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liliacamethyst · 2 years ago

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Webs of Fate - Miguel O'Hara (Part II)

Sequel to Web of Secrets

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 5.2K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut, time jumps, not really comic accurate (canon events), semi public piv, 18+

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

You are all back at the Spider-Verse Headquarters and the atmosphere is tense. Everyone is still high on adrenaline from the mission. You’re nursing a deep gash on your arm but your spirit is far from broken.

Miguel, however, seems to be on the verge of an explosion.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT OUT THERE SPIDER SUN?” he bursts out, his voice echoing through the HQ.

You're taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“That reckless behavior! You could have been killed!” he roars. “Why didn’t you retreat when you were injured?!”

“Because there were lives at stake! I can handle myself, Miguel!” you shout back.

“You think this is a game?! You think being part of this team is just for kicks?” Miguel’s face is red, his voice strained.

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare question my dedication!” you yell, your own anger now matching his.

The team is watching, shifting uncomfortably. Gwen looks at Jess, who shakes her head. The room is thick with tension.

Alright, if you are being honest with yourself, your recent actions in the field could definitely be classified as reckless. Perhaps even bordering on idiotic - not that you’d ever confess that in front of Miguel. You didn’t know where your mind went. Wait, no, scratch that. You knew precisely where your thoughts were, every mission since you discovered your pregnancy has been like this; your spider senses dulled, focus scattered to the wind, and reflexes that would’ve made a sloth proud.

And then there was this mission – your first one in quite a while alongside Miguel. He was bound to notice.

So you were fighting an Electro variant from an alternate universe, alongside Jess, Gwen, Ben and Miguel. The electric villain was throwing bolts of energy left and right and everyone was giving their all. You noticed a civilian trapped under some debris. You made a beeline for them, not thinking about anything else.

As you lifted the debris, an energy bolt flew straight for you. Usually, your Spider-Senses would have alerted you but not today. It hit you square in the back and sent you flying.

You hit a wall but ignored the pain as you scrambled back to your feet. A sharp ache spread across your arm but you gritted your teeth and kept fighting.

Miguel yelled, “What the hell are you doing?! Fall back!”

But you didn’t, you kept pushing forward.

He landed next to you, his eyes filled with anger and something else, maybe a hint of worry. He grabbed your waist to pull you back. But as another energy bolt was coming your way, you shoved him out of the path, taking the hit for the second time. So yeah, you could say that this mission wasn't exactly the shining star in your superhero career.

“ESTÚPIDA! So damn stupid. I won’t fucking watch someone throw their life away recklessly!” Miguel was now yelling loudly in oyur face for everyone in the HQ to hear.

“Oh, please. What’s it to you? Since when do you care, Miguel?!” you shout back, finally having enough of his insufferable attitude. “All this time, you’ve treated me like I’m dispensable. Like I don't matter! Well, guess what? I can fight, I can make decisions, and I don’t need you to approve them!”

“Don’t!” Miguel's voice cracks, and for a brief second, there’s a look of hurt on his face that surprises you. But his rage quickly replaces it. “I cannot do this anymore with you, ¿me entiendes?” he yells.

The room falls silent. Everyone’s gazes dart between you and Miguel. You can feel Gwen’s worried eyes on you, and Ben Riley. looks like he wants to intervene, but this moment is too charged.

You take a deep breath, tears welling up. “I can't do this anymore either,” you whisper.

“What?” Miguel's voice is barely audible.

“I can't keep fighting for a team where I’m not respected or trusted. Where you treat me constantly like a liability, like I am worth nothing to you,” you say, your voice steadier now.

“You don’t know what you are saying,” Miguel says, his tone slightly softening.

You turn around, your eyes welling up once again and open a portal to your universe. “I do, I quit” you say, your voice breaking.

You reach into your pocket and pull out your transdimensional gizmo, the small device that every Spider-person uses to travel across the multiverse. It's an intricate piece of technology, a blend of science and magic that fits in the palm of your hand.

You toss the device on the table in front of Miguel. It skids across the surface before coming to a stop right in front of him. He looks from the gizmo to you, his expression unreadable.

"Take it. We don’t need it anymore." You say defiantly, meeting his gaze.

Everyone knows the implication of you returning the gizmo. Without it, you're effectively stranded in your universe, unable to return to the society. This isn't a decision made lightly, it's a point of no return.

As you step through the portal, you glance back one last time. You see Miguel’s face, contorted in pain, but he doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak and he doesn't stop you.

Your heart is breaking, but you can’t stay here. Not when it’s this painful.

You turn away and head toward the portal room, with one hand lightly grazing your tummy. Gwen calls your name, but you don’t stop.

In the dim light of the room, the world seems to fade away as you lie there with Miguel on top of you. You are under him, breathless, your fingers running through his hair. His body pins you down in a tender, electrifying way, and you can feel the rhythm of his heart beating against yours.

His fangs graze the curve of your neck lightly, eliciting a shiver that runs through you. In response, he nuzzles into you, his breath warm against your skin.

"Ever think about what we're doing?" he asks in a whisper that vibrates against your neck.

"Constantly," you respond, your fingers tracing the curve of his broad shoulders, "but I don’t regret it, not a moment.”

He lifts his head, his red orbs searching yours. “Neither do I,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. His hand reaches up to trace the contour of your face.

"You know," you whisper, your hands continuing caressing his back, "I always wondered what it was like in your universe, in your time."

He shifts a little, propping himself up on one elbow as he looks down at you. His eyes, usually as unreadable, now seem to crack open; emotions swirl within them like stars.

"It was great, you know," his voice is gentle, each word enveloping you. "No, more than that – it was perfect," he corrects himself. His eyes never leave yours as he continues, "I had my Gabriella. Ah, you would have adored her." His voice softens to a mere whisper as if speaking her name too loudly might shatter the memory. "She was this incredible burst of life just like you. My own little sunshine. I didn’t know my heart could hold so much until she came into my life."

"The way she would throw her head back and laugh, it was like music. Her tiny hands – so soft and gentle. I remember how one of them always found mine, and the world felt... right." He continued, "I was never alone, never empty." He swallows hard, as if trying to keep the flood of emotions from washing over him.

You cup his cheek gently, smiling up at him. "You don't have to be alone, you know?"

He lets out a dry chuckle. “Sometimes it feels like there's no other option. It’s my fate."

“What scares you the most, Miguel?” you suddenly ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitates. “To lose myself… to forget what it means to care for someone,” he finally confesses.

“You won’t,” you assure him, your thumb stroking his cheek. “Not if you don’t let yourself.”

“¿y tú?” His voice is husky. “What’s your biggest fear?”

“To be forgotten,” you whisper.

He lowers himself and presses his forehead against yours. “Imposible,” he breathes. “You’re the sun. No one forgets the sun.” He pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until the world outside disappears.

Suddenly, his wrist console beeps, yanking him back to the present. "O’Hara, are you okay?" Lyla's voice echoes in the room, breaking the silence. He blinks, his gaze focusing on the holographic screen displaying the mission details in front of him. "Yeah, Lyla," he responds, his voice a bit hoarse. "Just remembered something," he murmurs, and refocuses on the screen before him.

Amidst the sea of codes and numbers, Miguel finds himself struggling to focus. His thoughts still are consumed by you, and a heavy realization crashes down upon him like a tidal wave - he’s lost you forever.

He always knew that this was how it was meant to be. This was the only logical conclusion, the inevitable outcome that he had tried so hard to deny. He was aware of the potential repercussions, the cosmic imbalance that could be brought about by your intertwining fates.

Lyla had warned him multiple times, cautioned him against letting you close. But how could he have possibly resisted you? You, who shone brighter than the sun, who captured the hearts of everyone around with your aura and your kind soul. Your beauty was unparalleled, and your laughter had the power to fill a room, casting away shadows. He was a moth drawn to your flame, hopelessly captivated from the very first day he met you.

But you were never meant to be his story, not the path his life was meant to tread. You belonged to another world, another universe.

"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" Lyla breaks the silence with her smooth, computerized voice. “No,” he interrupts her sharply, his voice a little too forceful.

But Lyla isn't easily deterred. "You know it was dangerous from the beginning, Miguel," Lyla continues. "Engaging with her like that...it could have caused irreparable damage to the multiverse."

"I know," he replies curtly.

Unyielding, Lyla continues, "This was never supposed to be a canon event. Her universe is not meant to mix with yours. It's fortunate that she left when she did. The damage could've been—"

“I KNOW!” Miguel suddenly erupts, his voice thundering through the room. He screams, his frustration boiling over, "¡Ya lo sé, Lyla! ¡Basta ya!" ("I already know, Lyla! Enough already!") With a loud grunt, he sweeps his arm across his desk, sending his keyboard, mug, and various other items crashing to the ground.

There is a deafening silence as Miguel breathes heavily, his chest heaving. His eyes are wide, his face is flushed and his fangs are bared. He never loses control, not like this.

Lyla, for once, remains silent.

3 months later…

Back in Nea Yorkey, Earth 586 , you are perched on the rooftop, absentmindedly rubbing your stomach. Time has passed since you left Nueva York and Miguel, but your feelings for him are still a tangled mess. Damn these pesky pregnancy hormones.

For once, it’s pretty calm out there. No honking horns in traffic jams or the usual buzz of people everywhere. It’s like the city hit the pause button and honestly, it’s kind of nice. The streetlights are like tiny fairy lights all over, and the tall buildings around you feel like they’re keeping you company.

The cool breeze brushes against your face, and you can't help but be lost in your thoughts. Thoughts of him. The relentless flood of emotions is almost too much to handle.

The flashback hits you hard, placing you right back in Miguel's office late one evening. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your backside planted firmly on his desk amidst strewn cables and metallic pieces and half-empty coffee mugs.

"Miguel, someone will catch us," you had warned, your breath hitching as he nipped at your skin, his hands deftly moving to undo your skintight suit. His hair was a little longer then, the ends tickling your forehead as he kissed you.

He had just chuckled, the sound deep and throaty, making your heart flutter. "They know better than to disturb me," he'd responded confidently, his lips trailing fiery kisses along your jawline.

Usually, Miguel was cautious about showing any sign of affection when others might be around, even if 'around' meant anywhere in the sprawling headquarters of the Spider Society. Yet, that night, he seemed to throw caution to the wind.

In his enclosed office, late into the evening, he let his guard down - a rarity. His lips were insistent against your skin, his touch setting you alight. You remember how the soft glow of the desk lamp had caught in his eyes, making them appear even more mesmerizing.

As he was holding your ass up steady and pounding into you, in a pace and fervor you never experienced before, you hear his communicator ring vibrating. You instinctively attempt to pull away, assuming he would answer the call, but he holds you tighter, his lips never leaving your skin.

His free hand pulls up a holographic screen,which flickered to life above the desk, revealing a slightly pixelated image of Jess. You panic for a moment, worried that she might see you in this intimate moment with Miguel, but he just shook his head slightly, reassuring you that she can't. He must have filtered the video feed on his end.

“Yes, Jess?” Miguel’s voice was steady, but his breath ghosted your neck in short spurts. He continued with his action, his thrusts a little slower but deep, nevertheless. You clamp your teeth down onto Miguel's shoulder in a desperate attempt to stifle the moans escaping your throat, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. You can barely contain yourself. Miguel's soft, amused chuckle vibrate through you as he wraps his arms around you protectively. Asshole.

“We’ve got an anomaly on Earth-4067, seems like a temporal rift,” Jess's voice came through the hologram.

“Have you tried the Q-particle stabilizer?” Miguel asks, his voice so casual it's almost disarming. His eyes meet yours, a playful glint in them.

“Yeah, but it didn’t work. The rift is actually growing,” Jess responds, the worry in her voice increasing. “What do you think we should do?”

“Alright, I want you to reconfigure the dimensional frequency to match the rift. Then patch the satellite feed through the Alchemax algorithm, reverse the temporal frequency by 4.7 hertz and use the resonance pulse to stabilize the rift,” Miguel articulates with authority as he continues to pick up his pace. You’re close to the edge, with the euphoria threatening to make you cry out. The sheer pleasure is now tinged with a faint edge of pain, and a wave of panic crashes over you. The thought of Jess possibly hearing you is nerve-wracking, and you’re now fighting to suppress your screams.

Your breathing becomes erratic as you whisper in a hoarse, needy voice, “Miguel, ‘m close."

"I know, mami. Come for me," he whispers back, his voice filled with a playful mischief that seems to defy the gravity of the situation. His hot breath against your ear sends shivers down your spine and the wave of pleasure crushes down on you.

“Miguel, are you sure about this? I mean, if something goes wrong…” Jess hesitates.

“I’m sure, Jess.” Thrust. “Do.” Another hard thrust. “it.” Miguel’s voice turns forceful.

“Okay, I trust you. But... are you alright? You sound kinda breathless,” Jess's suspicion returns.

“Oh, just...uh...running some diagnostics. It’s a bit stuffy in here,” Miguel replies with a smirk on his face, his fingers now gently brushing against your bare heated skin.

The rooftop is silent again, and you're still rubbing your belly, where the life you and Miguel created is growing. A bittersweet tear rolls down your cheek as you wish, not for the first time, that things could have been different.

You don’t know how long you are sitting there, taking in the city scene. But it was getting dark, when a familiar figure swings onto the rooftop. It's Gwen, carrying a small package in her hand. “Gwen? What brings you to Nea Yorkey?”

She walks up to you with a soft smile, "Do I need a reason to visit my favourite Spider-Ma? I've got something for you."

You raise an eyebrow as she hands you the package. As you unwrap it, you find a tiny Spider-Man hat, similar to the one Mayday usually wears. And to your surprise, there’s a tiny anarchy pin, attached to it.

"From the group," she says softly. She adds, pointing at the pin, "This bit here, that’s from Hobie." Of course it is.

You’re moved to tears as you hug the hat close. It's a simple gift, yet it means so much. You feel a lump in your throat, and Gwen steps forward, wrapping you in a warm, comforting hug.

"I...I miss all of you so much," you manage to whisper, your voice choked with emotion.

"We miss you too," Gwen replies, her voice equally soft.

You pull back, wiping your eyes. Gwen tries to lighten the mood, "So, any guesses on the gender? I bet it’s a boy."

You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips, "I don't care what it's going to be. I just want them to be healthy."

Gwen grins, "Just remember, if it is a boy and he turns out to be a handful, you owe me a soda."

You both sit on the edge of the rooftop in a comfortable silence, legs swinging over the city, the conversation turns more serious.

"So," you venture, "how are things back at the Spider Society?"

Gwen’s expression turns contemplative. "It's been... strange since you left," she admits.

"Strange how?" you prod.

"Well, you know how Miguel was always a little on the, uh, grumpy side?" she says, making a grimace.

"You mean being a brooding fortress of doom and gloom?" you quip, and Gwen chuckles.

"Yeah, that. Well, he's gotten worse since you left. Like, way worse," Gwen's face turns somber as she continues. "He’s even more closed off than before. His temper’s shorter, he barely communicates, and he's been pushing everyone away. Miguel’s basically got everyone on lockdown. No unauthorized visits between universes. There’s this... I don’t know... this cloud hanging over him, you know?”

Your heart tightens as you take in her words. You had no idea that your departure had such an impact on him, or anyone for that matter.

“He doesn’t talk about it, but I think he misses you,” Gwen adds, looking directly into your eyes.

You are torn. Part of you wants to be angry at Miguel for how things went down, but another part aches for him.

Gwen nudges you. "Maybe he needs his sunshine back," she says with a gentle smile.

You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of Gwen’s words sinking in. “Don’t be silly. I was never his sunshine.”

4 months later…

Beneath the pale glow of hospital lights, pain and joy mingle in the delivery room. The grip you have on the sheets gets tighter as you push to usher your baby into the world. Your hair is sticking to your forehead, your breath comes in heaving gasps, exhaustion painting dark circles under your eyes.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, a portal flickers to life outside your window, and Gwen, Peter B., and Hobie emerge.

“Make way! The party has arrived!” Peter B. exclaims loudly.

“I don’t believe in parties.” Hobie says as he struts in, clad in his Spider suit with a leather jacket over it, pins and patches proudly displayed.

Gwen knocks at your door. The midwife, busy with you in the labor, answers.

“Uh, who are you?” the midwife asks, slightly agitated.

“We’re friends of hers,” Peter gestures towards you, “is it a good time?”

You hear their voices, but you cant muster up a response all you can do is scream and push.

“Blimey, I didn’t think it’d be like somethin’ outta Alien! You alright there, love?” Hobie’s eyes go wide, as he enters the room.

You can't help but laugh through the pain, "Oh, just peachy, thanks for asking."

Gwen steps forward, immediately grabbing your hand, her voice soothing, “Hey, you’re doing great. Is there anything we can do?”

“You could get Hobie out of here,” you jest, rolling your eyes, but your smile betrays your appreciation. Another loud scream follows.

“You got this, luv!” Hobie shouts. “Just imagine the bloody contractions as guitar riffs! You’re about to release the raddest album in history!”

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hear the cries of your newborn baby.

“Congratulations, it's a boy!” the nurse announces, handing the baby to to you.

You can’t help but laugh. Gwen steps closer to the bed and takes a peek at the baby. Her eyes light up. “Told you, it’s a boy. He’s absolutely beautiful,” she whispers.

