you donât like something,â he reminds you softly when his fingers first dip below the threadbare elastic band of your panties. âOnly want you to feel good.â
Any flash of discomfort, even a small one, is too much and you lean back to find Joelâs dark eyes watching you. âLet me just take them off?â You ask quietly, not wanting to verbalize the fact that the fight pull of fabric against your skin hits a memory you donât want to relive. As exposing as it is, naked is better.
âWhatever you want.â His hand eases out of your panties and he lays back, showing you that heâs not going to keep on.
âI want you.â The clarification is important, even as you slip off your jeans and underwear, letting them fall off the side of the bed in irrelevance. Shirt and bra are next, and even the act of shedding your own clothing â making your own choice to do this â frees another layer of fear from your shoulders. âI donât want fear to be in the way of I can help it.â
âDo you want me to strip down?â Joel asks, wondering if you wonât like him being clothed and you naked. âHow do you want me, beautiful girl?â
âHow ever youâre comfortable.â Just because you stripped down does not mean that he has to. The state of your relation as always been respect and not reciprocity.
He decides that he wants to strip down too. He knows heâs not going to do anything that will make him cum, but if youâre going to live here, you should be comfortable with him.
It definitely more than you ever expected to happen today, but as Joel sheds his clothes beside you, thereâs also a sense of peace in it. Reclaiming intimacy â not even sex, just intimacy and closeness â is like relieving an enormous burden that you arenât ever sure could be lifted.
When he reaches the tired, worn out boxer briefs he is wearing, the outline of his hard cock clearly showing, he hesitates. âWould you like me to leave these on?â
A fair question, and though you hesitate for a moment, you decide firmly on, âNo.â This decision to move forward together is too important to you, and itâs not as if you arenât attracted to him. You have eyes, after all. âIf youâre okay with it, IâŠI want to see you. MaybeâŠtouch you?â
He groans quietly, nodding as he hooks his fingers into the band. âYou can touch me wherever you want.â He promises.
He has never protested once about waiting for you to be ready. Never pressed and never pushed. Now you only hope that you wonât disappoint him when youâre actually ready to take the next step. âYou can touch me, too.â
âMy daddy was never good for much.â Joel starts as he slides his hands down, bringing the boxers with him. Grunting as he bends over to steps out of them. âBut he taught me something thatâs stuck with me.â Standing up, he looks you in your eyes. âIt was about holdinâ a gun, but I guess itâs the same with holdinâ a woman.â He tells you. âHold her like you love her. Slow and gentle, steady. Thatâs what I aim to do with you.â
âIâI do love you.â He wasnât trying to get you to say it, or even saying it himself, but sitting up in his bed with a blanket around you instead of clothesâŠif you canât say it now, then when can you? âYou donât have toâŠto say it back or anything. I justâit felt like the right time to say.â
You are sitting down, but he steps closer to you and kneels down, not wanting to tower over you to intimidate. âBaby, you should know that Iâ I love you.â He murmurs quietly, reaching for your hand. âEverything about you.â
"Get back in bed, Joel." Even with one of his big hands holding on to both of yours, you tug at him slightly to urge him to join you. "I...I really want to be close to you right now."
âOkay.â He groans again as he gets to his feet. âFuckinâ knees.â He complains quietly. âToo fuckinâ old.â
âNo more grand romantic gestures that involve kneeling,â you tease, pulling back the blanket so he can climb in beside you.
âDonât worry about that.â He chuckles as he slides into the bed. âProbably the cold, but itâs been actinâ up.â
âStill.â Your arms are open to him this time, reminding yourself that thereâs no need to hide. âI like you in one piece.â
This time, he is the one that is curling up to you, making sure he doesnât seem to hover over you just in case. His cock is against your hip and he leans in to kiss you again. âYou have me.â
To have it put for you so easily â that heâs yours are much as you are his â makes so much difference. Itâs freeing instead of entrapping. Love rather than possession. It makes you melt into his kiss, hands grasping for him rather than being tentative about their touch. Not exactly greedy, but definitely no longer afraid.
Itâs almost too easy, the way you eagerly fall into his kiss again. Your determination shining through and his hand lands on your hip again, warm and seeking. âSpread your legs, beautiful girl.â He murmurs against your lips.
It isnât an order, but an urging that you happily agree to. Laying back on his pillows and letting him come that much closer to you, urging him to lean over your body. It isnât looming, like heâs afraid it could be. Instead it feels like protection.
He starts at your shoulder, hands deciding they want to touch every inch of skin you will allow him. Lips kissing your chin, your jaw, just behind your ear. âSo beautiful for me.â He rasps out. âSo soft.â
Joel is full of endless praises, and youâve caught yourself sometimes wondering if thatâs something he does just for you or if itâs an old habit of his that goes back to the time before. It doesnât truly make a difference, but youâve wondered. The feeling of his hands everywhere on you could get overwhelming â or you fear that it could â but itâs just Joel. Itâs the man who only makes you feel safe and protected and appreciated, and you sink down into the mattress with a sigh when his hand moves down from your shoulder. âOnly for you,â you gasp out, his lips pressing the sensitive spot on your next just below your ear.
When his hand cups your breast, he doesnât squeeze. Itâs more of a massage, a gentle caress and he rubs your nipple with his thumb. âThatâs my good girl.â He hums. Thereâs been plenty of times that youâve gone over phrases or nicknames that might trigger you, so heâs confident that you wonât react negatively.
âJoel.â Things that seemed silly years ago arenât so silly to you now, and the cooing softness of Joelâs usually deep, rough voice is so soothing as his work-calloused hands slide over your skin. Your far hand is tangled in the blanket as he leans over you, but the other anchors you to him instead. It explores the parts of his body you havenât touched before â trim waist and strong thighs instead of the soft stomach and broad shoulders that you know so well. âJoel. Joel.â His name is a chant on your lips, growing shallower and lighter each time.
âThatâs it.â He encourages, continuing to play with your breast until he feels your thighs press together and shift, wanting friction. âGonna take care of you.â
Itâs a promise, one you want to drown yourself in as much as you want to drown in kissing him. Deciding that you can only really do one of those things, you surge upward to press an open mouthed kiss to his lips, inviting him to devour you, too.
His hand has to nudge your thighs open again after his palm skims over your belly. Caressing it softly and he would say something, but reminding you of your past wouldnât be right for this moment. Instead, his fingers comb through the soft curls covering you, gently working through them to slick skin underneath.
The deep sigh that emanates from you is almost revolutionary, and for the first time in longer than you care to remember, your eyes slip shut in pleasure to focus solely on the feeling of Joelâs hands on your body. Forgetting where you end and he begins was a seemingly impossible task not so long ago, but now you moan softly and shift your legs open for him even wider like a flower opening up for the sun.
âFuck, youâre doing so good for me.â He moans, cock twitching at your surrender to the pleasure and he loves that you arenât tensing up. His fingers slide through your folds, gathering the wetness and he starts a slow figure eight around your sex. Curling your entrance and coming back up to slide around your clit through your lips. âFeel good, beautiful girl?â
âSo good.â Itâs unbelievable just how good but this is part of Joelâs magic. He can just make everything else fade away. Your hips tilt up and you sigh again, sinking further into the mattress. âMore, honey? Please?â
âYou want my fingers inside you, beautiful girl?â He asks as he kisses down your throat. His mouth waters at the thought of suckling at your tits and he looks up at you to make sure youâre still on the same page. âMoreâ could mean just more of his rubbing your clit.
âYes. God, please.â Nodding almost frantically, the hand that you had had tangled in his blanket comes up to grasp his shoulder and hold him close so you can kiss him endlessly.
He wants to chuckle at how desperate you sound but he just hums softly. Aware that you are actually starting to enjoy yourself. His fingers make another trip around your clit and this time, he doesnât circle your entrance, just slowly starts to press, feeling you start to yield.
The soft moan he gets from you almost immediately makes him shiver, but youâre lost to it. Every sensation in your body has narrowed down to Joelâs touch and pushed every other thought out of your mind. Maybe he is that good with his hands or maybe itâs just how much you love him, or maybe itâs both. No matter what it is, itâs floating away with you on a cloud.
Your body doesnât resist, you arenât pushing him away. If anything, your hips are rolling down to meet his touch. He groans your name and nuzzles your breast with his cheek, his nose, before he finally wraps his lips around the stiff peak.
That extra burst of sensation makes you moan out loud, back arching off the bed and fingers digging into Joelâs arm to keep him from reeling back or second guessing himself. Close Is where you want him and youâre going to keep him there.
He hisses in pleasure against your breast, drunk on the sight of your eyes closed and lips parted so perfectly as you moan again. He doesnât stop, just slowly curling his fingers up inside you to search for that pleasure spot.
Each time you moan for him is like a revelation all your own. Your body is doing all of its own talking now, rolling like waves in the ocean and pulled toward Joelâs own body like a magnet. The pull between you is so strong that when he finds your g-spot you keen and moan out his name loud enough that anyone in the house could have easily heard, but youâre too wrapped up in him to care or notice.
âThatâs it, beautiful girl? Thatâs your spot?â He pulls off your breast long enough to crow about finding that place before he is suckling again, his fingers concentrating on that small spot just to hear you keen again.
âIâfuckâyes!â If he had asked if you even have a spot you would have said no, but heâs found it with seemingly no effort whatsoever. Like his intuitive ability to read your body language for emotions, he can read it for your pleasure as well. Thereâs no doubt in your mind that he could probably pluck you like an instrument of he wanted to but right now all he wants is to hear your pleasure so you do not hold back. The shock of being so vocal is one thing, but for Joel? For Joel you would repeat your yeses and moans and chants of his name for the whole world to hear.
He listens to you, feels you. Wanting to make sure that no old ghosts come between you and your goal. He moans, cock twitching and throbbing against your thigh as he continues to focus on you, ignoring his bodyâs demands for your own.
It might surprise him even more than it does you, when you reach for him. Your other hand had settled on his hip and was surely squeezing imprints into his flesh, but pleasure has so much taken over your mind that the slide of your hand from his hip to wrapping your fingers experimentally around the thickness of his cock makes both of you gasp.
His eyes close and he canât help the experimental rock of his hips before he pulls himself back. Reminding himself that he needs to focus on his task.
âItâs okay.â Murmured just as soon as you turn your head, you open your eyes and place lingering kisses on Joelâs jaw. âI want to. Please?â
âWhatever you want.â Joel promises you, his dark eyes on you and alight with passion. âJust let me know what you want.â
âI want to make you feel good, too.â It is the shared aspect of the experience that makes all the difference. That one of you isnât taking everything from the other, but that youâre sharing the moment together. Thatâs what makes it an act of passion and love rather than just a sexual encounter. And for you? That makes all the difference.
âYou are, beautiful girl.â He promises, his fingers slick and making the most beautiful sounds as they move in and out of you.
As the pair of you devolve back into moans and sighs of each otherâs names, the coil of pleasure that tightens in your belly is unmistakable. The experimental strokes of your hand wrapped around his length become surer, pace quickening, your whole body rocketing toward your own end and wanting to take him with you despite knowing that it probably isnât going to happen that fast. Itâs the haze of actual, beautiful, loving pleasure thatâs settled over you like a blanket, and itâs what you want more than anything.
âThatâs it, sweetheart.â Joel is moaning his encouragement and huffing against your breast. âYouâre so fuckinâ pretty when youâre on the edge. You gonna cum for me?â
Itâs possible youâve entirely forgotten how to speak with how close you are, and your eyes slip closed again when you nod almost frantically. The moan from your lips is half his name and half incoherent begging, asking for the release that is so literally right at his fingertips. That only he can give you and that you hope past hoping that you can give to him too with each stroke of your fist.
He smirks, âyeah, you are.â He coos, his voice heavy with lust. âYouâre gonna cum all in my hand for me.â He can feel the way your body is tensing under him, ready for the perfect moment to break apart in bliss. âMy beautiful girlâs gonna cum.â
It is as much permission as you could look for, and your body seems to know it. The bow and bend in your back sharpen as the sound is strangled from your throat, cutting off his name with a desperate cry as you fall apart for his hand.
Thereâs something breathtaking about the way you cry out. Body quaking and trembling, not in fear, but in rapture.
The world stands still for those few moments. There is nothing at all except bliss, and the bulk of Joel's broad body above you, and the way he twitches in your hand seeming to run in perfect sync with the spasms of your own body as you come down from the clouds.
Joel doesnât rush you, drawing it out with the slower curl of his fingers than before, kissing up your body before capturing your moans for him greedily with his mouth. Wanting to keep them for himself as he enjoys your orgasm with you.
âJoel.â Itâs more of a whisper than a cry this time, when you finally open your eyes to look at him. âTell me what you want?â
âTouch me.â He begs. âHowever you want. I want you to just touch me.â
Your hand had fallen away from him to make sure you didnât squeeze too hard and accidentally hurt him at the peak or your own orgasm. Now you touch your fingers between your thighs to wet them with your own slick and wrap your hand around his cock again, feeling it twitch with the pressure and friction. Every stroke builds on the last, wanting him to feel every bit as good as you do right now.
Your touch, this time so much more sure of itself, makes his eyes fall close and his body rolls onto his back. Your own follows him so you are draped over him like a perfectly warm blanket. âFuck, fuck, you are soâ so fucking perfect.â He moans quietly. âSo fuckinâ pretty.â
Praise is absolutely not lost on you, and every murmur and moan makes you work that much harder. Learning what works for him and what doesnât isnât difficult when Joel is so vocal, and before too long his hips are stuttering as he tries to chase the rhythm of your hand.
A shudder runs through his body, unsure if he would ever have you touch him like this. Panting as he curls his toes and his stomach tightens. âGonna cum.â He warns you roughly.
âShow me.â You keep the pace of your movements and the same pressure with your hand and watch every movement in his body. âLet me see you, honey.â
He grunts, nodding seriously and his eyes flutter open again to focus on you. âLove you.â He knows you adoring hearing the words and heâs worked on being more vocal with you. It hadnât helped him with Tess, he regretted not vocalizing his feelings before she died and he wouldnât make that mistake again.
âI love you too, Joel.â And what a hell of a morning for it to be said for the first few times. Youâll never forget a single thing about any of it. Especially not the blissful relaxation on his face just half a second after every muscle in his body tenses, that moment of explosive pleasure washing over him in an enormous wave.
In the last year, orgasms had been necessary. Functional. Something to be dealt with quickly when the need came over him. Often hurried and moved on from, but from the way you keep stroking his cock and cooing after he starts to cum, he knows you have every intention of drawing this out for him. âFuuuuuuuuuuuck.â
The splatter over his stomach and down your hand is a beautiful sight, one that you take in greedily before laying back beside him in bed. âI love you,â you murmur again, letting yourself sigh and bask in the moment.
Joel pants, nodding as he tries to catch his breath. âHope to hell you do.â He chuckles. âHoly shit.â
âI do.â And it rests gently in your chest like a bird happily resting from its flight. âSo much.â
He reaches for you, wrapping his arm around your back and he starts to stroke it idly. âHow was that, beautiful girl? Was it worth the risk?â He knows itâs cost you to expose yourself again, mentally and physically. So he doesnât want you to regret it.
âIâve never been safer than I am with you.â Of that, you are completely certain. And youâve never been more certain than you are in this moment.
______
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04
N2N: @missladym1981
#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal character fanfiction#Pedro Pascal fanfic#Joel Miller#Joel Miller x you#Joel Miller x reader#Joel Miller x female reader#Joel Miller x f!reader#The Last of US#TLoU#TLoU HBO#reader with trauma
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MOLLY CONGRATS ON 500 BILLION WHAT THE HECK !!!! so deserved youre so talented!!! i sprinted to ur inbox the second i read u were writing for sakusaâŠ..
could i possibly request sakusa, left for dead, wanted sign, & canyons !!!!!!! waves empty cup in your face LOVE YOU !!!
here in LONESOME TOWN... @jadeoru and @nectardaddy are
âȘ tied between a rock and a hard place
tags: sakusa x fem!reader (only gendered terms (darling, etc) but tagged fem just to be safe), enemies to lovers, gunslinger, "left for dead"
warnings: animal death, guns, knives, threats, fear, uhhh something else im sure
an: requests are scary. i hope u guys enjoy i have no idea if this is up to standard or not. also, since jade and dodger requested pretty much the same thing this will be a two parter hopefully out tmrw
wc: 1098
mlist. âȘ event mlist.
You probably shouldâve known better.Â
Normally, thereâs no harm in having a drink with a stranger in town, most of them just passing by for the night until they continue on their way out west. Itâs a way to get free drink, and theyâre normally harmless.
But, just your luck you suppose, these fools werenât so harmless.
Youâre currently struggling against the restraints, willing the bite of the rope to lessen just a bit to return the circulation thatâs quickly fleeing you.Â
The attempt is to no avail, but that doesnât stop you from trying. The sick fucks that took you knew what they were doing.Â
Youâre stranded out in the middle of the canyon, but in an cave that echoes your cries for help back to you. Ropes tied not only around your wrists and legs, but your torso is taut against the rock behind you. Not to mention the nasty bump on the back of your head that continues to swell from where they took you out.Â
You know the coyotes are coming soon. The air stills but the energy begins to rustle as the deep reds of the sun finally dip beyond the horizon.Â
As the final moments of light leave you, the struggling returns with an intensity youâve never known before. Trying anything at this point, you feel around for something you can use.
Right as your fingertips graze a rock you might be able to use as a knife, you hear the scraping of something across the ground.
Thereâs a small part of you that hopes that someone managed to find you, that coming around the corner would be your savior. A larger part thinks that your captors have come back to finish the job, too greedy to leave the satisfaction to anyone else.
The largest part is the one that comes to pass, as you look up to see dark eyes blinking up at you. Thereâs a deep growl from the back of the coyotes throat as it sizes you up, waiting to see who makes the first move.Â
Trying desperately to remember if youâre supposed to get loud or back away quietly for an aggressive coyote, the animal begins to stalk toward you.Â
Taking your chances with the former, you begin to make as much noise as possible. Kicking the lump of your legs against the ground and yelling at it to âget onâ, the coyote begins to tuck tail. Right as itâs about to turn, it suddenly drops to the floor as you hear a clear gunshot sounding through the night.
Your heart drops to your stomach, thinking surely that your captors have returned. You know itâs a human this time, and thereâs no way anyone could have tracked you out here.Â
Scrambling again for the stone you found earlier, you fervently begin to scratch at the ropes, praying to all that is holy that you can escape unharmed.
The entry to the cave suddenly gets covered, a large mysterious figure blacking out everything behind him.
You canât help the gulp you take, finally resigning yourself to the scariest demise you couldâve ever imagined.
The stranger tosses the bottom of his coat back, sliding what you assume to be his pistol back into his holster. He stalks toward you, not too unlike the coyote moments before. His steps are slow, calculated, almost reserved. It sets you on edge.
âListen stranger, I donât know what you want from me but Iâm begginâ you to leave me be.â
As you speak, the manâs steps falter. He adjusts to the side, letting a bit of the moonlight pour into the space. With just that amount of light, youâre able to make out the dark mess of curls under his hat, and the broadness of his shoulders becomes more identifiable.
âYouâve got to be fuckinâ kidding me.â
Sakusa looks down at you, barely suppressing a smirk.
âI would be nicer with your words darlinâ, unless you want me to just leave you here.â
Suddenly, you think the coyote was a much better option. Anything would be better than being in a debt to Sakusa Kiyoomi.
"You can do just that. I've been fine on my own, I don't need any rescuing from the likes of you."
The venom lacing your words rolls off him in waves, looking no more bothered by them than an unpleasant chill in the air.
He hums in consideration, one of his more irritating traits. Trying to take your mind off it, you avert your gaze to continue sawing at the ropes binding your hands.
"That's not going to do anything. You'll just tire yourself out."
He doesn't make any effort to move though, opting to just stand there and watch you with distant humor.
You drop the stone in frustration, unwillingly admitting to yourself he had a point. "Can you leave? I don't want your help, but I don't need your heckling either."
"No. 'Wasn't doing anything better with my time. Situation seems fine to me."
Sakusa emphasizes his point by grounding his heels into the dirt, sturdy in place as he towers over you.
The two of you stay there, eyes locked in bitter anger. Neither of you willing to be the one to look away.Â
After what feels like ages of pure torture, he breaks the silence. âJust ask.â
âAsk what?â
He shrugs. âTo untie you.â
The position your arms are in has been getting uncomfortable, shoulders twisted in a way they should not have been. Is the pain enough to win out over your humiliation in getting his help?
âFine. Can you untie me?â
He moves forward without hesitation, walking around you to crouch behind the rock.Â
âYou have a knife?â
âWhy would I have a knife? If I did, donât you think I wouldâve gotten out of here already?â
He stays silent, not buying it.
You hate how well he remembers you.
You have to gesture with both your legs, but you haphazardly kick to your left. âItâs in my saddle bag. Probably in that corner.â
As he walks over, you actively fight the urge to size him up, see how much his stature has changed. Itâs futile.
He kicks around in the dark of the cave before finding your bag. He unbuckles the straps, before sliding his hand inside to find it.Â
You open your mouth to tell him where it is, but he draws it out before a sound can even pass your lips.Â
âKept it hidden. Attagirl.â
âDonât call me that, you bastard.â
He only grins to himself as he returns to his spot behind you, finally cutting you free.
to be continued...
taglist! fill out here
@nectardaddy, @aozui, @wyrcan, @jadeoru, @mjustag1rl,
@eggyrocks @bakery-anon, @chaotic-neutral-ig, @angee444, @introvertsince2003,
@Kameyyy, @bakingcuriosity, @Anniewings, @nobodybutnnoorr
#haikyuu#hq#haikyuu fanfic#haikyuu smau#hq smau#haikyuu angst#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu sakusa#sakusa x reader#sakusa kiyoomi#sakuska kiyoomi x reader#kiyoomi x reader#sakusa x you#kiyoomi x you#sakusa smau#haikyuu x reader#mw.sakusa kiyoomi#lonesome town
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bts fanfics i think shakespeare and queen elizabeth i wouldâve gossiped about.
chapter ii. â· chapter iv.
KEYS ON SEVERITY OF SHAKESPEAREâS STATE:
( âź ) â you canât lie, shakespeareâs got a mouth on him.
( ⏠) â theyâve ordered everyone out the room. peering through the window as we speak.
( â ) â someone tell him to put that poor teacup down.
( â ) â her majesty royally gasped. sheâs clutching her pearls, bless her.
THE SHAKESPEARE SERIES.
WARNING: keep in mind, some of these authors are very strict on the rule that no minors should read their work if theyâre underage, and i will honour that. but, at the end of the day, i am not your parent. so, thereâs that. but heed my warning wisely. any smut or 18+ content is highlighted in bold.
NOTE: weâre on part three already? damn, times flies. if youâre new here, welcome to the shakespeare series where i write essays about fics that would absolutely annihilate shakespeare â hence the name. if you havenât read the past two chaptersïżŒ, you can access them in the masterlist above! letâs get into it.
â
â
( â ) MATILDA â by @babystrcandy
!! yoongi x reader | 141.8k !!
brothers best friend au, angst, fluff, eventual smut.
my therapist would absolutely adore this fanfic. maybe i should recommend it to her. or just send her the link. sheâd be thrilled.
this series is dedicated to anyone who felt like the second choice, the one always forgotten about, the so-called disappointment, the people pleaser, the perfectionist, the one whose family has let them down over and over again.
reading this, alike reading anything else, transports you to another world. however, the difference between this one and all others, is this makes you feel safe. secure. a safe place. a sanctuary you never realised even existed, where you feel accepted and loved. it takes the idea of home and really drills it in.
if you find yourself relating to this story, like i did, i want to you to know i see you and i truly hope one day you find everything you were deprived of growing up. you deserve peace. you deserve love.
while youâre at it, go give this author some love for seeing us, listening to us, and validating our experiences. and for writing such a beautiful story.
â
( ⏠) DILF JK â by @venusiangguk
!! jungkook x reader | 85.5k !!
strangers to lovers, dad!jk, friends with benefits, smut (18+), fluff.
if some armyâs werenât such deluluâs and so consumed by the imaginary idea that theyâll one day marry a bts member and live happily ever after, this is the type of shit weâd actually get. but no, weâre forever plagued by fiction because of a few overly obsessed wankers.
rant aside, dilf!jk is a concept. one that needs to be studied and researched for my own personal needs. because i thought dilf!namjoon was dangerous (and he most certainly is), but dilf!jk is a whole other⊠thing? being? story? iâll leave that to the researchers.
personally, i love when authors mould fiction and reality into one body. they blend the two concepts together to create something beautiful, and this was duly noted within the topic of the age gap. deciding on something real for the benefit of both parties in a fictional story is so fucking applaudable. or perhaps iâm just an angsty fucker, sorry.
most definitely worth all the tissues and all the cheek aching. talking from experience.
i mean, itâs got âdilfâ in the title, is that not enough? itâs what made me click, anyways. iâm a dilf lover through and through.
â
( ⏠) A SERPENTâS FLOWER â by @jimlingss & @dovechim
!! jimin x reader | 34.2k !!
fluff, smut (18+), lil angst, hogwarts!au.
realistically, you knew at some point in this series there would be a harry potter!au thrown in somewhere, didnât you? i mean, come on now. and iâm so happy this is the first one.
this two-parter and itâs sequel both are both due the respect they deserve. the perfect opposites attract trope? enemies to lovers? with a quick-witted slytherin reader and an even wittier hufflepuff park jimin? fuck me, donât mind if i do.
i never say a fanfic has everything. but this fanfic has everything. character, romance, humour, angst, wit, the list goes on. itâs a fanfic buffet: itâs got it all, and you just help yourself.
and i realise some people donât read the sequels to fanfics (i know), but i beg of you. read the sequel too. if anything, i think the sequel was my favourite bit. and i know some people donât like the pregnancy trope, but iâm telling you there definitely is a time and place for it. and this is the time! and the place! trust me.
did i cry at the end of this fic? i canât remember. but the probability is higher than iâd like it to be.
â
( âź ) ZERO GRAVITY â by @luxekook
!! namjoon x hoseok x reader | 11k !!
space!au, poly!au, angst, smut (18+), crack, fluff.
if someone doesnât drop me on a spaceship with two of the hottest men on the planet in the next fortnight, iâm suing. donât know who thatâll be yet, but some poor sod will have his hands full, thatâs for certain.
i love space!au fics with my whole heart and ass. honestly, every time one comes up on my page, i have to save it. itâs a reflex at this point, theyâre just too good. you know what is also too good? the built up tension within this fic. jaw-dropping.
iâm not giving out any spoilers, but the author really said, bonkâ here is the nastiest smut youâve ever read in your life. take it, or get fucked. and of course, i took it. but nothing really prepares you for that atmosphere change. not even the sex club was remotely ready. and itâs a sex club.
not going to lie, before writing this essay, i actually went back and read it again, just to make sure i was in the right mind the first time i read it. and yep, sure was. itâs just shocking how insane this fic is.
btw, anyone fancy a visit to throbbing disco sticks? i need a word with the person who came up with the name. and perhaps a kiss too.
â
( â ) NO CHOICE (NEXT TO YOU) â by @gukyi
!! yoongi x reader | 13k !!
college!au, frat boy!au, neighbour!au, enemies to lovers.
miscommunication. my lover in fanfics, my worst enemy in real life. hence why i love this fic so much. because itâs not real life. (unfortunately).
weâve all done that thing where weâve accidentally eavesdropped onto something we shouldnât of and one thing leads to another and boom, you find yourself misreading the whole situation. and youâre lying if you say you havenât.
well, thatâs this fic for you. times a thousand. honestly, enemies to lovers fics never do me wrong. theyâre always a joy to read â the thrill and the very, very prominent sexual tension keeps you excited, waiting on the edge of your seat to see how everything plans out.
my point? this fic never bores you out. read it a thousand times and it still feels like the first. and not a lot of fanfics have that power, iâll tell you that. a few, yes. but not a lot.
donât take reading this for the first time for granted. wish i had that privilege. jealous.