Hobie chimes in. “Alright, let’s get a proper look at the little bloke!” He leans in, and his face softens. "Oh, look at 'im!" Hobie exclaims in his thick British accent, peering at him. "Little blighter's a spitting image of 'is mum, ain't he?” No. You see it then, the dark eyes with a hint of red glow echo the intensity of his father's gaze, the dark chocolate hair and the sun kissed complexion. He looked undeniably just like Miguel. You cant help yourself but fall immediately in love with your and Miguel’s little boy.

As they prepare to leave, Gwen, Peter B., and Hobie each take turns holding Gabriel and whispering well-wishes to him.

“I can’t thank you guys enough for being here,” you say, wiping away a tear.

Peter’s mask is off and he’s beaming. "We couldn't miss this for the multiverse!"

Gwen follows suit, "Yeah! Plus, Hobie wouldn't let us hear the end of it if we didn’t."

“We’re family,” Peter says firmly. “Across universes and timelines. We’re always here for each other.”

With that, the trio put on their masks and with another whoosh, they're gone.

1 year later...

One year has passed like a whirlwind. You've established a balance in your life. By day, you are a doting mother, and your world revolves around a little ball of energy named Gabriel. His laugh is the music that fuels your day, and his tiny hands holding yours make everything seem alright.

At night, though, you become someone else. Clad in a white suit adorned with golden sun patterns, you swing through the skyscrapers of Nea Yorkey as the Sun Spider. Your heart swells with pride, knowing that you’re keeping the streets and your little boy safe.

Your neighbor, Melissa, sometimes babysits Gabriel. She is a cheerful, quirky 19-year-old neighbor who dreams of becoming an Instagram influencer. You trust her (her career choice not so much) and, most importantly, Gabriel adores her.

Up until today, you believed that he hadn't inherited any powers. However, today was the first time he climbed up a wall and spun a web, without the aid of a web-slinger. It was the first time you witnessed him display such powers, and naturally, you were impressed. However, you also realized that being a mom would now involve dealing with a whole new set of challenges and responsibilities, making everyday life more exhausting than before. But you are up for the challenge;

Meanwhile, in the Spider Society’s HQ in Nueva York, Lyla’s holographic screen blinks red as she detects an anomaly in Earth 586 - your universe. She reports it to Miguel, who is still his grumpy self, seemingly even more irritable with each day passing.

“There’s a presence in Earth 586 that does not belong,” Lyla reports in her emotionless tone.

Miguel, sitting at his desk, sighs deeply. “Assemble the team. Pavitr, Lego Spider-Man, and... let’s bring in the newbie, Miles.”

Minutes later, the trio is briefed about the anomaly – a two-year-old child. They are to extract the child and bring it back.

Back in your universe, you're facing off against a notorious villain – The Shocker, who is on a rampage downtown. His high-frequency shock waves shake the very foundations of the buildings around you.

“Not tonight, Shocker,” you quip as you dodge a blast. “I’ve got a bedtime story to read!”

You're agile and sharp, but you can’t wait to get back home to Gabriel.

In your apartment, Melissa is on the couch, engrossed in her phone. She doesn't notice Pavitr slyly slipping into Gabriel's room. He can’t help but feel conflicted, seeing the innocent child asleep.

“This is the target?” Pavitr speaks in a hushed tone into his communicator. His voice is laced with doubt.

“Yes, proceed,” responds Miguel firmly.

Pavitr gently picks up Gabriel, cradling him in his arms. “Sorry, little guy,” he whispers and slips out.

Outside, they gather near the portal. Miles, who is visibly excited to be on his first mission, can sense the tension among the group.

“That was… too easy,” Pavitr murmurs, still holding the sleeping child.

Through the swirling portal, they make their way back to Nueva York.

Meanwhile, you web up The Shocker and leave him hanging for the police.

Back in the Spider Society's HQ in Nueva York, the team stands in a specialized containment room with the toddler still peacefully sleeping nestled in a makeshift bed of spider-web, completely oblivious to the attention he's attracting. One by one, members of the Spider Society trickle into the room, drawn by curiosity and concern.

Miles, who is new to the Spider Society, looks at the child with confusion. "I don't get it, what's so dangerous about a kid?" he asks.

Pavitr looks conflicted, “We have to determine where he came from and why he is considered an anomaly.”

Lego Spider-Man remains silent, trying to analyze the situation. He finally speaks up. "We should be cautious. Just because it's a child doesn't mean it's not potentially hazardous to the multiverse."

Miguel enters the room, his face cold and emotionless. He glances at the sleeping child, then at his team. “It doesn’t matter what it is. Anomalies threaten the balance of the multiverse. Every anomaly has to be returned to its home universe. That’s the rule.” he says sternly.

"But he's not an anomaly, boss," Jess adds, gazing fondly at the child. "He's a little boy."

Miguel’s gaze is unwavering, ignoring Jess. “Lyla? Whats the status?”

Lyla's holographic form flickers into the room. "This entity possesses unknown powers," she declares, her voice ringing out with clinical detachment. "And according to my scans, it doesn't belong to any known universe. Therefore, it cannot be returned. It must be... eliminated."

Miles' eyes widen. “Wait, you mean…?” he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Pavitr steps forward, his fists clenched. “We can’t just... There must be another way.”

Back in your universe, you swing closer to your apartment, but your spider-sense starts are tingling with a ferocity you’ve never experienced before. Your heart races, and you quicken your pace. Bursting through the window, you find Melissa still sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

"Where is he? Where’s Gabriel?!" you shout, panic straining your voice.

Melissa's eyes go wide as she looks up from her phone. "What? He's in his room, sleeping," she says, but her voice falters when she sees the terror on your face.

You rush into Gabriel's room and find the crib empty. Your knees buckle, and a guttural scream escapes your lips. The room spins as you run back to the living room, grabbing Melissa by the shoulders.

"Did anyone come in? Did you see anything?!" you practically scream at her.

“I... I didn’t see anyone. I swear!” Melissa's voice shakes.

Your heart feels like it's tearing apart. You look around the room, desperate for any clue. You need to find your son, and something deep within you tells you that the Spider Society is where you need to go. You have to find a way to travel through the multiverse without a gizmo and the time is ticking. You have to find your son.

Back in the HQ in the midst of the tension-filled room, Gwen stands up, "Miguel, you can't be serious," she pleads, disbelief resonating in her voice. "We can't just... kill a baby.”

Miguel's eyes narrow. "Sometimes tough decisions have to be made for the greater good.”

Just then, little Gabriel wakes up. His big eyes wander curiously around the room, and he starts to make happy babbling sounds. Unfazed by his surroundings, he looks at each of the Spider-People with fascination.

As Peter B. is about to reach down to pick Gabriel up, the toddler crawls quickly over to Miguel. His little face lights up with the purest of smiles and he reaches his tiny arms towards Miguel as if trying to give him a hug.

The room seems to collectively hold its breath. Even Miguel seems taken aback.

Pavitr can't help it, “He seems to have taken a liking to you, boss.”

Gwen smiles, her eyes watering up. “See? Even this innocent soul can sense there’s still good in you.”

Tiny fingers grip at the fabric of Miguel's suit, baby Gabriel coos and giggles as he clambers up the towering figure. Planting tiny baby kisses on any part of Miguel he can reach, the toddler's joyous laughter rings in the silent room. "Vete, Vete." Miguel mutters. And despite Miguel's cold exterior, Gabriel is unphased, drawn to him as though an invisible bond exists between them.

Miguel looks frustrated and uncomfortable with the baby's affection. He awkwardly picks Gabriel up at arm’s length. But the little one is relentless, trying to cuddle into Miguel’s chest.

Annoyed, Miguel places Gabriel into a containment field made of energy beams, to keep him in place. The baby, though restrained, is still reaching out to Miguel with his tiny hands, cooing.

The room goes quiet again, and Gwen speaks, her voice soft.

“Look at him, Miguel. Please. You can’t tell me that this doesn’t affect you in any way.”

Miguel's face is tense, his jaw clenched. His eyes dart between Gwen and Gabriel. All eyes are directed towards Miguel. The room feels like it’s waiting for something to shatter.

“We do what needs to be done, no exceptions.”

Part III "Web of Shadow and Light"

a/n: Honestly, I can't begin to express how much your support and kind messages mean to me. I literally started crying when I saw how much love this story received. It means the world to me. Truly, thank you. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and if someone could give me a heads-up on whether the tag list functioned properly, that would be great. Also, apologies for any inconsistencies or logical errors regarding the multiverse or canon theory. I watched the movie but I'm not 100% sure of that's how it works.

Once again, I really do appreciate each and everyone of you. Please, don’t forget to take good care of yourselves and stay hydrated! ILYSM

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awrkive · 3 months ago

Note

PLEASE LET CNBL COUPLE HAVE THEIR SEXTAPE 🤤 i think oc would be down to that idea but i get why jungkook is taking things slow too but my man is a simp fr he would put it in a loop because he’s obsessed with his girlfriend

i got u anon. ive got an ask about it sometime ago abt what miss cnbl!oc feels about digital s*x or film s*x. thought of an idea. this is 2 years after wncl, which is sorta kinda like the sequel of cnbl lols. anyways this is kinda self indulgent and honestly just an excuse to write smut 😭

summary: jungkook can't bear being away from you, and so you give him a solution

w/c: 2k lol

warning/s: consensual filming, unprotected s*x, cre*mpies

Jungkook can get pretty intense during reunions. In fact, intense is an understatement. He absolutely goes fervent, and you can’t blame him when you missed him just as bad too.

“Ngh– fuck, I miss you so much, baby. I miss you every fucking day,” he groans into your ear, pumping his cock in and out of you at that pace that’s just so right. Not too fast. Not too slow. Just enough to make you keen; to make you grip the sheets behind you so tight. Just enough to not make it hurt when you've already come two times from his mouth and tongue, and another two times from his dick. Consequently, he's already two creampies inside your pussy and it's not even been a full hour.

And just when you thought that he’d be satisfied by the last time, he’s now determined on coaxing a fifth release from you.

Frankly, you don’t know if you can do it. Sure, there was one time last year when he made you cum seven times in a row – and Jungkook still talks about it like a kid high on sugar, mentions it every now and then, keeps on wanting to do it again sometime – but it’s too bad you can’t keep up with him all of the time. Jungkook’s stamina is high and yours isn’t all that exemplary.

But you do try your best to match it because you love it just as well. You love the feeling of his cum shooting inside your hole, him pushing it back into you in that non-overbearing possessive manner, and how he always tells you you’re such a good girl for taking more and more, just letting him give and give.

It’s why you encourage him to get you to cum again – because god, you really also missed him so fucking bad.

He just got back from LA, just arrived at your place five hours ago, and you expected him to sleep the whole night in – not when you know he worked so hard back there. His team just bagged a win, and they’re moving onto semis the next few weeks.

But Jungkook informed you that he had to leave again in six days – had to train across oceans again with the team. Said that he just begged his coach to get him a one-week vacay when others only got four.

It’s not unfair when he’s the star player of the team he’s been winning for in the entirety of the last year. Jungkook’s an NBA player who has gained much bigger success and popularity ever since he got drafted, despite being so young and fresh to the scene.

And sure, he basks in it sometimes – likes the praise, likes the way winning makes him feel. He loves playing for the team. Loves the work that he does.

But one thing he absolutely fucking loathes about it is that he has to fly off across states for a game, and that means leaving the comfort of your shared apartment – leaving you, not being with you.

And so you understand greatly why he’s intense during reunions. Because as much as you’re happy with your current lawyering – in your second year now – you also miss those days back in college when you could just have each other every single day.

“Yes, fuck– oh there, baby, that feels so good…” you moan when he hits a particular spot. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he encloses his hot mouth around your nipple again, alternating on suckling and nipping around it, his other hand fondling your other boob. But again, Jungkook seems to be so on edge right now that you let out an “Ow!” at one harsh bite.

“Sorry,” Jungkook soothes it with a kiss to the tip, hips still moving against yours, cock going at a steady pace in and out of your pussy. “I just missed you so much, pretty girl. Those calls weren’t enough.” He whispers against your chest, this time lapping at your breasts more gently.

You reach out for the messy locks that sit atop his head, smiling gently down at him even though he can’t see you.

“Babe?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to take a video?” You ask, still caressing his hair.

You don’t expect the way his hips stutter after your question. The quickness in which he peels his head away from your tits to look at you with a surprised face after that is almost laughable but that would be mean of you.

“What?”

“A video. Of us. I dunno… maybe it will do us both good if we have something of us while we’re away from each other.” you shrug nonchalantly.

You both aren’t strangers to sending nudes to each other or sexting in general. Jungkook sends you videos and pictures of his dick a lot of times – unprovoked and even on a random Tuesday at 2 fucking pm. And you send him your tits and risky pictures of you in crotchless panties when you feel like it. (Like when you’re taking a bath and you're feeling a bit raunchy with the soap suds all over your breasts… Jungkook gets so drunk off the pictures that he fucks you so good once he gets ahold of you in person.)

It used to be just tits but you’ve upgraded to pussy pics… hey, it’s just that you’ve grown more comfortable overtime.

Being with Jungkook for three years now, you can say that you’ve tried a lot of things with sex. But somehow… you’ve never really tried making a sex tape.

Sure, Jungkook’s brought it up before. Asked you if you were interested in the idea – but you answerwd with an affirmative no. Photos were okay, but videos were off-limits, and Jungkook was completely fine with that. It is your body, and he understands thoroughly the anxiety that you have behind the idea of sexual digital footprint – you’re a woman after all, there’s ultimately danger as a consequence to the very idea.

It’s not even Jungkook you don’t trust. God, you trust him so much – but it’s this paranoia about imaginary people who are out to get you.

And so that has always held you back.

But right now, as you feel Jungkook’s frustration about the long distance thing as much as his love while he drives you up the headboard with his loving, passionate thrusts, you can’t help but think that maybe you can give this a try.

Filming a sextape, you meant.

“Are you sure?” Jungkook blinks up at you, eyes wide as it opens and blinks continuously.

You chuckle. “Yes. Why do you look so surprised?”

Jungkook smiles shyly, and it’s adorable because he’s literally balls deep in you right now.

“I thought it was no-go.”

“Please,” you roll your eyes playfully– but you’re soon cut off by a particular thrust. Jungkook knows this too, as he begins peppering kisses all over your jaw, humming to let you know he’s still listening. You stammer a little, but you manage to let out a continuation of your sentence, “I let you put your dick in my ass and spit in my mouth. Nothing is no-go between us at this point.”

Your joke may not have been the funniest – as it just further riles Jungkook up by the way he suddenly picks up his speec.

“Oh, fuck, you little minx – you really had to say that, huh?” He emerges from your neck and grabs your jaw – albeit softly. “Get me real fucking hard talking about those.”

“You can do them to me on camera now.” you say, challenging. And you laugh when you feel him literally freeze. But it’s not as funny anymore when his cock throbs inside of you, and suddenly, you feel the urge to cum again. To release one more time.

He recovers quickly from the shock, though. “Yeah?”

You gasp when he plunges his cock back into you, only leaving the first half of his length before he enters again. He repeats that motion until your neck is craned back and your eyes are seeing stars.

“Keep going like that— yes, yes!” You say, starting to get hysterical because you can feel that coil in the pit of your stomach now.

Just a few more pumps and it will come out anytime soon.

“You’re so fucking hot and pretty, look at you.” Jungkook sighs, taking a hold of your hips this time so he can hit deeper. And he does hit deeper, alright – that it doesn’t really take too long before you spasm around his length again, your fifth orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks.

You lie there on the mattress completely lax while Jungkook goes on with a few more erratic trusts until you feel that hot liquid cum shooting straight to your hole.

The both of you mewl in unison at the sensation, with Jungkook kissing your mouth to bask in the moment.

When he breaks away, he caresses your cheek and plants a sweet peck to the tip of your nose.

“We’re filming the sextape tomorrow but can I take a video of your pussy full of my cum right now?” He asks seriously, and his polite tone – as if he’s requesting something at the White House – makes you laugh again. You're so giggly now that he's back. Go figure.

(How you love him so much.)

“Okay.” you say, and you watch as his eyes widen, cock twitching inside your pussy that he still hasn’t pulled out from you yet.

“Fuck, you’re the fucking best.” He says as he picks up his phone from the nightstand.

Turning it sideways, he grips the device with his left hand, turning the camera to your body.

“Just make sure it doesn’t pick up my face, okay?” You say, but nonetheless enjoy the sight of his hooded eyes roaming around your naked body like he’s high on it.

“I know. I’ll do that.” Jungkook murmurs, but you know he’s distracted, especially when you finally get to see the sudden shift in position where he’s kneeling on his calf now in between your spread legs. “Open wider for me, baby, let the camera see how full you are with my cock and cum.”

You hiss at that, and you let Jungkook guide your thigh with his free hand as he helps you spread the two of them wider.

“Hold them for me, princess, just a min.” Jungkook says, folding your knees until they’re all up in your chest. With his help, you relax in that position, waiting for what he does next. “Good. Good girl. Always so behaved…” he trails off, and slowly, he slides out his cock from your heat.

Jungkook thinks your face is the most beautiful he’s ever seen and your pussy stuffed, leaking with his cum is a close second.

“Fuck.” He whispers, making sure the camera captures just how white your pussy is now with his thick cum – a product of five straight orgasms he’d coaxed out from you. He wants to highlight the way your pussy throbs, but sadly with the bad lighting and him using a phone camera, he can’t.

Still, he relishes in the high of seeing you bare like this. With the tip of his cock just right beside your pussy, he slides the crown back to gather all the cum that dripped out, pushing it back into you.

There's an overspill that coats his dick as well, and it’s making him feel things. Like his cock getting hard again even though he just came the second time.

“Oh, Jungkook…” You sigh out, feeling overstimulated now. But as you look at his face, completely distracted, you enjoy the view instead. “You like that, baby?” You ask meekly, thinking that maybe he’d like that when he watches this again.

“So fucking much, you have no fucking idea.” Jungkook huffs. “You’re so full already but there’s still so much leaking out.”

“That’s all of you, Jungkook,” You say sweetly.

“Hm. I know… shit… I just wanna do this everyday.”

“Film is?” You snort.

“Fucking you… being with you. I was going crazy in my hotel room at LA. Just wanna be with you all the time.” He laments. Jungkook presses on the phone and suddenly, he puts it back on the nightstand.

“Awe. Poor baby.” You respond, tapping his forearm, putting your legs down while Jungkook soothes your thighs with gentle rubbing.

You thought he’s done for the night, but suddenly, he says, “Angel, I may have lied. Can we film the sextape tonight, please?”

You laugh. Again. And Jungkook just falls down your body, snuggles close to your chest as you instantly play with his hair.

“Alright.” You say, craning your neck down to press a kiss on the crown of his head.

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #fic: cn&bl #cnbl drabbles #jungkook fluff #p; drabbles

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easy-there-leftovers · 6 months ago

Text

As Cool As I Think I Am

Summary: The 5 times Spencer tries to be cool, and the 1 time he doesn't care.

Alternatively; Spencer never thought he was cool, but he found himself wanting to be just for you.

[a/n] Recommended to be read after, "A Question Unasked", and is a roundabout sequel to "Mixed Messages."

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader| cw: slight spoilers for s1e04, s1e06, s1e08, s1e10, and s1e18 | description of canon-typical violence, timeframe switches because I can, and Spencer being an oblivious, lovesick idiot (can't believe this version of him survived all of this lol) | word count: 7.2k

Amazing. You had called him, “amazing” during the Arizona case and that was all that had been occupying his mind as of late. He had been called brilliant before. Been described as bright, gifted, hell, he was called a genius even. Yet that was the first time anyone had said anything positive about him.

Removed from his intellectual capabilities.

It made him think that there was more that he could offer than just his never-ending stream of knowledge and incessant rambling.

You had seen that in him.

Seen that he was 'amazing.'

But he certainly wasn’t feeling that way now.

“On SWAT we broke shots down into three steps." Spencer nodded as he listened.

"One: Front sight. Focus on the front sight, not on the target. Two: Controlled trigger press. Three: Follow through. After the shot, you come right back to the target. Now, what did you do wrong?”

He sighs with his eyes closed. “I didn't follow through.”

“Right. You came off the target to see where you hit.”

Hotch had been observing him for the past few minutes to prepare him for his assessment tomorrow, and yet it still felt like he was making no discernable progress.

He had memorized every trick, every form, every physics interplay that could better the ballistics of his shot and yet he still couldn't do it.

"Hotch, my firearms qualification is tomorrow morning. I barely passed my last one." He had said, putting the gun down.

He feels his unit chief gently push him aside to demonstrate and he gets in position.

"Front sight," He aims his gun.

"Trigger press," He presses down on the trigger, resulting in a gunshot to the target.

"Follow through." He finally says. Keeping his eyes forward with his finger still depressing the trigger until he holsters his gun again.

"You do those three things, you'll hit your target every time." Spencer shakes his head.

He tries to replicate the steps again, but only fails miserably.

He has been doing that. He is doing that. And yet he still keeps missing.

If this wasn't part of his job, maybe he wouldn't have cared all too much about his gun proficiency. Or lack of.

And yet it was.

And it was imperative that he learned it to keep his place on the team, but he had been losing hope.

"They're going to take away my gun."

Sensing his frustration, Hotch empathizes with him.

"Profilers aren't required to carry." He groans at that.

"Yeah, but she does and she's great at it."

God, you must've thought he was pathetic.

Aaron laughs internally at that. He knows exactly who the younger one is talking about.

He had seen the way that Spencer had been watching his 'protege,' and it didn't take being a profiler to know that he was absolutely smitten. If he hadn't known any better, he would've thought that Reid's frustrations stemmed from wanting to seem more experienced in front of you.

And Hotch saw no problem with that, at least for now. On the contrary, the two of you working together seemed to have bolstered his focus on the case. Making the team more efficient with their investigations.

He also thinks that it helped because you seemed to return Reid's sentiment, which is why he had brought you along to help him.

So when Spencer turns and sees you walk in, he blanches.

As much as he really liked your presence (you were friends, right?), he really didn't want to embarrass himself in front of you.

He does that more than enough on his own.

But it seemed like your mentor didn't care.

Hotch says your name with a greeting before excusing himself which tells Spencer that he had planned this from the start. He sighs at that. Chest feeling heavy at the pressure.

He sees you give him a polite smile, which he's come to recognize to be your way of easing him, and he returns it.

"I've heard about your progress." Spencer rolls his eyes at that.

"More like regress. I'm sorry that you have to be here." You snort at his joke but shake your head to assure him.

"I'm right where I want to be. "

His heart fills, even though he knows that not what you meant.

"Why don't you go ahead and show me how you fire that gun?"

He nods and waits for you to put on your ear muffs and goggles before he returns to his position. Calming himself down as he remembers Hotch's words.

Front sight, trigger press, follow through.

He fires three bullets and sees them all hit the whites of the target, which makes him sigh for the umpteenth time.

He puts the gun down and lowers his ear muffs to look at you. Seemingly deep in thought, chin resting on your hand, with eyes travelling slowly up and down his form. Observing.

Scrutinizing.

Assessing.

He can't help but feel naked under your gaze.

He always knew you were smart. The cases you've helped solve were more than proof of just that, but he knew that even you couldn't solve the mystery that was his aim.

He couldn't expect that of you. He relies on you so often already.

He briefly wonders how there's such a different between you and him. You joined the same year, joined the same unit, and worked with the same people on the same cases. How was it that you seemed calmer, cooler, and more prepared for anything more than he ever was?

Spencer firmly believes that intelligence cannot be quantified. And if anyone ever doubted him, he would just point at you and say that you had him beat everywhere despite what any number might have to say otherwise.

Case and point. you had been talking to him about something very important and thoughtful and he had been zoning out the entire time.

"I um,–– what?"

You shake your head and gesture to his gun once more. "Show me your form again."

He takes his gun hesitantly, but readies himself the same way he did earlier. The only exception being that his finger isn't on the trigger.

He hears that telltale, almost bored, 'hm' of yours before you speak again.

"Tuck your chest in."

He's read countless firearm manuals and instructions and he's never heard of that before.

"I'm sorry?"

"Tuck your chest in." You say it again, but it's still not making sense to him.

Unable to voice or even act upon his confusion, he watches as you wait with an impassive face before asking,

"Can I touch you?" He lets out a shaky, but immediate 'yes' and you move to stand beside him.

Given your calm and nonchalant demeanor, he anticipates a more impersonal touch. For lack of a better word. He expects a shove. Maybe a push, to correct him into the right place.

So when your hand comes to softly rest on his stomach, fingers splaying across the expanse of his undefined abdominal muscles, he feels his breath hitch. Upper body slightly crumpling in on himself as he does.

He's surprised he hasn't dropped his gun.

"Dr. Reid,"

He's also surprised that his heart hasn't stopped. With how you said his name, and how close you are– he can already feel your soft breath gracing his ear–

"You're an autodidact, aren't you?"

A self-taught person, he thinks.

"I–– I am." Curse his shaky voice.

"You know, there are some things that can't be learned by just reading textbooks and looking at diagrams."

He feels you tap his stomach and he suddenly feels hot.

"Feel this?" He feels you engulfing his senses, that's for sure. But he nods slowly.

"Remember it. Your center of gravity is different from the subjects in those graphics. So the form you need to take is likewise different."

And just like that, all too quick for his liking, you move away. Hand leaving him just like whatever depraved thought might've been running around his head.

He hesitantly looks back at you, and you gesture to his gun again. Noticing how your free hand is resting on the gun in your holster.

A Glock 19, he remembers.

"Go ahead and shoot like that now."

He does, in the same way that he's compelled to follow your voice like always–

Front sight, trigger press, follow through.

And fires three shots.

To his surprise, he manages to shoot the target's chest. Not quite centered, he admits, but its a vast improvement from his previous attempts.

"I– I did it." He feels the disbelief on his face when he looks at you again. He's expecting you to look just as shocked as he does. After all, you saw just how egregious his aim was. So it surprises him when he turns and is greeted instead with the small smile on your face.

Not the same polite smile that you usually give when you're at work, no. It was a soft, genuine smile, or so he thinks.

"I never doubted your capabilities, Dr. Reid."

He beams under your praise. Blooming like a flower under the warm radiance of the Sun. Once again subject to that brain-freezing sensation from a few weeks ago.

If he just remembers everything you told him today, which wasn't a lot, he theoretically should pass his firearm qualifications with no problem.

And maybe, just maybe, he'll get to see you smile at him again.

After all, he had always wanted for you to look at him. Actually look at him.

Maybe if he passes his test this time, you will.

----

The following day, he doesn’t pass his test.

And he is much more embarrassed now than he ever was before.

He returns to the bullpen with his head down. Already expecting everyone to know of his failure.

He really didn't want to see if you were one of the ones that had been looking at him.

What he doesn't see is that you were.

But you weren't disappointed at all. You wanted nothing more than to reassure him. To tell him that you could always help him again, and that you didn't mind the extra work if it weren't for the stares that you had been getting back.

Seemingly turning your what-would've-been act of friendship and care into an expectation and responsibility.

"Make a wish!"

"Come on, man. Blow, baby, blow!"

"I thought you were full of hot air, Reid."

"They're trick candles, Spence, okay? They–– They're going to come back on every time."

While Spencer is glad that he’s spending his birthday with actual people, there's one in particular that he's missing.

He also feels sort of embarrassed that he's having a full-on birthday at his workplace. Though he is very thankful that his friends care about him enough to do this.

"Hope you like chocolate." JJ says with a laugh and he is only now recognizing the cake. Previously too caught up in blowing out the undying flames to even notice the festive dessert that supported them.

"Where's the cake from?" The blonde only gives him a look that he can't quite understand, but he is immediately distracted when he feels a draft from where Hotch passes by him.

He looks in the direction he came from and lo and behold, he found the very person he was missing.

He gets up, wanting to at least get a greeting from you, but he's interrupted by Gideon asking him something before he can even try.

"You having fun?"

He knows that he's asking him, but he can also see how his eyes aren't quite addressing him back. Instead, looking up a few inches above him.

He gives a tight lip smile when he realizes just what he's looking at.

God, he felt pathetic.

“Yes, definitely. I am definitely– having fun.”

"Make a wish?" He asks another question and that’s when Spencer sees what he's doing now.

Ever since he first exhibited signs of interest in you, he knew that his mentor would be the first to clock them. He couldn't even hide it if he tried. If there was anyone on the team that he knew would figure it out this quick, it would've been him.

He expected it.

What he didn't expect was for Gideon to show disapproval for it.

For you.

Back during the Arizona case, he remembers how Gideon had interrupted you when you were explaining something. And that's when he realized you were going to have a hard time.

You were going to have a hard time because of his own rapidly growing interest.

Because he froze when you said one nice thing about him, then proceeded to wow him with your observational skills.

He didn't want Gideon to think that you were being a distraction to him, so he instead chose to show just how well the two of you had worked together. Even going as far as to double down and reiterate your statements to convince him of that.

And it seemed to have worked, but now he wasn't so sure.

"Can I take this hat off?"

He wanted nothing more than to do just that before you notice him, but his mentor just shook his head.

"I wouldn't."

He doesn't know it's because Gideon knew you found it cute.

By the time that he notices the elder doesn't really care about the conversation anymore, probably too distracted by the TV behind him, his gaze finally focuses on you.

The very person that he had intended to talk to.

The one he intended to talk the entire time before he got sidetracked.

You still hadn't turned to look at him though, or make an attempt to greet him. Not even a laugh to mock him for the huge, 'Happy Birthday' hat that sat on his head to make him look like a dunce!

Instead, you were staring at something. Or rather, someone.

He turns his head to look just where you were and there he sees his unit chief, your mentor, on the receiving end of your intense gaze.

Just like always.

He shakes his head and decides to just go talk to you, but he is once again interrupted. This time by Hotch with a solemn expression on his face.

“Sorry guys. Party’s over.”

You immediately spring into action at his words, completely missing his hand that was just about to come up to wave at you. He tightens his lips into a thin smile.

Spencer's starting to doubt Morgan and Elle's words.

–––––––––––––

The sentiment is rectified when he finally receives the one thing he had been looking forward to on his birthday, and it wasn't the gift.

Not even the greeting.

It was being able to be in your presence. Being able to spend time with you. The you that wasn't so stressed or strict about work, or the case, or your boss.

It was just him and you. You and him. And the scarf that seemed to warm him just as much as his heart warmed at the sight of your smiling face.

God, what he would do to have this with you forever.

Spencer is well aware that likes you.

Hell, even the rest of team knows it by now, but he's starting to fear that his unconscious mind is more aware of that than his conscious one.

Case and point, he had been having dreams.

Nightmares, actually.

Nightmares that he can't help but think will happen if he takes his eyes off of you for even a second.

Morgan had asked him earlier when he was making coffee if something was causing him to lose sleep. If you had been causing him to lose sleep, he had asked with a teasing smirk.

And while normally he would've flushed and stumbled at his implication that a night of you had been keeping him up, he admits to what's been plaguing his mind.

Naturally, he doesn't tell him the full nature of his night terrors. But his friend doesn't need him to. Not with the way that his eyes try to find yours every chance he gets, focus going in and out of the conversation like an adjusting lens.

Spencer fears that one day, no matter how strong or smart or clever you are, it's his negligence that'll place you on the receiving end of a killer's weapon.

And that there's nothing that he can do to stop them from landing the finishing blow.

He knows that it's not rational, but he also knows that dreams are rarely, if not never, rational. Studies show that around seventy to eighty-percent of dreams contain bizarre or irrational elements. This included unusual settings, impossible scenarios, and illogical developments to be featured in the unconscious brain.

Doesn't mean that he's alright with seeing it so often, though.

What's worse is that he knows that it can very much happen during the BAU cases. And that he can't even prepare himself for that scenario.

He's practically deadweight on the field with his still erratic aim and bambi legs, he's surprised you aren't sick of him yet.

He laughs a bit at the thought. Clutching a portion of his scarf—the only thing that has been keeping the nightmares at bay— as he promises himself that he won't leave your side.

Especially not in the confounding forest of McAllister, Virginia.

Which is why he's stuck in his current position.

“Dr. Reid, I need you to check back downhill and see if the deputies have returned.” He looks at you incredulously.

“What? No! I can’t leave you here– ”

He doesn't know what exactly you found in the abandoned house, but he knew that it wasn't wise to leave you with no one but a high schooler.

You might think he's not all that different from the kid, but he's at least trained to be an FBI agent.

“We need the rest of the sheriffs and the crime scene team here.”

You looked dead into his eyes, yet he still didn't relent. No matter how reasonable your request was.

In any other situation, he might've thought you were cool. That you were handling the situation like a natural, and that you were very responsible for taking charge when he was there with his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

But he didn't want to leave you. Not when you looked like you've just seen a ghost.

He grasped your shoulders, firmly but gently, and practically begged for you to come with him.

Stating that what you were feeling was a completely normal physiological response. That your body was sending neropinephrine to your brain to help regulate the stress and compensate for whatever was happening inside of you and that it would be safer to stay together––

But when he sees you ice him out– concealing all remaining traces of shock or fear or worry– he freezes.

His eyes raked across your features, biding his time. Committing every micro-reaction, every hair out of place, every faux-calm movement of your eyes before he had to let you go with a nod. Leaving hurriedly to find anyone that can help and constantly looking back at you to assure his consciousness that you were fine, and that you would be fine.

When he saw that the other sheriff wasn't there yet, much less anyone for that matter, he immediately went back. Running uphill fast to get to you.

To make sure that you were alright, that you were alive, and that no one was coming to hurt you.

Which is how he found himself here.

Gun held to his head by the very high schooler that, he thought, wouldn't have been of help if another dangerous person had shown up.

When you raised your hands and dropped your gun in surrender, he was scared of what would happen to you both if he didn't act quick.

But he was even more scared of what could happen to you if he doesn't talk his way out.

Fast.

So that's what he did.

––––––––––

He didn't get to check on you, he realizes.

He knew you were able to knock the kid out, he was there when he helped you distract him, but he must’ve been wheezing because he was the first one to get ushered out and checked on.

He wants to tell them to check on you. That you had landed pretty badly when the unsub was able to push you back, but he can hardly even hear his own thoughts.