â
( â ) THE PRINCEâS CINDERELLA SYNDROME â by @jimilter
!! jimin x reader | 39.4k !!
cursed!jimin, supernatural!au, strangers to lovers!au angst, smut, fluff.
this fic altered my brain chemistry permanently. thereâs no going back. iâm officially ruined, you guys. i donât even know who i was before i read this. it was just- bang, clean slate.
to begin with, i thought âthis bitch saw him twice and her knees buckled. what the fuck.â but then i realised that bitch is me, and the so-called him is referring to thee park jimin, so really. i got it. who wouldnât absolutely power move it after seeing such a sight? i might just jog a little. sprint on a good day.
i would happily write a five thousand word essay for you on how fucking good this plot slash idea was, and an additional ten thousand on how sad, but i donât think my fingersâ nor my mental state would be able to go through that. not again. please.
but as i mentioned in the last fic above, do not take reading this for the first time for granted. however, only because you will lose all rationality.
shakespeare most definitely plagiarised this fic. he wrote it down and her majesty knows. thatâs why he looked so proud of himself at tea. the sneaky fucker. just he wait until i tell @jimilter.
sobbing. again. or is this the fourth time?
â
( â ) ALWAYS IN MY DREAMS â by @kookskingdom
!! namjoon x reader | 15.4k !!
soulmates!au, fluff, angst, minor character death.
i mean, i already sleep too fucking much. only being able to meet my soulmate through my dreams would just make me comatose. youâd never hear from me. ever.
and yes, you saw the tag. itâs another soulmate!au because everyone knows how much nini loves her hopeless romance. but! who doesnât. theyâre too good to scroll past. so when i finally read this, i knew it was going in the series.
the unknown certainty between the pair of when their next encounter would be with each other, causing them to cherish every single second, that. thatâs what i want please. someone who drinks up my existence knowing we will soon part from each other. i cannot.
i love, love, love the concept of soulmates, fate, destiny, whatever. the whole shabang. i bathe in it. so, of course, this fic was a big hit with me. and if that too is your thing, and you love the idea of two souls being intwined inside and out, this is your golden ticket.
@kookskingdom is mentioned in this chapter twice. but can you blame me? you find a ticket to the chocolate factory, of course youâre going to hold onto it as tightly as possible.
â
( âź ) VOICEMAIL â by @joonary
!! seokjin x reader | 7k !!
fluff, humour, friends to lovers, college podcast!au.
you know those dramas where both the two main characters are so completely smitten with each other to the point youâre practically screaming at your screen for them to âjust kiss already!â but wonât because theyâre hopelessly oblivious, even though everyone is telling them how in love they both are? yeah, thatâs this fic. in a nutshell.
though in their defence, i feel i would definitely do the same. but still, does it stop me from getting frustrated with them? no. i was absolutely raging.
this cute story was so, so sweet i was practically clutching the phone for an emergency appointment to the dentist. my teeth were rotting with all the added sugar, like hello? my teeth? but just like chocolate is, itâs addicting. and you canât stop yourself.
perhaps iâm just a sucker for friends to lovers fics, but this one particularly caught my attention. itâs 5k of pure infuriation, and 2k of fluff.
but so worth the impatience.
â
( ⏠) FALL IN HATRED â by @jimlingss
!! seokjin x reader | 20k !!
divorce!au, angst, fluff, smut (18+), marriage!au.
first bullet point is just the thought of fuck me, âcause where do i start with this?
separation â in some ways â is the easy way out. you just get up and leave. walk out, whatever. boom, just like that. but the emotional repercussions are what make it so distressing. making that daunting decision to leave somethingâ someone in our past, may be one of the hardest things we humans ever have to do.
this fic goes through the rough battle of what it means to be committed to a person. the battles of finally giving up on someone you once thought the world of. and honestly? that may be my worst fear. for someone to love me so deeply, and then lose that over time to see me as nothing more than an inconvenience of their past.
never been through divorce. hopefully you, nor i, will ever have to. but after reading this, i donât think we have to experience it.
this amazing, yet painfully angsty fic does it for us. and a fucking incredible ending.
â
( â ) THE ROAD TO RADIANT â by @kookskingdom
!! jungkook x reader | 25.9k !!
gamer!au, streamer!au, fluff, angst, smut, rivals to friends to lovers!au.
this got a crown on the shakespeare state chart purely for the fact i have never played valorant in my life, and single-handedly managed to impress my friends â who are obsessed with said game â about my newfound knowledge of gaming, purely from this fic alone. felt like a fucking genius.
i was going to add this to part four, but i genuinely had to swap some fics around to put this baby in. i found space for her, so sheâs here. and deservedly so. why wait?
this fic does a very good job of highlighting the deep misogyny and sexism that runs within the gaming community towards women. like, can women not be good at gaming too? do people really believe gaming is purely a man thing? is this really the society we live in? yikes.
and if you do happen to read this fic and reach that argument scene with jungkook, please let me know. i want you to know i, too, was absolutely fuming. phones were thrown. naughty words were said. angry voice messages to said best friend were recorded.
final special mention for the smut scene. had me sweating like a sinner in church. lord have mercy.
â
( ⏠) BRASS AND STRINGS â by @jimlingss
!! namjoon x reader | 113.7k !!
slice of life!au, fluff, slow burn, college!au, music!au.
take a shot every time this author is mentioned within this series. youâll end up blackout pissed. itâs a shame they left this platform, but i hope theyâre doing well. their fics have really left an impact on me. and iâll forever be grateful.
ah, yes. the cheesy clichĂ©d trope of the mean girl and the nerd. a mix of two completely different personalities and flavours that supposedly fit together like two broken pieces of a puzzle. the very foundation of a 2000âs romcom. an iconic pairing that has been hammered into us by the media since day one.
itâs the opposites attract that lured me in initially, but itâs the character development throughout the story that nestled itself into my heart, and got me to stay. this fic holds dear to me still.
i have gatekept this fic long enough, and i am trusting you to bear it with love and extreme care. like youâre holding a small, fragile baby in your arms. do not let me down. please.
one more thing, donât share this with shakespeare. every time heâs brought it up, iâve told him it was a really weird dream and heâs only just started to believe me. yes, i feel shit about it, but it has to be done. the manâs a menace.
â
( âź ) TANGLED WEBS â by @ughseoks
!! jungkook x reader | 14.1k !!
spiderman!au, soulmate!au (yup), angst, fluff.
if any of you say a word about the second tag, i will fight. i will never stop recommending them. me and the soulmates!au are soulmates. irony at its finest.
i genuinely wish spidey!jk was a real adaptation. because even though andrew is my favourite spiderman, i fear there is a large difference between the pair that separates them. andrew can play peter parker. jungkook can (re: could) play peter parker. but could andrew play jungkook? no.
in this fic, the whole characterisation of both jungkook as spiderman and the soulmate!reader is so well written. you can perfectly picture jungkook being that awkward high school boy by day, and secret superhero vigilante by night. i mean, fuck me. how is he not knackered all the time?
mixing in that final zest of soulmates!au everyone (re: me) loves, youâve got yourself a hell of a plot line.
romeo and juliet were not soulmates, shakespeare. they were children. why arenât you taking notes? stop talking to the queen. sheâs tired of all your bullshit. and so are we.
© marknee, 2023. all rights reserved.
â
#shakespeare series#bts#bts series#bts x reader#bts fic recs#bts fic rec#fic recs#fic rec#kpop#bts smut#bts imagines#bts fanfic#bts angst#bts fic#bts scenarios#jungkook#namjoon au#taehyung#seokjin fic#hoseok#jiminbts#yoongi#namjoon x reader#seokjin x reader#yoongi x reader#hoseok x reader#jimin x reader#taehyung x reader#jungkook x reader
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Reluctant Protector | Din Djarin
Part 1 of 2
Din Djarin x Fem!reader
Summary: After being abandoned as a child, you grew up working for one of the most prolific crime lords in the galaxy in order to survive. It all comes crashing down as a split second decision has the Mandalorian hunting you. As it turns out, your hunter might be the only one who can save you. After all, the lines between predator and prey have always been blurred.
Warnings: angst (what's new), mild language, panic attack, violence, fluff, mentions of human trafficking (brief), Mando being a fool in love, adult themes throughout, happy ending (again, what's new)
A/N: This one was from the request that I accidentally deleted (i'm so mad at myself), but it was RIGHT up my alley lol. I hope my sweet anonymous finds this and I hope it is everything you wanted and more đ€ ALSO! I got sooo carried away so it's a two-parter for ease of reading. You can find part 2 below!
Part 2
You never should have met the Mandalorian Bounty Hunter.Â
You never should have left the comfort of your home planet as a child. You never should have known anything besides the warmth of your mother's arms. It does not make sense that someone like you would meet someone like him. It should not have been possible, not in a million sun cycles.
So how did your story and the Mandalorian's tangle? How did âneverâ get overcome so easily, so swiftly?
The answer is rather simple. Anything that never should have been was thrown from impossible to possible the night your parents left on a date night when you were seven years old.
And never came back.
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You remembered everything from that night.
You remembered the way the rain pattered against the large window in the common room of your cozy home. You remembered the spread of stars peeking out from behind the rain clouds, ready to shine their light upon the newly-brought night. You remembered everything from that night, including the look upon your father's face when he said goodbye.
You were too young to understand it then, too little to catch the hint of despair and shred of desperation as he ushered your emotionless mother out of the front door.
"Be back before bedtime, mama! You have to finish that story you started last night," Your little voice rang out, a smile spread on your lips.
Your mother, almost numb, did not respond. Strange, she always did.
Noticing your growing frown, your father smiled, but it did not reach his eyes, "Goodbye, little one. We'll be back before you know it"
"Have a good night," You called back, already humming to yourself as you played with the toys your father had spilled out in a hurry before you, "Love you lots!"
You did not even glance up as the door shut, did not even seem to notice that, for the first time, your parents did not say they loved you too. Looking back, it was hard to fathom you had missed all of the signs. But you were just a kid, a kid. How could you have known? How could you have guessed?
How were you to predict that your parents would not walk back through that door?
When they did not make it back in time to say goodnight, you hadn't thought much about it. When you woke up and they still had not returned, confusion began to ring within your young, innocent soul. For the first day, you lost the worry to the joy that you did not have to go to lessons today. You ate what you wanted and played for as long as you liked, but when night came once more, you wondered when mama would return to finish her story.
The food ran out a week later, and it would only be a few more days until you would find out why exactly your parents had not returned.
Your small fingers worked anxiously on the drawing before you. It was all you could do not to burst into tears. Your mother and father were still not back, and you were hungry. You knew you'd have to go into town soon, but you had no money and no adults to protect you.
What had happened to mama and papa, you wondered? Were they hurt? Were they...were they dead?
That was when the front door opened for the first time in a week and a half, and your life changed forever.
You gasped as the door swung open, hope flooding your small being. You jumped to your feet swiftly and, with a bright smile upon your lips, sprinted blindly towards the man who had just walked through the door.
"Papa! I'm so-"
Your words died as you skidded to a halt before the looming Zeltron male before you. This wasn't your father, and your mother was nowhere near him. Taking a hesitant step back, your bottom lip began to tremble.
"Who are you?" You whispered, your small hands shaking and your youthful voice higher-pitched than normal. The magenta-skinned male tilted his head down at you, seeming to examine you closely for a moment.
"Vince Hanon," He replied, his voice smooth and flooded with calculation, "Your father owed me a great debt."
That was when you noticed the towering goons behind Vince, strapped to the teeth with blasters and blades alike. Your eyes widened a fraction before anger boiled through your blood. They hurt your parents, they were the reason mama hadn't come home.
Swifter than Vince or his men could predict, you shot to the side and grabbed one of the long-forgotten toys along the ground and hurled it at the tall Zeltron.
To your dismay, he caught it with ease.
A smirk danced on his face as he glanced at the toy and then at you with what seemed to be mirth. Without a word, his guards stalked forward, one pulling a pair of metal cuffs as he neared you. Surprisingly, Vince held out a single hand, stopping all movements of his men.
"Sir?" One asked, glancing back at him, "The next shipment of children leaves soon. If she is to join, we should-"
"Do not give this one to the Trade," Vince ordered, walking past his men and up to you. Ever so slowly, he knelt before you, "She is young enough to learn, and strong enough to survive."
"Survive what?" You blurted, your heart pounding in your chest, "What's the Trade? What are you going to do with me?"
Vince laughed deeply before you, "So many questions, child. You'll have your answers."
He stood before you, extending down a purple hand, "Come, I'm sure you're hungry."
And so, with no other choice, you took the strange man's hand and left.
Vince never lied to you. He told you the moment you left your home that your father had lost everything trying to pay back the debt he owed Vince. With nothing left to give but his only child, he had offered you up for the child slave trade.
For reasons you would never truly come to know, Vince did not trade you. In fact, he traded no other child after that night.
He informed you that he was the head of a group of people who did bad things for good reasons and rewards. It wouldn't be for another couple years until you understood that meant he was a Crime Lord. What he was doing was wrong, what he was training you to do was wrong.
But you were a kid, and you did what you had to do to survive.
You're not a kid anymore.
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Present Day
The barely-used knife pressed its soothing cool into the skin of your thigh as you sauntered through the compound. As you passed the counterparts you had known since childhood, they stepped aside with wary smiles.
They knew your true knife was not the blade with which you had a slightly below average affinity. It was your tongue.
âLook who it is, Vinceâs little prodigy.â The sound of the ever-present guards outside of Vince Hanonâs office called out to you, their lips turned up in a not entirely taunting smirk.Â
âGood morning, lackeys,â You greeted in return, stopping before the large, steel door that held your bossâs office behind it, âVince sent word that he wanted to see me, another assignment apparently.â
One of the guards snickered slightly, âHopefully it has nothing to do with using that blade on your thigh. Vinceâs little prodigy would be too dead to report.â
âSo funny,â You deadpan, shaking your head at the guard.
âYou know, if Vince let you train with me as a child you would be proficient in the ways of combat,â The one who spoke first insisted. With a taunting smile, you walked up to the door and patted the guardâs shoulder.
âIâd also be as stupid as you, which is exactly why he didnât.â
The laughter of the two guards filled your ears and brought a smile to your lips as you pushed the button on the panel beside the door. The steel whooshed aside, revealing Vinceâs office. With that easy smile still on your lips, you greet the Zeltron who saved you as a child. His magenta skin gleamed in the sunlight that streamed in through the massive windows that made up the far wall of the office, and his white teeth were a stark contrast to the dark color as he looked up to you and smiled.
It did not go unnoticed that he only smiled at you like that.
Vince Hanon had no lover and no children, but anyone who knew a fraction about him knew that the closest thing he had to family was an abandoned child whose life heâd spared all those years ago. He wasnât the father youâd always dreamed of, but he was the one you had. He hadnât sold you for profit as your first father had, he hadnât let you play with toys or even be a child in those first years under his care, but he had made you independent in this cruel, uncaring galaxy. That was something so very few women got to be.Â
Vince Hanon made you self-sufficient when you should have died long ago, and it was that reason alone that made you grateful to him. Not caring, as a daughter would be to her father, as you knew he was with you, but grateful.
âMy Prodigy,â Vince called out, standing from his massive mahogany desk carved with images of bones and crumbled towers along the legs, âIt is always a pleasure to see you.â
âAnd you, Vince.â Your words were fluid and easy, not entirely a lie. A part of your heart was caught in anxious anticipation, though.Â
You knew what came next. You knew heâd give you an assignment that made every part of your soul cringe. You knew what came next would push you further down the path of corruption and darkness. You knew, with a biting horror that never seemed to leave you alone, that after a few more years of doing his bidding, that small voice that whispered its disgust would go quiet.Â
And youâd be just like Vince.
âI was pleased to see your last assignment was handled with efficiency and discreteness,â Vince complimented. You nodded obediently, your hands clasped before you.
âThe debtor did not have the credits to pay the balance due, so it seemed the Hothian government misplaced the deed to her home.â You reported, the words less bitter on your tongue than they would have been a few years ago.Â
âAnd it was found with my name on it,â Vince finished for you, allowing a deep chuckle to resonate through the room as he walked to your side. He put his arm along your shoulders, pulling you to his side and walking with you towards the back of his office space, âGood work, my Prodigy. I am impressed with how far you have come.â
âThank you, Vince.âÂ
Your jaw was tight and that nagging grew in your soul. He was pleased that youâd placed an elderly woman onto the streets to repay the debt she owed. The debt to Vince for saving her sonâs life after Vince had been the one to order his death.
Is this truly who you were now?Â
The thought did not last long, as you shoved it deep down and locked it in the same room in your mind where you kept that little girl sleeping in front of an unopened door, waiting for her parents. You did what you had to in order to survive. You had no choice.Â
How much longer would that lie placate you?
âI have been thinking,â Vince began again, stopping near the far wall of his office where a massive box covered with a large cloth sits. He removed his arm from your shoulders and stepped back to face you, âThere is no one in this organization that I trust more than you.â
You blinked in surprise, the words slamming through you.You did not quite know how to feel when your trained eyes examined his features and expression and saw that he meant it, saw that he looked at you as a father would their child. Vince had trained you to see tells in a personâs face, and you saw none in his.
âYou honor me, boss.â
Vince took a moment to simply examine your face, his eyes seeming to search for something. When he seemed to not find it, a small, real smile began on his lips.Â
âI have one more assignment for you,â Vince informed, that smile growing as he took another step back and closer to the covered box, âAnd if you succeed, I want to make you my Second.â
The world seemed to stop spinning for a moment. Your eyes widened a fraction, your mouth dropping open the slightest bit. His Second, he wanted to make you his Second.
âBut that would meanâŠâ You trailed off, your eyes desperately searching for a tell of a lie on his face. You found none.
âYou would take over for me when I retire.â Vince finished for you.Â
âVince, I couldnât-â
âYes, you could.â His interruption was accompanied by a hand to your shoulder, âYou have earned this, my Prodigy. You deserve this.â
His Second. You would lead this organization one day, you would be the next Vince Hanon. You would have power and control. No more would you have to fear for the next meal or the next morning. Youâd be safe, in control, in power. You could change the way this was run, maybe even do some good.Â
This was the answer to the nagging in your chest, the horror in your soul. You could have a shot at redemption for all that youâve done.
âThank you, boss.â You whispered hoarsely, your voice not hiding an ounce of your emotion. Vince nodded and stepped back, those calculating eyes sweeping over your figure.
âJust one more assignment, child. One more, and itâs all yours.âÂ
âAnything.â Your response was stronger this time, your eyes holding a hope that hadnât been there since you were a child.Â
âA recent debtor repaid his debt. I need you to take care of it.â Vinceâs words barely registered in your mind. All you could think of was your freedom. Then he pulled the cloth off of the box, and you realized it wasnât a box at all.
It was a cage.
With a small gasp, your mind snapped back to this moment. The freedom youâd almost been able to taste came crashing down, and that horror roared in your soul so loudly that you actually stumbled back a step.Â
There was a child in that cage, a little girl who looks to be the same age that you were all those years ago.
âBut youâŠyou stopped selling to the Trade,â Your voice was a breath, your words ringing with terror.Â
âI did,â Vince conceded, stroking a hand along the cageâs bars and making the young girl in it recoil back as far as she could in the cramped space, âAnd my profits since have taken a steep drop. If I am to cement your future, I need to build up our reputation and savings again. I need to make sure every crime syndicate from here to the Outer Rim knows not to mess with us, with you.â
You were shaking your head, your heart racing and your mind fraying apart as if you hadnât spent the entirety of your life fortifying it and trying desperately to forget.Â
âI canât,â You gasped, shaking your head and taking back a step, âI canât-â
âYes you can,â Vince soothed, stepping up to you and holding your arms, âYouâre ready for this. Think of everything this could bring you.â
Oh you were. As you stared into that scared little girlâs eyes, it was all you could think about. You were stuck awfully between flashes of your abandonment and what your future would look like if you did this one last assignment. The loneliness in the empty house, the empire you could build. The hunger that had set in after a week alone, the security of always having another meal. The betrayal that had burrowed deep in your chest, the power you could fill its hole with.Â
âSheâs just another trade, a simple barter. Nothing more than the deed to a home.â Vinceâs voice was an echo of your thoughts, the devil on your shoulder.Â
It would be so easy, so easy. After everything that you had been through, why should you care how your safety and freedom was bought? You deserved it, your life has been anything but fair. It would be easy. One trade, and the world, the very galaxy, would be in the palm of your hands.
But would your soul ever recover? Would you ever be able to look at yourself in a mirror again? You knew what happened to little girls who went into the trade, for being in this business you knew all too well of the perversions of the people in this galaxy.Â
Could you live with this?Â
Vince saw the flash of an answer in your eyes a moment too late.Â
The knife was already in your hand and thrown by the time Vince had just begun to open his mouth and shout for his guards. The knife lodged into his shoulder even though youâd been aiming for something more lethal. It was enough to stop him from rushing you, though. You sped forward and tackled him to the ground with every ounce of strength you had. His cry of pain was muffled by the hand you slapped over his mouth. In a quick move, you ripped the knife free from his shoulder and angled it at his throat.Â
Vince went as silent as death, his eyes wide with betrayal, withâŠwith hurt.
Your chest squeezed painfully at the look in his eyes as you moved your hand from covering his mouth. He didnât scream, he knew better, âMy child, Iâve given you the world.â
His words were choked with tears, you realized suddenly. To your surprise, tears of your own gathered in your eyes.
âIâm not your child,â You whispered, clenching your jaw to keep your resolve, âAnd I donât want the world if this is what it costs.â
There was a flash of rage in his eyes, and it made your stomach drop. Youâd seen it before, but never directed at you.
âYou do this,â His words were calculated and controlled, barely veiling his growing anger, âAnd I will never stop hunting you. I will show you just what I spared you from when you were a child.â
Something broke within your chest at the thought, but for the first time since seven years old, you werenât shoving down guilt to do something. You could feel your heart open and free, your soul resting for once, and you knew that this was what you had to do. You need to be able to live with yourself, even if it means you lived a short life.Â
You are better than this, than everything you have done to survive.Â
You arenât a kid anymore. You have a choice.
âSo be it,â You murmured, and then slammed the handle of the knife against Vinceâs temple. He was out cold as soon as the blow was delivered, which was surprising in itself. That move had never worked before for you. Youâre glad it had now, because as you stood and moved away from the magenta-skinned Crime Lord, you realized that this was freedom.Â
Youâre free now, and it was better than the freedom that you would have bought with the trading of your soul.
Without another thought to the consequences of your actions, you turned and sprinted over to the cage where the little girl sat crouched as far as she could in the corner. Her eyes were wide with fear and confusion and hope as she looked up at you.Â
âIâm not gonna hurt you,â You soothed, stooping down in front of the cage and looking at the lock.Â
Once you saw the shape of the key needed, you stood and jogged to Vinceâs massive desk. It only took a few moments of searching before you snagged the key from under a stack of papers and forms.Â
A knock sounded on the massive steel door, but it thankfully remained closed, âEverything alright in there?â
Your pulse spiked dangerously and your heart missed a beat.Â
âEverythingâs fine, lackeys,â You responded coolly, almost sounding bored, âVince had to grab something from his chambers.â
This seemed to placate them, and youâre relieved that Vinceâs chambers are attached to his office through a door at the very back. Knowing time was running out, you sprinted to the cage and crouched once more. Your fingers trembled as you undid the lock and threw the door open. The girl sat pressed into the far corner, and you let out a panicked breath as you extended a hand out to her.
âCome on, kid. We donât have much time left.â
She examined your hand for an agonizingly long moment before realizing you werenât going to hurt her. To your relief, she quickly took your outstretched hand and crawled out as fast as she could. You kept her hand in yours and tugged her towards the door at the back wall that leads to Vinceâs room.
âHow are we going to get out?â She mumbled. You pressed the button beside the door and it slid open easily, revealing a room of black silk and deep emerald walls. Tugging the girl in, you shut the door and made sure to press the lock button before pulling her towards the wall beside Vinceâs bed.
You released her hand for a moment as you approached the massive painting that rested on the wall. Your fingers searched the edges desperately until they found a small button.
âVince showed this to me when I was your age,â You panted, pushing the button and swinging the painting aside, âHe kept it for a quick escape if the compound was ever raided.â
A large, dark hole was in the wall behind the paintingâa chamber that led directly to the back of the compound. The young girl shook her head slightly, her eyes going wide as she peered into the dark reaches of the cavernous chamber.
âI canât,â She whispered, her voice trembling, âItâs too scary, I canât. I-â
Before you could even console her, the sound of a fist pounding on the steel door to the office in the other room echoed through the walls, âBoss, you in there? Whatâs going on?â
Your heart nearly stopped and you knew the guards, as stupid as they were, would notice the silence soon enough. Swirling back to the young girl, you did not wait for her response before you hoisted her into your arms and put her into the escape passageway. Thankfully, the girl had the sense to remain quiet despite her obvious trepidation as she waited in the dark for you to climb in after her. Once you had, you closed the painting as quietly as you could just as you heard the office being raided.Â
It was only a matter of time before they would see Vince unconscious and venture into his bedroom beyond. You had to move, and fast.
âCome on,â You urged, finding the girlâs hand in the dark and tugging her down the passageway. As you moved down a flight of stairs, you pressed the small button on your metal bracelet, releasing a soft glow of light bright enough to illuminate your next steps and banish the girlâs fear of the dark.Â
âWill they find us?â She panted, her small hand gripping yours tightly.Â
âThey shouldnât,â You replied, your eyes straining into the dark beyond the small glow of your bracelet as you took turns and twists and more passages to the depths of the compound, âVince only told me about the passage.â
Even though that should have eased the girlâs tension, her grip on your hand did not relax. It took a few minutes of deep silence before she finally spoke again.Â
âYou really were his favorite,â She breathed, a certain tremor in her voice. You could practically feel the weight of her large eyes burning into the side of your face.
For some reason, her words knocked you on your ass. This young girl knew who Vince Hanon was before she was taken by him, and she knew enough to have heard about you. Was this how the galaxy saw you? As Vince Hanonâs adopted daughter?
The thought made you shudder.
âWhy did you betray him for me?â She asked into the thick silence, and a pang shot through your chest.
Your feet faltered, and you stopped the breakneck pace youâd been going at. With a trembling breath, you turned and looked back at the young child. The light from your bracelet lit up the contours of her face, the tear stains etched into her skin and the trauma haunting her young, innocent gaze.
âBecause I was you a long time ago.â You swallowed, sudden tears swimming in your gaze as you took in the small child who nearly met such a cruel fate, âBecause Vince saved me, and there was no one to save you.â
The words stung some deep, confused part of your chest. A part of you would alwaysâŠbe indebted to Vince. He was the holder of your chains, the destroyer of your moral compass, the tyrant of your life. But, no matter how much you tried to forget it, he saved you. He saved you when your own father would not, and he raised you as his own.Â
Some twisted part of you would always pity him, even though you knew you shouldnât.
Thatâs why, without a word, you smiled sadly at the girl before turning and leading her the rest of the way out of the passage.
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The entire city was on high alert.Â
Moments after the girl and you emerged from the escape passageway and into a back alley miles from the compound, you heard the shouts and the sirens in the distance. Vince had run this city with an iron fist, he did not tolerate betrayal and the people knew that. But now, the King of Crime had been crossed by his own Prodigy.
Every goon he had working for him was now hunting for you.
Doors were shut and windows locked. The streets were empty and the last few stragglers were in no rush to speak to anyone they did not have to. Even now, only a few minutes after the crime had been announced publicly, Vinceâs guards swarmed the streets, pounding on doors and demanding entry for searches.