The siren of the police car, the medic talking to him, the rest of the team discussing the case's outcome, and his own heart in his ears were simply too much for him.

By the time that things had settled down, he notices that you still aren't there with him. He worries and whips his head around wildly before his eyes find yours already looking at him.

Doing so with an expression of regret or grief etched onto your face.

He sighs in relief, and gives you the best smile he can give to assure you that he's okay despite having been worried sick.

He needed you to know that he was fine. That it wasn’t your fault. That he was glad you're okay too.

That he was so impressed with what you had done despite the circumstances, and that you had handled the situation way better than he knew anyone on the team ever could.

So when you seem to turn away from him, he briefly wonders if something was actually wrong.

He tries to look back on what might've happened. Wonders if there's something he didn't see when he came back, or when he was away––

And that's when he realizes something.

Could he have put you in more danger when he came back to check on you? That he had accidentally sabotaged your takedown?

He sighs. He must've looked so pathetic in front of you getting grabbed like that–– but he's not sorry.

He had been doing that for your safety and for his own peace of mind–– he wasn't going to apologize for caring about you.

He'll make it up to you somehow.

The next time you go on another case together, which you two inevitably will, he'll make it up to you.

That, he promises.

He actually doesn't get to work with you again. So he decides that he can make it up to you by narrowing down the unsub's identity.

In fact, he hasn't seen you at all since the team first arrived at the crime scene.

You had been working with Hotch and Morgan on more field operations, leaving him with Elle and Penelope doing background checks on possible suspects. And while he wasn't with you, he'd like to think that he's still enjoying the company.

Well, that's what he would like to think.

He has no problems working with Elle. She was a nice colleague that seemed to occasionally humor his rants and got the job done quickly. And Penelope was someone that the both of you really got along with. Occasionally having this back and forth unique to the three of you.

But they weren't you.

Still. What he thought about you can wait later. He still has to think about his escape route if the two break out into a fight.

Right now, the three of them had staked out one Michael Russo who they anticipated would call his hitman, the suspected Unsub. They were hoping to get a name from what they could pick up from his end of the call, and they did.

Problem was,

"Russo's got eleven associates named Vincent." Spencer raised his brows at that.

Vincent is a name of Latin origins. He shouldn't be surprised that the mob had a handful of people with that name, but it was kind of too on the nose at this point.

"Oh, make that ten. Vincent Cellito died last summer. But here's something––Vincent Sartori."

He really wants to find this guy, so he chooses to keep looking through the list. Ignoring the growing tension between the two girls.

"Currently doing six at Dannemora for racketeering."

Spencer then speaks up again, "How about this Perotta? There's not much on him."

Garcia makes quick work to pull up what seemed to be deleted records and that's where they find something interesting.

"Alcohol addiction at 14, violent outbursts, assaults,–– Once threw a Molotov cocktail at someone sitting in their car." She can't believe what she's reading.

"Several notations for aggression," He adds, but this is where he sees something truly wrong.

"He once scheduled a visit to an infirmary to gain access to a–– boy who looked at him for too long?"

He really didn't want to meet this guy.

"No fear, no remorse, quick temper. And he was smart enough to stay off the radar as an adult," Elle interprets. "Paranoid personality. Could be our guy."

And he really didn't want you to meet him either.

All the evidence is stacking up against him though, so you just might have to. He just wished that nothing bad would happen when you did.

––––––––––

While right now they weren't sure if he was the unsub, he was definitely someone who fit their profile. He saw some LEO's bring in a guy who had essentially been cuffed at every limb, accompanied by Hotch and Gideon, but he had yet to see the others.

He sees Morgan, who is walking alongside Elle (she went to see what all the commotion was about) but with who he sees next, he feels his stomach drop. Heart rate spiking in contrast to an all time high that he's practically sure he has tachycardia.

"What happened to you!?"

He got up from his seat to run over but you just shake your head.

You had come back with your clothes and hair in disarray, a bleeding nose, and a a busted lip. A complete disparity to the normally clean-cut and professional look that you had strived to maintain.

Even when you had been tackled to the ground a few cases back, the damage wasn't nearly as bad as this.

It's Derek that answers his question for him though.

"Perotta hit your girl up in the head, Reid." He chooses to ignore the joke. Too worried as he tries to check on your head but you just softly squeeze his hands to reassure him before you push them away.

Still not looking at him as you finally speak.

"It wasn't that bad. He hesitated. It could've been worse."

He doesn't like your answer.

If you had just been hit in the head and yet your nose is bleeding, that was a clear sign of a concussion. And the cut on your lip had to be from a fall. On asphalt or onto another material, it didn't matter to him since both are just as bad.

As he expresses that, you just tell him to drop it and then move away from him.

Before he can say more however, Hotch comes back into the room with his usually stern expression. A bit of worry lacing his tone, Spencer notes, as he orders you.

"Go home."

He's staring you down, but it seemed you had a lot more to say to that.

"Sir Hotchner, I would be of much more use in here. It is imperative that all available resources are focused on the retrieval of James Baker." He sighs because you're right, but that doesn't seem enough to satisfy you.

The boy-genius hates it when you use reason to get your way.

"Fine. Help Reid and the others with the evidence. We can narrow down his area of operation from there. They should be arriving soon."

You shake your head adamantly. "Sir, I can handle the interrogation--"

"No you can't!"

Spencer surprises himself with his outburst, but you don't even turn to look at him.

It's Hotch that gives him a very pointed stare though before continuing,

"Reid is right, agent. We'll handle the interrogation, so please busy yourself here." He says it with a finality that is indicative of his departure but you stop him one last time. Hand going up to rest on your mentor's collar.

He sees you gesture to your own, and Spencer hears an intention in your voice that he can't quite understand.

"Let's not give him a weapon, sir. He's pretty strong."

He sees his boss nod, and he takes off his tie. Putting the cloth into your awaiting hand, and you grip it out of instinct.

Reid zones out as he sees this interaction in disbelief. Did you normally touch the others like this?

You had completely brushed off his concern, not even looking at him. And yet when it was your unit chief that told you to do so, you had simply followed?

He thought he was starting to become an exception to you, but had he been reading the signs wrong? It could very much be a possibility as he was never good at doing so.

Even later when he had been sifting through the bags from the suspect's van, you still didn't respond to him. Even going as far as to ignoring Penelope's offer to watch the tapes they had found in Perotta's van. Shaking your head, 'no' with a faraway look in your eyes.

Just what had exactly happened while he wasn't by your side?

At this point, Spencer’s convinced that you would never like him.

If not for you having eyes on literally anyone else but him, then definitely because he had disappointed you. Desecrated the honor that came with being an FBI agent.

Just because he had been distracted.

A whirlwind of emotions had been flurrying inside him since the very beginning of this case, but he swears that he had never meant for this.

He doesn't even remember how it happened. Which baffled him, given his memory. But he thinks it's because he couldn't have cared less about the past few hours.

He had been stuck babysitting Lila only because you had told him so. Entrusted him with her because you thought that he was the best person to guard her, to comfort her.

He didn’t know it was because you had a feeling he’d be safer by her side.

And some part of him was flattered that you had said all this about him. Especially when all Lila would hear from him were endless praises of your name, of your work, and your caring nature.

But another part of him felt ignored. Pushed aside.

He doesn't know when it had happened, but Hotch had stopped pairing you together some cases ago. Saying something about you needing physical training, though he sincerely doubted that.

He thought that things were going well between you two. He had just been trying to find the perfect window where you would see him in a good enough light.

A good enough light that would make you say 'yes' to going on a date with him.

He didn't even care that the pretty blonde was interested in him. He only agreed because you stressed her safety more than any other target thus far. But the attention that she was giving him?

That was all that he wanted from you.

All he'd been wanting for months.

And when he had kissed her, all he could think about was you. How it would've felt if it was you in his arms, how you would react if it had been you that he was touching.

But then immediately after, how you would react to him kissing another girl.

God, he was pathetic.

He knew that you had been having a hard time lately. And he also knew that it had a lot to do with your work, how he did his, and his safety. That was all you ever stressed about when you were with him.

If he was safe.

You'd think he'd learn that by now, but he hasn't. Which is why even when he knew all this, his heart still ached as he sees you cry into Morgan's arms. Sobbing like no tomorrow. All because of something he did.

All because he took all your hard work, that had been focused on keeping him alive, and essentially throwing it right back at your face.

His negligence did that.

And he supposes that now, he can't do anything to get into your good graces anymore. Not when Derek Morgan seemed to better at doing his job as a federal agent, and his job as your friend.

When he finally gets changed into dry clothes and enters Lila's house, he doesn't miss the way that you turn from him. He also doesn't miss the glare the other agent was giving him. Nor the careful hand that had been rubbing up and down your arm.

Something that he wished he could've been doing instead.

––––––––––

God, he wanted to be anywhere but here, considering this is where it all went downhill.

"Did you give Lila Archer a collage?" Gideon had started the interrogation, so even if he did want to leave, he couldn't.

"What?"

"There's a photographic collage above Lila Archer's sofa. She says you gave it to her."

But the faster that they could get this done, the faster he could apologize to you.

"So? I didn't make the damn thing." Parker had laughed out, clearly not comprehending the severity of the situation.

"So you just happened to give her a work of art containing most of her life in it?" Spencer pushed but was surprised to see his ex-classmate seemingly have no recollection of the situation at all.

Something was wrong.

If it wasn't him, then who––?

"I––no, no. Look, I lied. I just wanted her to like me. I met her here, and she was a fan of art. Someone gave me the piece to give to her, but I told her it was from me."

It can't be––

"I said I found it, and I thought she'd love it."

"And who gave it to you?" Morgan had finally asked.

"Her name's Maggie Lowe. She uh––She works on Lila's show."

When Spencer hears this, he immediately goes to call you on his phone. Maggie Lowe had gone to Juilliard with Lila and was the production assistant that he swore he saw go in and out of her trailer.

If he wasn't so distracted, he would've fucking noticed that.

But his phone doesn't even ring for a few moments before the call is declined.

What the fuck was happening?

Before he could ask anyone else, he heard Derek speak up.

“Sweet girl, listen to me. We have a name, and it’s ‘Maggie Lowe.’ We’re on our wa—" Spencer tries to talk to you through Morgan's phone, but is knocked off balance when the man turns around in shock.

"Christ man—we're on our way back over there, okay? Stay put and we’ll let Hotch and JJ know.”

"Let me talk to her!" He practically begs, but before anyone could even understand what he was saying, the call is ended from your side.

"Reid, what the hell were you trying to do?"

He's shocked at his own actions too, but that's not what's on his mind right now.

"She dropped my call but she answered yours? And since when did you start calling her that?"

He knew it wasn't fair, especially after what he had done, but just when did you and him happen?

"Since you started being a dumbass. Get over yourself, kid."

Everyone then started making their way to the two SUV's parked outside, but Spencer took the one that Morgan was driving.

He wasn't done with this conversation.

He tries to call you again, but this time, it looks like the line is busy. What was going on, where were you? He tries Lila's phone, even though he's sure she won't pick up and nothing either.

He has half a mind to ask Morgan to call you, in case you were just being petty and ignoring him, but he feels his phone vibrate. He suddenly hears his phone ring, and he hurriedly answers without checking the caller ID.

Hoping that it would be you on the other hand as he called out your name.

"Nope, sorry hon, it's me." It was Garcia's voice, but it sounded like she was shaking. Sensing the urgency in her voice, he instinctively puts his phone on speaker.

"Reid, I need you to listen to me very carefully— I've already alerted officials in the area, but your unsub? Is in Lila Archer's house."

You can't keep doing this, he thinks. You can't keep scaring him like this, because he's starting to feel so sick.

He looks to his friend in the driver's seat and sees him nod when they make eye contact. Speeding up as they thank Penelope before she ended the call.

At this point, he could care less with how pathetic he might've looked. No longer caring about how uncool you thought he was, or whatever might've been going on between you and Morgan, or if you still had a crush on your boss— none of that.

They had left you behind with Lila and no one else.

Spencer had always feared that one day, no matter how strong or smart or clever you are, it's his negligence that'll place you on the receiving end of a killer's weapon. And that there's nothing that he can do to stop them from landing the finishing blow.

If the reason you were alone and held captive by some psychotic shooter was because he had pissed you off enough to even dismiss his help?

He might never forgive himself for it.

When they arrive, he immediately gets out of the car. Ready to run in and ambush Maggie by himself if he has to when Lila runs into his arms. Holding a gun in her hand as if it were a bomb.

A Glock 19 that he's seen you use since his first official cases on the team.

He notices Morgan, Elle, and Gideon were already out, but Hotch and JJ have still yet to arrive.

He knows that he should wait until further instructions. That there wasn't a protocol for this specific situation. Or maybe there was, but his IQ of 187 had always been slashed down to 60 whenever you were involved.

When he hears a gun fire from inside the house, he's the first one that starts running.

He's thankful that he wasn't alone when he did though.

By the time that Maggie had been apprehended, you were already well on your way to the nearest hospital. According to the clock from inside your room, and the news report that had been playing, a full twelve hours at the very least had passed since then.

You tried to remember what had happened. Tried to remember how you screamed for help once you had subdued her. How she shot you when you tackled her.

Probably with the intention to kill you, then herself had you not talked her out of it.

You groan as you feel the blooming pain in your side. Probably from the GSW that you're going to have to note in your action report.

And then you remembered how you realized what you felt for Spencer and the rest of the team.

You shake your head despondently.

When you look back on every situation where you had essentially put yourself on the line for his sake, you notice that you had really been doing that out of your own volition.

That you had been doing it because you didn't want him getting hurt.

You just didn't like that the the team was turning it into some sort of responsibility.

And sure. Maybe the others were complicit in pairing you up, or guilty for giving you odd looks, but they probably wouldn't have done that if it wasn't something you were already going to do.

God, you felt so pathetic.

You don't think you can handle looking at Spencer now. Not after your existential crisis, and certainly not after what you said before he left.

But luck has a way, so it seems, to constantly elude you.

You note this as you see the very man that you had been thinking of slowly opening the door and perking up when he sees your eyes on him.

Well, as perked up as he could be. Given the circumstances.

"How uh—, How are you? A-Are you...okay?"

You take in how he looks when he asks. Dark rings encircling his eyes, (he had been up all night waiting for you), usually neat hair in a mess (he had been running his hands through them nonstop), and shirt all crumpled from being hunched over for so long (a different one, because he just couldn't stand the vague scent on chlorine in his old one.)

Your heart sinks at the sight and you beckon him closer with your strong hand. Echoing his question.

"Are you okay, Dr. Reid?"

He lets out a shaky breath when he finally hears your soft voice again, slowly approaching you as he does. He was so worried that the last words he would hear from you would be your disappointment, but he persists.

"Can you please answer the question? I don't like it when you pretend like you're okay when you're obviously not."

His hand finds its way to trace little patterns on the back of yours. Occasionally looking up at to see if he was hurting you, before continuing when he sees that he isn't. Feeling too shy to do anything more.

You roll your eyes at the gesture. Flipping his hand to rest on the hospital bed and slipping yours on top of his. Giving it a soft squeeze.

"I could be better." You then squeeze his hand again. "Is this what you were trying to do?"

He thinks for a while, as if not really understanding your question, before nodding vigorously.

You smile at the sight but then feel your regret from a few hours ago come rushing back.

"I'm really sorry. For...everything." You don't think he knows what you're apologizing for, but you do it anyway.

If not now, when?

Spencer laughs a little at that but shakes his head. "Morgan told me about what you said. Back at Lila's. Well, more like he told everyone while we were waiting for you to wake up."

You nod. Suddenly feeling guilty for trying to make contact so you try to let go, but he only entangles your fingers once more. Intertwining them as much as he can since this is the closest that he can afford to have you right now.

He feels his lips tightening into a thin smile before he says what's been haunting him for the past few hours.

"I'm sorry that you had to deal with me for so long. I never meant to burden you like that or make your job harder."

"No, Spencer please," you start, rubbing the only part of his hand that you could reach with your thumb.

"You were never a burden. I was just—caught up in a bunch of things."

He doesn't miss how your usual eloquence evades you. Which gives him a bit of an idea as to how unscripted and vulnerable you were being with him right now.

And as much as he should hate this for you, he'd love it if you would learn to be a bit more vulnerable in front of him. Even if it was a departure from your usually starched blazers, pressed blouses, and clean-cut exterior.

He still thought you were cool just like this.

"Have I ever told you that I thought you were really cool?" You weakly snort at that.

"If by 'cool,' you mean constantly worrying about how everything could go wrong, then yeah. I'm super cool."

He shakes his head at that, but it looked like you weren't done.

"I think you looked cooler, though. Especially when you were next to the pool trying to dry your gun. You looked like a wet rat."

He groans at the mention but you continue to tease him.

"Hey, you were a handsome wet rat. Still a rat, but... you know. From Vegas. Arguably not as bad as the ones from New York. Now though, you're a handsome dry rat."

Now that, he just wines at. You weren't being fair.

How could you make him go through all this and then say that?

Did you know what kind of effect you have on him?

The two of you continue to sling back jokes at the other, a common thing you used to do before things went south. And just enjoying each other's presence.

Holding his hand as you absentmindedly started massaging it. He didn't even notice how his hand had been shaking since the moment you first held onto it.

He was so so glad you were alive. That you were still here, with him. And there's no place he would rather be than where you were.

"So. How about you start telling me what you've been up to while I've been knocked out, hm? What have you learned, genius?"

He's learned a quite a lot, while you were away.

He learned that he should probably encourage you to have more breaks. Learned that you should both talk to each other, and everyone, a bit more. And he learned that you two weren't so different after all.

He's also learned how much he really liked your smile, your laugh, your soft touch, and the way that his name fell from your lips.

He doesn't tell you any of this, however.

Opting to instead tell you about the numerous facts he's picked up during the case, and how much he hated Hollywood.

[a/n] And with that, this marks the end of this specific timeline! I've honestly loved writing with this reader's specific personality in mind, and I'm looking forward to how she'll mellow out when she learns to be more honest.

I have a few ideas for one shots regarding this specific dynamic, but if you enjoyed it as much as I did, please tell me what you thought about this short series! And if you have any idea on what you'd like to see next from these dumbasses, send an ask my way!

Thank you so much for liking them thus far.

Like my work? Consider tipping me!!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x mentored by hotch! reader #dr. spencer reid #criminal minds imagine

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daistea · 7 months ago

Note

Thank you for the food the fic was so nice! Your latest Mithrun fic made me think of the scenario more. Imagine Kabru, someone aware of elven culture, heard of us doing this the first time we did it from a friend who overheard it. He tries to find us to worn and educate just to find out it was too late and defeatedly explain to the other elves that tallman don't have that culture just to clear us. Aftermath of it is so hilarious. Also an alternative scenario for this setting I can think of is a random elf accepting our offer, or just someone who doesn't know about Mithrun feelings towards us, like Flamela and just exploit us and Mithrun later learning about it.

I love this prompt so much, thank u

2500 words!

tw mild nsfw implications

Mithrun x Tall-man reader

sequel to this

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Kabru scoffed at the notion that secrets and rumors were like feathers on the wind, uncatchable. He was great at catching feathers. He used them to stuff his pillow which he slept so soundly on at night. Rumors were wild dogs, but he had a leash and collar. He’d tamed beasts with bigger teeth.

(That was, of course, a metaphor, as Kabru could not literally handle things with big teeth, as exemplified from his time in the dungeon.)

A particular sort of secret reached his ears in the empty hallway of the castle. It was the kind of secret that raised hairs and inspired mortification, which were the best kind. Usually.

“Yeah, they asked to touch my ears,” Pattadol’s muffled voice was strained, tinged with embarrassment that Kabru could detect even through the door.

“Mine too,” Flamela drawled. A pause followed her words, then she continued, “Pervert.”

The two elves then moved onto a different subject consisting of Pattadol’s worries for diplomacy and Flamela’s dismissals of such worries. Kabru listened for a moment more before silently moving away. He stalked down the hallway with dark clouds rolling in within his mind.

You had asked Pattadol and Flamela if you could touch their ears.

Kabru put his hand to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. He leaned against the wall, beneath a portrait of some old ruler from thousands of years ago. There was still so much dust in the castle, but the thickness in his chest wasn’t from allergies. You were his friend, and so innocent, so curious. You couldn’t have known the implications of touching an elf’s ear.

He had to speak to you immediately.

“Yeah, I figured that out.”

Kabru forced a smile and tilted his head. He was aware of how wide his eyes were, how he probably wasn’t doing a good job at hiding his shock and horror. He couldn’t bring himself to care at that moment as he watched you casually take a sip of your tea.

“You figured it out?” He asked. Kabru wasn’t sure whether to be mortified or proud.

“Oh yeah,” you slowly nodded as a triumphant smile rolled across your lips. When you opened your eyes to return his gaze, there was a spark within them that did not bode well. “I figured a lot of things out, actually.”

He took a moment to study your expression. The half-lidded quality of your eyes, the slight pink upon your cheek, the tilt of your chin; realization hit him like one of Marcille’s explosion spells.

“You got laid.”

You nodded proudly, “I got laid.”

“...Mithrun?”

“Yeah,” there was triumph in your voice.

Kabru tried his best to control his irritation. You were so casual about it, he could’ve throttled you. How unromantic, asking the man who was entirely too smitten with you: ‘can I touch one of the most sensitive parts of your body?’ And the audacity, the horror, of that actually working.

It was personally offensive to Kabru. He’d spent years building up his talent for wordplay and charm. Then, here you are, harassing poor elves. And what are the consequences of your curiosity and ignorance? Hot sex and a beautiful elf boyfriend.

Unfair.

There were other consequences, though. The thought of Flamela referring to you as a pervert was enough to cool the boiling in his blood.

“Okay, I’m going to help you,” he sent you a smile.

“I don’t think we need help,” you grimaced, “we both know what to do. But thanks.”

“I– I don’t mean with Mithrun. I mean in general. I’ll help you recover your reputation with the elves of Melini.”

You tilted your head, “My reputation? What do you mean?”

“Well, I heard Flamela call you a pervert earlier.”

“Oh,” taken aback, you sat up straight in your chair, hands tightening around your mug, “Honestly, I forgot I even asked Flamela.”

The feeling in Kabru’s chest could only be described as the slow decay of his soul. “Well, she remembers quite well.”

Another grimace, “Oops. It’s no big deal, though, I’m sure they all understand that I just didn’t know the implications of it.”

Your optimism was so cute.

“I’ll take care of it,” he took your hand and smiled, “don’t you worry.”

Kabru was used to elves. He’d grown up in the Northern Central Continent where elves were the dominant percentage of the population. Even in Utaya, elven culture strongly influenced daily life, architecture, and manners. His own adoptive mother was an elf.

Still, his experience did not negate the particular brand of nervousness that came from having nearly ten elves staring at him.

There was the first squad of the Canaries, Flamela– who was only visiting for the week– Fionil, and Marcille. All of them were absurdly pretty, confused, and pinning him to the wall with their unsettling stares. Flamela and Mithrun, at least, had the decency to look irritated at the interruption to their day.

Kabru forced his lead tongue to work, “Alright. You’re all probably wondering why I’ve called this meeting. First of all, let’s start with this: Raise your hand if you’ve been personally victimized by [name]’s curiosity concerning your ears.”

Everybody besides Fionil and Marcille raised their hands.

“Okay,” Kabru sent the two half elves a reassuring smile, “you two are free to go. Thanks for coming.”

“Are my ears not good enough?” Marcille muttered as she and Fionil left the empty noodle shop.

Mithrun had very generously given Kabru permission to hold the meeting in his noodle shop before the dinner rush. It was of humble size, but clean and quiet with the smooth scent of broth clinging to the walls and chairs. Kabru had a feeling that Mithrun only lent him the space out of curiosity after he’d mentioned that the meeting had to do with you, his partner.

Silent anticipation settled over the small group. Most of them were taut, seconds away from leaving if he said the wrong thing.

Kabru cleared his throat, “Alright. So, I just want to settle something. [Name] is not a pervert.”

There were those eyes again. They were like six lances ripping through his skin and affixing him to the wall.

“What?” Otta asked.

“They’re not a pervert,” he repeated as he raised his hands, “they’re just really curious and didn’t know any better. So, please, don’t judge them too harshly.”

Another beat of silence followed the plea. His gaze shifted to Mithrun, who was watching him carefully with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs stretched out in front of him. As their eyes met, Mithrun simply held the gaze, his face as blank as fresh parchment.

Kabru set aside the building urge to dissect Mithrun’s brain and instead focused on the rest of the group. “They really didn’t know any better,” he continued despite the rising murmurs among the group, “please forgive them. Tall-man culture is a lot different from yours.”

That seemed to please the elves. Collective negativity was always far more satisfying, he knew.

“Savages,” Cithis huffed.

“Idiots,” Flamela agreed.

Otta had the decency to argue, “They’re just innocent and ignorant. And it’s not like elven society openly discusses those kinds of things.”

True. Elven culture was confusing. Wearing revealing clothes and showing a lot of skin was normal for them, nothing to give a second glance to, though the subject of sex and arousal was deemed inappropriate. One was expected to maintain their dignity, wear a mask depicting perfection, and bring honor to their family. The nobility were commonly quite repressed, though commoners had a tendency to loosen their tongues among friends. Still, sexual education was not taught well, or often, despite their dwindling population. It seemed a bit counterproductive to Kabru, but he understood their reasoning and how centuries of superiority complexes brought them to that point.

“Did nobody actually tell them what it meant?” Pattadol asked.

Lycion sent her a raised brow, “Did you?”

“Well, no, but…”

“I did,” Mithrun interrupted. Every eye went to him, though he kept his gaze straight ahead and his arms crossed. He let a moment of silence pass before he continued, ��They won’t be asking to touch anybody’s ears again.”

Flamela made a face, “So, did they touch your ears?”

“Yeah.”

He said it so casually, unbothered by the surprise and amusement of the other Canaries. Fleki leaned forward to clap a hand on his shoulder, which earned a little frown from him.

“Did you get laid, Captain?” Fleki asked, her grin toothy and stinking of mischief.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t need to know that!” Pattadol screeched, “You don’t have to answer every question honestly, you know! You’re allowed to keep secrets!”

“I know,” Mithrun shrugged.

He just didn’t want to keep that particular secret, Kabru knew. Mithrun would much rather that everybody recognize his stake, his claim, his flag buried at the top of the mountain he’d just climbed. It was easier that way.

Flamela, though, was Flamela.

She stood up, her fists clenched. “I’ve got things to do. I can’t waste time with you guys anymore.”

The first squad ignored her departure and instead started asking Mithrun a myriad of invasive questions, much to Pattadol’s distress. Yet, Kabru kept his gaze on Flamela. There was a spark in her eyes, one he recognized. It betrayed her intentions. As one of Mithrun’s closest friends and certified nosy-guy, he couldn’t help but subtly follow her out and into the street.

“Excuse me,” he said once the door shut behind him. A few feet away, Flamela stopped mid-step and whirled around with a glare.

“What?” She hissed.

“You’re going to do something you’ll regret, aren’t you?” Kabru sent her a look he hoped she’d recognize as concern. It was definitely concern, because anybody that planned to mess with you deserved that.

“I won’t regret it,” Flamela rolled her eyes, “I just… don’t understand why [name] would want to touch the Captain’s ears and not mine. Mine are longer and softer.”

“Are you really offended over this? Didn’t you tell them no already?”

“I’ve changed my mind!” She snapped.

“Are you just trying to get back at Mithrun for charging you full price for a bowl of noodles?”

She froze. Her mouth was open, shaped in a scowl. Her shoulders rose like the hackles of a cat. Despite the flicker of satisfaction that Kabru felt at having hit the mark, the hair on his arms stood to attention. He was seconds away from being tackled.

Fortunately, he side-stepped right as Flamela attacked.

Now on all fours on the dirt street, Flamela glared at him over her shoulder, “He should’ve given me a discount!”

“He isn’t obliged to.”

“He is!” She stood up and dusted off her uniform, “[Name] should want to feel my ears, they’re better.”

Kabru put his hands on his hips, “You’re just being competitive.”

“Shut up,” she hissed before brushing past him and stomping down the street.

Kabru glanced to the left just in time to see a glimpse of dark eyes staring out through a crack in the blinds. Judging by their black color and uneven manner, it was obviously Mithrun peeking at his conversation with Flamela. He made eye contact with the captain for a second before Mithrun narrowed his gaze dangerously and let go of the blinds. They snapped back into place, but Kabru couldn’t quite return to his natural state like that, not with the black-eyed storm brewing.

Flamela found you on the street. It wasn’t the best place for ear-rubbing, but her mind was on one track and she ardently refused to veer.

“I’ve reconsidered,” she said. There was no greeting or smile or easing in of the conversation.

You stopped mid-step and stared at her. “...Reconsidered what?”

“About you touching my ears.”

Did you ask to touch her ears? The memory wasn’t popping up for you. Yet, now that you knew what that actually meant to elves, you felt appropriately horrified by the statement. You were on a crowded street. If any passersby had a clue as to what Flamela said, they showed no indication. The elf population in Melini was small. The implications of ear touching most likely flew over their heads as it once did for you.

You managed a smile that you hoped was polite, that you hoped didn’t betray your embarrassment. “That’s okay, thanks.”

Flamela narrowed her eyes, “Why not? My ears are softer and longer than Mithrun’s. If you’re going to touch an elf’s ears, I would think you’d want the full experience.”

“I, uh, I got a pretty full experience with Mithrun. But thanks,” you offered another smile. Something about the way Flamela frowned hinted at deeper motives. You just had to ask, “Is this because Mithrun didn’t give you a discount on a bowl of noodles?”

She scoffed, “No!”

It was definitely about that.

As you prepared an explanation of your loyalties to Mithrun and his decision to not give her a discount, a flicker of mana filled the air, pricking at your skin. You knew that particular brand of magic. Your heart dropped into your stomach as the spot behind Flamela shifted like the surface of disturbed water. Half a second later, Mithrun appeared.

You felt yourself tense. Flamela was on a rant about discounts. Mithrun’s gaze was calm, too calm, dangerously calm. The only sign of his anger was the feral look in his good eye. In the past, Mithrun wouldn’t have cared about Flamela offering her ears to random tall-men. He would have resisted any urges to teleport her into walls simply because it would get him kicked out of the Canaries. But the demon was gone, his purposes for living were different. You were one of those purposes, one of those desires, and he was so one track minded that he would do anything to hang onto that.

He raised a hand. Flamela tensed as if sensing the danger. Nearby, Kabru pushed through the crowd, panicked.

“No!” You lunged at your partner before he could teleport the Vice-Captain to a place where she’d never get noodles again, let alone discounted ones.

Your body weight crashed onto him. His eye widened and Kabru gasped. Like a felled tree, you and Mithrun both fell to the ground. Flamela said something you didn’t quite comprehend, but it didn’t matter at the moment.

You laid on Mithrun. He laid on the ground. He put one hand on your back and chose to stare at the blue sky above rather than fight your will. The passersby sent the scene curious glances but wisely stayed away, giving you and Mithrun a wide berth.

A shadow cast over your bodies and you looked up to see Flamela blocking the sun. She only glared, hands on her hips.

“I want a discount,” she said.

You felt Mithrun grunt beneath you. Another beat of silence passed before he answered, “Fine. Just stay away from [name].”

“Deal.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

#asks #mithrun #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #mithrun x reader #mithrun of the house of kerensil #dunmeshi #dungeon meshi x reader #x reader #reader insert

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fioiswriting · 1 year ago

Text

Reunion | Sequel

[Part 1]

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral f receiving, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, anxiety, Reader has a child, grief, fluff, pregnancy, not proofread.

Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course <3

Words count : 9150

Author's note : Hello everyone!! Sorry for the wait, I've been very busy, but here's part two of Reunion (or at least the first part two, let's call it part 2.1 hehe). Thank you again for all you kind comments and the love you've given my fanfic omg!! Spoiler alert: this is the happy alternate ending! But I've got another bittersweet alternative ending planned 😈 If you think the first part was good enough on its own and the sequel may break the vibe, don't force yourself to read!! But if you need a happy ending, here it is <3 The plot still doesn't make any sense, but hey, we're here to have fun so enjoy ❤️

English is still not my first (or second) language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes <3

When you wake up, the first thing you feel is the reassuring embrace of his arms around you. You don't want to move, not even when the sunlight tickles your face through the opening between the wooden shutters, trying to make the moment last endlessly. But the growing anxiety in your stomach chases away the illusion of your fleeting happiness.

You close your eyes a little tighter. Perhaps if you try again, perhaps if you try harder, the world around you can fade away.

Perhaps you can wake up again, in a different reality.

But it's inevitable. You know that now you're awake, it's only a matter of time before the two of you have to say goodbye forever. Your breathing becomes heavier, and you have to fight the tingling sensation at the corners of your eyes.

Why have the gods decided to be so cruel to you? They grant you one last taste of his skin on your lips before taking it from you, again.

Haven't you given enough?

Could they not show you mercy?

You who had forgotten him, you who had begun to turn a new page, to seek comfort in the arms of the cold, far away from the fire and the ashes, why did you have to touch the poison that would once again stain your soul?

Behind you, Aemond buries his long nose in your hair. His hand absently caresses the skin of your thigh, just where the edge of the linen tunic you put on sometime during the night when you were cold ends. The fabric is pulled up, revealing the outline of your bottom, and you can already feel your uncle hardening between his thighs, but you don't move.

If you move, you'll make everything more real. Tangible.

You'll speed up the process of losing him, of him slipping through your fingers.

How can you let him go, now that your heart is full again, now that you feel complete in a way you haven't felt for over three years?

How can you let him go, now that your body has retrieve the extension of itself in the arms of the man who was the cause of your torment, your moments of joy, your pain and, paradoxically, your happiness?

"I know you're awake."

You hold your breath and Aemond inhales into your hair. His hand moves down the inside of your thigh, along the hollow that joins it to your groin. He doesn't venture any further.

His thumb rests there and brushes your skin, trying to arouse the desire in you with gentleness.

Subtly.

He doesn't want to hurry, he doesn't want to rush you.

Not when he's been harbouring the impossible fantasy of waking up with you in his arms since the day he nearly died.

He presses harder against you, as if he doesn't want to let you go, as if he wants to be one with you again, and you feel him pulsing against your buttocks, under the linen cloth that has been pulled up a little higher. He says nothing, but he is pleading, needy, in his gestures, which is rare for him.