âTheyâre everywhere,â The young girl you saved panted as you sprinted with her down back alleys and through abandoned shops, âWhere will we go?â
âI still have some friends,â You assured in response, stopping suddenly at the back door of a normal, unassuming home miles down from where Vinceâs guards were searching. Without pausing to explain to the girl, you pounded your fist desperately against the door. There was a rush of steps before an old, hoarse voice called out.
âWe are closed to visitors right now. Come back later.â
âItâs me,â Is all you said in response.Â
The old fashioned door swung open almost instantly. You had to squint against the sudden flood of light until you could just make out the older woman who stood in the doorway peering down at you and the girl with calculating eyes. She swung her gaze between the terrified child and you before she finally let out a long sigh.Â
âYou finally did it,â She mused, catching your gaze with a knowing look.Â
âHe asked something of me I couldnât do,â You informed, trying to sound detached even though your entire heart was upon your sleeve, âAnd I need your help.â
Behind the old woman, children zoomed back and forth of all species and ages. They laughed and played jovially, unaware of the chaos outside. This place was an Orphanage, one you visited quite often with what little money you had left after Vinceâs paychecks. You never allowed the Orphanage Keeper to tell you her name for her own sake, but sheâd made it clear that she would be at your service should you ever need it.
You needed it now.
The Keeper looked down at the young girl who still held your hand in a tight grip and hummed, âSheâll fit right in, the guards wonât even know the difference.â
Relief broke over you, and you turned from The Keeper to stoop down in front of the confused child.Â
âWhatâs happening?â The young girl interrogated, her voice quivering.
âThis place is safe for you, The Orphanage Keeper will take good care of you. Sheâll make sure you find a home and lead a normal life.â
She caught on to your tone quickly, realizing you were going to leave her here. She began to shake her head and back up from the doorway, âNo, you canât leave me. Please donât leave me!â
Your heart shattered. Those words had haunted your own soul since you were just as old as she is. Theyâve bounced around in your memories in ways youâll never be able to put into words. To hear them come from herâŠTears you did not try to hide fought their way to your gaze as you grasped the young girlâs shoulders.
âThey wonât look for you, theyâll be too busy hunting me. As long as youâre near me, you will not be safe,â You explained, smiling sadly at the girl and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, âWeâll see each other again, I just know itâ
The girl sniffled, but nodded and slowly stepped away from you. The Keeper smiled down at the child, extending her hand, âCome, little one. Go on inside, Iâll be in soon to show you where youâll be staying.â
With one last look back at you, the young girl turned and walked into the Orphanage. You stood slowly, watching her retreat into the building of laughing children. When she didnât look back to you after that, you knew that sheâd survive, that sheâd make it.Â
âI have a ship. Itâs old and hasnât been run in ages, but itâll get you off-world.âThe Keeperâs rushed words snapped you back to reality and you looked up at her. Nodding, you ran a hand through your hair and gathered yourself back together.Â
âDonât go to the Outer Rim,â The Keeper continued, rummaging through the small compartment by the door before she pulled out a small bag, âHeâll look there first. Try Coruscant, itâs swarming with New Republic. Vince wouldnât dare go there.â
You nodded swiftly, your mind swimming with the rising surrealness of the perilous situation. Before you could turn and leave into the dark of night, The Keeper stepped forward and pressed the small bag into your palm. With furrowed brows, you looked down to your hand to inspect the small gift. Realizing exactly what was inside, you gazed back up at the woman sharply with wide eyes.
âYou canât give this to me, I canât take this. Itâs too much,â You rambled, trying to push the bag of credits back to The Keeper. She simply closed her weathered hands around yours and pushed the bag back towards you with a smile.
âThis does not even begin to make up for all of the support youâve given me over the years,â She rasped, tears glistening in her eyes as she realized exactly what you already know.Â
This was goodbye. You would not see her again.Â
âThank you,â You breathed, knowing if you spoke any louder you'd be choking on tears. You were thanking The Orphanage Keeper for more than the credits in your hand. Through the years, no matter what horrors you committed for Vince and his gang, this Orphanage always reminded you of the light that still flickered in your soul. It reminded you that you were good.Â
âMay the Force be with you,â The Keeper blessed, and your heart squeezed at the unfamiliar words.Â
âAnd with you.â
Then you turned and ran into the night, leaving behind the light of the Orphanage and its Keeper for good. It wasnât long before you made it to the ship The Keeper told you about, and itâs even less time before youâre shooting up into the atmosphere and leaving the planet behind. As you set the shipâs coordinates to Coruscant, your mind raced.Â
How far will Vince go to get you back? To repay your betrayal in blood as you knew he would?Â
Before you could even come up with an answer of your own, the bracelet on your wrist beeped with an incoming message. You extended your hand out before you, brows furrowed and pulse slowly picking up. The hologram that lit up in your palm knocked the breath from your lungs and sent your heart into a dangerous rhythm.Â
The crackling hologram was simple and straightforward, projected not directly towards you, but to every known crime syndicate member and bounty hunter.Â
It was a picture of your face, your lips turned up at the very edge in the beginning of a smile. The words below sealed your fate.
âY/N Y/L/NâWANTED ALIVE
BOUNTYâ2 MILLION NEW REPUBLIC CREDITSâ
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The wind cracked like a whip against your skin as you ran.Â
âYou canât run forever!â The shrill, sardonic shout of the Hunter made your fear spike as you sprinted through the crowded streets of Coruscant.
You would think that a New Republic-crowded planet like this one would mean at least one bystander extended their help as you so clearly ran for your life. Even these citizens and their senators knew the price of your bounty, though, and they did not raise a finger to help you.Â
Probably the entire force of the Guild was after you considering how high Vince was willing to pay to get you back. With that high a bounty, odds were that no one was going to help you.
This particular Hunter was alone, a grateful difference from the last few that had come after you. Most had decided to come in groups and split the bounty, which made them much more difficult to elude considering you werenât the stealthiest person alive.Â
You ran desperately through the crowd that parted for you. Eventually youâd have to go back into the peril of open, abandoned areas, so you took advantage of the crowd as much as you could. You could see the end of the crowd in the distance, though, and knew that it was only a matter of time before the chase was just you and the Hunter and a stretch of open space between.
As you shoved through the last of the crowd that had kept the Hunter from firing his stun shots, you heard his voice ring out through the air, âNo more hiding, sweetheart!â
Your eyes scanned desperately for another way out, for an escape plan or any plan really. Not having much of a choice, you took a hard right and sprinted into an alley. As a show to your incredibly bad luck, you found it to be a dead end.Â
âShit!â You panted, turning so fast on your heel that your shoes groaned against the pavement. You stumbled to a quick halt as you found the panting Bounty Hunter blocking your way out.Â
âVince Hanon wants you alive,â He mused, a slow smile spreading across his lips, âHe didnât say how alive.â
The Hunter raised his stun blaster and fired, but youâre expecting it and have already dive-rolled to the side. The shot soared past you, crackling as it did, and you wasted no time to see how close it came before you were on your feet and charging at the Hunter. With a war cry, you shoved the Hunter with your entire body weight before he could get another shot out. He grunted as he crashed into the wall, leaving the exit open for you to sprint out.Â
You did so with a pounding heart, your mind racing to come up with as many plans as you can. You raced down the sparsely populated street, your mind speeding for a solution.Â
If I can just make it into an outlet, then I-
A crackling fire erupted in your back and exploded across the entirety of your body. With a cry of pain, you dropped to the floor and could barely move your head to see the blue energy crackling across your being. Your body convulsed under the stun shot, momentarily paralyzed.Â
No. No, no, no, no. This canât be it.
The pounding of footsteps slowed as they approached your downed form. You looked up in rage and terror at the Bounty Hunter. He shoved his blaster back into its holster and shook his head down at you.
âWhat a pity,â He uttered, smiling that slick, nauseating smile again, âI was going to take it easy on you. But now?â
You thought quickly of everything you could offer the Hunter that was more valuable than two million credits. Desperation rang through you as you came up empty.Â
âPlease,â Your voice shook pathetically at the last attempt to save yourself, and tears gathered in your eyes. You could feel your body slowly come back under your control and you slid back and away from the Hunter. You hated this, you hated begging for your life.Â
I canât go back, was all you could think, I canât let him have me again.
âI like it when you beg,â The Hunter mused, walking ever so slowly towards your downed, retreating form. He was taunting you, and you both knew it.Â
When he finally reached you, he crouched and grabbed you by your legs, sliding you towards him.Â
âNo!â You bellowed, thrashing wildly in his grip as he pinned you with his weight, âYou bastard! Let me go!âÂ
All sense and reason had left you. Begging wasnât going to work and it only made him happier, so you wouldnât try it again. All you had left was a burning terror in your gut of what would happen if Vince got you back. So, you fought the Hunter with all of the fire you had left.Â
The first slam of his fist into your cheek made blood spray from your now-busted lip. He couldnât secure both of your hands in time to stop you from clawing at his face. You couldnât fight well, but you could do that. His shout of pain was music to your ears, but he quickly secured your fists with one hand and continued his onslaught with the other.
âStupid bitch,â He panted between hits, making stars dance in your vision, âBarely worth the two millionâ
Those words shouldnât have wounded you, but you couldn't stop the hurt that exploded in your chest. With unbridled emotions, you spit a mouthful of blood up at the Hunter. He reared back in disgust, wiping your blood off of his face and peering down at you in pure hate.
âJust for that,â Is all he said as he pulled out the stun blaster. Your eyes widened a fraction and you could barely turn your cheek to brace for impact when the sound of a blaster exploded through the air.
But it never hit you.Â
Suddenly, the weight of the Hunter on you slid off and you turned your head up to see him crumpling to the ground with a burning hole in his chest.Â
Pure dumb luck.Â
Hope bursted through you as you scrambled to your feet and delivered an extra kick to the corpse, spitting more of your blood down on him before wiping it off your mouth with the back of your hand. You glanced up, looking around curiously for the one who fired and saved you.Â
Your gratitude died when your eyes found him.Â
The world slowed to an almost stop as panic, real and true, constricted your chest. Shining, dark silver beskar gleamed at you in the burning afternoon sunlight. He stood like an angel of death not thirty paces from you. You knew who he was, everyone knew who he was in your line of work.
The Mandalorian. Perhaps the best Bounty Hunter in the Guild, and the most ruthless.
He wasnât saving you, he was taking your bounty for himself.Â
You stumbled back, your entire body aching but your mind screaming at you to go, run!
The Mandalorian began to stalk towards you and you turned, breaking out into a desperate run. You could only limp, though, and you knew heâd be upon you before you could stop him. You glanced back as you continued your pathetic excuse for a run, and your heart missed a beat when you saw he had almost caught up to you. Turning your head back forward, tears swam in your vision.Â
No, your mind repeated again and again and again, No, no, no
You couldnât outrun him, you couldnât outsmart him, you couldnât overpower him. You were done. You were done, and the desperation in your chest revealed that you knew it.
Your exhaustion almost overpowered your adrenaline and you stumbled into the wall of a nearby building, bracing yourself against it as you tried to keep moving. Practically feeling his domineering presence behind you, your eyes searched the buildingâs edge for a weapon. The best you could find was an abandoned speeder wrench. You grasped the long tool in your trembling hand and whipped around, swinging the wrench with all of the strength you had left.Â
Your heart faltered as the Mandalorian caught your wrist with ease, looking down at you with that emotionless, daunting helmet of beskar. His grip was tight, but not bruising, on your wrist, and you dropped the wrench. You watched his free hand grab a small device on his weapons belt, and you knew immediately it was some sort of stunning device similar to the other Hunterâs.
âDonât do this.â You knew your plea fell on deaf ears, but you had to try, âPlease donât do this, I canât go back.â
His head tilted down at you, but he didn't say a word. The warmth of his hand seeped through the gloves he wore and burned into your skin as he held your wrist. A tear slipped down your cheek, searing its path across your skin. You could feel yourself give up.Â
Youâd been running alone for nearly a week and had barely slept a combined total of three hours. Your body couldnât take anymore, your soul canât take anymore.Â
âJust kill me,â You suddenly begged, another tear slipping down, âIf youâre gonna bring me in, just kill me. Please kill me, please.â
This seemed to stun the Mandalorian, because his grip on your wrist loosened slightly. The hand holding the stun device stalled and you heard him take in a breath.
âWhat?â The word was so simple and so low that you almost missed it, but the rumble of his gruff, modulated voice struck to your very chest. There was something in that voiceâŠsomething you couldnât quite place.Â
Something that made you think he might honor your request, that he might listen.Â
âKill me,â You pleaded again, bringing the hand he didnât hold to press against his beskar chest plate, âDonât let him have me alive, Iâd rather die. Please kill me,â
There was a charge in the air between you two that confused you, and you blamed it on the delusions your panic was causing. With his hand still holding your wrist and your hand on the cool metal plating his chest, you practically leaned all of your exhausted weight onto him. You could barely stand anymore, and you shut your eyes, turning your head and waiting for his killing blow.Â
Death was better than Vince Hanon.Â
You waited and waited and waited, but the blow never came.Â
âIâm not going to kill you,â The Mandalorian murmured, his voice like gravel and deceivingly soothing to your soul. Pure desperation makes another tear slip down your cheek as you open your eyes that are so, so tired.Â
âNo,â Is all you could make out, lifting your exhausted gaze to his helmet.Â
âIâm not gonna turn you in, either.â
His words sent a shot of confusion through your soul.Â
âWhat?â You breathed, your brows furrowed.Â
âI wonât turn you in,â The Mandalorian repeated, his voice sounding just as confused as you, but with an edge of a vow that made you believe him.Â
âThank you,â You mumbled, the adrenaline that had kept you awake for nearly an entire week seeping out of your system, âThank youâ
It probably was not smart, but you couldnât stop your body from giving in to the need to sleep. You collapsed, your eyes slipping shut and your mind already shutting down into that blissful abyss of rest. As your body slipped to the floor, you felt strong, warm arms catch you. Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted and pressed into cool metal.Â
âIâve got you,â The Mandalorian vowed, his voice uncertain but his soul remembering what it felt like trying to turn in the Child when he first hunted him down, âIâve got you.â
The Mandalorian held your sleeping form close to his chest as he walked past the outskirts of the busy Coruscant town and near the shipyard where the Crest awaits. To be completely honest, he didnât know what he was doing. He needed those credits, and it had been all too easy to find you considering how many Hunters were on your trail.Â
Din stood there in the shadows of an alleyway, watching that Hunter take you down and approach your convulsing body. He watched with a blaster raised, ready to take the Hunter out and then claim your bounty instead. Din watched as you fought like a hellcat to be free, watched you spit your blood up at the Hunter.Â
When he took out the Hunter, he wasnât entirely sure if heâd done it to claim your bounty himself or save your life.
As he followed your limping form easily, not even having to run to catch up with you, he was so sure heâd collect your bounty. He had convinced himself he would, even after that familiar nagging of his conscience began.Â
Then Din caught you, and you begged for death.Â
Never before had a bounty done that, at least if he didnât torture them for information first. Yet here you were, begging for death. Din had felt like a sort of Reaper as you sobbed and pleaded for your end, and suddenly he could not understand how the Reaper managed to fulfill those pleas.Â
In that moment, peering into your tear-filled eyes and seeing the desperation, the fear that wasnât directed at him, Din couldnât do it. He couldn't kill you, and he sure as hell couldn't turn you in to Vince Hanon.
So now here he was, carrying you to his ship with the intent of helping you escape.Â
It was stupid, Din knew that. He shouldnât be doing this, he should have left you there on the street to fend for yourself. This wasnât his problem. You werenât his problem.But he just couldnât. It was his biggest weakness, and everyone knew it. First with the kid, and now with you. Even now he couldnât think of leaving you to fend for yourself, not as he looked down at your sleeping form cuddled into his chest as if you had never been held before.
Maybe you hadnât, just as he hadnât in a long while.Â
Ultimately, that was why Din let you cling to him in your oblivious sleep when he would have shoved almost anyone else off.
And it was in that moment that Din Djarin knew he was screwed.
|||
When you woke up, you didnât recognize your room.Â
For a moment you stayed perfectly still, knowing that your memories would supplement the answer eventually. As you sat up slowly, you took in the cot you lay upon in the small room.Â
A ship, you determined.Â
Thatâs when the events of when you were awake came rushing backâthe Bounty Hunter on Coruscant, nearly getting caught, the Mandalorian.Â
The MandalorianâŠsaving your life.Â
Why would a Bounty Hunter save you?Â
Instantly, doubt began to creep into your mind. Reason took over for desperation now that you were rested and in a Bounty Hunterâs ship. The Mandalorian was one of the best in the Guild, he would have said anything to get you onto his ship. He had to be on his way to Vince right now.Â
With a wary mind, you got off of the bed slowly. You tried to be as silent as possible, but failed horribly, as you crept out of the small room you were just sleeping in. As the door to the room slid open, you were met with the hull of a ship. It was relatively clean, but had small clusters of scrap metal and assorted belongings in corners of the room. To your right, as you glanced up, was a ladder leading to what had to be the cockpit.Â
He was probably up there right now.Â
Your breath was shallow, but you took your time to scan the ship warily. You paused upon a good-sized metal cabinet in the back. If there were any weapons in this ship, thatâs where they would be. You walked up to the cabinet quietly, looking back towards the ladder to make sure the Mandalorian wasnât coming down. As your fingers reached towards it, your mind was racing with plans.Â
Youâd never beat him in any sort of combat, but if you could sneak up and surprise-
A choked gasp broke out of your mouth as a strong hand grabbed your shoulder and flipped you around. In an instant, you were pressed up against the metal cabinet with a beskar-coated arm barring your throat hard enough to keep you in place, but not enough to cut off your air supply.Â
âYou really think that was gonna work?â He ground out, cocking his head down at you. Your chest was heaving with breath as you looked up at him, desperately trying to look tough.Â
âDid you really think I was going to let you deliver me to Vince without a fight?â You rasped back, your eyes lit with fire as you stared into the abyss of that beskar helmet.Â
âDeliver you to-â The Mandalorian stopped his sentence, sounding almost disgruntled as his arm loosened at your throat, âI told you I wouldnât. I keep my promises.â
âHow do I know that?â You countered, suddenly trying to ignore the burning heat of his arm against your throat, even with his armor in the way, âHow do I know youâre not gonna say anything to keep me docile before delivering me to him?â
The Mandalorian stopped for a moment, but even as he did your words felt wrong. A part of you, deep within your chest, knew you could trust him. But you were raised to trust no one, so you ignored the intuition and stood your ground.
There was a thick silence as you waited for his response, but it was anything but silent. You were all too aware of how close his body was pressed to yours, of the heat that radiated off of him and the charge in the air.Â
âIf I wanted to turn you into Vince Hanon, youâd already be there,â The Mandalorian finally reasoned, stepping back from you and dropping his arm as if he too realized the intimacy of your position, âYou slept for two and a half days, you can check if you think Iâm lying.â
A part of you wanted to check just to spite him, but as much as you hated to admit it, you believed him. You stayed with your back against the metal cabinet and observed the Bounty Hunter.
âWhere are we going, then?â You inquired, the skepticism heavy in your tone.Â
âSerenno.â His reply was short and clipped, but you still visibly reacted.
âSerenno?â You retorted, already shaking your head, âThatâs Outer Rim. I wonât-â
The Mandalorian cut you off, taking only one menacing step towards you, but it was enough to make your words die.
âYou tried the populated, New Republic planet and obviously that didnât work for you. Vince probably has men crawling through that sector now, so the Outer Rim is our best bet.â
Our? The word came off of his tongue so naturally that it struck a chord deep in your chest. âI was advised to stay away from there. Vince has men patrolling for me there. Why would it be any better now?â You cut back.Â
âBecause now you have me.âÂ
He didnât raise his voice, didn[t even sound pissed off, but there was something in his words that sent a chill running down your spine. An arrogant man would say those words carelessly, and you knew exactly what it sounded like coming from them. But The Mandalorian? He wasnât arrogant. He was sure, and for reasons you didnât want to unpack just yet, it made your heart miss half of a beat.Â
âIf youâre gonna make it out of this, you have to trust me,â He followed up. You almost laugh.
âThatâs not happening,â You quipped, but your eyes told a different story. You didnât want to stroke his ego by telling him that he was already the most trustworthy person youâd met in years. âHow are we going to make it out of this anyway?â
There it was again. We. Why had you said âweâ?
âOnly one way that I see,â The Mandalorian responded, turning from you and walking over to a corner of junk on his ship, âKill Vince Hanon.â
He said it so casually, but it didn/t stop the words from choking you from within. That should have sat easily with you considering what he had almost made you do before you betrayed him. And yet, after everything, you couldnât fully convince yourself youâd land a final blow if the time came.Â
There was a long silence, one that indicated the conversation was over. The Mandalorian turned to the ladder, ready to go back up to the Cockpit when you called out to him suddenly, almost desperately.
âWhy are you helping me?â
He paused, his back to you as it had been for the last few minutes. He turned his head slightly in your direction, but didn't turn around.Â
âI donât know,â He grunted out, then turned and went up the ladder.
He was lying, you knew it the second he spoke. Vince trained you to see tells, and you could see them even through his helmet. You didnât have time to ponder why he really was helping you when another door near to the one you were sleeping in slid open.Â
You turned towards the noise, confusion and wariness springing up in your gut. You hadnât known he had a crew, you had just assumed it was him alone in this ship.Â
So, considering that, surprise isnât quite the right word to describe what flashed through you when you watched a child walk out of the room.
âWhat the-â You breathed, your words dying out on your own as the small, green toddler stopped outside of his room and looked up at you with massive, dark eyes.Â
Before you could even call out to the Mandalorian, you hear a rushed curse followed by the thud of his feet slamming against the shipâs flooring as he jumped from the ladder. Suddenly, the beskar-coated Bounty Hunter is storming over and scooping the child up into his massive arms.Â
âWhat are you doing out, kid?â He scolded softly, but even you could hear the tenderness in his voiceâthe mark of a father. At least, what you imagined a father would be like.
The child tilted his head up at the daunting, death-bringing Mandalorian and smiled, reaching out with his tiny hands out to the Hunter. You could hear The Mandalorian sigh in resignation, tucking the child close into his body, âYou make it hard to be mad at you, kid. You know that?â
Watching this angel of Death, the Hunter who almost became your reaper, cuddle a small child to his chest with those hands scarred with blood and murderâŠyou could feel your heart melting.
You knew instantly that you were in trouble, serious trouble.Â
The Mandalorian turned to you, holding the child close, âIt seems I have a knack for sparing the bounties Iâm given.â
Surprise skittered across your face as you took in the meaning in his words. Any small amount of doubt in your safety with this Mandalorian suddenly dissipated into ash. Youâd never tell the Hunter that, but you couldnât deny that his word was good. He said was going to help you, and thatâs what he was going to do.Â
âCute kid,â You managed to get out, not being able to stop the smile that grew onto your lips, âHeâs lucky to have you for a father.â
The daunting, ever-stoic Mandalorian suddenly seemed to grapple with his words, and it takes more effort than youâd like to admit to keep the amused smile on your lips from turning into a laugh.Â
âIâm not his blood, Iâm just watching out for him.â He finally settled on.Â
Something haunted and broken suddenly speared into your chest, and you knew from the way the Mandalorianâs back stiffened and head tilted that it passed across your face. With a smile thatâs sad and built with years of heartache, you locked your gaze with the Bounty Hunter that spared you.
âA father isnât always bound by blood,â You nearly whispered, breaking away from his gaze and reaching up to run a soft, caressing finger across the childâs large ear. He giggled, leaning into your touch. You smiled wider, this one less sad than before.Â
âHeâs a lot to handle isnât he?â You asked. The Mandalorian stiffened, seeming defensive.Â
âNo. Heâs actually-â
âI was talking about you, Mando,â You interrupted, looking away from the kidâs large eyes and up to the Mandalorian with a raised brow. He cocked his head down at you.
âCareful, I can still turn this ship around and take you to Vince,â He threatened, but you knew now that he never would. Somehow, you just knew that.Â
âSure you will,â You taunted, smiling up at him before taking a step back from the kid who reached after you, âWhatâs your name anyways, Mandalorian? Or am I expected to call you Mando for the rest of our lovely time together?â
âWhy would I give you that?â He asked, his voice like gravel and silk all at once. He was a siren and you were a sailorâblissfully doomed from the start.
âBecause you already have mine,â You reasoned, alluding to the bounty he took on you, âItâs only fair.â
He paused for a moment that stretched on long enough for you to know that he wasnât going to give it. You nodded in response, clicking your tongue âMando it is.â
You turned, walking towards the ladder that led up to the cockpit. You made it up a few rungs when his voice stopped you.
âDin.â
You froze, taking a few seconds to comprehend what he just said. With your back to him, you didnât stop the smile that grew onto your lips.Â
âThanks for saving my ass, Din,â You called back, before continuing up the ladder. It was so soft that you almost missed it, but Din chuckled quietly to himself below. The sound traveled down your spine and turned your heart molten.
You definitely were in trouble.Â
Then again, you always loved trouble anyways.Â
|||
The sun hung low in the sky, slinging the last of its light across the tops of mountains and through the lush rainforests stretching between the settlements of Serenno. As you and Din left the Razor Crest in a clearing and trekked towards a nearby city, there was a smile you could not stop from breaking free.
It wasnât long lasting, for the moment the illusion of peace settled over your shoulders, the Mandalorianâs words were quick to remind you of the truth.
âStay close to me. Donât wander off, donât go anywhere on your own. Keep your eyes open, and if you see anything tell me.â His voice was low and even and perhaps the most daunting sound youâd ever encountered. There was something so dangerous in the smooth, controlled tone modulated by his mask. It almost made you nod in easy compliance.Â
âI think youâre forgetting Iâm used to this life, Mando,â You insisted, walking harder than youâd like to admit to keep up with his pace as the two of you entered the city, âI donât need you controlling my every step. I know how to take care of myself.â
âYeah? That worked out so well for you on Coruscant.â Din fired back at you, his voice not even ratcheting up in volume an inch. He didnât even look over at you as he sauntered down the main street of the city. As the two of you walked, every stare that slipped your way left just as swiftly when they caught sight of the Mandalorian.Â
âI survived longer on my own than most would. Iâm not saying I donât need your help, just that Iâm not a child for you to boss around.âÂ
That seemed to strike a chord in his chest as he suddenly stopped and grabbed ahold of your arm, tugging you to a stop so abruptly that you stumbled right into him. Din steadied you with a hand on either arm, holding you so close that you had to crane your neck up to meet his unflinching helmet peering down at you.
âYou think you can make it without me? Go ahead, leave.â He growled, finally showing a touch of emotion in his voice. You lifted your chin to meet his gaze, trying to ignore that way your heart could not seem to find an easy rhythm this close to Din. His words sent ice shooting through your chest, but much to your surprise, you found fire dancing up to tangle with it. You didnât know whether to be intimidated or infatuated with him in this moment, and that thought was what jolted you back to reality. You stayed silent in response, because you knew the truth.
You would be dead within hours without the Mandalorian.
âThatâs what I thought,â Din gritted out, his eyes sweeping over your figure for another moment before he let you go and began to walk away, âNow come on. We need supplies.â
You followed hastily, your eyes scanning the city for signs of hunters tracking you. As you struggled to think of anything besides the impact of Dinâs words on you, Din stormed as far ahead of you as he could without leaving you completely behind. All the while, Din was trying to shove down the relief that you hadnât taken his words seriously and left. The words had come out of his mouth, but within, Din had been begging you to see through the lie that they already were.Â
What terrified Din most was that he had practically just met you and yet he knew exactly what you could become to him should he not be careful. It was a fact that was hard to ignore when he looked at you and realized that you were the sun and him the moonâa mere reflection of the beauty before him.Â
Din shook his head to rid the thought, but to no avail. Instead, he grew grumpier and tried to increase the space between the two of you.