Something has changed, after all, and perhaps something has changed in him too.

"I am awake, indeed, " you whisper in a voice that is still half asleep. The lump in your throat betrays the feeling of anxiety gradually creeping into your body, and Aemond seems to notice. Under your tunic, his hand moves up along your belly until it nestles against your chest, close to your heart. His thumb draws small circles, once again trying to bring you back to him.

Trying to calm your mind.

"Let us forget for a little longer," he whispers, his clenched jaw resting over your head. "Please."

And you know he never begs.

Aemond takes and doesn't ask.

Aemond believes he is owed everything and never gives in return.

Hearing him beg breaks something inside you, because this is the first time he does so.

Usually it was you, it was always you, begging for peace, begging for more, begging him not to leave you.

Part of him is as desperate as you are; part of him also dreads the moment when you will have to part again. Forever. It's comforting to know that his feelings are sincere, just like yours.

" Make me forget, then." You reply, moving your lower loins back against him, giving him tacit permission to explore your body once more. His fingers move down to your breasts, which he covers softly with his hand, his thumb skimming over a nipple to make it hard. You let out a gasp between your parted lips.

His hand slides lower, his palm flat against your lower belly, his fingertips brushing the light patch of hair at the top of your mound. You feel the familiar warmth growing between your thighs, in your core.

He sighs against the back of your skull, his head tilted forward. His lips search the skin at the nape of your neck, behind the long hair that has become tangled during the night, while his fingers intimately explore the secrets of your body that he knows all too well. The remnants of last night's lovemaking still smear the insides of your thighs and folds, but it doesn't matter; his fingers easily find the little bundle of nerves that they tease until you close your eyes, until your hand grips the damp, shabby sheet that covers the ragged mattress in the inn where you've spent the night.

Just the both of you, in the comfort of anonymity.

"Let me taste you". His voice, still husky, tickles the back of your neck and you feel him shift behind you. When you feel the warmth of his bare chest, against which you're nestled, leave your back, your body automatically tries to move back against him. You still need him. You still need him to chase away the lump of anxiety in the pit of your stomach and the voices that keep reminding you that you're only postponing the fateful moment. Your hand slips under your white tunic and wraps around his wrist to force him to stay there, to hold his fingers against the source of heat spreading from your core. Your hips are demanding, grinding against his hand. "On your back," he insists, and stands up on his forearms.

With reluctance you turn over. You obey, lying on your back, your hair spilled around your head on the flat, uncomfortable pillow on which you slept badly. The white tunic that serves as your nightgown is pulled up, crumpled, just above your crotch, which it barely conceals.

Aemond has swung over your body, silvery strands loosening from the braid that holds his hair behind his head and sliding down his shoulders, falling in loose loops on either side of his face, tickling your cheeks.

His lilac-tinted blue eye glows with a predatory gaze, a ray of light catching in the sapphire he hasn't removed from his socket.

He captures your lips with his own, begging for access. Aemond marks your jaw and throat with light kisses, sucking at your collarbone to make the violets of possessiveness with which he likes to adorn your body bloom. His lips travel down your chest, playing with one of the two small nipples raised by the cool air and by desire, and continue their journey past your navel.

Your heartbeat quickens as he settles between your legs, spreading your thighs to admire the part of you he covets so eagerly. At the same time you bend your legs, your gaze falling on him, on his unravelled hair, on his eye that locks with yours. He is so close to you, so close to your warm centre, and you know that between your folds the sweet nectar that your uncle longs to taste is already flowing.

But his lips trace the inside of your thighs instead, where the skin is soft and tender, and gradually they reach the hollow that connects them to your most intimate part. He takes a malicious pleasure in building up the tension, in savouring every millimetre of you like a fine delicacy, with only the tip of his lips brushing against your skin.

His thumbs spread the tender flesh of your womanhood and then he places a chaste kiss on the very centre of you. His tongue is shy at first, tracing the slit that connects your entrance to your little knob, collecting the evidence of your desire.

As his tongue wraps around your nub, your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white.

Aemond drinks from your essence like a thirsty man, his nose buried between your folds, rubbing your pearl.

The tip of his tongue catches what drips from your opening, and then the flat of his tongue tastes your slit, working its way up to the little nub gorged with desire.

He maintains the same rhythm, revelling in the moans that escape from your half-open lips. Soon his middle finger begins to draw circles against your entrance, the first knuckle sliding inside, then the whole finger. Your head is thrown back and immediately your hand buries itself in his silvery hair, gripping his braid in a messy bun behind the top of his head. Forcing his face against the most intimate part of your body, forcing his lips to work on your wet warmth, you seek more contact.

Aemond adds a second finger. He can feel you tighten around him as he searches for that particular spot, as his tongue continues to play with your bundle of nerves.

As he devours what is his, utterly his.

His fingers, the ones that aren't buried inside you, close around the flesh of your hip in a possessive grip. "Come for me," he whispers against your womanhood, his eyes lifted to you. "I know you can do it."

Your breathing becomes more erratic, faster too. You tighten the grip of your fingers in his hair, your thighs pressing either side of his face, and he collects the sweet taste of your release on his tongue with a hum.

You feel like you're floating. The waves of warmth still wash over you, less and less intense, your breast rising and falling as you catch your breath.

Your hand tucks a lock of his hair back behind his ear as Aemond lifts his face towards you, and you rest your hand against his cheek. His parted lips still glisten with your desire smeared across the lower part of his face. He stares at you without moving, his deep, regular breathing the only sound to break the silence that has followed your release. You stay like that for a moment, his gaze burning into yours. At any moment he might pounce on you. At any moment he might close the tiny distance separating your mouths and press his lips against yours like the starving man he is.

It's you who makes the first move. You taste yourself on his lips and your tongue entwines with his in a fiery, demanding kiss.

Straightening up, Aemond creeps between your legs, his hand on the underside of your thighs, holding them apart. He is still completely naked from the night before, he has not bothered to get dressed after your lovemaking, so you can catch a glimpse of his erect manhood, slightly curved. He wraps his hand around to guide it towards your still sensitive wet entrance.

He slides into you easily, in one slow movement. The haste of the night before, the urgency of the reunion, has given way to the tenderness and laziness of the early morning, and Aemond rocks inside you slowly. His hips undulate, punctuated by long, deep thrusts, in an illusion of domesticity.

But the damp sheets, rough against your skin, the discomfort of the hard mattress beneath your back, remind you that your lovemaking is anything but domestic.

For Aemond is still the enemy, for Aemond is supposed to be dead.

For your family is probably looking for you at this very moment, worried that you have not returned home for the night.

But you push those thoughts away. The weight of your uncle's body on top of yours soothes the knot that forms in the pit of your stomach at the thought of time slipping away, at the thought of having to leave him again, at the thought of this being the last time you will taste his lips, his skin.

Aemond is gentle, and that is rare enough to be worth mentioning. He has never been so gentle, so soft, in the limited time that you have been married.

Between you, there had been the devouring, consuming passion, the power play that in your submission had granted you dominance.

Between you it had been raw and devastating more than gentle and tender.

His fingers run the length of your body to your core, combining his slow, deep thrusts with the movement of his fingers against your clit.

There are only few words exchanged between you, as if you were both afraid to break the grace of the moment.

His panting, noisy breath echoes in the silence, skimming the skin of your throat, then mingling with yours as the shadow of his lips brushes against yours. He rests his forehead against yours, your hand cupping his cheek, sliding behind his neck, and you are transported into a cocoon of intimacy where nothing else exists around you.

There is only his body against yours, warm and reassuring.

There is only him inside you and the slow movement of his hips.

There is only your breathing, blending in the space that separates your mouths.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" He whispers against your lips as you close your thighs around him. "How much I dreamed of this tight little cunt?" You swallow his words. Your hips meet his as he pushes against you. He is reaching deep inside you. Despite the intimacy of the moment, his body oozes power and darkness, and you can't help but be drawn to that side of him that complements yours so well.

You can't stop your body from aching for him.

"You could have been my queen," he says as his movements grow stronger. He won't last long, but neither will you. He's inside you, where you like to feel him, and your walls clench around his member. "And I would have set the whole world on fire for you." He thrusts. "Burned it to the ground" He thrusts again. "All for you." And again.

The old wood of the bed creaks with each of his movements.

You seek out his lips, just to brush them against yours.

Without sealing the kiss.

"And I would have accepted," you answer with a whimper. "I would have been your queen, qybor." In another life, you think you would.

In another life, in another universe, you would have been his queen.

A grunt escapes his lips and lands in the hollow of your ear. Aemond straightens on his bent elbow, right next to your head, and he plunges into you one last time, with more power, more vigour, just as his new position allows.

You close your eyes.

A second wave of warmth is about to engulf your body.

And you wait for it, you welcome it.

"Look at me when I come inside you," he growls hoarsely as his seed pours deep inside you, into the most intimate part of your body. "Look at me as I fill you up."

Your eyes lock with his, fiery as ever. A final moan escapes between your lips and you seal them to your uncle's in a feverish, wet kiss. You hold him in your arms for a moment longer, as if to allow yourself the luxury of illusion for a brief instant.

You delay the fateful moment a little longer, fighting the minutes that inevitably slip through your fingers.

"Stay inside me just a little longer," you whisper, burying your head in the hollow of his neck where you can feel the rapid rhythm of his pulse. His arms close around you, holding you tight against him, and you hear him purr against the hair on the crown of your head. He rocks you gently.

The silence welcomes you both into its embrace and you savour it like a treasure. Your body aches in the sweetest way, your insides throbbing around his softening manhood.

And around you, nothing exists anymore.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

"I've changed, you know." His hoarse voice vibrates against you, but you refuse to meet his eyes. You keep them closed.

You're not sure if Aemond has really changed. Aemond is ruthless, cold, brutal, calculating, merciless. Cruel. You're not sure if Aemond can ever change, but he shows unusual tenderness, and maybe, just maybe, you allow yourself to doubt. You indulge in the illusion.

Perhaps Vhagar's death has broken something in him.

Perhaps it's true, perhaps he's not the same man anymore.

He's not sorry for what he has done. He never will be. He's too proud, even if you can catch the glimmer of remorse that colours his icy eyes when he is not looking at you.

Does he think of your little brother? Is he haunted by the memory of him, as you have been for so many years?

Does he think of the innocents he killed without flinching, the blood he spilled in the Riverlands that now stains the burned grass?

Is his sanity slowly being eaten away by the atrocities he has committed with his own hands?

He has changed. You are not sure if he's changed for the better or for the worse, but he has indeed.

Daemon has changed too. So has Rhaenyra. So has Jace.

You too have changed.

For war changes people, war makes them weary and wary, it shatters something in the body that will never be the same again. It hollows out the roundness of the cheeks, it deepens the dark circles under the eyes, it fades the sparkle of childhood that remains in the eyes.

Aemond seems to be waiting for an answer, but the words remain stuck in your throat. I know, you want to whisper, I know, but suddenly you've forgotten how to speak. His thumb draws the soft line of the underside of your breast.

The future terrifies you more than ever. You had made peace with your past, you had come to a conclusion that, even if it pained you, had given you some respite.

Seeing your uncle alive had reawakened your demons.

Spending the night in the embrace of his arms had revived everything you had buried deep, deep down.

The past had returned, creeping towards you, gnawing at the corners of your heart and at what remained of your sense of stability and certainty.

Now you are plunged into doubt.

Just as you were a little over three years ago, when you were informed of his death, when you had to learn to live with the choice that had never really been given to you.

Just as three years ago, when you noticed a familiar lilac-tinged blue in Rhaegar's eyes.

Like when you had to live with the memories that haunted you, that were slowly eating away at what little sanity you had left.

Like when you finally decided to leave for the North.

Aemond seems to sense your anguish, because his fingers get lost in your hair.

"What are we going to do now?"

Finally, you dare to utter the inevitable words that have been hanging on the tip of your tongue since you woke up, words you've swallowed so many times this morning. You immediately blame yourself.

Saying them only makes them more real.

They tear at something in the imaginary cocoon you've built for yourselves. You bury your face against his skin, breathe in his scent, as if you never want to forget him.

For you know how fleeting memories can be.

You remember how his face faded with each passing day.

You don't know if you'll ever be able to experience it a second time.

"We could leave," Aemond replies, as his fingers venture to your jaw, caressing the line of your cheeks with the back of his knuckles.

He's so pragmatic, as always.

Even in this situation.

Even now.

It makes you want to shake him.

"We could run away," he says again. His gaze, fixed in the distance, falls on you at the same moment. "To Essos. Pentos. No one would know who we are." You close your eyes, and let his hoarse voice lull you into silence. "To start our own family, the three of us."

You know he is not serious. Even though he looks at you with such insistence, with that flame that flickers in the centre of his iris.

You relish his fantasy, this impossible dream.

But you can't leave your family; Essos is not Winterfell. There, they knew where to find you. They knew you were safe. They knew you were sheltered between the walls of the northern castle, under the heavy furs, under the protection of Cregan Stark.

Essos is the unknown.

You cannot let your mother lose her only daughter, not after everything she has already lost.

The itch is familiar, tickling at the corners of your eyes. There was a time when you thought you'd lost that sensitivity. When you thought the war had left you cold, incapable of feeling anything. Incapable of crying.

"You know I can't." Your nose rubs against his milky skin, made clammy by sweat. You keep your eyes closed because you feel the weight of his cold gaze on you, his furrowed eyebrows as he stares at you blankly, his lips pursed in a long, thin line. You don't have the courage to meet his accusing gaze, let alone the wounded look on his face as you crush all his illusory dreams into dust.

When did you become the more pragmatic of the two?

When did you become the one responsible for bringing Aemond back to reality?

It used to be you, the one who filled your mind with unrealistic dreams, the one who dreamed of stories and fairy tales, back when you could still dream. "They need me, you know that."

A sneer stretches across your uncle's lips as he swallows a chuckle that sounds more like an ironic growl. You feel his whole body tense against yours, a sign that he's holding back his annoyance.

A sign that he has something to say, that he's upset, but doesn't quite know how to put it into words.

"Like they needed you back then?" he replies scathingly, bitterness on the tip of his tongue. "When they used you as a bargaining chip to achieve their ends, hm?"

Your red cheeks burn with shame, as if he'd slapped you. You don't move, merely swallow hard. You know there's something right about what he is saying, but you don't want to admit it.

You've done your duty.

You've done what is expected of you as a daughter.

It was not a question of them using you. It never was.

It was your duty, only your duty, what you were always meant to perform, wasn't it?

And yet a small voice in the back of your head had already given you a similar speech, a few years ago, but you had tried to silence it.

You refused to let Aemond admit it. You refuse to allow him to do it. He had no idea, no right to criticise your family when he'd acted like that.

When he has done what he has done.

He has no idea what it is like to be a daughter.

You don't answer, and silence falls between you again.

You wish so desperately that he could go home with you; that he could tell them that he's sorry.

You wish it were easier.

There is no one left to wait for Aemond but you, but his son, you know that. His family has been decimated, as has yours in some ways, though you still have your parents and your older brother.

For your uncle, there's nothing left but the shadow of his existence, the shadow of who he once was, long ago.

You let your hand trace the side of his throat, your nose buried against it, your lips hovering over his skin. You lean against him, your body on top of his, pressed together as if you were afraid to let him go.

"You could come with me instead," you whisper, but you refuse to meet his gaze. There's something shameful in the words you've just spoken aloud, something naive, and your burning cheeks are proof of your embarrassment.

Almost imperceptibly, he clenches beneath you, holding his breath. This is a bad idea and you feel stupid. Naive to have dared to suggest something like this.

His voice purrs in a hm that vibrates against you. He's about to say something. He searches for words. "You know that -"

"I know." You cut him off sharply - a little more than you would have liked, your eyes raised to silence him.

You know what he thinks.

He thinks that Rhaenyra will never be his queen. He thinks he will never bend the knee to his eldest sister and her authority, which he doesn't recognise.

He thinks that with the death of Aegon, with the death of the children his brother fathered with Helaena, the throne belongs to him.

And you are aware of his ambitions. You know how perfectly the conqueror's crown fits his head. You know how it sets off the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. You remember the look of greed in his eyes every time he stared at the Iron Throne, you remember the look of pride on his face every time he scorned anyone who dared to question his decisions as Prince Regent.

You know how mercilessly he made the soldiers at Harrenhal kneel, forcing them to contemplate their impending deaths. You know the terror he has sown throughout the Riverlands.

Even in the Seven Hells you could have found more mercy than at the hands of Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond may have changed, but you're not sure he's changed enough to put aside the pride that is consuming him from within.

You take a deep breath. "You don't really have a choice, qybor."

Fearing his reaction, you curl into a fetal position, your back to him, your knees drawn up to you. You close your eyes. You wait for his frustration.

You wait for his sentence.

You know that he is aware that he has no choice.

He has only two options: swallow his pride or sink back into the abyss, disappear into the dark meanders of oblivion.

Rhaegar needed his father, of course, but you found him a father in Cregan Stark.

That was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

There was no way you would give up what family you had left.

For Rhaegar needed his grandparents and his uncle even more.

Behind you, you feel your uncle's hand slip under your tunic and around your body, pulling you against him. He presses his bare chest against your back, tucking your head under his chin. His hand caresses your stomach, then his fingers brush the base of your breast.

"You know she will never be my queen. You know the throne belongs to -" But he lets the words drop without finishing the sentence, the knowledge of what he was about to say hanging in the air between you.

As long as he remains alive, will the embers of war never truly be extinguished?

You don't know, but you accept the risk.

You close your eyes, as if you're about to jump into the icy depths with both feet.

"The rest is up to you, Aemond," you whisper, barely audible. "And if you have truly changed, then you will know how to make the right choice."

He says nothing.

You savour the last few minutes of illusion you have left.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

The fear of making the wrong choice never really leaves you, but your mother chases your fears away, as she so often did when you were a child, tucking one of your dark curls behind your ear. She has her distinctive little smirk on her lips, the one that pulls the corner of her lips up towards her nose.

The same one Lucerys had, you think sadly.

You still miss him, even after all this time, and sometimes you wonder what kind of young man he would have become.

"You're a clever girl, my sweet clever girl," she whispers against your forehead as she cradles you in her arms. She's as beautiful as ever, as gentle with you as ever, despite the years, despite the wear and tear of war that has hardened her features and hollowed her cheeks. "And I know you have made the right decision." She lifts your chin with her forefinger to look into your eyes, and you feel like you're turning back into that shy, insecure girl who disappeared somewhere in the violence of the war all those years ago.

"And if it should turn out that you were wrong... Daemon will be there to intervene. You know he is just waiting for that." You roll your eyes at her attempt at humour, and she plants a kiss on your forehead.

For a split second, you truly are that carefree little girl again.

But behind your mother's humour lie fragments of reality that make your laughter bitter.

The news of your husband's survival remains a hazy blur in your mind. Sometimes you're not sure if this conversation really occurred or if you're dreaming.

You're not sure if what's around you, if the night you spent in Aemond's arms, is real or an invention of your sick mind.

Sometimes you're not really conscious of the events or how long they lasted, the lump in your stomach grows back, and once again you're destined to carve half-moons marks in the palms of your hands to soothe the tension in your body.

You told your mother first because you knew she'd be more understanding. As a mother, as a woman, she knows the meaning behind certain silences, the weight of words, the unspoken words that float between sentences.

You know she can understand your pain and your doubts, but also your love and your compassion.

She was shocked when you told her that her younger brother was still alive. She smoothed her dress, paced back and forth, then took the time to sit down, her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes riveted to your face, looking for clues that would betray what you were thinking, what you might be hiding. She was afraid that he had hurt you. She was afraid that he would rip you away from her, just as he had once ripped your little brother away from her.

Her fingers had gently taken your hand and her thumb had drawn little circles on the back of your hand to comfort you. She listened to you first as you confessed everything.

Where you were that night when you didn't come home.

Who you were with.

And then she took you in her arms. She reassured you. Soothed you.

You had been so afraid of disappointing her, of disappointing all of them, that the tension paralysing your body had finally loosened and you burst into tears.

Things had proved more complicated with Daemon. When he learned that his nephew was alive, that he wasn't forgotten forever in the deep waters of the lake near Harrenhal, he refused to believe you. He was furious. He said he had seen him fall, that he was the one who had taken his life, tearing the sky apart.

You didn't know where to look, and it was in your mother's eyes that you sought support, comfort, anything in the face of your stepfather's rage. You could feel on you the look of disappointment of your brother, Jace, as he held his shoulders up and his chin high. He wanted to prove that one day he would be a good king. With his jaw clenched, he said nothing, looking at you as if you were suddenly so foreign to him. He probably didn't know what to say, for fear of being clumsy, for fear of unintentionally hurting you, even more than by his lack of support.

You know it wasn't his fault.

He simply couldn't understand.

The words stuck in your throat and you found yourself unable to speak, pearls glittering in the corners of your eyes while you waited impatiently for the final blow.

The final death knell that would seal your disgrace in everyone's eyes.

After all you'd endured.

Daemon stood before you, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes hard. He was staring at you as if you'd committed the ultimate treason, and you knew he was controlling himself to keep his anger from exploding. "You're going to bring him to me," he had hissed, his hand closing over your shoulder.

" You will lure him here and he will be put to the sword." His tone left no room for argument. With the tension growing in your stomach, you sought your mother's compassionate look to calm you. You could see the fury in your stepfather's eyes, and also a mixture of fear and feelings of betrayal. You knew that, deep down, he was afraid for you because he considers you his daughter. Because Baela and Rhaena are like sisters to you.

It was his reaction you feared most, not your mother's. His fingers dug into your skin, the floor slipping out from under you, the room swaying dangerously, and your mother had come to your rescue, trying to calm things down with her usual diplomacy.

You can't quite remember the words your stepfather said; in anger he muttered something that sounded like are you really thinking of becoming his whore again? and the words hurt like hell, but you tried to swallow the pain.

Endure, hold your head high. That was what you had learned.

Your mother had suggested you go back to your room or spend some time with Rhaegar, her fingers gently stroking your dark locks, and as soon as you left the throne room you could hear their voices echoing through the door.

They were arguing.

Over you.

Because of you, again.

You took a deep breath and returned to the gardens, where your two stepsisters were making your son laugh by playing with him. They had fun running around in the damp grass to the applause of Baela's little daughter, who clapped her little hands in delight.

Your fingers were still trembling when you joined them.

In the end a solution was found, for your mother feared losing you a second time.

She remembered what had happened to Laenor, your father, when he had grown tired of the court.

She remembered what had happened to Helaena, your sweet aunt, when she could no longer bear to suffer.

It was her worst nightmare to see you torn from her again, now that she had the chance to hold you in her arms every day, to protect you again, to see you grow again.

It was her worst nightmare to see her only daughter, her only daughter and the second of her only surviving children, taken from her.

You and Jace were all she had left of her own blood.

After long negotiations with Daemon, you had managed to bargain for your husband's life in exchange for strict conditions; increased surveillance, no bonding with a new dragon, no carrying of weapons, and the assurance that he would be executed if there was the slightest doubt about him. You proposed that you and he leave the capital, with your son as well. To return to Dragonstone. To start over on a new, blank page in a book that was already too damaged.

For you, it was also a way to ease the tensions between your family and Aemond, and perhaps find a more intimate life with your husband and son.

Rhaenyra had declared that this was the best solution: a guarantee for her to have you by her side again, a guarantee for her that you would be there.

You had been afraid of Aemond's reaction, afraid that his ego would not bear it; that he would refuse, that he would rather sentence himself to his own death than to an existence as a prisoner within his own family, condemned to live as a shadow of the man he had once been in exchange for seeing his son grow up.

But in the end, wasn't he doomed to live as a shadow of the man he had once been, anyway?

He would never be the rider of Vhagar again.

He would never be the ruthless Prince Regent again.

He would never again be the second in line to the throne, the second son greedily waiting for fate to turn in his favour.

He hadn't been all of that for a good three years, lurking in the cold, gloomy corridors of Harrenhal like a lonely monster.

And if he went back, if he rejected your proposal, he would have condemned himself to eternal solitude at the side of a witch you would rather forget.

He had no choice, for he would never be that Aemond again.

When you joined your husband at the meeting place, you were relieved to see him swallow his pride and accept. It was difficult, but you convinced him.

For Rhaegar, for his son.

Aemond had suggested that you run away, far away from everything, and you almost hesitated. Running away would have allowed you to forget, of course.

But your deepest wounds had begun to heal. You had begun to be able to face the ghosts that haunted King's Landing, the ghosts that haunted Dragonstone.

To stop there was tempting, and yet so frightening at the same time.

The unknown terrified you. You needed familiarity now, something to fall back on, for you were so tired.

Now you can't help bringing your thumb to your lips, nibbling the skin at the corner of your fingernail with the tip of your teeth as you walk away from Rhaenyra. A handmaiden brings you Rhaegar, and you struggle to breathe.

You inhale.

You exhale.

The thick tuft of brown hair makes you smile. The sight of your son is enough to give you the courage to walk with a more confident stride. It's as if you were filled with new strength, for you know that he needs you more than anyone else. And for him, you've promised yourself to stay strong.

As soon as you reach him, you kneel and plant a kiss on his plump cheeks.

He's growing up so fast that sometimes you wish you could stop time.

"There's someone who'd like to meet you, sweet boy," you explain, and you can recognise your mother's inflection in your own voice. Sweet boy. Rhaegar looks at you with big, round, questioning eyes, and you wonder if he senses your anxiety, because he takes your hand between his tiny fingers.

"Who, muña ?" he babbles, striding down the cobbled path in the middle of the gardens, hopping on his clumsy little legs, and you smile at his carefree attitude. He stops to watch the bees foraging, bends down to pick up a flower and gives it to you. He's always so curious, so full of life. He's a ray of sunshine that brightens your dull days. You finally understand your mother, the agonising fear she has of losing you. You finally understand the horror she experienced when she lost her four other children.

You also finally understand why Helena threw herself from Maegor's Holdfast.

The thought of what Daemon did still revolts you, and you can't imagine anyone hurting your boy like that.

You turn around. Rhaenyra is still there, in the distance, her crown on her head, her hands crossed in front of her on the heavy fabric of her dress, watching over you. She won't move, a comforting, discreet presence.

A stone bench awaits you by the fountain, on which two cushions have been arranged. A dessert buffet has been set up under the gazebo and you immediately spot your favourite cakes, the strawberry one, the blackberry jam one, and you look down at your son. He hasn't noticed them yet, or he would have already run over, dipped his finger in the whipped cream and stolen a blueberry from one of the tarts, his innocent expression on his face.

He is definitely a lot like you. Mischievous and clever. An angelic air. He is an easy-going child who never throws a tantrum.

Who understands quickly, too.

"I love you. I love you more than anything, you know that, don't you, young boy?" your tone is soft, and you kneel down in front of him, your hands on his small shoulders to emphasise the seriousness of your discussion. You search for your words, hesitating. How do you tell a three-year-old that his father, his dead father, is back from the dead and about to meet him?

Of course, Rhaegar knows that his birthfather was valiant, that his birthfather rode the greatest dragon in the world, that his birthfather died in battle.

But there is so much he doesn't know, so much he will inevitably learn as he grows up, and it is precisely that future that frightens you. You hug him as if you're afraid of losing him.

"Princess."

The deep voice of your sworn protector echoes behind you, and you straighten your skirt.

You know he is there.

You know you will see him the moment you turn around.

Your heartbeat quickens.

Aemond Targaryen stands behind your sworn protector, surrounded by two guards. His hands are bound in front of him.

It is so strange to see your uncle in this vulnerable position. He who for so long has been on the other side, he who for so long has been the one who bent others to his will. He looks at you harshly, and you almost feel the need to apologise.

But you know it is a matter of caution.

You know that Daemon, you know that Jace and even your mother would never have agreed to bring him in if such precautions hadn't been taken.

You admire his resilience, his determination. You admire his ability to hold his head high, to be confident, despite the fact that he is being treated like a common prisoner, about to be sentenced to death.

You struggle to swallow the lump that has formed in your throat.

"Who's that, muña?" Aemond's eyes leave you and immediately drop to the small figure that has appeared beside you, reaching for your hand, huddling against your leg, shy and worried.

Immediately, your husband's icy gaze, his lilac-coloured eyes, soften.

"Thank you, Sir Rowan. You may leave us."

Despite the worry on his face, your sworn protector nods, unties his prisoner's hands and walks back to your mother, accompanied by the other two guards. You watch them leave, and a strange silence fills the space between you and your uncle.

He doesn't look at you; his eyes are riveted to your son, whom he observes with wonder. He looks as if he is admiring the most beautiful and fascinating discovery he has ever seen. You look down to see Rhaegar's reaction, and he seems as intimidated as he is hypnotised by that gaze, by that blue and purple eye so similar to his owns, by this man looking at him as if he were one of the most marvellous things in the world.

"Gods, he's perfect," Aemond murmurs as he looks up at you, emerging from his trance. He comes closer to embrace you. And for once, there is something other than his usual brutal possessiveness and ferocity when his arms close around you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Aemond is shy at first. Awkward.

He's shy and amazed as he follows your son's every move with his good eye. From time to time, his gaze rests on you, as if to make sure he's not dreaming. As if to make sure he is doing right, seeking your approval.

Rhaegar is shy too, at first.

When he sits on your lap, he snuggles up to you, buries his face in your neck, one of your locks curled in his chubby little hand and he rubs it against his nose. From time to time, he turns to give his father a curious look, recognising his own eyes in the unfamiliar face before him.

Aemond's expression grows gentler, a softness never seen in his features before.

Once he has tamed the stranger, the little boy pecks at the blueberries in the tart in front of him. He shakes his legs, hitting your knees in painful little jabs, and your arm wraps around his body to hold him down.

Rhaegar loves cake, and the sugar may be coaxing him, for he's regaining his appetite for talking.

"He really does have my eyes," Aemond whispers incredulously, and his voice, still foreign to his son's ears, causes the little boy to lift his head.

" It is definitely the only thing he has inherited from you," you reply, teasing him with a small smile at the corner of your lips.

Soon Rhaegar finishes the blueberry tart, the cream smeared over the bottom of his face and the tip of his nose.

"He inherited that from you, that is certain." Aemond grins, pointing with his long chin at the boy's voracious appetite for cakes and pastries.

You have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming. That your husband is really standing in front of you, with your son, like a normal family.

That he was truly trying to tell a joke.

This form of domesticity is so alien to your relationship, and yet so pleasant, that you find yourself thinking that perhaps you have made the right decision, indeed, if every day can be like this.

"Your muña deserves some cake too, what do you say, little one?"

Rhaegar giggles. Aemond cuts a slice of your favourite cake, the one with the strawberries, and puts it on your plate.

You blush. After all these years, he hasn't forgotten which one is your favourite.

You can't even really whisper a thank you because this apparent domesticity, this feeling of completeness, this interlude of happiness makes you uneasy. Anxious.

You have the feeling that at any moment you'll be plunged back into the horror of what you went through all those years ago.

You have the feeling that at any moment the Gods will be cruel and snatch away this happiness that you've barely been able to taste, leaving only the memory of its sweet taste on your lips.

You breathe in and out, as you often do when you feel your palpitations rising in your chest.

"Do you... do you want to take him on your lap?" you ask your uncle with shyness, your hand stroking Rhaegar's thick brown curls. Aemond looks at you as if you have spoken in a foreign language. Lips parted, he is about to say something, but not a sound escapes his lips. His lonely eye travels from you to your son, from your son to you, in silence.

"I don't know if -"

You can hear the doubt in his voice, and it's almost touching to see him lose his confidence in front of his own son, to see him so nervous and unsure of himself.

You let out a little laugh, not in mockery, obviously, just full of tenderness.

You know what he's thinking.

He's afraid of frightening him.

He's afraid of harming him.

"You won't hurt him, Aemond."

He answers nothing. He still doesn't like to look vulnerable, unsure, and you know it has to do with his childhood. With all he has kept bottled up inside him all these years. He will need time.

Your eyes fall back to the little boy sitting in your lap, and you draw his attention to yourself by stroking the curls on his forehead.

"Do you want to go to Aemond for a while? To kepus?"

you correct yourself immediately, and Rhaegar nods in agreement.

You are amazed at how easily he slips off your legs to run to his father, to pull himself onto his lap, when only a few hours ago he was so intimidated by the presence of this stranger with the eyepatch.

Your uncle automatically puts his arm around his waist to make him feel comfortable, his new role taking root in him. His fingers reach for the cloth on the table, and he wipes Rhaegar's face, who can't help but burst out laughing at his father's clumsy gestures.

For a split second you are lost in contemplating the horizon, the stillness of the sea. You taste the sea breeze on your face.

And then you turn your head towards the cobbled path where the guards and your sworn protector are still stationed.

Your mother is no longer there, and you notice that you have not at any time felt the need to seek comfort in her presence.

You smile, for in the end you know you've made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Dragonstone, 6 months later.

When you walk the corridors of the place that saw you grow up, you are no longer haunted by the ghosts and their incessant cries. A kind of peace has settled over you, a return to the pleasant familiarity you've waited so long for.

You still think of Luke, of course. Of Luke and Joff and little Aegon and Viserys, your brothers you will never see grow old.

But you no longer feel their disapproving glances at every step you take. You are no longer kept awake by their cries, by their tears, by the remorse that twists your stomach.

You no longer blame yourself.

Perhaps you've finally learnt to make peace with yourself.

The heavy door of the bedroom you share with Aemond is half open, and you slip your head into the doorway, piqued by curiosity.

Snuggled on your husband's lap, Rhaegar is staring at the pages of a large book, the corners of which you can guess are horned, the cover worn, from being carried everywhere. You can imagine the jam stains that mark the paper with children's fingerprints. You know exactly which page is missing, the one you and Aemond accidentally tore out and hid so the Septa wouldn't notice, so many years ago.

It is a book about dragons, the very one the two of you used to read hidden under the table when you were so young and innocent, long before the torment of war.

Without a sound, you lean against the doorframe and contemplate for a moment the perfect vision before you.

You don't have the cruelty to disturb them.

"This one is Vhaegar!" shouts Rhaegar, and you hold your breath, searching Aemond's face for any hint that might betray his reaction. The mention of his former dragon is still a sensitive subject for him, you know it.