Trying to diffuse the tension, you jogged up to stay close to the Mandalorian and sighed, âSo, what do we need to get?â
âFood, blankets, ammunition, anything else weâll need to camp out here for a while,â Din responded. And, without even looking over at you, he spoke again.
âAnd we need to get you new clothes.â
You scoffed in surprise, looking down at your bloody and torn clothes. He was right, but it didnât make you any less angry about it. You stormed after him, your fists clenched.Â
âYouâre one to talk, Mando.â You retorted, catching up to him in time to hear his low chuckle. Immediately, your poor, unknowing heart stumbled at the sound and you found yourself once again, unable to be angry with the Bounty Hunter.Â
âThat was a joke,â You realized, looking over at Din with surprised eyes, âSince when do you make jokes?â
He didnât respond to that, just kept leading the way deeper into the town, âGet a move on, trouble. Canât spend too long in town considering your luck.â
You followed with a small smile on your lips. It took hours to gather all that you needed to camp out on Serenno, and when Din finally began to turn and head back to the Crest, you almost cried in relief. Your arms ached with all of the wares you helped carry, and you were well past the exit of the city when Din finally began to explain to you the plan.
âWeâll hide out here for now. Itâs quiet enough,â He assured, the Razor Crest coming into view as the two of you delved into the dense rainforest just before the clearing where it was parked, âOnce we come up with a solid plan to take out Vince, weâll move.â
Once again, the notion of âtaking outâ the Zeltron who raised you struck you harder than it should have. You were able to hide it earlier, but as you exited the last of the trees obscuring the Crest, Din did not miss the way you went uncharacteristically silent. He didnât say anything at first, and you thought he might let it go. As the two of you boarded the Crest and dropped the supplies onto the floor, the kid walked out of the room his crib sat in and looked up at you with wide, excited eyes. You couldnât help but smile.Â
âHello there,â You cooed, stooping down and picking him up, âGlad to see you missed me already.â
The child giggled in response, babbling some nonsense that you couldnât quite understand. You felt the Mandalorianâs presence before you saw him, especially with how the attention of the child immediately switched to over your shoulder. You turned, not even meeting Dinâs stare as you handed him his kid. The little one went happily, grabbing onto his caretaker as if he were anything but a feared Bounty Hunter. You smiled at the child before turning and walking with the clothes Din had bought you to your makeshift room to change. Before you could make it in, though, his voice called out to you.
âYou donât want to kill him.â Not a question, a statement.Â
So much for that.
Confliction tearing through you, you turned around and faced the Mandalorian and his child once again. Your eyes darted from the Mandalorianâs beskar helmet to the small child he held so close in his arms, and then back again. You could do little to hide the brokenness lingering in your gaze.
âI know itâs wrong,â You whispered, not fully understanding why you were being so vulnerable with this stranger, âI hate him. It should be easy to want him dead. It would solve all of my problems. ButâŠâ
The words you couldnât say spoke just as loudly in silence as they would have in the air.Â
For a moment, you feared Din would push the matter and force the truth of your past out. Instead, he sighed and set down the kid, âGet changed. Iâll have a meal ready when youâre done.â
And that was that. He turned and walked away, going to do as he said. You stared for a moment in surprise that quickly shifted into a deep gratitude that spilled into your aching chest cavity. Din hadnât forced you to say anything. Heâd seen you were uncomfortable and he had let it go.Â
This Mandalorian was not who you thought he was, who he looked to be at first glance. With every passing day you spent with him, you realized your first impression could not have been further from the truth. With every day, you were proven more wrong about him in the best way possible.
And with every day, you wished you werenât wrong at all.Â
Because how were you supposed to leave him in the end if you kept finding reasons to want to stay?Â
|||
It had now been weeks since youâd joined Din and the two of you had settled on Serreno.Â
In order to continue funding living while the two of you grappled with the best way to stop Vince and his bounty on you, Din had taken up a few smaller, low-profile bounties. He was careful not to pick up anything too forward since Vince had most likely noted by now that the two of you were together considering the debacle of Coruscant all those weeks ago.Â
And every time he went on a hunt, you found a way to join him.Â
At first, it was surprisingly easy to convince the Mandalorian to let you accompany him on his hunt. Youâd claimed it was for your safety and that it was best to be with him whenever you could. After the first few, though, Din grew reluctant to let you come. He now considered the hunts more dangerous than staying in the Crest with the Child. You were running out of excuses to go with him, because you would not dare tell him the truth.Â
You wouldnât dare to imagine the pity spreading across his face beneath that daunting mask that had become almost home to you when he found out the truth. In the time youâd spent together, you had fallen into a sort of routine. Wake up, plot and plan, go into town for hunts, execute those hunts. Heâd taught you basic combat skills, his gloved hands leaving traces of fire where they corrected your form, and Din had even begun to eat in front of you, just lifting up the bottom of his mask to do so and allowing you to see his strong jaw and lips.Â
Those lips would haunt you night after night in dreams you could no longer control. To put a long story short, youâd grown attached. Hopelessly attached. And now, you couldn't help but be terrified of him leaving and not returning.Â
Just as your parents had all those years ago.Â
The fear was irrational and you knew it. Din was a man of his word and heâd promised you he would see you through this bounty and so you knew that he would. And yet, with the attachment that had grown rather quickly between the two of you, so too grew a fear of losing someone you lo-
Your thoughts stalled on the next word, and with a bolt of butterfly-filled fear in your gut, you amended the word.Â
Care for. A fear of losing someone you care for.Â
After all, if your parentsâthe only people in the galaxy who were meant to love you unconditionallyâcould leave you, so could the Mandalorian.Â
Your thoughts were once again interrupted by the sound of Din walking out of his chambers, adjusting a piece of his beskar armor. He struggled with the piece, cursing it out roughly beneath his breath as an amused smile traipsed onto your lips.Â
âNeed some help?â You called out, lifting an eyebrow at him. His gaze snapped to yours and he huffed.
âNo,â He rumbled. You hummed, standing to your feet and walking over to him.
âSure you donât.â You did not wait for him to object as you grabbed his shoulders and shoved him down into a chair nearby and began to work on the beskar shoulder plate.
âI can do it,â Din informed rather defeatedly.
You laughed softly, âI know you can, big guy.â
Your fingers worked with the plate of metal until you realized he had strapped it on wrong. Swiftly and deftly, you removed it and were just about to replace it when you noticed a jagged cut in his shirt beneath. The cut revealed a patch of tanned skin with an equally long and jagged cut on it that was now red and inflamed. You sucked in a breath sharply.
âWhat the hell Din? Why didnât you mention you got hurt on the hunt yesterday?â You pressed, quickly setting down the beskar plate and rushing for a med kit, âItâs probably infected by now!â
âI can barely feel it,â Din defended, but surprisingly stayed in the chair as you grabbed the kit you were looking for and jogged back over to him, âBesides, I was going to put some bacta spray on it later and-â
âBacta, really?â You cut in, shaking your head at the bounty hunter, âIs that your solution to everything? Put bacta on it?â
He shrugged, âWorked so far.â
Shaking your head, you grumbled your disapproval as you peeled back his shirt to see the extent of the laceration on his arm. Noting that it wrapped around slightly to the front, you moved to stand before the seated Mandalorian to get a better access to the cut. As your fingers danced along the injury, his skin was impossibly hot to your touch.Â
Because of a fever, you convinced yourself as you opened the med kit and looked around for a surface to set it down on. Noticing your search, Din patted his lap with his hand.Â
The movement made you actually stutter for a moment. It was a harmless offer, but the sight of it sent shockwaves tumbling through you. With a clouded mind, you set down the med kit on his thigh on the side opposite to his injured arm. He kept the kit braced with his free hand as you stepped between his legs to get closer to his injured arm.
You wished you could say that you didnât even notice the position as you began to apply disinfectant to the cut, but it seemed to be the only thing on your mind. Dinâs body heat bolted into you with how close you were to him and the scent of his soap that still lingered along his body dizzied your mind and reminded you of star-filled nights and rustling trees.Â
As you looked away from the injury and to the med kit, you grabbed the stitching needle and expertly began to suture his cut closed. You threaded the first stitch through his skin swiftly and without warning, making him suck in a sharp breath before you and instinctively grab onto your lower waist with the hand not bracing the med kit.Â
You gasped softly at the unexpected contact and looked down, an apologetic look crossing your distracted, breathless features, âSorry, shouldâve warned you.â
Din shook his head, clearing his throat, âNo, Iâm good. Keep going.â
Yet his hand lingered on your waist.Â
As you began to stitch up his cut, every free part of your mind was centered on that large, strong hand that rested ever so lightly on your waist. When you were about halfway through the stitch, the tense silence was finally broken.
âWhere did you learn how to do all this?â Mando asked, his voice sounding ever so slightly strained.Â
âWhenever Vinceâs fighters would come back from missions, Iâd help patch them up where I could. Our healer trained me in a few vital skills while he worked,â You narrated, your voice airy and light as your fingers worked with the needle, âI was always good with the difficult cases because Iâd tell them stories while we worked and it kept them distracted. I never could fight well, but I sure as hell could talk.â
âI know you can,â Din mumbled, making a surprised laugh break through you. You looked down at him, peering into the dark reaches of his beskar helmet that looked up at you.
âCareful teasing me, Mando. Iâm the one with a needle in your arm.â
He released a low, soft laugh and his hand on your waist tightened the smallest bit. That was the end of the conversation, but it was the beginning of something else entirely. No longer did your attraction live chiefly in your dreams plagued with beskar and a voice so alluring it haunted you. You were awake, and you were sure youâd never been awake until this moment.
It was too muchâthe attraction, the tension, the dependency you were beginning to build up for him.Â
Din Djarin was like the hit of a drug or a breath of sweet air or the touch of nectar to the tongueânow that youâd known him, felt him, heard his laugh, you could never want for anything but him and it would never be enough until you had more.
âAll done,â You whispered, putting the med kit back together and closing it. With the wound dressed and his beskar plate in place, Din stood from his perch before you could step back. The hand he had at your waist stayed there for a moment, keeping you from running away.Â
With his hulking presence before you and the way he peered down at you silently through his beskar helmet, you nearly forgot your own name. Your breaths were shallow and your heart raced in its cage of bones. Standing there, looking up at Din with your chest almost touching his, you knew.Â
You knew that when this was over, you couldnât leave him. You wouldnât leave him. You were suddenly unaware of how youâd gone the entirety of your life without him, let alone how youâd continue it after this was over. You felt as if Din was tethered to the breath in your lungs, the beat of your heart, the firing of your thoughts.Â
And for the life of you, you could not figure out how such a deep, ardent connection had taken root in your soul for someone youâd only known for a few months. It did not make sense, and somehow that was the beauty of it. These feelings were not explainable or rational, they were anything but. And that thrilled you just as much as it made you frightened that heâd walk out the door just like your parents had.
You wouldnât recover from it this time.Â
âDin-â
You were cut off by the sound of the small, green child waddling up to the two of you and babbling something you could not understand. As if a knife had quartered down the moment between Din and you, the both of you stepped back instantly. His hands left your waist and yet you could still feel the phantom of their touch.Â
Din sighed as he stooped down and gathered the kid in his arms, âI know kid, we gotta get you something to eat.â
âI swear that child has the largest appetite,â You mused, a smile lighting your lips as you looked at the vulnerable youngling in the rough, intimidating arms of the Mandalorian.Â
For a moment, you wondered what it felt like to be in his arms, held close and safe like that.Â
âWhat are we gonna do with him for the hunt this afternoon?â You inquired, turning and securing the blaster Din had gotten you onto your belt, âAnd donât even start the lecture on how we should be getting serious about our Vince planning. I know it seems like Iâm being avoidant but if I just had a little more time thenâŠâ
You allowed your voice to trail off when you noticed the different kind of silence filling the crest. With furrowed brows, you turned to see Din tucking in the child to his crib. A sigh sounded from his modulator as he stepped back and checked his weapons, not even being able to look up to your gaze.Â
âDin?âÂ
He paused, and the silence made your stomach twist. Finally, he looked up at you, âI need to do this hunt alone.â
For a moment, your brain would not grasp to compute the words, âWhat?â
âThis is a dangerous one, and Iâd feel better if you were here keeping the kid safe until I have it done.âÂ
It took every ounce of your energy to restrain the panic that immediately roared to life in response to the trauma-triggering words. The timing could not be worse for this conversation, not when youâd just been reminiscing on how haunted you were that he would walk just like your parents had.Â
You managed to keep your face void of the telling emotions brewing within and shook your head, âDonât be silly, Mando. If itâs really that dangerous, then Iâll just come with you.â
âNo,â He urged, his voice stronger this time as he took a step closer to you, âI need you and the kid safe. I canât ensure that if youâre out with me on a hunt like this.â
âI can hold my own,â You argued, trying and failing to keep the desperation from leaking into your voice, âIâll just go with you and-â
âIt is not safe for you out there. Vinceâs bounty on your head keeps ratcheting up and everytime you leave this ship, your chances of being caught grow. I cannot risk that.â Din cut in, and even though he was grappling to keep the intense worry within his gut from spilling out, you were hopelessly battling the trauma-ingrained panic of what his words meant to you.Â
He might have been looking out for your safety, but your irrational mind was already jumping to conclusions and you could not stop it. After all, Din had no ties to you besides a promise built on a foundation of good will and blind trust. What would really stop him from finding another ship and leaving you here? The Razor Crest was an aging ship anyways, and he had more than enough credits for an upgrade.Â
âIâll be back before you know it,â Mando assured, walking past you and towards the hatch that was now lowering and opening to the outside, âIt shouldnât take me all night, but if it does, donât come hunting for me. I canât risk you being caught.â
âDin, please donât-â
Your words died as he walked down the hatch and off into the mid afternoon light.Â
âPlease donât leave me,â You whispered to yourself.
If heâd spared just one moment to look at your face, Din would have seen the anguish there. He hadnât looked, though, because something had changed so fundamentally within the bounty hunter when heâd stood so close to you just moments ago.
Din had peered down at you, taking in the beauty of your face and your very soul, and had realized the extent of what heâd do for you. More accurately, Din had realized that there were no limits to what heâd do, give, endure to ensure your safety. Heâd always been a natural protector, but this was different. You were different. And Din knew that one more look into your haunted eyes would have him setting course for whatever shithole Vince Hanon lived in and slaughtering him just so you could live with a peace of mind.Â
So Din kept walking, and left you in the Crest. He left you, not knowing that you did not believe heâd come back. He left you, unaware that you were already beginning to fray with the lies your mind was bellowing down upon you.Â
He left you, and all you could think about was what would happen if you never saw him again.
#din djarin angst#din djarin#din djarin oneshot#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#fluff#angst#the mandalorian x reader#din djarin fluff#din djarin x female reader#din x reader#star wars#mando x reader#din djarin x f!reader#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal
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Assumptions, Innocently Made
It's been three years but I am back with a fic! This is a two parter with the second part almost done that will hopefully stay this way. Please enjoy your fake dating!
Summary: Essek's mother worngfully assumes that her son and the wizard of the Mighty Nein and recently proclaimed Hero of the Dynasty are more than what they appear to be. After inviting both of them to a ball, Essek must ask Caleb to indulge the Umavi's misunderstanding for all three of them to avoid losing face.
Warnings: none
Read on Ao3
Hovering in Caleb's room, wringing his hands, Essek Thelyss did not look any less out of place than the first times he had deigned to enter the Xhorhaus. His perpetual smile was replaced by an anxious expression that did not seem to befit his otherwise composed appearance.
Exactly fifteen minutes and forty-two seconds had passed since Caleb had bid the Shadowhand enter, over ten of which have been spent in Calebâs room with Essek evidently trying to gather his courage and his words. All of Calebâs attempts at conversation â offering refreshments, asking how he might help â had been rebuffed so far, so he figured he might as well wait.
âThere has been... an assumption,â the Shadowhand finally managed.
âAn assumption,â Caleb echoed. He had no clue what to do with that information.
âAnd a misunderstanding.â Essekâs brow furrowed even deeper.
âI'm afraid I do not follow.â
Essek Thelyss sighed as if this whole ordeal was a terrible imposition on him. Which it probably was. âIt appears as if the first time I entered this abode it had been perceived by another member of Den Thelyss. Who in turn took it upon themself to report your⊠display to the Umavi.â
Caleb frowned, still not completely sure if he understood. His time in Xhorhas had been characterized by rapid departures and daring missions and had not left much time for studying this society they now apparently lived in. As such, his grasp on the intricate workings of the upper echelons of Kryn society remained rather loose, although he understood that the Umavi were not to be trifled with.
Essek continued: âAfter that first interaction, we have been watched closely and⊠an assumption has been made that we are much more closely entangled than we actually are.â For the first time since Essek had come to him, he looked Caleb in the eye with a sneer of contempt and annoyance. âIt has been... suggested that you accompany me to the Umavi's ball to celebrate the homecoming of her younger son.â
âI see,â Caleb said although he very much did not see. âAnd I suppose that is not the kind of suggestion one can refuse?â
Essek looked genuinely taken aback at that. âCertainly not.â
âWell, I suppose there is no harm in thatâ, Caleb said with a shrug, although the very thought of it made his insides crawl. âI will come with you, and we shall clear this up. Nothing to worry about, friend.â
âAnd embarrass the Umavi in front of her whole court?â A pained expression passed Essek's face. âI think not. It is much safer to claim we broke this off after this occasion.â
âYou said we were followed, yes? But the only times we met were in public or when you teleported us across the continent. How many people can truly believe that we are⊠entangled?â âWere wizardsâ, Essek replied as if that explained everything. And for one such as Essek Thelyss it probably did. Caleb supposed the Shadowhand would have no issue in teleporting to the Xhorhaus without any of the Nein being able to prevent him from doing so. Or Caleb's room for that matter. Awkwardly, Caleb coughed and dearly wished for his beard to hide the flush coloring his cheeks.
âBesides, it does not matter what people believe,â Essek continued. âThe only thing that matters is what the Umavi believes. And the Umavi believes that I have been hiding a relationship from her.â
Caleb considered this for a moment. While there were many things that he could think of that he would rather be doing than spend an evening in Kryn high society with only Essek Thelyss at his side, the man in question seemed genuinely quite perturbed by the thought. It seemed only right to try and help him seek a way out of this situation. âI could go on a mission and not return in time,â he suggested. âOr I could pretend I fell sick on the day of the event.â
âThe first would be a terrible insult to Den and Umavi alike and in case of the second, clerics would be queueing in front of your house to relieve you of your ailment.â Essek sighed and passed a hand through his perfectly styled hair, liberating one strand that now stood up at an odd angle. He muttered something under his breath and before Caleb could inquire, he continued louder. âI do not know what I was attempting here, but I am afraid I do not see a way out of this situation without insulting the Umavi and ruining your reputation. So, I would be much obliged if you could do me this favor... and take one off the list you and your group owe me.â
âWhat about your reputation?â Caleb couldnât help but ask.
âLet that be of no concern of yours.â
âI will do you this favor,â he quickly agreed, hoping he had not angered the Shadowhand beyond measure. âI am happy to be of assistance to a friend. It is only that you seem rather bothered by the idea.â
âI will manage,â Essek snapped. And that seemed to be that.
Caleb politely waited for Essek to speak again but when the silence stretched too long, he quietly cleared his throat. âWhat will be expected of me?â
âWell, in this case I am glad to say that I happen to be a rather solitary creature. Bringing another soul with me will already raise enough eyebrows, never mind public displays of affection.â Essek winced and Caleb couldnât help but raise his eyebrows at that. âYou need do nothing more than hold my hand. There will be enough drink and food and music available to divert you, and you will likely not lack in conversational partners as half the Den will jump at the chance to thank one of the heroes of the dynasty.â
âConversation, yes? And here I thought you only required me to look pretty.â
âThat too,â Essek said, apparently having missed the joke entirely. âI will forward you some books you might peruse with regards to Kryn etiquette, as well as the address if my tailor, if you are amenable.â âYes Essek,â Caleb said kindly, âI am amenable.â He did not dare say that he likely couldnât afford the services of the tailor that usually dressed the Shadowhand; he would find a solution to that when the time came. At least the books should prove to be useful.
It was not long after that that Essek excused himself and Caleb was left with the insurmountable task of telling the Mighty Nein of what had transpired. The recollection of the events was accompanied by much shrieking and hollering that Caleb was glad Essek did not have to suffer, although it did end in the rather conscientious act of Beauregard cornering him later and asking with real concern: âAre you alright?â
Caleb shrugged. âI will be. It is a favor for a friend, ja?â
âYeah, sure, whatever. But it is a pretty big ask to essentially pretend to be someoneâs boyfriend. Especially if you have a crush on that guy.â
He bristled at that. âI do not have a crush on Essek Thelyss,â he insisted perhaps a bit too loudly because next he knew he heard Jester cooing from one room over:
âCay-leb, it is alright if you are in love with Essek, he is like super hot!â
âI do not even trust him yet,â he thought but did not dare say out loud, lest he be harassed by Jester. âIâll be fine,â he ground out and beat a tactical retreat to his room.
The distance and the wall between them allowed him to ignore Beauregard sedulously: âYeah man, itâs whatever! I just wanted to offer you to talk!â
The next morning, there was a knock on the door as they all ate breakfast. After they all shouted for the visitor to come in and they didnât, it was Caduceus who went to great them. When he returned, it was with a confused expression on his face and a stack of books under his arm. âThere were some books floating outside the door. I think theyâre for you, Caleb?â
Absentmindedly Caleb nodded as he took hold of the books, silently wondering if Essek was nearby or if he had somehow managed to relieve himself of the range restrictions that usually came with the Unseen Servant spell. When he finally concluded that he would never ask but instead try and see if he couldnât find a work-around himself, he was already surrounded by the rest of the Mighty Nein, who were attempting to see what it was that he had received.
With a sigh he spread the books out for them to peruse while he dug around in his component pouch for a pinch of soot and salt and began flipping through his spellbook.
âThatâs not fair, I canât read any of that!â Jester complained the same instant that Beauregard shouted, âSick, theyâre all in Undercommon! Hey, can I borrow one of those? I really need to practice.â There was no way Caleb would be able to concentrate like this.
Without a word, he pushed back his chair, eliciting shouts from various members of the Nein and announced: âIâll be in the library to read. Any of you are welcome to join so long as you are quiet.â
In the end, Beauregard indeed did join him but not before she had caused quite a ruckus in the training room. When she entered the library sweaty with a ââsupâ and plopped down on a chair opposite of Caleb he leveled her with a detached glare. When she then deigned to make grabby hands for one of the books, his glare grew even more unimpressed.
Only by virtue of being loans from one Essek Thelyss were the books saved from being thrown at Beauregardâs head. Instead, he calmly handed her one of the slimmer tomes via his Mage Hand.
She assumed a position in the chair that Caleb refused to believe was comfortable and began skimming the table of contents. As soon as she appeared to be done, supposedly already bored, she interrupted him for the second time since entering the room: âSo howâs the study sesh been so far?â she asked with a yawn.
âNot as quiet as I hoped,â he grumbled. On the other hand, when was time spent with the Mighty Nein ever?
âHah!â Beauregard laughed at that and looked at the book again. âMan, this shit looks complicated. Thereâs an entire chapter about hair ties. And another about buttons and cufflinks. Shit and I thought empire rich folk were obnoxious.â
Caleb sighed. He couldnât say that he didnât agree. In his time under Ikithonâs tutelage he had received a modicum of training as to how to behave in high society and even though his training had been rudimentary, he could not recall it being even remotely as complicated as what he was dealing with now.
Since this morning, he had made it only halfway through one of the books and despite his perfect memory, his mind was swimming with the exact angle at which one had to bow as well as greetings and different forms of address that seemed to have repercussions on the use of a language he didnât speak. He could only hope that a casting of Tongues would equip him with the ability to not make a total fool of himself. And that he would have enough spell slots for the entirety of the ball.
The next days were spent like this: Caleb and Beauregard retreated to the library where they would spend their time perusing the books Essek had sent, occasionally debating their contents. They would be left in relative peace from the rest of the Mighty Nein, except for Caduceus poking in his head to ask if they were hungry or thirsty or the usual cracks and bangs that their friends caused. While most of them sounded concerning, Caleb was called only once to cast Control Flames on a misfired Fluffernutter that threatened to set their pantry aflame. What those materials had been even doing close to the kitchen, Caleb thought better not to ask.
Occasionally, he would receive a Sending from Essek, requesting this or that or reminding him of something he had previously forgotten. Caleb acquiesced his every wish and in turn asked Jester more than once to send a message back to Essek to clarify something. While Essekâs books spoke a great deal about the hairstyles of different dens, what about people without dens? Caleb insisted that he could just wear his customary ponytail, Jester insisted that he wouldnât fit in. Essek assured him that any hairstyle was fine, as long as he didnât mirror any style from a prominent Den. Caleb asked about the right color of clothing â anything but white â and the need for gifts â Essek would take care of that â as well as if he should wear his token of the Bright Queen â absolutely, if he wanted to be taken seriously. Despite his previously prickly demeanor when dealing with them, Essek remained ever patient in face of the constant probing.
He and Beau did not read every day. One day, Caleb cast Tongues on himself and attempted to hold a conversation with individuals of different stations. They came to the conclusion that while the spell was able to inflect the words correctly, it only did so if the titles were spoken in the original Undercommon. So, the next day was spent trying to teach Caleb the correct pronunciation so the spell would pick up on his intention.
One of the books was entirely about ballroom dances that were currently fashionable in the Dynasty. After quite a lot of ridicule at his attempts, Beauregard finally volunteered herself to help him. The upside of that was that Beauregard was trained enough to pose as a suitable dance partner. The downside was that they had to move to the training room for that and soon attracted an audience.
Jester was the first to jump in and demand to âlearn the Xhorhas dances too pretty please!â And Caleb had not yet found the strength to deny her anything and seriously doubted that he ever would. After that came Nott and after Fjord joked that Caleb would only dance with the ladies, he dragged him in as well. After that it was almost a point of pride, to dance with the rest of the Mighty Nein as well, including Yeza, who seemed exceptionally clumsy for a man of his profession.
Almost a week had passed when Jester grew evidently bored with the lack of something to do.
âCay-leb,â she whined, draped across a chaise longue in a position she had no doubt copied from her mother. âDo you know what youâll wear yet?â
âNo,â he said simply. He was busy trying to memorize the correct order of meal items as well as the corresponding cutlery. Many he was familiar with, but he could not quite grasp how to crack the shell of a giant spider leg or why purple worm tartare was to be eaten only from specialized silver spoons. When sheâd read that Beauregard had apparently been unable to keep herself from making a joke about Essekâs circumstances of birth.
âHave you not even⊠like, thought about it, though?â Jester continued to inquire.
It took a moment for him to recall what this was in reference to. Eventually he said. âEssek gave me the name of his tailor. Iâm sure theyâll have something suitable.â
Jester gasped at that and sat up. âCay-leb!â she shouted way too loudly. âThe ball is in like less than a week!â
âSo?â
âIt takes time to make pretty clothes, you know?â
Caduceus, who was currently watering the plants, nodded sagely. âNine women canât make a baby in a month.â
âI donât need entirely new clothes. They can just alter something for me to fit.â
Without looking up from her book on the genealogy of Den Thelyss, Beauregard snorted.
âWhat?â
âDude.â She levelled him with a glare. âThere is no way Essek buys off the rack.â
âBut-!â
âJust go to the damn tailor, Caleb,â Beauregard interrupted him rudely. With an eyeroll she turned back to her reading.
âIâll come with you!â Jester immediately volunteered. Caleb wasnât sure if he found that prospect reassuring. However, he had spent enough time with Jester to know she was a woman not easily denied once she had put her mind to something.
Beauregard had the audacity to sink deeper into her armchair and wave at him. âHave fun!â
It was like this that Caleb found himself in the company of Jester standing in the middle of a tailorâs shop in the Gallimaufry district where everything in the shop window looked like it was worth more than everything Caleb owned combined.
They were greeted by a very friendly Drow who introduced herself as Phaere. âCaleb Widogast, I presume?â she inquired with a small bow as appropriate for greeting someone of a higher station in employ of one of the ruling Dens. âThe Shadowhand told us to expect you. We are honored to provide you with whatever you need.â
Caleb was quite taken aback. He didnât know that he had ever been treated with this much respect and deference, much less since he had become Caleb Widogast. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat, not quite sure how to respond.
At least one good thing came from having Jester around, for he was spared from having to figure that out. âOhmygosh thatâs so nice!â she squealed and barreled to the front. âHi, Iâm Jester! Iâm Calebâs friend and Iâm here to make sure that he looks his best for Essek!â
âThen you have come to the right place,â Phaere said with a smile and bowed again. âWhatever your wish, you shall receive it.â
âI am not yet very familiar with the fashions of the Dynasty,â he finally managed to say. âSo I commend myself to your capable hands. Whatever you think will suit a wizard of my station and stature I am sure will serve well.â
A minute expression of confusion passed over the tailorâs face. âAs a hero of the Dynasty at the Shadowhandâs side? Iâll say you can wear whatever you want to.â
Again, Caleb felt wrong-footed and unsure as to how to respond. This time, Phaere seemed to sense his discomfort and suggested: âHow about I show you some fabrics? We can talk about the design later.â
The fabrics Phaere did show him were difficult to comprehend. He had never felt anything as soft as spidersilk, never seen anything as finely embroidered as the borders on display, never thought brocade could look as rich as that. Occasionally they would be interrupted by Jester who had found something herself: âCay-leb, look at this! Wouldnât hat be a great sash,â holding a bolt of sheer white fabric that made Phaere freeze. She only relaxed when he explained that white was reserved for Umavi. Or: âCay-leb, we could weave that into your hair!â pointing at ribbons of cloth-of-gold or -silver that were surely for bound edges. They even spent twenty minutes debating over buttons with Jester insisting he should get the gem-encrusted ones to âtreat himselfâ while he maintained that the plain silver ones would be enough. When he mentioned that he did not want to overshadow Essek, Phaere laughed and assured him that wouldnât be possible.
Eventually, they settled on fabrics that were simple, but only deceptively so. The cut Phaere suggested was traditional and a little flashy for his tastes, though she was excited to include his suggestions on how to adjust it according to Empire fashions, if only subtly. In the end, Caleb couldnât help but admit that he was satisfied.
âThank you,â Caleb said earnestly. He genuinely believed that he was in good hands with the tailor. âI would now like to discuss the matter of payment.â He had been dreading this conversation.
Phaere blinked at him dumbstruck. Eventually, she said: âI can assure you, the Shadowhand has that matter quite handled.â
He suddenly felt faint. It was one thing receiving a new set of robes that probably cost more than his childhood home. It was quite another to have someone else pay for it.
He opened his mouth to protest but before he could get a single word out, he was interrupted by an armful of blue tiefling. âOhmygosh Cay-leb!â Jester squealed as he hugged him tight. âThatâs so romantic! Essek wants you to look so good for him and you donât even have to pay!â
âRight,â he muttered. âVery romantic.â In his mind he made a note to thoroughly thank Essek for his expense. âThen at least allow me a tip for an excellent service.â
Phaere bowed her head, hardly in a place to object to that. So, Caleb dug around in his purse and set seven gold pieces on the counter, the last he had left to his name. Surely the Mighty Nein would take another mission soon and until then he would get by.
Eventually, the day of the ball arrived and while Caleb didnât feel comfortable, he was at least reasonably confident that he would be able to spend one night among Kryn nobles without making a complete fool of himself. Or Essek for that matter.
He was fussing with his new robes in front of his mirror, still adjusting to the asymmetrical style favored in the dynasty. Additionally, he fought the urge to hunch his shoulders and disappear in the crowd. That was not why Essek was bringing him tonight. Essek was an individual few could overlook, and Caleb had vowed to do him proud.
Far too soon came the quiet knock on the door, but when he bid them enter, it was not one of the Mighty Nein announcing that Essek had arrived. Instead, surprisingly, it was Yasha, who quietly closed the door behind her. âYou look good,â she said after scrutinizing him from head to toe.
âThank you.â
âNot like when we first met,â she added. âI mean, I didnât want to say something back then but⊠you know. You look better now. Good. These robes look good.â
âThank you,â Caleb said again, unsure how else to react.
âAre you nervous?â Yasha blurted suddenly. When he didnât immediately answer, she just barreled on: âI mean, Iâm sure you are. Itâs alright to be. Iâm also sure that youâll have a great date tonight.â
Despite his resolutions, Caleb hunched his shoulders. âYou know itâs not like that.â
âWellâŠâ she said with a shrug.
Before he could ask her to elaborate, the moment was interrupted by Jesterâs shout: âCay-LEB! Heâs here!â
And that was all the warning he got before the Mighty Nein barged into his room to herd him outside. In the foyer, he was stopped by Nott, who was wiping away a fake tear. âLook at my boy!â she screeched. âAll grown up and ready for prom night!â
Caleb frowned deeply. âIâm not sure Iâm familiar with that tradition.â
âNever mind. Go get him, Lebby!â
He was about to reply something when Beauregard shouted: âCaleb, your manâs getting impatient!â
Naturally, all the Nein were there to see them off. Caleb wished he could vanish in the ground, especially with all the jeers and calls of âHot boi!â that sounded from the porch. Fjord managed to shout above them all instructing Essek to âhave him home by ten, young man!â
Hurriedly, Caleb walked over to Essek who frowned with confusion. âI do not believe the ball will be done by ten oâclock.â
âIgnore them,â he griped. âAre you ready?â
Essek heaved a sigh. âAs ready as Iâll be.â He offered his arm to Caleb and within a breath they were gone.
#shadowgast#critical role#caleb widogast#essek thelyss#the mighty nein#jester lavorre#nott the brave#yasha nydoorin#caduceus clay#fjord stone#beauregard lionett#critical role fanfiction#critical role fic#cr fanfic#cr fic#shadowgast fic#my fic#my writing
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âš Fire Away âš
âŽïžÂ Chapter Ten (p.1) âŽïž
A/N: Why hello there, everyone! It's been a long while since I posted for this story, and I just want to apologize for that! In total honestly, I lost interest in this story. I didn't enjoy writing it anymore and I thought maybe the whole JCB fanbase has fizzled out, but I can see that's not the case. So in true fashion, this will be a two parter - just because there's a lot to write and I didn't want it to be crammed together. More drama and angst filled in the second part, but I thought it would be good to write in Caius POV for once, just to tell his side of the story.
Side note, if you haven't seen Horizon.... Run to the theater and go see it! I'm actually going again tomorrow to see it for the 3rd time... It's truly amazing! For my Jamie/Caleb story, I will be starting on the first real chapter tonight. I don't have an exact time when it will be released, hopefully by the weekend or a day before. But I just want to say thank you to everyone that is still reading Fire Away, it means so much and I hope you enjoy the new chapter â€ïž
â If you would like to be tagged, please comment below â
Also! If you have an questions, comments, or just want to say hi - just send me a message and I would love to talk to y'all!
âTaglist: @xoxoindigo @vampluv3r @ladysybilchroniclesâ @badkitty83 @volturgeistâ @theplaguewormâ @dogmom2014  @hybridlamb @clandestine-nerd  @yourfamilyfriendsatanâ @yourlocalrockstarsimp @violetlilitesâ @quennconstanceuniverseâ @soraththefallenangel  @cancankikiâ @jamiebowerslut @okimreadynowâ @R2quellyz @historyandfandoms50 @dogmom2014 @kaitieskidmore1ââ @quinnswife86 @wooya1224â @e-munson666â @nessaisboringâ @j-herondale121109â @greatfandomâ @fayythe
Caiusâs POV.
âWhereâs that little wifey of yours been hiding lately, nephew?â I looked up from the paper â Aro standing in front of the window that overlooked the garden. âSheâs in delicate condition and shouldnât be left out of sight.â
I let out a sigh as I leaned back into the chair, âSheâs perfectly fine.â My answer was short. âSheâs been hanging around Charlotte and getting things ready for the nursery.â
Aro's gaze turned intense as he inquired, âShe knows the gender?â
I shook my head, âNo.â His sudden smile quickly dropped as he turned back towards the window. âApparently, they couldnât tell when she went to the doctors. They told her they would look again at her next appointment.â
He stayed silent for a moment as he turned to walk to the desk, âMy physicians are perfectly capable of taking care of her here â that way she doesnât have to go to an outside sou-â
âItâs not up to you, Aro,â I interrupted, my voice firm. âFuck, itâs not even up to me. She's her own person, and she'll make her own decisions about her care.â
âYouâre the father, Caius,â his eyes burning into mine. âSheâs only the mother â you have all the say when it comes to that baby â especially if itâs a little boy.â
Before I could reply, a soft knock sounded on the door as Vanessa peeked her head in. Her small smile quickly fell once she met the stare of Aro â his body reacting as he beamed at her. âOh, speak of the angel.â
âI can come back,â she started to back away.
âNo, no darling,â Aro walked over, taking her hand as he pulled her into the room. âCaius and I were just speaking of you. How are you feeling, sweetheart?â
Her eyes connected with mine as she answered him, âFine â thank you,â her hand protectively placed against her growing bump. The overalls she wore placed her stomach on display as the denim pressed against her skin.
Aro caught onto her actions. âHowâs the littlest Volturi doing? It seems like itâs been ages since I last spoke to you, darling.â
I could tell that she was growing uncomfortable as she shifted her bare feet on the wooden floor. âBaby is doing just fine.â She gave him a small smile before directing her attention to me. I could tell something was bothering her, but she didnât want to say with Aro still in the room.
âWhen are we gonna find out what the child is? Youâre already past your 20-week mark, correct?â
I let out a sigh as he continued to press.
â21 weeks,â her voice soft. âMaybe at the next appointment they will be able to tell. The baby was being stubborn that day I guess.â A soft laugh broke through as she rubbed her stomach.
âTypical Volturi man if I heard of one,â Aro smiled. âJust like his handsome father â Caius was the same way when his mother was pregnant with him. We didnât officially find out if he was male or female until his mother was 30 weeks along. I was finally able to talk her into seeing the family physician â pulled up the ultrasound right away and there he was.â
Vanessa stood silent.
âWell,â Aro clapped his hands together. âI will leave you two with some privacy,â he moved closer to where she was standing. âStill have plenty of things to do before the benefit tonight.â Aroâs body side by side with Vanessaâs, making me sit straighter in the chair as I watched. âHope to see you there, sweet Vanessa.â
Vanessa took a step back as Aro tried to caress her arm as he left â his eyes darkening at her action. She was the first woman to deny his advances â Vanessa was the only woman to not bow down to my uncle, and that enraged him. She waited a moment once she was sure he was gone â a sigh of relief pushing past her lips.
Silence surrounded us â the words from our fight weeks ago still fresh on both our minds. I was still sleeping in the guest room â not wanting to barge my way back in until she was ready. The air between us was better than it was before. We were back on speaking terms â a gentle touch here and there when close together. I couldnât blame her for feeling the way she did â my liquid courage causing word vomit to escape. I never meant those words â kicking myself the next morning as I watched her avoid me like I had the plague.
âYou okay, darling?â I broke first.
She nodded her head, slowly stepping towards the desk. I couldnât help but stare at her â absolutely stunning without even trying. Pregnancy had created a glow that made her even more stunning â a vision almost. Vanessa never had to try â whether she believed it or not. âJust wanted to tell you that me and Charlotte are going to town for a bit. I told her I would help her plant some flowers in the garden before I had to get ready.â
I couldnât help but smile at the thought of her helping Charlotte. âSheâs very particular about where she buys her seeds from â may have to come rescue you if youâre gone too long.â A sly smile came over her causing my heart to soar. I slowly removed myself from the chair, taking a couple steps before I towered over her petite frame. Her brown eyes synced with my blues as we took each other in.
"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked, my hands gently pulling her in, feeling the tension in her body slowly start to relax under my touch.
She hummed in response, her blue eyes locking with mine. "Everything's fine, Caius," she whispered softly, a faint smile playing on her lips.
I studied her face, searching for any traces of worry or doubt, but all I found was the familiar warmth and strength that always drew me to her. Despite her reassurance, a nagging feeling lingered in the back of my mind, telling me that something wasn't quite right.
I took a deep breath, trying to push away my concerns. "If anything's bothering you, you know you can talk to me, right?" I said, my voice filled with genuine concern.
As she nodded and the room fell into a brief silence, the tension between us seemed palpable, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions. Our bodies were mere inches apart, the closest we had been in weeks, and I could feel the longing in my fingertips, aching to touch her soft skin once more.
Before I could say anything else, she interjected, "I better go. Charlotte's probably waiting for me in the car." Her words cut through the moment, bringing a sense of reality back into the room.
Frustrated by the sudden interruption, I ran a hand through my hair, trying to mask my disappointment with a sigh that escaped through my lips. "Yeah," I murmured, my voice low with a tinge of regret. "We'll just make sure to be back before six â the dinner starts at seven sharp."
She gave me a small nod and a fleeting smile before slowly stepping out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the lingering ache of missed opportunitiesâŠ
 I sat on the edge of the bed, the unfinished knot of my tie dangling loosely in my hand, thoughts of Vanessa and the unspoken tension between us weighed heavily on my mind. Downstairs, she was still with Charlotte, their voices drifting up to me as they tended to the newly potted flowers. The dress she had chosen for the evening hung elegantly against the closet door, the shimmer of glitter catching the soft light of early spring.
Her troubled expression from earlier lingered in my thoughts, her eyes reflecting a mix of worry and sadness that she chose not to share with me. I couldn't shake the feeling that something significant was troubling her, something she kept guarded within herself.
With a heavy sigh, I pushed myself off the bed, the need for a distraction leading me to the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. However, my frustration grew as I discovered that the lighter had died, leaving me cursing under my breath.
Fumbling through the drawers in search of a replacement, my mind distractedly moved from one drawer to the next, until I reached Vanessa's drawer. Among her belongings, a small ultrasound photo caught my eye, its message hitting me like a ton of bricks.
"It's a boy!"
The words "It's a boy!" reverberate in my mind, the gravity of the news began to sink in with a profound weight. We were going to have a son - the Volturi heir that Aro had been eagerly anticipating, the next generation of our lineage. This child would be my firstborn, carrying with him the legacy of our family, the littlest prince destined to inherit the mantle of leadership in the kingdom my uncles had painstakingly built.
The thought of this new life, this tiny being who would one day grow to wield great power and responsibility, filled me with a mixture of emotions. Pride swelled within me at the prospect of fatherhood, mingled with a sense of duty to guide and protect this future leader. Yet, underlying it all was a deep sense of apprehension and uncertainty, knowing the challenges and expectations that awaited my son as he entered a world steeped in tradition and intrigue.
As I carefully placed the ultrasound photo back in its designated spot in Vanessa's drawer, the weight of the revelation still lingering in my mind, a pang of hurt and frustration crept into my thoughts. The fact that she hadn't shared the news of our baby's gender with me stung, albeit subtly. It was a reminder of the distance that had grown between us, a gap that seemed to widen with every unspoken truth and withheld emotion.
Reflecting on the situation, I couldn't deny the twinge of disappointment at not being the first to know about our son. The news of Vanessa's pregnancy itself had come as a shock, revealed to me in a moment of public unveiling orchestrated by Aro at Marcus's funeral, a setting that was far from ideal for such intimate revelations.
Closing the wooden drawer with a sigh, the forgotten need for a lighter now insignificant in comparison to the weight of the photo hidden atop the clothing in the 3rd drawer. Running my fingers through my hair, I gave the ends a hard tug in frustration. A part of me wanted to go out there and confront her right away â not wanting her to hide the truth any longer. The rational portion of my brain simply said to wait until after the benefit. The air between us was already tense â a fight right before the event was sure to make everyoneâs night terrible.
The sound of soft footsteps on the staircase caught me by surprise, freezing me in my tracks as I quickly backed away from the drawer, my heart racing with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Hurriedly, I moved towards the open window, seeking a moment of respite as I tried to collect my thoughts. Glancing back, I saw Vanessa entering the room, her eyes meeting mine as she closed the door behind her.
"I didn't realize you were still up here," she remarked casually, making her way over to the dress hanging on the closet door. "Figured you went with Aro to make sure everything was set up."
I cleared my throat, my voice betraying a hint of nervousness. "Uh, no," I replied, trying to sound composed. "He told me to just stay put until it was time to show up. Besides, I already checked on things this morning to ensure everything was proceeding smoothly. Can't exactly rely on Aro when it comes to dinner party arrangements."
I observed as Vanessa's expression shifted slightly; her curiosity evident as she focused on the dress in her hands. Sensing the need to change the subject, I quickly interjected, "How are the flowers? It seemed like you and Charlotte were quite in tune with them." I watched her inspect the dress she had chosen with Charlotte, undoubtedly envisioning how stunning she would look in it at the event.
âGot them all potted for the most part,â she said curtly. âIâm gonna shower real fast and get ready.â
Before I could reply, she had already retreated to the bathroom, the sound of the shower turning on filling the otherwise silent room. I listened as she stepped into the shower, my feet carrying me almost involuntarily to the bathroom door. Through the glass, her silhouette came into view â her bump prominently displayed as she lathered her hair. In that moment, she looked absolutely beautiful â not that she doesnât in general â but there was something about her vulnerability that made her seem almost angelic.
A part of me wanted to jump into the shower with her â to tell her and show her how much I truly loved her. I would forgo the gala just to hold her in my arms for the rest of the night, to place my hand upon her growing stomach and speak to my son for the first time. That was all wishful thinking, though.
I let out a sigh as I slowly walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door to ensure her privacy. I found myself in the kitchen, searching the drawers for the forgotten lighter. Cursing aloud as my search came up empty.
"Try looking in the cupboard, dear," came a singsong voice. My nerves rattled at the sound of Charlotteâs unexpected suggestion.
"Jesus, Charlotte," I muttered, my head hanging as my heart pounded in my chest. "Trying to give me a heart attack?"
She let out a chuckle, the sound light and teasing. "The world might cease to exist if you canât smoke that cigarette, darling." she said, gliding into the kitchen with an air of effortless grace. Her presence was always a mix of comfort and command, something that never failed to both soothe and unsettle me.
I opened the cupboard as she suggested and, sure enough, the lighter was there. I grabbed it and turned to face her, shaking my head with a rueful smile. "What would I do without you?"
"Probably lose that handsome head of yours if it wasnât screwed on straight," she quipped, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She leaned against the counter, her gaze softening as she looked at me. "She getting ready for tonight?â Her eyes glancing to the ceiling.
I nodded my head as I lit the stick, the flame casting a warm glow that flickered in the dim kitchen light. "Yeah," I replied, my voice thick with emotion. "I just want to thank you for accepting her and making her feel loved. She seems to really enjoy your company, and I can tell she appreciates your kindness â especially now with the baby coming along and all."
Charlotte's expression softened, a tender smile playing at the corners of her lips. "You don't have to thank me, Caius," she said gently. "Vanessa has been an absolute joy. She's a remarkable woman, and you're incredibly lucky to have her in your life. For onceâ" she reached for my hand, her touch warm and reassuringâ"you thought things out with your brain instead of what's zipped inside your trousers."
A laugh escaped past my lips as I nodded my head. "She's not like the others, that's for sure."
Charlotte chuckled along with me, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, it's about time, isn't it? Finding someone who truly understands you, who brings out the best in you."
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words. "Yeah, it is. She's changed everything for me. Made me realize what truly matters." In the short time that weâve been married, my thoughts were no longer focused on myself or the family business. Before Vanessa, I didnât care what happened or who I hurt. I was only focused on getting whatever job needed to be done.
"And she's just as lucky to have you," Charlotte nodded, a knowing look in her eyes. "It's a lot, carrying a life inside you. But she's strong. Both of you are."
âYou think Iâm gonna be a good father?â My eyes focused on my ringed finger. âI mean I can only model myself after Aro and Marcus â theyâve raised me since I was small â most of the time it was you and the other help that I would see for days.â
Charlotte's smile softened as she reached out to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Being a good father isn't about having all the perfect examples," she said gently. "It's about love, commitment, and the willingness to learn and grow. You have all those qualities in spades."
I looked up at her, the worry in my chest easing slightly. "But how do I know I won't mess it up? What if I make the same mistakes?"
Charlotte shook her head. "We all make mistakes, dear. It's part of being human. But the fact that you're asking these questions, that you care so deeply about being a good father, shows that you're already on the right path."
I sighed, the weight of my doubts still lingering but feeling a bit lighter. "I just want to do right by her, by our child."
"And you will," Charlotte reassured me. "You have a good heart, and you care. That's more than enough to start with.â
I gave her a small genuine smile.
"Nowâ" Her hands moved down my bicep, her touch warm and familiar. "Where is the rest of your suit?"
We both laughed as I explained to her, "This is the style at the moment. I canât be all stiff and boring like Aro and those other men â gotta stand out in the crowd, Charlotte."
She shook her head, still chuckling, her eyes filled with a mix of amusement and fondness. "Well, you're certainly doing a good job of that," she said, her voice teasing but affectionate.
Her aging eyes peered past me, and a soft smile formed on her lips. "Well, I think the beauty standing behind you will make that happen more than your outfit will."
I turned to see Vanessa approaching, her presence instantly lighting up the room. She radiated a warmth and grace that seemed to draw everyone's attention, including mine.
The champagne-colored dress that Vanessa had chosen fit her body like a glove, the color and sparkles making her already glowing skin pop out even more. My eyes trailed down to her stomach, my heart swelling as the bump was more noticeable than usual. I honestly couldnât even put a sentence togetherâher beauty rendered me speechless.
âOh, darlingâ" Charlotte shuffled past me as she made her way to Vanessa. "You look absolutely breathtaking."
Vanessa smiled warmly at Charlotte, leaning down slightly to give the older woman a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Charlotte," she said, her voice filled with gratitude. She glanced my way, her eyes twinkling with affection and amusement at my awestruck expression.
As they exchanged pleasantries, I took a moment to compose myself, trying to find the right words to express what I was feeling. Vanessa's presence was like a beacon, illuminating everything around her and grounding me in the moment. Â
âCaius, sweetheartââ Charlotteâs eyes glinted with mischief as she and Vanessa turned their attention onto me. âRather than keeping your jaw on the floor, why donât you tell your wife how beautiful she looks?â
I snapped out of my reverie, feeling a blush creep up my neck. Vanessaâs amused smile only made my heart race faster. âRight,â I stammered, taking a step closer to her. âVanessa, you look... breathtaking. I mean, you always do, but tonight youâre just...â
Vanessaâs eyes softened. âThank you,â she said, her voice gentle. I could still sense a hint of timidness in her posture as I stepped beside her.
I cleared my throat, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. I was apprehensive but determined to provide the support she deserved. âShall we go?â I asked, my hand hovering near her lower back.
She slowly nodded, a soft smile still framing her face. âYes.â
As we made our way to the awaiting SUV, Vanessa walked a couple of steps ahead of me. Every movement she made seemed to draw my attention, and I felt a surge of protectiveness and love. My body instinctively moved into doting husband mode as I rushed to open the car door for her.
âHere, let me help you,â I said, extending a hand to assist her into the vehicle. Her fingers brushed against mine, sending an electrical current through my body. The simple touch was enough to make my heart race.
âThanks,â Vanessa murmured as she settled into the seat, her eyes meeting mine. Her gaze was unreadable, a mix of emotions that I couldnât quite decipher.
I settled into the seat beside her, and the driver quickly gathered himself, rolling down the driveway. The ride was mostly silent, filled only with the rhythmic sound of raindrops hitting the darkened windows as the car traveled down the interstate.
I glanced over at Vanessa, her profile illuminated by the occasional streetlight. She seemed lost in thought, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on her lap. I wanted to reach out, to bridge the quiet gap between us, but I hesitated, unsure of what to sayâŠ
#jamie campbell bower imagine#jamie campbell bower#jamie campbell bower smut#caius volturi#caius volturi x oc#jamie campbell bower x reader#caius twilight#jamie campbell bower fanfic#jamie bower x reader#jamie bower imagine#Jamie bower x OC#caius volturi x reader#caius volturi imagine#caius x reader
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amillow in the Time Hollow AU is just a little fucked up and evil. (read: extremely fucked up and evil)
cause it's like, they're in loving relationships. with people who love them back. 'cause Luz and Hunter both love Amity and Willow so, so much. they have so much love to give, and they give so much of it to them.
but them there's that little part that knows they don't get all of it. they can't get all of it. no matter how much they want it, how much they need it, they know they'll always be number two in their lives. never number one.
because number one in hunter's life, is luz. and in luz's life, number one is hunter.
and it hurts.
and the worst part is, they can't even blame them. they realize that both luz and hunter went through something traumatic together, something so, so awful, that truly nobody else could ever understand, except each other.
as much as willow and amity give to hunter and luz, as much as they stay by their side, holding them as they relive memory after trauma after torture, laughing with them, crying with them, doing their best to give them happy memories -
hunter and luz will always seek out each other first. because they're the only ones who understand what they went through.
and it hurts.
and maybe it's selfish of them, to want all of hunter and luz for themselves. to want to be that number one. they should just be happy that they're on that list at all! that they're loved by them, that even with how scared, how hurt they are, they choose to be vulnerable around them, they choose to love them!
to even insinuate that they're jealous is like throwing the love they're getting back in their face! of course they understand why hunter and luz are so close, why they can barely stand to be in separate rooms from each other. it's fine. it should be fine.
but they are jealous. and they could never truly understand.
and it hurts.
and maybe it's one night too many, where luz and hunter wake from their too short rests, kicking and screaming and hurting, lost in the throes of their nightmares and memories.
one night too many where amity and willow try to calm them down, breathing with them, holding them, desperately trying to calm them down, and of course none of it works.
only when luz and hunter come together, one hand resting on each other's chest, the other holding tightly, feeling the erratic, rhythmic pulse of their hearts, reminding them that they're here, that they feel okay.
one night too many, of amity and willow, leaving them alone, so they could come back to themselves, knowing that they weren't the ones to bring them back, were almost never the ones.
and it hurts.
and maybe it's one night too many, where willow and amity are left separated from their partners, stranded, unable to help them, that they turn to each other.
because, just like hunter and luz, they are the only ones who can understand each other.
they're the only ones with partners with the trauma they have, the only two people who went through what they did. the only two who are second in the lives of their partners, and the only two who would say that's okay.
the only two who can admit to each other that they're jealous, and not feel judged for it.
and maybe they can find comfort in each other, for just one night.
and it hurts.
and they feel angry, for believing that they're not enough. guilty, for insinuating that hunter and luz are not enough. shame, for trying to find comfort in places other than their parters.
relief, in the fact that it works.
and when the morning comes, and luz and hunter find them, having come back to themselves, they smile. they grin and tease and grumble and say finally, because they're truly happy for them. and they have so much love to give.
and yet they still don't believe they deserve it. because they're selfish, and jealous, and still want more.
and it hurts.
#time hollow au#for all the talk of changing the dynamics of the au for huntceda#ive actually done it so that this messy amillow can exist#and that's only partially a joke#amillow#amity blight#willow park#luz noceda#hunter toh#lavender winter#lavwin
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Devil May Care
Fandom: Heavenâs Secret (Book 1: Season 1)
Pairing: Lucifer x F!OC (Devon Hart)
Series: Oh, So Devilish
Chapter summary: Devon sneaks off to track down a lead on her death... But she's not alone.
Word count: 5,100
Warnings: M (swearing, angst, suicidal thoughts, aggro, toxic behaviour, references to death, physical violence)
Chapter theme song:
A/N1: So. This is not what I was supposed to be working on. At all. Not only is this not Intentions, but itâs not even TRR⊠or Choices, for that matter. However, a couple of weeks ago, @angelasscribbles convinced me to take the plunge with a Romance Club choices game called Heavenâs Secret and I became instantly hooked⊠especially on Luciferâs character. I have a type; canât you tell? đ
A/N2: This first part of what turned into a two-parter (it just got too long, so I had to split it) focuses on the events that take place at the end of HS S1E5 and the second part focuses on the start of S1E6. Because while I love the character of Lucifer, I felt like that his characterisation missed the mark a bit (especially considering that he is the literal Son of Satan) so, I decided to make⊠adjustments đ
A/N3: I appreciate that this is not what most people on my tag list signed up to read, but I have tagged my Permas anyway, in case anyone wants to indulge me. However, in the (highly likely) event that I end up writing more for this fandom, moving forward, I will only tag people who specifically request to be tagged. So if you want in on Part 2, let your preferences be known, or forever hold your peace.
A/N4: By way of context for people who decide to read, but are not familiar with canon for this story, here is some background (which I have also tried to incorporate as much as possible into the fic itself): MC (default name, Vicky Walker, but for various reasons, I decided to create an OC instead) is killed in a car crash. However, instead of âsimplyâ dying, she is offered the choice to become an immortal and join the Angels & Demons Academy (located in Heaven) and train to become either an angel or a demon (your choices in the game actually affect your path â prior to choosing an eventual side, you are referred to as an âUnclaimedâ). As part of her training, MC is sent down to Earth to complete assignments that require her to influence humans into making various choices⊠however, MC is also secretly trying to investigate the circumstances of her (highly suspicious) death. Also, for the purposes of this universe, Lucifer is the demon son of Satan and Lilith (not a fallen angel as per Biblical canon). Dino, Sammy and Fencio are true-born angels (donât ask about the names), Mimi and Adi are true-born demons. Both angels and demons (and Unclaimed) are anthropomorphic and have wings; however, when they go down to Earth, they disguise themselves in human form. Hope that helps! đ€
Devil May Care
âAh, there you areâŠâ
Jerking my gaze away from Dino, I spot Sammyâs human form standing a few feet away.
âSorry,â I say, quickly wiping the remnants of the wetness from my face. âI⊠I just needed a minute.â
Sammy nods in understanding. âIf itâs any consolation, the fact that you care is a good thing. It shows you still have your humanity. No death should be treated lightly, yet most demons⊠and a fair number of angels have lost sight of that. But itâs a strength. Donât let Adi or Mimi tell you otherwise.â
âThanks, SammyâŠâ I say with a sniffle, forcing myself to stand.
âAny time,â he acknowledges with a lop-sided smirk. âBut we should get going.â
âYes. It is time to return,â confirms Dino, coming to stand beside me.
As if on cue, the air begins to thicken around us, and a familiar crackle of energy raises the hairs on my arms. Glancing up, I see the very fabric of the night sky stretch and strain as an otherworldly wind whips the now-familiar bridge between the dimensions into shape.
Dino steps into the centre of the maelstrom first, lifting into the air as the vortex sucks him back to the ethereal realm.Â
âSee you on the other side,â Sammy winks as he leaps after the other angel.
With a heavy exhale, I shove my hands into the pockets of my biker jacket, and force myself to move towards the epicentre of the storm.
Finding myself back on Earth in the wake of my death hadnât been easy the first time, and it sure as hell hasnât gotten any easier the second time either. Because even though everyone at the Academy keeps reminding me that my mortal life is well and truly over, and there is no going back, for whatever inexplicable reason I canât seem to accept my new-found providence.
And coming back here â to the human realm â just feels like a massive kick in the gut each and every time⊠Like a kid being taunted with everything they canât have from the other side of a toy store window. A cruel reminder of what that was wrenched away from me. My friends⊠My family⊠Even myself.
The undeniable force of the vortex tugs at my clothes, trying to lift me skywards, but I find myself fighting it.
Maybe because my death had been thrust upon me with such shocking suddenness⊠giving me no time to prepare, much less come to terms with it before I fell into the world of angels and demons. Maybe because the grief I saw etched into my fatherâs face has woven itself into the threads of my soul as well, reinforcing the harshness of the truth that we got cheated out of what could have been left of our precious, irretrievable time together. Or maybe itâs because I know that my killer is still out there, living it up despite the crime he committed against me, free from punishment, free from the scythe of justice.
The tip of my finger brushes against the folded letter buried in my pocket.
Since picking it up outside of my house a few days ago â though, to be fair, I have no idea how time converted between Earth and the angelic realm, so for all I know, it couldâve been years since my last visit â Iâve carried the piece of paper with me everywhere. In part because I donât want anyone finding it and wondering how I managed to get my hands on it in the first place⊠As given that we arenât supposed to interact with mortals outside of our given assignments, I am not particularly interested in the chewing out that is no doubt in store for me if someone decides to rat on me. But also, in part because I cannot let what happened to me go⊠and desperately crave answers.
Digging my heels in on the edge of the swirling whirlpool of energy, I pull the letter outâŠ
âŠbut as if by fate, the square of paper is ripped from my grasp by a particularly vicious gust of wind.
âNoâŠ!â I gasp, throwing myself heedlessly after my only lead.
The letter zooms around the circumference of the vortex â like a hapless butterfly riding the edge of a tornado â and begins to track upwards, ever further from my reachâŠ
But just as itâs on the verge of vanishing into the void, it is suddenly snatched out of the air with inhuman speed and precision.
I stumble to stop, mouth agape and arm outstretched like some drunken ballerina as I lay eyes on the dark form on the other side of the vortex.
CrapâŠ
Of all the possible ways this screw-up couldâve gone, this is â hands down â the worst.
As even in human skin⊠without the horned wings gathered around him like a dark halo, or the pulsing, ethereal tattoos that seem to constantly shift along the visible surface of his skin⊠there is no mistaking the raw power emanating from the being standing across from me.
Lucifer cocks a lazy brow in my direction as he holds the note up. âLost something, have we?âÂ
His eyes meets mine, and in spite of the distance separating us, I feel the full heat of the fire that burns in his demonic gaze scorch into me like the blade of a hot knife.
And despite drawing upon every ounce of my willpower to prevent it from happening, I feel an incriminating blush rise up my cheeks.
A slow smile curves at his lips. âI thought soâŠâ
âGive it back!â I snap, my momentary embarrassment morphing instantly into anger⊠even though I know in the back of my mind this is exactly the reaction he is probably looking to goad me into.
Because I am angry. Angry at myself for being stupid enough to arm someone like Lucifer with such potent ammunition to use against me. Angry with him for the fact that he managed to sneak up on me like this in the first place.
But most of all, my heart is still bleeding for that little girl who died a senseless death mere minutes ago⊠and the knowledge that I had been complicit in it.Â
And I cannot keep a latch on the tidal wave of red rising over me. Nor do I really want to.Â
I have already cried a river on the bench with Dino â commiserating not just for the fate of the girl, but for the fucked up situation I now find myself in as well â and I have no tears left. Just raw, frothing rage at the inherent unjustness of the world, at the flippant and uncaring attitude of my fellow immortals who see humans as mere pawns on their eternal chess board, and my own powerlessness in the face of forces and rules that I donât yet fully understand, but which Iâm being steered to blindly conform to anyway.
And the arrogant demon standing in front of me is just as good a scapegoat for my ire as any.
âOr what?â he taunts, sliding his thumb slowly across the paper⊠taunting me shamelessly with the missive he now holds in his hand.
Something inside of me snaps and I launch myself at him with a wordless yell.
But the vortex has apparently had enough of being kept on hold by my indecision, and before Iâve made it two steps, I find myself being sucked up to go careening through time and space like a discombobulated pinball.
âDamn it!â I cuss as Iâm tugged through the shimmering funnel against my will.
I had one chance to make some much-needed progress on figuring out who killed me and why, and Iâve managed to blow it.
And who knows when Iâll have the opportunity to try again? Or even if Iâll be able to try againâŠ
As knowing Lucifer â the literal Spawn of Satan â heâll end up throwing me under the bus the moment we get back to the Academy⊠just for perverse kicks.
âAssholeâŠâ I gripe under my breath as I feel the speed of the vortex slow, indicating that my unplanned trip is about to come to an end.
But as my feet touch down once more, it is not back at the Academy where I find myself. Instead, Iâm standing outside of a building that looks very much like a police station⊠in my hometown.
âHuhâŠâ
Dino had mentioned previously that destinations in the vortex are set by oneâs intentions.
Since I had been so focused on the letter â which my father had received from the lead detective assigned to my case â the vortex mustâve thought this is where I had wanted to go.
And Iâm not about to look an unexpected gift horse in the mouth.
Knowing that I didnât have a lot of time before my classmates â and Fencio! â notice my absence back in the angelic realm, I hurry across the street.
Taking the steps two at a time, I shove myself through the revolving door and step into the station. Luckily, I have the contents of the letter memorised, given that I no longer have it in my possession, so Iâm hoping that Iâll be able to blag my way through this with some semblance of grace.
The receptionist manning the counter looks up at my arrival. âCan I help you?â
âErm⊠Yes,â I confirm, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear as I step forward. âIâm looking for DC Lawton. He was heading up the Hart caseâŠ?â
I cross my fingers behind my back, hoping against hope that itâs only been mere weeks and not decades since my death, and the police are still investigating.
The receptionist takes a moment to consult her computer. âYes. He should still be in.â
A relieved breath bursts out of me. Another break!
âDo you have an appointment?â
âNot exactlyâŠâ I admit. âBut⊠I do have some information relating to the case that he needs to hear.â
The woman behind the desk studies me for a long moment, no doubt wondering what a petite Korean girl wearing pink pigtails and spiked leather could possibly have to contribute to a homicide investigation⊠given that that is the mortal skin I am currently masquerading around in.
But she nevertheless seems to take me at my word. âDown the hall, second door on the left.â
âThank you!â I blurt, already turning away.
Speedwalking past the desk and down the corridor, I locate the correct door and push down on the handle without knocking.
The lone man occupying the room barely glances up from his stack of papers at the sound of my arrival. âYeah?â
âDC Lawton?â I ask, stepping into the room.
âThatâs what it says on the name plaque,â he grunts, indicating the front of his desk.
âGreat!â I exclaim, moving up to him. âIâŠâ
I trail off, realising that I havenât actually planned out what I was going to say when I got here. As I canât exactly reveal that I am the dead victim from one of his case files, come to demand answers about the circumstances of the car crash that killed her.
The detective raises his head, waiting for a response..
I take a deep breath. âI hear youâre the lead investigator on the Hart case.â
He nods. âThatâs right. And you are?â
âAn interested party,â I admit. It wasnât a lie, but it wasnât the whole truth either.
His brows furrow, no doubt in response to the same train of thought that chugged down the tracks of the receptionistâs mind earlier. âWhat kind of interested party?â
ShitâŠ
Iâm not sure exactly how I had expected this conversation to go, but it definitely wasnât like this.Â
But then I remember that Iâm not a mere human anymoreâŠ
And Iâm not willing to leave empty-handed.
Ditching any rational approach, I scrunch my face up in pretend grief as I flop dramatically into the chair at the side of the detectiveâs desk. âI didnât want to say anything before because I didnât want anyone to know⊠especially my parents⊠but I canât keep it in anymore and I need to tell someone!â
DC Lawton startles slightly at my unexpected and borderline theatrical flip of composure. âKeep what in anymore?â
I slap an aggrieved hand onto his. âThat Devon and I were in a relationship!â
The detectiveâs eyes widen in shock, and I use his momentary surprise to lock my gaze with his, just like we practiced back at the Academy.
The physical contact, combined with the suddenly unrestricted access to the window of his soul, allows me to breach the energetic wall encasing his body, and dive right into the hidden recesses of his mind.
Yes! It worked!
But I force myself to curtail my celebration, knowing that I need to focus all my attention on maintaining the delicate connection with the man sitting in front of me.
âYou must help me, Detective,â I urge, tightening my hold on his hand.
DC Lawton looks somewhat dazed â like heâs been whacked over the back of the head â but at the sound of my voice, his pupils dilate eagerly. âHow can I help?â
âThe girl in the Hart case that youâre investigating⊠she was run off the road. Do you know by who?â
âNo,â he intones, his voice slightly groggy. âThe vehicle was a rental. A black minivan. I havenât had a chance to talk to the rental company yetâŠâ
âWhich rental company?â I press.
âGlobal Drive,â he says. âThe license plate is NYK 357.â
âCan you write that all down for me?â
He lifts his pen up with a nod to scribble onto a Post-It. âYour hand is so warmâŠâ
âThanks,â I say, snatching the note from him and breaking off the contact in the process.
He blinks up at me rapidly. âAny timeâŠ?â
Jumping up from the chair, I turn to dash out of the roomâŠ
âŠand nearly trip over my own feet when I come face to face with the glowering form leaning against the door jamb.
âWhat thâ?â
Luciferâs lips curl back to reveal teeth. âI should have you racked in the Pits.â
An involuntary shiver runs down my spine at his words. Not because of the sinister nature of the threat â Iâve been to Hell, and it certainly is no picnic! â but because I can see from the tight set of his jaw that he is actively considering carrying it out.
I force myself to meet his burning gaze head-on. âWell, unfortunately for you, I didnât end up in Hell when I died. So, you donât get to make that call.â
âNo,â he growls back. âBut your flagrant disregard for the rules makes you a liability, and I refuse to take the fall for you.â
âWell, maybe you shouldâve thought of that before you decided to follow me,â I hit back, bumping him with my shoulder as I shove past him on my way out of the room.
His hand shoots out to latch around my arm with a vice-like grip, and suddenly I find myself nose-to-nose with him.
âI didnât follow you,â he hisses into my face, his coal-black irises alight with the very fires of Hell. âThe vortex brought me here because you canât keep hold of your own fucking trash.â
âItâs not trash!â I spit back. âItâsââ
âWas it worth it?â
The question â and the sudden change in his tone â catches me off guard.Â
I blink in confusion, wondering if I maybe misheard him. But while his piercing gaze is still locked onto me with the same degree of ferociousness as a moment ago, behind the raging inferno of irritation glimmers a genuine spark of curiosity.
âMaybe,â I concede tightly, trying to get a read on him.
As demons, Iâve learnt, are inherent wildcards. Unpredictable at the best of times, and downright diabolical at the worst. Which means their whims and whiles can change at the drop of a hat, and it is dangerous to get caught in a compromising position with them.
Which â unfortunately â is exactly where I have managed to find myself with Lucifer. Trapped in a corner, with him holding all the trumps. So, I donât want to admit any more than I strictly have to.
He rakes his hot gaze over me one more time â as if trying to catch me out in a lie â before pulling back slightly.
âHmm⊠Not a complete waste of wings thenâŠâ
I wrench my arm from his grasp. âFuck you.â
I swear I hear a snort of amusement escape him as I stomp away⊠But I resist the urge to sucker punch him. He is not worth it, and I have better things to do with my limited time on Earth anyway.
Glancing down at the Post-It in my hand, I can see that DC Lawton has been kind enough to scrawl down the address of the rental centre⊠and that it is only a few blocks away.
Which is a blessing, given that I donât have any money on me with which to hail a cab or jump on a bus, and our lessons at the Academy have yet to cover how to magically hotwire a car.Â
So, walking it is. At least the physical exertion will give me a chance to blow off some steam.
Shoving the note into my pocket, I push through the revolving doors of the station, and back out onto the street. Pausing for a second to get my bearings â itâs been a while since I last frequented this part of town, having spent the preceding four years of my mortal life off at college â I quickly rake through my mental map of the neighbourhood before setting off to the right.
Except, I donât even make it to the end of the block before I feel a tell-tale prick in the back of my neck. Glancing over my shoulder, my stomach drops as I catch sight of Lucifer a few yards behind me.
Gritting my teeth, I pick up my pace, hoping that itâs merely an unfortunate coincidence that he happens to be going in the same direction as me.
But it seems that I am in no such luck, as heâs still tailing me two blocks later, like an annoying black fly that I cannot seem to shake, no matter how hard I try.
With the result that by the time I get to the next crosswalk, my cool has evaporated completely, and instead of crossing the road in front of me, I end up rounding on him like a rabid pitbull.
âYouâre such a fucking hypocrite!â
My outburst seems to catch him off-guard. But whatever jump I may have managed to get on him is fleeting at best, and in the next instant, heâs up in my face again, teeth bared and hackles raised. âWatch your tongue, Unclaimed. Before I rip it out of your mouth.â
âOh, the truth hurts, does it?â I snip up at him.
âYou donât know the meaning of pain,â he grits, his hand snapping around the base of my throat.
My eyes narrow. âI know more than you think.â
âNo. You donât.â The flames in his eyes lick over me contemptuously. âAnd your arrogance will get you killed. Permanently.â
âBet youâd love to be the one to do it, too,â I goad with a humourless smile.Â
I know Iâm playing with hellfire. But I donât care. I didnât ask for this life, and Iâm still not convinced I want it. So, if Lucifer is willing to put me out of my misery, then so be it. Being who he is, Iâm sure he has the means⊠and Iâve just handed him the opportunity on a silver platter.
The Prince of Darkness stares at me for what feels like an age, his hand wrapped around my throat, face a mere breath from mine, his gaze simmering as if trying to read my very soul.
âUnlike you, angel, Iâm not that stupid,â he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. His hand drops from my neck as he steps abruptly past me.
âThen why are you still here?â I demand, whirling around after him.
He stops a few feet away, shoulders tense. But when he looks back at me, rather than anger or annoyance, itâs that devilish grin playing at his lips again. âMaybe Iâm just enjoying the show.â
âEugh!â I grit, throwing my hands up in the air as I plow past him.
Conceited, egotistical, patronising bastard! Why canât he fall back into the Seventh Circle of Hell, where he fuckingâ
Iâm so incessed that I end up storming right by the rental centre⊠and have to retrace my steps from the other end of the block to correct my mistake.
So, by the time I arrive back at the correct entranceway, my mood is even more foul than when I left the police station.
âSave it,â I spit as I reach the still-smirking form of Lucifer, leaning against the metal fence post of the lot.
His brow arches. âDid you hear meâ?â
I flip him off in no uncertain terms as I stride past without a backwards glance.
He wants to stick around? Fine. But that doesnât mean I need to be nice to him. Hell will have to freeze over first.
Arriving at the first row of parked cars, I pull the Post-It out from my pocket and begin scanning the plates, looking for the black van.
âGood afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything in particular?â
Looking up, I see a suited man with a combover and a name tag looking at me expectantly. The rental rep, by the looks of him.
âYes, actually,â I affirm. âIâm looking for a black minivan.â
âYou have come to the right place,â he tells me with an eager smile as he starts to lead me to the other side of the lot. âGlobal Drive stocks the largest selection of rental vans available for hire in the area, and weâre happy to accommodate both long- and short-term requirements. Are you moving, by any chance?â
âHuh?â Iâd been too busy trying to match the van plates to the number on the Post-It that I totally missed the question.
The repâs smile falters slightly. âSince your interest is in a minivan, am I correct to assume that yâ?â
âNo.â
Both mine and the repâs gaze snap around to land on the hulking presence of Lucifer, who has managed to slither up behind us without either of us noticing.
âWeâre not planning on renting it,â he adds, with what I can only deduce is his interpretation of an angelic smile.
My stomach drops. Oh, noâŠ
The rep frowns. âThen whyâ?â
âBecause this lovely young lady is of the belief that she may have left a rather intimate item in one of your vans following a recent excursion of ours. And sheâs desperate to retrieve it.â
âOh, well of course!" agrees the rep. âWe pride ourselves onâ"
âItâs lacy⊠And expensiveâŠâ Lucifer clarifies with a sly look. âAnd probably lodged between theââ
âThe point is!â I interject loudly, my cheeks burning with mortification despite the fact that the entire story is a shameless lie. âWe would like to take a look in the van. The plate number was NYK 357.â
The demeanour of the rep suddenly shifts. âUmm⊠Are you certain?â
âYes,â I say, laying a hand on his arm to try and sway him like I did the detective. âVeryââ
The rep snatches his arm away. âIâm going to need to see some ID. I cannot allow access to the vehicles without verifying thatââ
I reach towards him again. âSurely thatâs not necessary⊠We just want to take a quick peek, andââ
âHeâs going to boltâŠâ breathes Lucifer in my ear.
I flick my head away irately. âShutââ
But the rep has already turned tail and fled.
âDamn it!â I grit.
âTold you,â Lucifer smirks down at me.
I give him an annoyed shove. âHe only did that because of you! If you hadnât stuck your nose in it, I wouldâveââ
âI did nothing,â he counters tersely, the coals of his eyes flaring in warning. âYour attempt to influence him was doomed from the start. But you were too obstinate to notice.â
âObstinate!â I cry. âYou were breathing in my ear!â
âAnd did you like it?â he purrs, suddenly all up in my space again as he flips the tables on me with diabolical speed.
âNo,â I snort, turning pointedly away.Â
AssholeâŠ
He deliberately sabotaged my attempt to establish a connection with the rental rep. Whether for his own perverse enjoyment â like the Devil temping Eve in the Garden â or whether for some more sinister reason, it doesnât matter. The end result is the same. And I have no clue how Iâm going to be able to salvage this rapidly snowballing clusterfuck, given that I am already working on borrowed time.
But I know I have to try. Iâve somehow managed to make it this far, in spite of the successive obstacles Luciferâs thrown in my way, and I refuse to give that bastard the satisfaction of believing that Iâm going to let him win whatever one-sided game heâs playing.
âHe is gay.â
I stumble to a stop. âSay what?â
Lucifer is standing in front of me, blocking the way to the door of the rental centre. âThe rental rep. He is gay. That is why your feeble attempts to influence him didnât work.â
âYeah⊠RightâŠâ I snap, trying to push past him. Iâm not falling for whatever kind of trick this is supposed to be.
He grabs my arm. âCheck that attitude before I check it for you, Unclaimed. Because youâre not going to like my methodsâŠâ
âIs that supposed to be a threat?â I hit back. âBecause based on what Iâve seen of your âmethodsâ, they are mediocre at best.â
His eyes flash in fury. âYouâve seen nothing, angelâŠâ
âIâm not an angel,â I deride, wrenching my arm from his grasp.
He scoffs. âWell, youâre certainly no demon. The way youâre floundering around likeââ
I catch sight of something through the window. âOh, noâŠâ
Lucifer jerks his gaze over his shoulderâŠ
âŠand before I can blink, heâs vanished into the rental centre, the glass door flapping wildly in his wake.
Catching the handle on the out-swing, I dash after him as fast as my stiletto boots can carry me⊠and an involuntary gasp escapes me as I lay eyes on the scene in front of me.
The rental rep is pressed up against the wall, his feet dangling a good foot off the ground as Lucifer holds him suspended with the hand locked around his neck. The phone that Iâd spotted the rep frantically trying to dial a moment ago lies shattered on the floor.
âPleaseâŠâ begs the man, clawing desperately at the fingers that are squashing his trachea. âIââ
âShut up,â growls Lucifer, shoving the rep higher. âYou have exactly two seconds to tell us everything we need to know before I rip your throat out. And if you even think about lying⊠Well, you donât even want to go thereâŠâ
The rep blanches visibly. âAnything! Iâll⊠Iâll tell you anything! Please, justââ
âAsk him,â Lucifer barks without even a glance in my direction.
I take a shaky step forward. âWe⊠Weâre looking for the driver who rented the black van. License plateââ
âI⊠I knowâŠâ croaks the rep, his face starting to redden from the lack of oxygen. âI worked the shift and⊠and remember him. He never bought the van backâŠâ
My throat tightens painfully. Because he rammed me off the roadâŠ
âWho was he?â demands Lucifer.
âNot⊠local,â the man rasps, struggling for breath. âGave a hotel as an address⊠Hotel⊠Hotel Aphrodite. And his name⊠His name sounded strange⊠almost French. But he didnât speakââ
âTo Hell with all that,â comes the short-tempered command. âGive us the fucking name.â
âAm-Amidi Laurent!â
Lucifer drops the rep like a sack of trash. âYou got that?â
âYeahâŠâ I confirm tightly, watching the man wheeze on the floor.
âGood,â he grits. âLetâs go.â
Without giving me a say in the matter, he grabs my wrist to haul me out the door.
I stumble after him like a witless marionette, trying to process what I just witnessed.
Lucifer⊠Willing to kill⊠For me�
The concept simply does not compute.
âHappy now?â
The sound of Luciferâs voice wrenches me from the whirlpool of my thoughtsâŠ
âŠand looking up, I find that weâre back out on the street, just around the corner from the rental centre.
âIâŠâ I glance back in the direction of Global Drive with a lump in my throat. âWhy did you do that?â
âTo save time,â he replies dispassionately. âAnd get the truth out of him.â
âYeah⊠ButâŠâ A shiver courses through me at the ease with which heâd immobilised the rep⊠The ease with which heâd threatened him. âWhy?â
Lucifer lets out an exasperated exhale. âHellâs bells, you Unclaimed are dense sometimes⊠Because thatâs what you wanted.â
I gape at him, stupefied. This must be some kind of fever dreamâŠ
âDonât I get a thank you?â
The simplicity of his question knocks me off kilter completely.
My eyes lift to his almost on their own volition, and I find him gazing down at me silently, intently⊠like a cat waiting to see in which direction the mouse will jump.
Except there is no malice or mockery in his gaze. Just plain old curiosity once again.
And because my tongue has become stuck in my throat, and after everything thatâs just happened, my mind is a non-functioning mess, I do the stupidest thing imaginableâŠ
âŠand reach up to kiss him on the cheek.
He stiffens â probably just as shocked by whatâs happening as I would be if I could think coherently right now. But for whatever reason, he doesnât laugh or pull away. He simply stands, still as a statue, hardly even drawing breath.
I have no idea how long we stay there, frozen in time with my lips pressed against his jaw â the heat of his skin burning me even through the dampener of his mortal guise â before we finally break apart.
I turn quickly away, face flushed and heart hammering, not being able to bring myself to look him in the eye for fear of what I might find there.
Oh, Christ⊠What the hell did I just do?
The story continues in Devil You Know
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dudee you write for Hide from TG đđ can we get a fluff/angst for when he has to go to the raid ty đđ
Sorrows and Kisses {Hide}
A/n: I haven't read the Tokyo Ghoul manga in like ages so if this took long know that I was just refreshing my memory đ
anyways Hide deserves the world and also more people need to write about him (myself included) so if you have any requests, send them. Hope you like it đ also I made some changes here and there but it's okay because I can't fuck it up more than the anime did. Hopefully you wanted the Raid of Kanou's Lab and not the Third Cochlea Raid but if you didn't, I can gladly make it a two parter.
Pairing: Hideyoshi Nagachika x reader
Summary: Hide has been hiding things from you and when he actually comes to reveal them, you're not sure you can let him go
Trigger warnings: mentions of death
Something was wrong with Hide. It wasn't obvious but you knew him well and you were pretty sure that he knew that too. He had gotten a new job at the CCG as a part-time staff assistant. What that meant you didn't know but all of a sudden the dates between the two of you were not as frequent, no more sleep overs and most definitely no hanging out at his place.
If you didn't know Hide, you would have thought he was cheating on you but there was simply no way this ball of sunshine would ever do something like that. So you did nothing other than making sure that he was eating and sleeping properly. Not spending time with him made you feel bad for sure but you assumed he was getting accustomed to this new life without Kaneki so you just wanted to give him time and space, confident that he would confide in you if he wasn't doing well.
With you being a history major and him studying Foreign Languaged Studies there had often been times when he would help you with a few classes here and there, mostly when it came to translation of a few passages. And tonight had been no different. You had asked him a week prior to arrange this small study date just to be sure that it would not overlap with his part-time job.
But here you were, watching the news, books scattered all over the place and Hide was still not there. Two hours. He was supposed to be there two hours ago. You had called him almost ten times and sent countless of texts yet he hadn't answered to any of them even though you could see he was active.
And then there was a knock on your door. Lowering the volume of the television, you stood up before heading to open. Hide pulled you in a tight hug before you could even say anything.
"Sorry I'm late." He walked inside with his usual smile even though this time you could see it was somewhat forced.
"What is this bag for?" You pointed at the black backpack he set on the floor before removing his shoes.
His first instinct was to raise his hand to his chin and that was when he gave himself away. You saw him looking behind your shoulder, at the television. "Ah it's all over the news..." He mumbled and took your hand.
It didn't take you long enough to understand what he meant, where he was going or what he had come to your place for. It took you mere seconds.
"No..." You stared at him, eyes starting to water. "Don't do this to me."
"Shhh..." He hugged you again, his left hand rubbing circles on your back as his right one held your head in place against his chest. "Nothing will happen. Marude told me that people in the position I will be in rarely die." He laughed. "And you know me... nothing bad is going to happen."
"You don't know that." By that time you were full on crying and Hide was trying his best to calm you down by placing soft kisses on the top of your head.
"But I do." He chuckled. He was glad that your face was buried in his chest and you couldn't see the tears rolling down on his cheeks. "I might be a little late but I'll come here after the whole thing is done. We haven't slept together in a long time."
"Promise?"
"Do I even need to say it? Of course I promise. I will come back here and we'll spend the entire night together, or day it depends on when I will return." He giggled.
Hide returned two years later.
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Watching thru Star Trek Voyager for the first time. Do you like this series if so, favorite episode?
Posting my full thoughts below a read more because spoilers. But it's a mixed bag at best, favorite episode the two-parter Scorpion.
It's biggest issue is that it refuses to abide by its central concept: a Starfleet vessel lost 70,000 lightyears from home with few resources and in a place the Federation have never been to, made up of a mixed crew of both Starfleet and the Maquis - a rogue terrorist organization set on freedom from Cardassian oppression due to shitty treaties the Federation made in the name of peace.
Voyager goes for seven years and you would think with a premise like this, the ship should be a WRECK by the time it gets home - barely held together with duct tape, flickering lights and debris in spots because there just isn't time or necessity to deal with minor stuff like that when there are bigger concerns to deal with. You'd think the crew has gotten more lax, dirtier or with more rolled up sleeves and casualwear as the situation has made them less of a formal structure like a regular Starfleet vessel and more like a found family, maybe with a ton of alien crewmembers from the Delta Quadrant who have decided to join Voyager along the way because they (and the Federation by proxy) have offered something that wasn't present in their corner of the galaxy, something better and they want to join the mission back home. You'd think the ship itself would have changed in appearance as they've had to patch it with technology and because they don't have regular drydocks to replace lost/damaged systems and bulkheads. Sure, Star Trek has replicator technology, but I can't imagine Voyager has MASSIVE replication technology capable of creating HUGE swaths of the hull. At the very least, you'd think you'd see cracks in the hull hastily sealed up - maybe a kind of Kintsugi thing where the cracks are a different color because of special alien material used to keep it strong. You'd think those Maquis crewmembers, despite being former Starfleet, wouldn't be wearing Starfleet uniforms because why would they? They're here because they're stuck and what's Starfleet going to do if they haven't shined their boots? Throw them all in the brig for however long it takes to get home? More interpersonal conflicts between crewmen as they have to find a way to live together, have different approaches to solving problems, maybe deal with the crippling loneliness and despair that comes with thinking you may never make it home (either because of the dangers of space travel or just because it'll be 70 years on our current technology to get there).
But no. Nothing like that ever happens in Voyager.
Because it followed the pattern that had made Star Trek TNG so successful (despite it having a premise that DEMANDS more serialization), every episode the reset button is pressed. The ship is restored to normal, character development is rare or confined to a single episode. The few attempts at serialization are just⊠badly written (or just met with a shrug), which probably explains why they mostly dropped it in later seasons. You'd be forgiven for watching the first episode and then the last while thinking "Wow, not much changed except for Janeway's hairstyle."
Oh, but there WAS change⊠just not very much. A new cast member to replace one leaving⊠and a character brought on to be the breakout character - one of the few times we brought on new crew from this part of the galaxy - was shuffled away the episode beforehand because inexplicably some of his people were farther out than they ever should have been and he decided to stay with them because he met them for a few days. A romance between cast members that⊠was okay, but not great. Another romance introduced at the last second because they needed one of their characters to actually DO something because they had spent 7 years inventing boring hobbies and interests for him separate from his identity as fake-90s-Native American-whose-entire-culture-was-thought-up-by-a-fraud-who-tricked-Hollywood-into-thinking-he-knew-what-he-was-talking-about.
A lot of plots could have happened on any other Trek show. A lot of plots dealt with "Hey, maybe we'll get home THIS time!" and they of course would not. They invented a whole new way of propulsion that allowed you to be in every spot in the universe at once (and easily reversed the negative side effects by the end of the episode)⊠aaand then just pretended it never happened. The recurring villain enemies ranged from godawful to okay, but not fully realized.
Behind the scenes it was often full of office politics before actual quality. Whenever an episode needed some padding? Add technobabble. Have an ambitious idea for an episode? Nope, we're not interested in anything challenging. Do anything that might make the characters look bad or have more shades to them? Noooope. There were plans and ideas, things thrown out like, for instance, a year-long storyline where the ship would get as battered as I suggested⊠and it was shot down, turned into a two-parter with the reset button pushed hard at the end of it.
There's plenty to like about Voyager. Some really do love the characters and I like a lot of them, too. And there are plenty of episodes that I recommend and really enjoy and rewatch⊠but it's mostly wasted potential. It's telling that Ron Moore, who joined Voyager's writing staff after Deep Space 9 ended because he wanted to keep doing Star Trek, left after only 3 episodes⊠and went on to make the Battlestar Galactica remake, which for all its flaws did the Voyager concept considerably better and with all of those ideas I mentioned up top concerning the crew, the damage to the ship, the shades of grey, the hopelesness at times but still hope, etc.
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Still beating
What - dealing with grief as the dust finally starts to settle. Dealing with grief regarding one specific character's death in particular. You know the one.
Genre - heavier, but we get devoted husband/father Daryl out of the mix. And we don't end the chapter on a bummer, never fear. This ain't a French movie, slowpokes
Relationships - wife Reader and husband Daryl as well as your baby. Familial affection with Rick, and that balance between friend and clergy for Father Gabriel.
Perspective - 3rd POV Daryl, and 2nd POV You
Pronouns - she/her
When - time jump! we've briefly hopped to post season 8, pre season 9 (but before The best kind of damn weird). This chapter takes place during the earlier phases of recovery and rebuilding after the war. The previous chapter, Scary as a sleepy kitten, took place during season 2.
TWs - grief, PTSD (including after SA), depression, self-loathing, and some cussing. This chapter is also kinda lengthy, friends, and had to have exposition. (Might should've sliced the chapter in half, but then we'd have another two-parter on our hands :P)
But how long though? - ...20 minutes or so?
Story references and Masterlist link? - under the cut
And is there a pic at the end as a prize for finishing? - yes :D
Have fun and happy reading!
References to other chapters - what we learned in The Interview. There is also grieving/anger as seen in The first Christmas 'without' Part 2 and its conclusion in I don't hate you, a happy reference to Happy 8th of July!, reference to those lovely tugging strings as found in Invisible Tugging Strings, Part 1 and Part 2 (Part 2 I reckon is still glitched and showing as labeled mature, the poor thing's been cleared about 7ish times via help ticket XD ).
There are a lot more details you might recognize, pop on by to the Official Masterlist here, or for those who prefer linear over non-linear, the Chronological Slowpoke Masterlist here
-----------------------
Still beating
She was doing real bad. The past few days had been especially bad. Grief has nasty ways of settling in and rearing its ugly head.
He didnât know too much about what to do to help her, heâd never been good at that stuff. And there was no fixing all that happened, especially not when the last thing that happened was the worst thing that couldâve.
Just like if TJ or Judith died, it was the worst thing. And part of his wife died right alongside Carl.
Hell, sheâd been the one to wait after Carl died, then turned, to pull the trigger.
Now, she felt dead, too.
Gabe had to suggest that she check her pulse when it got bad enough.
Just at that moment, as Daryl was worrying and worrying, TJ started to wriggle and hum in an attempt to root at Daryl's bicep, which pulled him out of his own head for a second.
Gently, he began to bounce to try and keep his baby lulled. He knows Y/N wanted to breastfeed only to get her production up (and so TJâs suckle could get stronger after the surgery), but Y/N was finally asleep.
Beginning with when Denise was killed, Y/N hadnât been making as much as she first had. Then, the Saviors stopped the RV and surrounded them, and Negan did what he did. Then Daryl himself got taken away, then there was all the fighting.
And then Carl died.
Getting her milk to come back had been proving damned hard.
A handful of not-very-good times, theyâd supplemented what milk she did make with watered-down formula and/or watered-down goat's milk.
One very bad time, theyâd used sugar water to fill the babiesâ bellies until Jesus got back with goat's milk. Just the one time they had to use sugar water, everybody made damn sure of that.
For now, Daryl could crack into what was still left of the goat's milk in the cooler, right? The two women in the Kingdom who had little guys had sent over actual breast milk with Carol a few days ago, but it was used up yesterday. That stuff had been a God-send, he couldnât thank the ladies enough.
Between the two babies in Alexandria, TJ and Gracie, everyone had to be smart about using what (non-expired) formula was left. And given that the power got cut, keeping the goat's milk fresh was another problem, hence the cooler. The panels and power were back on, but it was spotty and he didn't want to risk the milk spoiling.
There was still a shit ton of clean-up had since the Saviors nabbed Alexandriaâs storage, then firebombed the town. To make things worse, those assholes had their own compound destroyed, and Hilltop and the Kingdom got screwed, too. Even the beach women took another beating. Hell, and them junkyard people were literally all fucking gone except their leader chick.
So, Y/N breastfed the two babies as much she was physically able, all while working as the only other doc left standing in all five communities; she was running herself into the ground.
And with Carl goneâŠ
It ainât fair that she couldnât make enough â it was Neganâs goddamned fault.
Which leads to what just went on: so Mich had told him, Y/Nâd lashed out at Negan and the new doctor kid with the facial hair, what was his name, Sidney?
Daryl hadnât been at the infirmary when it happened, but, according to Mich, sheâd had to pull her out of the room. Once out, Y/N asked her about TJ, Judith, and Gracie to make sure they were safe, then disappeared after Mich had turned around. Straight up and bolted.
Daryl had checked the escape-closet first, but she wasnât in there or the attic it connected to, wasn't on the roof that lead to.
Heâd then checked the burned church. Sheâd been there, he recognized her boot prints, but she'd moved on. From there, he was able to follow her sooty tracks in the direction of the place he shouldâve known to check first.
Sure enough, Y/N'd been at Carlâs grave.
His wife could barely look at him when he approached. He'd simply kissed her on the head and quietly walked her back home. Once home, he'd cleaned and bandaged her hand while she, again, tried to pump enough for the little guys.
Mich had told Daryl sheâd get Rick for her, so heâd be here soon.
Daryl wracked his brain, he even prayed to learn what do to try to help carry Y/N through this shit.
At first, Y/Nâd been pacing around the room, crying but trying not to, arms wrapped around her picture frame with a photo of Carl in it as if it was the only thing keeping her afloat.
He'd been able to persuade her to lay down, and ended up laying in bed with her and holding her tight, their baby next to them in little bassinet.
Initially, him holding her and pressing kisses to her neck had made her feel worse. More guilty, that is. A handful of days ago, something got into her head that she needed to give him a damn "annulment."
Nah, for real, sheâd even said (to Gabe) that the two of them not having ever done the deed yet was "grounds" to give him one. âGrounds to free him,â were her exact words. It was a whole thing, and the couple of failed attempts at trying to do the deed after getting hitched some months back probably made her feel guilty, as if not having sex yet would make him not love her, or?
Father Gabriel had Daryl's back the whole time during the conversation, though, decent dude.
And no, Daryl wasnât angry or even real hurt that sheâd thought she had to âfree himâ and shit, he knows it was the grief and physical exhaustion that got her to that point. His woman had full-on blacked out and hurt herself that day, which is why he'd brought her to Gabe in the first place.
But the, um, the walls were thinner than Daryl had expected, which is how he overheard from the person that he was gonna love and stay with and stay faithful to until he dropped dead softly confess that she was âselfishâ to keep him âstuckâ with a âbatshit m-messâ like her and âa baby that ainât his.â
The fact that Y/N kept maintaining how much she loved him and how she didnât want no annulment helped it hurt less when sheâd sounded just about convinced that it was âloyalty to me âcause weâre close, loyalty to Rick,â and because of âheâs got so much shame. He feels responsible for what the Claimers did,â that made him marry her those months ago. "He loves our châmy child, and might love me, but it's not fair to him. He deserves better, h-he needs better, the man's been trapped all his life. I-I don't want him trapped, I want him happy!"
Gabe never played into her fears. He been no nonsense about all of it, told Y/N that she needed a damn rest, and asked her to tell him what she thought about it when she woke up.
The good thing was that after a 5 hour period of uninterrupted sleep (during which they used some of the goat's milk for TJ and Gracie), she woke up in a daze at why sheâd thought an annulment was something Daryl needed or wanted.
The bad thing was, she was then socked in the gut with more unearned guilt for it, then with worry that she was too far gone, or crazy, all that.
Been a bad, bad few days.
Been a lot of Daryl showing her love that she felt not worth being shown. So that she fell asleep in his arms today was such a damn win!
After getting up to take a leak and finding that Y/N was miraculously still asleep, he thanked whoever was up there, then tried to figure out what else he could do to help her get through todayâŠand right at that moment, TJ started to rouse, so he got his answer: keep their baby comforted. More shut-eye could only do his woman well.
Deftly lifting the little bundle into his arms, he'd kissed the scar above the babyâs upper lip and tiptoed out to the hall, where he was now.
Lightly he bounced, softly he shushed. He held TJ like a football and moved back and forth, back and forth. Babies smell so damn good, and make the cutest noises, goddamn.
After a couple minutes, through the open door, he peeked at his Y/N.
Shit. She was already sitting up and blinking off the sleep.
Whatever it was she did and said today, she felt low as hell about it, that much was clear. Without looking, she grabbed the now-broken picture frame and clutched it to her middle.
"You're supposed to be asleep, slowpoke," he tried to tease.
Her clothes had ashes from where it looked like sheâd knelt down then sat down in the burned church. There was some dirt on them, too, from when sheâd been at Carlâs grave. Daryl made a note to shake the sheets out later and pick the tissues up off the floor.
That's when the front door opened downstairs.
Was that Riâgood, that was Rickâs voice, he was finally there. There was a second voice, too, was that Father Gabrielâs? It was soft like Gabe's voice was.
Daryl looked downstairs.
Yup, it was Rick with the rev.
He waved them upstairs, but it mustâve been the clunking of the Gabrielâs new cane that got Y/N stumbling out of the room.
âRev! I wouldâve come to you, y-you need to be takinâ it easy.â She hugged the picture frame in one hand, gripped the banister in the other and started to go downstairs, asking Gabe how he felt, urging him to sit down, had his vision worsened, all that stuff.
âY/N, more rest wonât stop me from losing sight in this eye,â Gabriel responded in his quiet way, remaining on the second step, not going up or down the stairs. He smiled. âYou could say Iâm the one making a house call to a patient this time."
She held back a sob and bowed her head. Then, she subtly slipped two fingers around the inside of her wristâŠ
Rick stepped the rest of the way up the stairs and put his hands on her shoulders. âWhat's going on, weirdo?â
âRicky, I'm s-sorry."
He leaned closer and took her in for a hug. âHeart still beating?â he murmured.
Her inhale was shaky. âMmhm. Yours?â
âBeating strong.â
TJ perked up and began to whimper upon hearing her voice. Y/N unzipped her hoodie toâshe still had a gun on her?
Okay, that'd been stealth as fuck, it hadn't even been printing. It was the mini one she'd kept on her when they first got here, when Deanna insisted on keeping the weapons locked up. Still, he'd been literally holding her, how in the hell had he not noticed?
Daryl shared a glance with Gabe. Minus her screwdriver, she'd turned in her weapons after what happened the other day.
Y/N handed the small gun to Rick, who looked wary, but accepted it without question. She hesitated before reaching into her boot to hand over her screwdriver, too.
Daryl slid his hand around his wifeâs waist to guide her back to the room. Without looking him in the eyes, she cupped his cheek and told him he was a good father. Then, frame still gripped under one arm, she took the baby into the other.
âLetâs try havinâ a snack before I go with Uncle Ricky awhile, okay, chickpea?â she murmured, then unbuttoned the top of her shirt.
Daryl took off his vest to give her some more coverage, then helped her with her top buttons. When he draped the vest around her, she'd turned her head to kiss his hand. He felt his cheeks warm when she did that.
Walking into the room again, she softly told Daryl that he and Rick could sit on the beds. First, she placed the picture frame on one of the mattresses. Next, with their baby latched on and suckling, she went to the end table at the window to sit down on the floor beside it. The way she sat, it was kinda as if she were using it as a shield.
âRev, please take the chair,â she mumbled to Gabriel with a glance at the only piece of furniture in the room at the time, other than the bassinet, a nightstand, and the end table. Negan had specifically left the rocking chair as a 'gift' for her. The piece of shit...
Anyway, Daryl had got them their two twin mattresses back (hey, squish them together and you get a big-ass bed) the first trip to and from the Saviorâs compound after the war ended, once the folk from Alexandria had begun to move back from the Hilltop. Only, no bed frames yet.
âAnd sweetheart, Iâll-Iâll take the pumps with me for while Iâm in there. Wanna make sure you and Aaron have enough for them,â she said to him, voice still raw. Y/N turned to him and gave him a wobbly smile. âSorry I used up so much of the tissue supply,â she tried making light, but got close to tears again, so stumbled through asking âCan I, um, Rick, m-might can I bring my pillow? Is that okay?â
Go with Rick where, and take the breast pumps and her pillow, why? He made eye contact with Gabriel, who looked just as puzzled. So, he turned to Rick.
Rick lowered his eyebrows as if he didnât know what she meant, either. He squatted to sit down on the mattress beside Daryl, and looked at his sister. âY/N, where are we headed?â
Glancing up from the baby to him then to Daryl, she adjusted TJâs position on her breast while she figured out how to answer, by the looks of it. Another glance at her husband as if she were worried about his reaction...
âRick, I thought you was here toâŠescort me?â
?
Daryl had no clear idea what she meant, it was the rev who understood first.
âNo,â Father Gabriel told her gently. âY/N, you arenât under arrest.â
Under arrest? Daryl fought between the urge to get angry or dead-ass laugh. 'Under arrest??'
It was for real, though. His wifeâs tears started flowing again as she turned her attention to Rick and began to stress, âThere canât be no special treatmentââ
ââIs this why you handed me your weapons? Why would you be under arrest?â Rick cut her off to question.
She stared as if heâd grown antlers. âI s-struck a patient, and, andââ
ââAnd I slit his throat open, which is why that 'patient' is in there in the first place,â he cut her off again, firm.
Thankfully, TJ let out a wail the same time she wailed, âRicky, y-you werenât his medic!â pausing any further arguing.
Y/N gulped, pressed down on one breast, then the other. âI know thereâs not much in âem, Teddy-bear, but it-itâll get better. Itâll come back,â she shushed, lifting him up and tucking herself back in. With a few kisses, she shushed, âYouâve gotten so much faster at drinkin', babycakes.â
Daryl got on the floor with her and took TJ back.
She avoided eye-contact again, and her lip wobbled again as she pulled the top of her shirt higher. That told him thereâd been not much milk in there. And he could see all over her face that it was switching her on the legs with more false-ass, unearned guilt.
The familiar string in his chest suddenly tugged in her directionânext thing, he was resting his forehead on hers. âHey. Youâre makinâ more every day, angel,â he whispered in her ear. "And you're a damn good ma." Then, he started to help her button back up.
The way her expression softened and her body relaxed toward his felt better than fireworks going off on the Fourth 8th of July.
And as if he were back in that Georgia-in-July heat, Daryl just about melted right there on the floor when he saw his TJ, neck lifted high, making a face-scrunching, gummy smile at him. "Look how strong your neck is getting, âlil badass, youâre rockinâ it!â
Shit, their kid was the best damn thing.
Y/N leaned against him and reached to lightly fluff their babyâs hair and rub their baby's teeny feet.
Gabriel sat in the rocking chair quietly, hands resting on his cane. He caught eyes with Daryl and nodded his head toward Y/N, glad to see her no longer convinced she needed to âfreeâ her husband.
Absorbed in the photo, Rick exhaled, then spoke up. âY/N, how about we start from the beginning? What happened at the infirmary?â
She pressed tighter against Daryl as a pained noise left her throat. âDid you talk to Siddiq yet?â sounded very small.
âI want to talk to both of you.â
âAnd Michonne?â
He nodded. âShe told me some.â
The big watch sheâd kept from Dale tick-tick-ticked on her wrist. Then came the sound of light metallic clinking. Daryl didnât have to look to see that she mustâve pulled out her brotherâs necklace and was tugging on it.
âWhat I did ainât excusable,â came out raspy and thick.
âIt is," Rick answered.
âItâs not, especially not what I said to Sidââ a sob choked her response. She used Daryl's leather vest to hide her face before hugging it around herself like a blanket.
âWalk me through what happened first, kiddo, before you hit Negan with this?â Rick subtly gestured to the broken picture frame.
So she had smacked Negan in the face? Hot damn, Daryl was more in love with her already.
Y/N swallowed and shook her head. âTheyâd been lookinâ at it, the both of 'em.â
âAt the picture?â
A tiny nod. âIâd left the room, and when I got back, they was looking at it. Siddiq brought it over to him. Tried to make like Negan was sad, too. Fuck that!â
TJ started rooting on his bicep again, but Daryl was on it. âSorry, pipsqueak, I donât got the right parts for that.â He started to massage the babyâs belly, and TJ quieted.
âItâs okay to let âem cry a little, it-it helps restock these,â his wife tried joking, nodding down at her chest.
âY/N.â Rick was delicate about coaxing her for more details. âYou got back into the room, Siddiq and Negan were looking at the picture.â
âNeganâs filthy hands were on it,â she grit. "Lookin' at Carl and me, you with Shaney." The sounds of the pendant being pulled across the chain filled the room along with TJâs soft cooing.
âIs that when you hit him with the frame?â Rick asked.
âNo. I told him not to look at it again or touch it, and if he did, Iâd hurt him.â
âAngel, slow your breathinâ,â Daryl interjected at the same time that he figured out why those words sounded familiar: it was similar to how she'd warned the last Claimer fuckhead, the one whoâd had Carl pinned down and was gonââDaryl shut down this brain for a sec, it was best not to think about that night.
He turned his head to see Rick, red-eyed, tracing his thumb along the photo of Carl, Y/N, Shane and him. Seems as if Rick had recognized her words, too.
âAnd when was it that you did hurt him?â Rick pressed on.
Y/N swallowed. âAbout half a minute later when he tried to act like it wasnât his fault.â
Rickâs composure staggered and collapsed. His voice was hoarse when he managed to say, âItâs not his fault.â
But Y/N was fast to shut it down. âDonât for one more second make like itâs yours, Ricky, you get that monkey off your back,â she comforted and somehow scolded both at once. âNegan was doing what Negan does when he, when he told you that. It was manipulation, nothinâ real. How C-Carlââ another choked-down sob, more tears.
Daryl noticed her press her fingertips to the spot under her chin, beside her jaw, checking her pulse to prove it was still beating.
âNegan had nothing to do with how Carl got bit,â Rick whispered. âYou know itâs true, kiddo.â
âNoâour boy wouldna ended up out there, w-with-with Siddiq, if it hadnât been for Negan.â Her tone got louder and angry, her stress stutter became more noticeable, the way she tugged the necklace turned rougher. âHe and his followers was why we werenât able to trust no n-newcomers like Sid, which is why Sid was still out there alone, and, and, and why Carl went to him! It, it was because of Negan and his, and his, his-his cult!â
TJ seemed freaked out by the louder voice, the babyâs dark, blue-black eyes grown big.
Daryl spoke Y/Nâs name to try and bring her back to herself, but she seemed to have very suddenly calmed.
She was blinking at her hand.
Daryl looked, and then saw the two halves of her brother Shaneâs chain, broken.
âHow many times did Carol warn me that this would happen when I tugged it,â she muttered to herself. "Good thing I didn't decide to tug on the rosary, huh?"
Inhaling, she leaned her head against the wall behind her, staring into space, fingers to her wrist to check her pulse again.
From beside her, he covered her hand in his. Then, pressing his lips to her fist, Daryl took the necklace from it. He could fix it.
âI lost my temper again, Iâm sorry,â she spoke to all in the room, her hand cupping Daryl's cheek a moment. Then, more quietly, she looked at Rick. âHow many daysâll I be in there?â
Which sent Daryl straight back to disbelief he was hearing those words, what absolute bullshit. âY/N, you ainât going nowhere.â
âYouâre not going to a cell, Y/N,â Rick echoed.
âNo special treatment,â she softly repeated. âIf I were anybody elseââ
Rick interrupted her ââItâs not about who you are.â
Father Gabriel had gotten up and was making his way to Y/N by then.
Y/N shook her head at the conversation, tired. âIf I were anybody else or had any other role, and if he were anybody else,â she caught her breath, âthereâd be reper-re-repââ a few more tries, and she had to choose a different word, âconsequences. Assault and battery on an un-unarmed personâa patientâfrom their medical provider, thatâs serious.â Her hand was back to covering her face. She sat pressed against the wall, knees at her chest.
âYou and Siddiq are the only doctors left. We couldnât just put you in a cell even if you had earned it.â
âI ain't a doctor, at best, Iâm a medic,â she grunted. âAnd I did earn it, just ask him and Michonne. As for my,â she made a shaky inhale, âmy duties, I can be escorted out.â
âAnd TJ? Gracie?â Daryl put out there, hoping to guilt her out of insisting she get jail time, like, what the fuck. What kind of conversation was this?
Screw this, he couldn't even sit. He stood, shaking his head and pacing around the room, still holding TJ.
The expression on Y/N's face shouldâve been enough to calm him down, along the defeated, quiet way she reasoned, âIâll pump and yâall will visit. Itâsâno, sweetheartâitâs only for a few days,â when he started to dead-ass leave. As if her being in there âonly for a few daysâ would help this bullshit make sense.
But thatâs when he ended up snapping, âThis is goddamn bullshit! You bopped a sick fuck on the nose with a picture frame, who in the hell will care? Rick, why you even entertainin' this shit?â and he regretted doing so as soon as he barked it out.
The old, invisible knee rammed him in the nards harder when Rick cautioned, "Brother," and Gabe finally opened his mouth, and louder than Daryl had ever heard him speak. âShe cares, Daryl. So do I.â
And to make it all worse, their baby had given a start in fear when heâd shouted, and now the poor kid was screamingâand TJ doesnât scream, shit, shit, he blew up while holding his child?
âMâsorry! Mâsorry," he hushed to his baby, "I love you so much, kid, Iâm so sorry I scared ya. I ainât gonna hurt ya.â With a kiss on TJâs wild head of hair, he murmured, âPipsqueak, your old man is an idiot.â
Y/N rushed over when TJ screamed, but she didnât take the baby away from Daryl. Instead, she caressed her husbandâs forearm and triceps and spoke to their child. âYour daddyâs got you safe,â she soothed.
He knew she was trying to look him in the eyes, but he couldnât return it. Heâd just scared an infant because he couldnât check his temper. Their infant.
His wifeâs quiet assurance cut through the rushing in his head. âDaryl? TJ ainât hurt, sugar, and youâre not a bad father. Do some skin to skin, okay?â She pecked a kiss on his cheek. âAnd that's a dollar for cussing, pay up later.â
She then sat back down on the floor next to where the rev had made his new seat. Daryl took the now-empty rocking chair, unbuttoned his and TJâs shirts, then nestled the kid on his chest.
Y/N then told the room the rest of what happened, how after Negan croaked out with what voice he had left, saying it 'wasnât his fault Carl was dead', that sheâd turned around and whacked him across the face with the frame.
Siddiq had reacted by grabbing her shoulders from behind to pull her away from Negan â so she had shoved back and kneed him in the dick plus rammed her head against his, dropping the frame in the process. The frame broke as a resultâand when it broke, she'd lost her cool, said some shit, and threw some shit. Mich heard the hubbub and intervened, then Y/N hid herself away cause she 'knew' she was 'gone crazy.'
As far as Daryl was concerned, the new doc was lucky all he got was a shove, a knee to jewels, a clunk on the head, and some words and maybe a clipboard thrown at him, because Y/N could fight damned well. She'd had it drilled into her how and when to do it. Freely taught others moves, too.
When sheâd showed Carol some techniques, way back, it was one of the things that sent him falling for her.
AndâŠY/N mightâve not said it out loud, but when she described how Siddiq grabbed her from behind to pull her away, everyone in that room got why it caused her to react strong.
What she described herself as doing wouldâve been instinct.
Siddiq wouldnât know why. Negan might, the fucker had watched the tape of her Deanna interview.
âSee?â Y/N blew her nose again, sniffed, and stared at the floorboards. âItâs not right to Sid or the community to, to have what I did go unchecked. And what I said to Siddiq was so cruel. Whatâs worse is I meant it. Fuck, I still do.â
What she'd said was basically that she wished heâd gotten bit instead of Carl, and that it was just as much Siddiq's fault that the boy was dead as it was Neganâs. That 'he should be dead.'
She grimaced, then caressed the watch on her wrist. Mustâve been thinking of Dale. âAinât fair toâŠNegan, neither. If thereâs anything Carl wanted us to understand, itâs that,â she whispered.
Rick lifted the frame to kiss his sonâs picture, wiped a couple tears away. âWhen I talked with Sid, he wasâŠalarmed. Worried. He thought it was off-character.â
Y/N went rigid where she sat. âSiddiq wasnât there two years ago.â
Daryl lifted the baby higher on his chest and snuggled closer.
Rick shook his head. âYou wishing someone dead, or, dead instead of another, is very off-character, itâs not you. Noâdonât shake your head, Y/N.â Her brother maintained, âEven back then, after what happened, you didnât wish me dead. You wished that Shane was still alive, not that I was dead instead. Even if you did say those things, it wouldn't have been the truth, just the hurt speaking.â
âI attacked you and told you I would kill you. And I-I meant it at the time, you know that.â
âAnd for a couple days, you left, because you didnât actually want that. You knew it was wrong.â
âWhich is why I need to get put away for a couple days. I decided to hurt a patient and his doctor, my own frââ She wasnât able to say what was probably the word âfriend.â Y/N bit her lip, and continued, âThen hurled words at him what nobody should get hurled at them.â She swallowed a cuss and grabbed another tissue.
âYouâre exhausted, Siddiq knows that.â Rick pointed out. âWeâre not ourselves when weâreââ
Y/N wasnât having it. Probably too exhausted, to tell the truth.
âWeâre all exhausted. Câmon, man, you just lost your son!â A sob left her and she tried to breathe through her nose. Checked her pulse again.
âYou were also reacting to how he yanked you back, kiddo. That's not nothing.â
Daryl gave Rick a warning glance.
Rick saw, nodded, and held up a hand, which made Y/N turn to see what Daryl was doing. But Daryl simply kissed TJ on the head, not saying nothing.
She wasnât fooled. When Y/N looked back at Rick after giving her husband a look of itâs okay, Daryl gave Rick another warning glare, then a nod.
âYou didnât react like that without reason, Y/N. Thereâs no shame to admit it was a trigger.â
She grumbled at the word. âTrauma ainât an excuse to traumatize others.â After exhaling, she ran her hands over her face and took a moment. Hardly louder than a whisper, she challenged, âRicky, not all my problems stem from the rapes. Iâve always been too hot-headed.â
At that moment, Daryl wanted to scoop her and TJ up and drive them away from everything, keep the two of them safe and unbothered for a month or two or four.
âGetting grabbed like that m-might, yâknow, might couldâve reminded me of itâwhen theyâ" She ran a hand through her hair. "Okay, it did get me going. But, I,â she paused. âIt wasnât that I saw red or blacked out, I chose to keep goinâ once Iâd started. I threw stuff because I was raging, I didn't want to stop because I thought he deserved it.â
Y/N fiddled with Daleâs watch, and turned to Father Gabriel beside her and almost smiled at him, close to the way she used to smile at Glenn, as if he were in on a joke. âHere Iâd hoped I was re-domesticated by now.â
âLet us give thanks that youâre still housebroken,â he responded, taking Daryl by surprise. "You're...still housebroken, are you not?"
The way Y/N then cracked up and grinned woke up the butterflies in his stomach.
âY/N, youâve come miles since I first met you,â Gabriel told her softly, smiling back.
âAll the way from Georgia,â she joked back, then grew more serious. âYouâve grown a whole lot, too.â She wiped her eyes, and Gabe closed his.
âAnd Y/N,â he shook his head. âYou arenât losing your humanity. I know youâre frightened of that, after what you told me happened to your other brother.â
It hadnât even registered in Darylâs mind that Shaneâs memory would be scaring her. She loved her brother like hell, but she was always terrified of going down the same path he did.
He looked to Rick to see what his reaction was. His reaction was tear-rimmed eyes and a nod of his head toward TJ, silently asking if he could hold the baby awhile. Daryl nodded, Rick stood, and returned Y/N the frame as he walked by to pick up the little one.
Hands empty, Daryl took out his army knife and the broken chain from his pocket so he could fix his womanâs necklace. Wasnât gonna be hard.
He heard Y/N whisper, âHey, punk," to Carl in the photo. "Miss you. Miss you, too, loser,â she said to her brother's photo. He let his eyes travel to where she sat under the window, and watched her kiss the picture and well up. It was the old one of her and preschool-age Carl photo-bombing Rick and Shane, after one of them got some kind of cop award.
Clutching the frame once more to her belly, she and Father Gabriel then started to talk in low voices with one another.
âThe red haze in your right sclera is so close to bein' clear. Did you talk to Rosie today? Sheâs been seeming less depressed.â
âI thought this was me visiting my patient, not the other way around,â Gabe gently hinted. âY/N, please talk to me.â
Daryl heard her sniffle. âRev, but I donât want to have meant those words. Iâve been workinâ on it. It-it might be his fault, but I know heâs innocent, heâs humaneâSid even counts walkers like I do, man, yet still, Iââ her breathing shuddered. âAfter whatever this mess is kicked in, every time I see him now, I hate him. Why do I hate a decent person?â
âGrief,â he offered simply. He gave her another shrug and small smile. âKeep doing what you have been. It will get easier every day, the same way your, um,â he was careful about his wording regarding her tits, âthat you have more for the little ones every day.â
She huffed but didnât raise her voice again, she stayed quiet as could be. âIt donât feel like none of thatâs happening.â
âOur perception of things doesnât always equal the truth, Y/N.â Gabe seemed to take a moment. Maybe he was praying.
Y/Nâs fingers found her pulse again.
âWe are all healing,â Gabriel next said, and smiled again. âYour heart is still beating, is it not?â
Y/N stared for a few moments, caught in the act. Eyes meeting Darylâs for a moment, she removed her fingers from her neck, and inclined her head at the reverend. âWhat about yours?â she asked softly.
âStill beating. And thatâs the proof,â he assured her just as softly. âY/N, as for the way you understand your actions and your emotions toward him as not being right, I would like you to take it as a comforting sign. And, you just handed over a weapon you plainly wanted to keep concealed, you didnât use said weapon to hurt Negan, either,â he pointed out, for which Daryl was grateful. âPerhaps, if you begin to make excuses, begin to feel no sense of having done wrong when you have, I will worry.â
Weirdly enough, he next grinned up at the ceiling. âBut I am not, because you are simply broken and in need of healing. Youâll get there, as will I,â he held his hand out to the room. âAs will your brother, your husband. All of us.â He sighed. âSo long as our hearts are still beating.â
Daryl looked back at his wife in time to see her bit her wobbling lip and nod. Her gaze turned to Rick with the baby. He was kissing TJâs scrawny little feet.
Her face softened seeing them, and as Darylâs stomach fluttered again, she turned to look at him. His stomach full-on did a happy flip (and, yeah, he lost his grip on the necklaceâs broken link and dropped it).
Y/N said to Rick, âWell, we still need to show âem that Alexandriaâthat youâare accountable and fair. How many nights will do, you think?â
Rick shook his head. âZero. But, because you have a point and won't take 'zero' as an answer,â he quickly added, âhow about one?â
âFor a piggy, youâre actinâ awful chicken.â
He was unmoved by the cop joke. âBawk, bawk.â
And Y/N laughed, for what it was worth. And it was worth everything, hot damn was that laugh the best sound.
Daryl figured he might as well check, âWhat about bail, that still a thing?â
âNot with you owing a whole dollar. Thatâll take weeks to pay off,â she said, back to doing her best to lighten up things. He loved her so fucking much, goddamn.
âSupervision when outside the cell,â she stated to Rick.
He shook his head again. âI have a better sentence in mind. When I saw you wearing Loriâs belt earlier today, it reminded me of it. See, and you left this at the infirmary.â He reached into his jacket pocket.
Recognition swept across her face when he held it out. âDo you think heâll feel safe?â
âThe headphone cord is too thin to choke him with, itâd snap.â
âRicky, that joke was very dark,â she lightly chided.
He squinted, kissing TJâs feet one more time first. âI hereby sentence you to one nightââ
ââThree.â
âOne in lock-up,â he spoke over her, then was fast to tack on, âwith Daryl and this one as guards.â He motioned to the baby.
"Women shouldn't have male guards," she dryly droned.
"Overruled. You'll also get supervised outings for your duties tomorrow and the day after, including the trip to the Hilltop for Maggieâs prenatal visit. And,â he held up the music player, âyouâll need to listen to music with Siddiq on this. We know it works.â He cocked his head. âLetâs start with 20 minutes per day, like you and I had.â
Some tears slipped out even though she was smiling. She mouthed I love you to him, then asked out loud, âHow many days?â
Rick squinted. âFourteen.â
---------------------------
You
âYou pick the songs. Whatever you like,â you told him, staring at the photo and rubbing the â22â pendant over your lips. Daryl fixed the chain for you shortly after youâd broken it. You really love him.
Sid accepted the mp3 player out of your hand.
You and he each had one earbud in, one apple beside you, and Michonne sat nearby with Judith. Supervision was your stipulation, yet being proactive about ensuring it had done nothing for how humiliating it was.
Still, you took an objective look and figured Siddiq should know that his safety mattered, that your people were fair and held themselves to standards.
Just looking around the place, it looked as if standards were a given here. That Alexandriaâs power grid and some panels were already repaired within two weeks of Neganâs razing was almost unbelievable.
Sucks for the Saviors that cult that the Alexandria community had been built to withstand up to magnitude 4.1 earthquakes and be fairly fire-safe as part of its self-sustaining (and for-politicians) model, so in the least, a good number of the homes were still standing.
Carl's gazebo was another story, as were other similar structures, like the church, but the ash had been washed off by the rain, and the communities' walls were back up.
Next to you, Siddiq asked you how to work the mp3, citing, âCarl had been the one toâŠâ
Had been the one to work it when he borrowed it to visit you out there, in order to show you some kindness. Before he got himself bit because of you.
The words festered inside of you. Whatever. Let them fester, you felt dead anyway.
As you went to point to show him, the picture hung from your outstretched, bandaged hand. The pic you'd chosen this time was another older one from the before-times, not one of the newer polaroids. You'd been the one to take it, actually, using a disposable camera about five and a half, maybe six years ago.
It was blurry, Lori and Carl had been being silly and stopped posing, Rick was mid-comment. You loved this one.
It felt so unreal now, felt fake.
Felt dead.
You checked your pulse. Still beating.
âThe, um, just use-use those two buttons there for up and down to search,â you mumbled, tucking the photograph into your shirt pocket. âThat one is for back, that one for options. Press down on the middle to click.â
He went huh. âHereâs the Indian music playlist,â he chuckled. Appears heâd found the Desi Party! playlist. Carl told you heâd played it for him.
Before heâd gotten fucking bitten.
How could your heart rage and ache so much if you were dead?
âItâs got all sorts on it,â you replied blankly to Siddiq. Remembering your oldest sister whoâd made all the playlists before handing her mp3 down to you, it felt like she was made up. All your siblings except Shane felt made up. Your own mother, the foster siblings over the years, they felt made up, too.
Felt like everyone before was made up.
Fake.
Dead.
âMy mother was a big filmi fan,â Siddiq shared.
But you simply repeated, âPick whatever you like, youâre in charge of the songs.â
There was no emotion in your voice. You didnât want to chat with him, didnât want to nerd out about Bollywood music, and also didnât want to face him after saying such awful things to him early today.
Hating him felt right. It felt "deserved," which is a word you'd learned to not use, thanks to Dale.
Granted, hating Siddiq felt wrong, too, which invited shame to take a seat on your lap.
So, you followed the revâs advice and took comfort in the shame because it meant your conscience was still ordered in a good direction. It meant you werenât fully dead yet.
You checked your pulse again to remind yourself that it was still beating. Life was still going. You even have a child that fills you with such an intense, aching, healing love.
Father Gabriel also told you that feeling dead didnât make you a bad mother or a bad wife or bad person, it simply meant you were broken and grieving.
âY/N?â
âWhat?â you growled â and immediately wished it hadnât come out that way. In your head, you told Carl you were sorry, youâd do better next time. Then, you prayed to stop hating the sight of Siddiq, the sound of his voice. Wished Dale or Hershel or Glenn or T-Dog or Deanna or Denise or Sasha were there for, forâadvice, support, you donât knowâŠ
And because the rev has enough on his plate and needs to rest, maybe later youâd risk everyoneâs ire and sneak away to visit Mr. Jones at the junkyard. At least he wasnât dead yet, too. Maybe visiting him would convince him to move back to Alexandria.
âI never apologized for pulling you backward like that,â Siddiq said to you, a little short. Couldnât blame him.
In truth, you had done all you were going to do to Negan after smacking him the once, but Sid wouldnât have known that. Wouldnât have known how grabbing you like that would flip an alarm, either.
No use moping, if your positions were reversed, youâd have wrangled him back, too.
And yet, you just caught yourself licking your teeth and sneering in response to his apology.
But it wasnât out of anger or hatred so much asâŠyou still arenât certain what the emotion was. Grief, depression, shame, all three. You supposed it didnât make a difference. Didnât feel like much of anything.
Briefly, you put two fingers to your neck to check your pulse again. Still beating. Still alive.
Alive, and needing to eat some crow, as it were.
âDonât apologize, you were protectinâ our patient. What I did was wrong,â you recited. âI-I threatened a patient and then whacked him across the face.â Your conscience then prompted you to apologize again for what youâd said to him. âAnd, justâSiddiq, what I said to you was bullshit and lies and m'sorry I said it. Cruel bullshit, naught else. Donât go believing a word of it.â
He wasnât clicking through the playlists and songs anymore.
Appearing uncomfortable, he peeked at you before he put his attention back on the mp3. âMichonne said pulling you like that was a trigger, which is why you, umâŠIâm sorry,â he said again. âI didnât know.â
First, you relaxed your jaw. âAinât your job to know. Itâs mine to learn past it.â Next, you spackled on something of a smile and added quietly, âItâs good that you, that you stepped in. Thank you.â You did mean it, for what it was worth.
How many minutes until the twenty was up, you wondered, and tried to not be obvious about checking the time on your wrist. Eyeing Michonne, she seemed more preoccupied with Judith than with being punctual regarding your penance/sentence.
âPTSD is serious. Thatâs why Iâm sorry, I, um,â Siddiq faltered. He went back to clicking through the music choices.
âWe all have at least a little PTSD, bud.â With a light nudge to try and convey camaraderie or something, you attempted to tease, âC'mon, you chosen at least one song, yet?â
âSorry, let me just, uhâŠâ and with a few more clicks, the first song started. It was Bohemian Rhapsody.
âYou chose the playlist âSongs Everyone Likes.ââ
He chuckled awkwardly. âYeah, figured I couldnât go wrong with that one.â
The memory of belting out this song with Carl, Glenn, Beth, and Maggie before your group even found the prison whooshed back and you started to smileâuntil you remembered that Carl was gone now. He was dead.
Youâd forgotten all of that for hot second, but your Carl was dead. So was Glenn. So was Beth. So was Lori, who'd joined, so was T-Dog, so was...
Maybe you were dead, too. You felt deadâso, you pressed your fingers to your neck to feel for a pulse.
Still beating.
The lyrics of the song began to register. You know, the early parts like âI donât wanna die,â and âcarry on, as if nothing really matters.â Sounded a little too personal, tell you the truth.
And just like that, the song was skipped. You glanced at Siddiq.
He shook his head. âNot the right mood for it.â
âMm.â
The intro to the next song in the shuffle was very bouncy, and âDance to the Musicâ started to jive through the earbuds. You didnât sway along like you naturally would have. No urge to.
The song played, finished.
âFirst time I heard this was in Shrek,â Siddiq made small talk while munching on his apple. âLove that movie.â
You mightâve hummed in acknowledgment, you arenât sure. He handed your apple to you, you took it. Held it.
The next song started, âYoung Hearts Run Free.â
The song played, finished.
Siddiq made more small talk. âI remember that one in Romeo + Juliet, the one with, um, Claire Danes? We watched that version in high school after we finished reading it.â
You hummed again. Pressed your fingers to your wrist, just in case. But no, your heart was still beating.
The next song started, âJumpinâ Jack Flash.â
âA lot of oldies,â he commented once the singing began. He took the final nibble off his apple.
âBut goodies,â you responded, willing yourself to sound less stiff and monotone. âModern stuff is on this playlist, too, donât worry.â
The song played. Finished.
The next song started. âAnother One Bites the Dust.â Siddiq promptly skipped it once the refrain started and the lyrics sank in.
âGood call,â you grunted.
The next song started. âAinât No Mountain High Enough.â
âOh nâplease skip this one, too." You loved that one, but youâd queued it up for Glenn at his and Maggieâs wedding, and it was not the time to go reminiscing. You swallowed the lump in your throat. Checked your pulse. Still beating. "Please skip 'Thunderstruck' if it comes on, too?â
The mp3 player clicked as Siddiq skipped the song. Next on the shuffle was âUnder Pressure.â
He adjusted his seat and coughed. âThis one fits.â
A combination sigh/groan was your contribution, because he was right. The two of you were the only doctors major medical personnel left standing.
The song played. Siddiqâs knees and wrists bounced to the rhythm where he sat beside you. You stared at your boots. Whereâd all the soot and dirt on them and your clothes come from, you couldnât rememberâŠ
âŠ
It was when a strong gust of cold wind blew that you noticed that the music had stopped, your earbud was out, and the sky wasnât as cloudy anymore.
When did that happen?
You sat up and blinked a few times, your apple still in one hand, Shaneâs necklace in the other.
âHey,â you heard Siddiq call.
What, why were your cheeks wet? âS-sorry, I,â you dropped the necklace, wiped your eyes with your sleeve, and put the apple down, âmustâve, um, checked out.â
âIâm not sure how long it was after it began when I noticed the change,â he let you know. âIsâŠthis what happened earlier?â
You closed your eyes and shook your head. âEarlier was somethinâ else. This was justââ âDissociation,â was a misunderstood word, so Denise taught you. And you didnât want to use the word for that reason.
You really wanted to keep a shred of dignity for yourself in the eyes of that guy. He didnât even know that youâd hurt yourself when youâd âblacked outâ the other dayâŠso, you decided upon a white lie highly euphemistic layman's term. âI spaced out.â
He nodded, but his brows sunk, as if he werenât buying it.
And when he did that thing where someone slightly opens their mouth because theyâve put together a response, you changed the subject. âListen to anythinâ good while I was in space?â
Siddiq wasnât swayed. âDo you still feel detached?â
âA little,â you answered truthfully, inhaling deep and checking your watch to try gauging how long youâd been out. Except, you had no recollection of what time it had been earlier, so it was a bust. God save you, you were a mess.
âSid. Iâm sorry youâre trapped dealinâ with this shit, it ainât fair to you. If, if you wanna bounce early, donât feel obligated to stay, and, andâlike, if you donât wanna do this whole music thing, itâs fine. W-we donât want you feelinâ unsafe.â
âUnsafe? Y/N, IâŠâ he paused. âI forgive you for what you said earlier. And Iâm not scared of you. Hitting Negan wasnât okay, butâŠâ another pause. âCompared to the way most others are baying for his blood and how you defended saving his life, I meanâyou helped me save him, Y/Nââ He lifted his hands, palms to the sky. âYouâre my friend, we work together, itâs not like I canât see that youâre drowning.â
Nothing prepared you to hear that.
He was calling you a friend and was still trying to be understanding, after all thatâŠ
You wanted to slam your head on a hard, rough surface and cry from the shame and simultaneous relief. You also didnât want to accept it, and so pushed back: âYou were alone out there too long. Friends d-donât tell friends they wish they were dead.â And mean it, you did not confess.
But of all things, he merely raised one shoulder and snorted. âIâm a really good friend?â
Tears spilled at the same time that you almost laughed.
No, it's true, you almost laughed. Things felt a little unreal again, but in not a bad way. The most you could do right then was send up thanks for the mercy that came out of the mess. You pinched your wrist first, then felt for your pulse.
âCompared to a few minutes ago, do you feel more like yourself now?â Siddiq made sure.
Huh. You used to ask Shane a very similar question, when he was forgetting his goodness.
You kept feeling the small beats at your wrist, reminding you that you were indeed alive, therefore capable of healing and growth.
âHeartâs still beating,â you sniffled, making yourself smile at him. The hatred and disgust youâd felt earlier seemed to you less like a fact and more like a bad dream.
Then, from the far right of the oak tree, you heard Aaronâs voice saying, âNot yet, man, theyâve got four minutes left.â
Aaron and Daryl then came into view. They waved to you as they walked by with the babies, another reminder that you that you werenât fully dead inside. Gracie was in a stroller, TJ was bundled in Darylâs arms. Your husband lingered behind, eyes on you as he absently pecked a kiss to your babyâs covered head.
Something stirred, and your chest fluttered and tugged in their direction, reminding you again that your heart was still beating. So was Maggieâs, so was her and Glennâs babyâs, so was Rickâs, so was Aaronâs. Life was still going. You had a child, a husband; lifelines. Their hearts were still beating, too.
The unexpected wink and the way Darylâs gaze softened as he looked at you made you feel as if youâd been freezing and someone just handed you a cup of cocoa with mini marshmallows. The way he next moved his lips to pronounce âtroublemaker,â however, you ought to have seen coming a mile away.
The heaviness in your body eased a bit. A smile started prodding the corners of your mouth. Shyly, you returned the wave and mouthed âmangy hick,â your wrist bumping against the photograph sticking from your shirt pocket.
Aaron noticed him acting like a dope lagging and gestured for him to keep up. âFour more minutes and weâll come back to get her.â
Daryl called out "slowpoke," and waved your babyâs little arm to the two of you as they walked away. He kept peeking behind him, too, it warmed you. When they reached far enough, you once again took the photograph out from your pocket.
With a final peek at Carlâs picture, you sent up a prayer and reaffirmed the promise that youâd made to him. That youâd live for him, do him proud.
So long as your heart was still beating, youâd try to do him proud. âSeems you and I got four more minutes, Sid. Whatâll we pick?â
-------------------------
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There's this Goosebumps 2000 book that I read when I was ten years old called Invasion of the Body Squeezers. It's actually a two parter and literally nothing happens in the first book, but Part 2 features a full-scale alien invasion where our main character's family, friends, and teachers are possessed by these aliens that come out of meteorites. Y'know, like baby's first Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I'm pretty sure it was my second ever encounter with mind control after Ghostbusters.
I'm never going to do a full Subliminalbo Scale for Rating Mind Control In Media review of it because it's a children's book about children but look at some of these excerpts and tell me why it's so fucking formative for a future mind control kink writer.
In this scene, protagonist Jack goes to his principal to warn that the science teacher has been possessed by an alien (this is actually a very funny and childish response to an alien invasion tbh, run to the principal). Note that alien hosts develop stutters (hence the random t-ts in dialogue) and have goo bubbling out of their ears.
"Youâyou talked to Mr. Liss this morning?" I choked out, moving sideways toward the office door. Mrs. Berkman nodded. A strange smile crossed her face. Her pale eyes appeared to roll in her head. She clicked her tongue several times. "Mr. Liss and I had a nice talk before the students started to arrive," she said. "He's such a nice man. T-t." "Heâhe hugged you!" I accused. I slid another step closer to the door. She nodded again, her blond hair bouncing on top of her head. She stretched out her hands. Long silver nails shot out from her fingers. "It doesn't hurt, Jack," she whispered. "You want to be one of usâdon't you?" "No!" I screamed. "No way! I don't! I want to be me!" She kicked a triangle of glass out of her way. "We need your body, Jack. We need a lot of bodies. T-t-t." Green bubbles bobbed from her ears.
Later, Jack locks himself in his house after two of his friends try to convert him. Two more friends, Maddy and Marsha, beg him to let them inside.
"What's wrong?" I asked them. "You both look really frightened." "It's Henry and Derek," Maddy replied, glancing outside the window. "They were acting so strange." Marsha shuddered. "I hope they didn't follow us." "What did they do?" I asked. "They were talking funny," Maddy replied, pushing down her frizzy hair with one hand. "They didn't sound like themselves at all."
While the two girls recount their encounter with their possessed friends, a meteor shower begins to rain glowing rocks down on the streets.
My mouth dropped in amazement as I watched the shower of orange rocks. Like an orange hailstormâdozens and dozens of themâcrashing onto our block. My heart pounding, I turned to Marsha and Maddy. I expected to see expressions of fear and amazement on their faces. I didn't expect to find them smiling! "It's about t-t-t time they got here," Maddy said. "Yeah. What kept them?" Marsha replied. They both turned to me, eyes wide and glowing. "Out friends have t-t- arrived," Marsha said. "Don't try to run, Jack," Maddy added. "You're outnumbered now."
Okay, so, don't go out and read this book. Like I said, it's a children's book for children. Goosebumps quality varied wildly in its original sixty-two volume run and I'm not sure if there was a single good entry in the 2000 series. Most of Invasion of the Body Squeezers is Jack running around shouting "you too?!" when he discovers someone has been possessed. The book is downright awful.
But these excerpts here? These stuck with me. The school authority figure who uses their power to spread their Master, the friend who was one of them the whole time. These ideas have stuck with me for most of my life and it's a high that I'm still chasing.
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