"Yes, that's Vhagar." he pauses. "She was brave."

From the corner of his eye, Aemond spots your silhouette in the faint glow of the corridor, and his attention lingers on you for a moment. He's almost embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable, intimate moment, but you smile tenderly to encourage him.

"And big!" the little boy adds, energetically raising his arms to the sky to emphasise his words.

"Yes, and big." There's a suspended moment of silence where the words hang in the air, and then your husband gently ruffles his son's hair. It's a tender sight to see them bond like this, and your heart fills with happiness.

Taking a step forward, you step into the light of the room and Rhaegar expresses his joy at seeing you. You smile back at him and approach the chair where Aemond sits, your son on his lap.

Your uncle's hand instantly rests on the curve of your belly, which he still stares at with the same protective instinct, the same fascination, as the day you told him the news. His eyes sparkle.

"Your daughter is restless today."

He looks up at you, not without lingering for a moment on your breasts and their new shape.

"My daughter?" he asks, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"I'm convinced it's a girl. You reply, smiling wryly, and take a seat in the armchair next to the one where Aemond and your son are sitting, facing the fireplace. "And she took after her father, given her temper," you tease him, your hand on the top of your rounded belly to soothe the baby growing there.

Rhaegar's eyes close slowly. Nestled against the chest of the man who, just a few months ago, was still a stranger, he fights sleep, he fights to stay awake, but tiredness quickly overcomes him. And then he falls asleep, his mouth half open, the movements of his breath making his chest rise and fall rhythmically.

Aemond finally gets up. You follow his movements with your eyes as he approaches you, the child in his arms, and he plants a kiss on the top of his head.

"I'm going to put him to bed. I'll be right back." He straightens and lowers his voice.

"I wouldn't fail in my duty and neglect my wife." The heat rises to your cheeks, turning them red at the implication of what awaits you tonight. You're already wet between your thighs at the thought.

But you nod in agreement and watch him walk away.

You are left alone in the silence of the room. The only sound around you is the steady crackling of the fire.

It's strange, you think, to be back on Dragonstone, in the familiarity of the stones you've spent most of your life between, after getting used to the idea of not surviving the war.

To the idea of dying from a broken heart.

To the idea of dying, the umpteenth victim of the vicious spiral of conflict that has torn your family apart.

And yet here you are.

With your own family.

For once you have hope for the future. You hear the cries of your little brother, lost in the storm so long ago, but they are quickly replaced by the laughter of a happy memory.

And finally, you have the absolute confirmation that you have made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** ***

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peoniesnro · 1 month ago

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After the End| One shot

Sequel to Closure

Synopsis- You’ve lived your whole life haunted by monsters—relentless, painful, and unyielding. But your life changed at a winter carnival, when a fortune teller told you that your fate was woven with a man you’ve never met before. Kim Taehyung. Your life changed when she asked you to choose wisely this time because the last time, you and he couldn’t do it.Taehyung changed everything. He brought light to your darkness, hope to your despair. But that light came with shadows of its own. Because he wasn’t yours to keep. Now, all you want is one thing: not to fail this time. To rewrite your story and make the ending yours.

Alternatively

In which you finally get that one chance to tell each other- I love you- once more.

Paring- Kim Taehyung × Reader

Genre - Past lovers to ??/ Reincarnation

Warnings-TW- Hallucinations/ Auditory hallcinations/ Past abuse/ Suicidal thoughts. / Language/ SMUT- Make out/ Breast play/ Some public stuff/ Oral (M.recieving) (while driving)/ Oral (F.recieving)/Doggy/ Missonary/ Spoon Sex/ Unprotected Sex/Creampie/ Mutiple orgasms/ Degradation (Slut)/ Bondage/ Overstimulation/ Usage of sex toys/ INFIDELITY

Word count - 16k+

a.n/ Well, this one is requested by lovely @bubu2sworld because she thought they deserved more. So, here I am writing a sequel to my baby CLOSURE, when I never thought I will. Still, if you think the closure ended the way it should you can totally ignore this but to anyone who thinks they deserve more, this is for you. And I'm not sure if you can read this as a standalone because it's kind of connected. Anyway, thank you for the love yous showed you to the closure and I hope you'll like this one as well. ❤️

Read the original here- Closure

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now

Taehyung feels like a void. There’s an emptiness inside his body. He’s certain that he’s no longer made of flesh and bones. There are no organs. It’s just skin. Skin and the emptiness underneath it. He feels hollow. Nothing makes him full anymore. Nothing stirs him anymore. Happiness, love, fear, anger, nothing. Not even sadness. It’s empty. Or maybe it’s all sadness. Perhaps he’s lived with sadness for so long that it no longer feels like an emotion, but a part of him. It’s ripping him apart. It makes him detach from his surroundings. He almost doesn’t notice the figure that entered the living room. It’s only after that person creates a clanking sound does he tear his gaze away from the empty wall he’s been staring at.

It's her. With two wine glasses and a bottle of wine in her hand.

Birthday.

Her birthday.

Taehyung had completely forgotten it.

She has a sweet smile on her face. A smile that is enough to brighten someone else’s soul. Yet Taehyung feels nothing. Not even a flicker of warmth. He wants to see a certain cunning smile instead of that bright one. She stops midway as she takes sight of him. A sigh leaving her mouth. Despair clouding her bright features.

Taehyung is a great disappointment for everyone. He would like to change that yet doesn’t know how. He’s hopeless. Oh, how everything was just fine before that day. He would never call it cursed because no, it was a blessed day. But now, it’s bitter on his tongue that he feels bile rising to his throat.

………………………………….

Now

You sit on the rooftop of your apartment building. At the edge. You’re fifteen stories high. This is your favorite place. It’s empty and free of annoying tenants. There’s no people to ask how you’re doing when clearly, you’re doing worst.

And this is the place you hate the most at the same time. Because, when there’s no other sounds, voices in your head get so much clearer, louder, and inescapable. When there’s no one else around, the monsters who lurk around you become realistic as they’ve ever been.

This is your life. You’ve always lived with the monsters. Always get along with the voices. It has been like that since you were a little girl. Since you started living with your aunt. She never wanted you. And she made sure you knew that. When it all became unbearable, the voices and monsters came to keep your alone soul company. It’s not that they are always there. No, there were better days. There were months. Even years where you lived a normal life. You tried to get help. To make yourself better. But every time something goes wrong, they’d return. Like now. It’s been months since they’ve ever left your side. And there’s only so much pain someone can endure. Only so much sleepless nights and heartbreaks someone can bear. You’ve reached your limit.

You need this unbearable pain to end. Want it to be gone. You want to sleep peacefully even if it’s for a second. You want the bloody lady who’s waiting patiently for your demise, with her face beaten up to a pulp, to leave you alone. She won’t. No matter how much you beg. You hate her.

“Jump! End it. Do it now. You think this pain will go away on its own? It won’t. You’ll suffer forever unless you listen to me.”

She won’t leave you alone till you jump. She has your aunt’s voice.

This is not her. Right?

“No one needs you. No one ever did. You’ve been a burden since the day you were born. Do you think anyone’s life would be worse without you? They’d be better off.”

“Fucking leave, me alone!”

“Jump!”

Oh, how tempting that is. She will leave you if you listen to her.

“Nobody needs you.”

Oh, you know.

“Nobody loves you.”

Taehyung did. He did, right? He loved you. It’s just how things have turned out.

“JUMP!”

…………………………………

Six Years Ago

Taehyung lived a pretty normal life. Ordinary, yet undeniably happy. He had everything. A college degree. An acceptable and highly paid job. Idiotic friends who he loved dearly. Good parents. And above all, a girlfriend who loved him like he was her sun and moon. He lived his life to the fullest. Their story wasn’t the stuff of movies. He didn’t meet her while saving the world, nor were they enemies-turned-lovers, childhood best friends, or two strangers sharing a single bed for a night.

It was simple. Taehyung met her at a Halloween party at a frat house. She looked beautiful. He asked her out and she said yes. And they started dating. Everything was going fine. Until it wasn’t.

Only if he knew that one moment, a fleeting encounter is enough to change someone’s life, he would never have said yes to Namjoon’s invitation to join him at a winter carnival. Well, there was no way he could see the future. He said yes. And he waited till Namjoon arrive. He was with his girlfriend and other two best friends. They laughed and joked. Smoked and waited. He was living his best life. Love of his life pressed against his body. Surrounded by people he loved.

That’s when Namjoon came. Not alone though. He had company, in a shape of a woman who looked like a lilliput next to his friend.

You.

Wrapped in a winter coat that was too big for you. Had a beanie that covered your hair that made Taehyung wondered what color it was. Had big eyes that doesn’t had any light in them. You weren’t smiling. You weren’t bowing. If anything, you stayed stony. Dull. Annoyed.

But hell, how he felt a skip in his heartbeat. Taehyung never believed in the movie effect. It was a dramatic lie they created. In real life, there’ll be no slowing down of time. The world won’t disappear for a fractured second. Sounds won’t lower down into white noises. If it didn’t happen the time he met his girlfriend, then there was no chance of it happening again. He was sure about his love. How wrong he was, though. Because at that split second, it all happened. Everything slowed and blurred away so he can take a good look at you. You only turned slightly to look at him. Then you didn’t look away for that second. You hold his gaze. Taehyung felt his heart beating in his throat. He felt completely enamored by an angel whose wings were clipped. Angel who looked like the devil.

And you gave him a tiniest hint of a smile.

And in that instant, the universe seemed to realign—a stellar collision in the making.

………………………………..

Six Years Ago

You sat at a round table draped in a black tablecloth. That was the stupidest you’ve ever felt. And that was the most foolish decision you've ever made. You normally made a lot and that said everything about how stupid it was to sit inside a tent of a fortune teller. In a stupid carnival. It was the idea of the guy who was in all black. Tattoos and piercings. Later you learnt the name to be Jungkook. That day you hated his guts for forcing all of you to sit in front of a woman who wore a midnight blue cape. A hood covering her white hair. Her eyes glued specifically on you as all of you settled down. Odd. Yet, she did stare at you from the very moment you reluctantly entered the tent. Unsettling.

There were stars dangling from the tent’s ceiling and smell of burning incense gave you a headache. And the smoke had made you dizzy. It all looked funny. Everything. The woman was a fraud, you were certain. But Jungkook guy was excited about spending his money over a con-artist. You wanted to leave. Namjoon had his hand on your thigh, though.

You should’ve never agreed to Namjoon’s plans. You weren’t someone meant to be socializing. No, you were someone to isolate yourself from the people. That’s the way you helped yourself. See now, there were your own ways to deal with your own problems. That came in shapes of hallucinations and voices. You had bad and unhealthy coping mechanisms. When neither therapists nor psychiatrists could help, you found the best way to deal with them was to become a bad bitch. Tough. Bad enough so people won’t get close to you just to hurt you in the end. You became selfish so you won’t be hurt when other people are. Being the bad person gave you the control you always seek. The control you never had.

Namjoon should never have brought you there. Not just because you hated it but because that day was what caused your great dismay in the long run.

That day, without even you knowing properly you had started a journey that turned out to be pretty ugly. And beautiful. It started when Jungkook guy showed his hand toward the woman. Palm out. Hoping she would read his future. She had dismissed him. Her eyes was still on you. Felt like glowering competition to you that time. Then right at the time you were about ask ‘what the fuck is wrong with her’, she had spoken in a strained voice.

“Ah, your threads... tangled, woven too tight.”

“Sorry what?”

“Your fates, child. The strands of your lives. Twisted together, bound as one.”

“I don’t understand a shit you’re talking about.”

“You will, in time. Your destiny is knotted with his.”

She had tilted her head to her right. Silver haired man, who was the bad influence on Jungkook’s soul. The other one who had insisted this was a fun idea had perked up. You knew he was Jimin beforehand.

“What? With me?”

“No, not you, dear boy. Him.”

She had pointed a bony finger to the man who sat next to Jimin. The man who had burnt his hand earlier because he accidentally touched the butt of the cigarette he was smoking. All because he stared at you like you were a ghost. No. That wasn’t the case at all. He had stared at you like you were an angel.

You never learnt how to explain that moment. You’ve never seen him before. Not even a glimpse of him. But he had stared at you like he knew you for ages. And you had felt that too. A strange sensation in your heart. A tug. A sting. How it was odd. You never meant to smile at him. You don’t smile at strangers. But you did to him. It was strange.

Then there as you listened to an old fraud talk crap, you had notice he has mismatched eyes. He sat far away from you. The place had shitty lighting. Yet you did notice that. Maybe that was because you were at a staring contest back again. Your heart beating violently and breathing getting ragged.

“You carry the weight of a past undone. Shadows of a life lived before. A tragedy. You’ve crossed paths now to mend what was broken... or to fail once more. Beware. Cycles repeat, and pain lingers. Choose wisely this time.”

You almost didn’t hear her. The man across from you was enchanting.

……………………………….

Six Years Ago

“Here’s your drink.”

That was the first moment the man, who apparently carried unresolved issues from your past life spoke to you. While placing a hot cup of cocoa on the picnic table in front of the food stall. You were looking at the Ferris Wheel. Glinting with thousands of multicolored tiny lights. How magnificent. Yet you knew it won’t look the same in the morning. It was an allusion. Another scam. Without the tiny lights it would look hollow. Like how you were. If anyone could’ve stared deep into your soul, or if anyone could see your bare soul, they would see how ugly you were. How scarred and hollow you were. You’ve been thinking about that when the intrusion had come. You had averted your eyes from the enchanting scene of Ferris Wheel to the man who stood next to you. Had glared at him with skeptical eyes.

“Oh, sorry- Namjoon asked me to take this to you.”

“Thanks.”

You were a well-guarded person. You never allowed others to get close to you. When it was slowly happening, you made sure to hurt them enough that they’ll run away. But it was always better to never let them come close to you than hurting them later. Only exception in your life was Kim Namjoon. So, you were thoroughly annoyed when the man with black hair and mismatched eyes proceeded to sit next to you. It was only you two there.

“I didn’t invite you to join me Mister.”

“Oh, fuck, sorry, I-I…”

He had such an adorable expression. Eyes wide in panic and face starting to flush in embarrassment. You hated how your heart had pained at the sight.

“No... no... I mean that’s fine. Like, I mean, I could use some company.”

And like you’ve never made him uncomfortable; he had grinned widely. He had a boxy smile. Beautiful. You had found a split second of a moment where your guard had slipped away from you. You found it impossible to avert your gaze away from his lips.

“So, how do you think our fates are tangled up? How do you think we’re going to mend what’s broken.”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t tell me you believe those bullshits too.”

“Bullshits?”

“Yes, Mister, that was a scam. That’s how she’s earning money.”

And he had grinned even more widely. You were being hostile. He didn’t deserve those kinds of harsh treatments. Hadn’t done anything wrong to you. Yet, there he was. Smiling.

“Yeah maybe... maybe not... Namjoon told me you’re a photographer?”

“That’s part time. I just love photography.”

“Well, then maybe you’ll be the photographer in my wedding. That’s how our fates are connected.”

“Oh, you’re getting married soon?”

“No, not soon but I’ll be proposing to her soon. I don’t know when but..”

“Ah!”

For no clear reason, you had felt a pain. A deep sting in your heart. You didn’t want to admit it but strangely it hurt.

“And my name’s Kim Taehyung.”

He had stretched his hand for you to shake. You didn’t. You ignored him completely. Because you felt hurt.

“I didn’t ask for your name.”

“That’s fine. It’s my choice to tell you.”

To your horror, he patted your head then. Your damn head. Over your stupid beany. You never believed the feeling of time slowing down. That moment, though, that happened. You had gaped at him with wide eyes.

His mismatched eyes were the most beautiful you’d ever seen.

And beneath one of them rested a small mole.

………………………………

Six Years ago

After months. For the first time since Namjoon returned you had a night terror that night. Wasn’t the usual one. Instead of running away from your aunt, you saw a flashing lights of a truck. Then you felt the pain. Endless pain. And there was the Taehyung. You saw him crying. Broke your heart into tiny million pieces before you open your eyes.

Your monsters returned that night.

You knew someone was under your bed.

………………………………………….

Five years ago

Taehyung never expected to see you again. He missed you, however. Taehyung didn’t think it was possible to miss someone he had met just for such a short time. To miss someone who was hostile to him for no reason. He did. He missed the stony-faced rude girl dearly. Funny, considering he had only spoken to you for ten minutes at most, exchanging barely fifty words. Yet, you haunted his memories for a year. In a good way. Taehyung thought it was because he was curious. Curious as to know what made you, you. The indifferent one. What stole your light. To know who clipped your wings. Or it was because of the fortune teller. Whatever the reason was, he couldn’t deny that he thought about you quite often.

True, Namjoon was still a best friend of his and he had all the opportunities to ask about you. Yet, he didn’t. He couldn’t—not with a girlfriend and Jungkook’s mention of you being Namjoon’s lifelong crush. He blamed all the messed-up sensations he felt on the winter air and bright lights on the carnival. He always loved the winter. Besides he was comfortable with his girlfriend. There were no reason to ruin that. Only if that was the plan of universe as well. It wasn’t.

He was at his favorite Samgyeopsal place that day. Place always had long queues in the evenings for takeouts. He could’ve ordered online. But the restaurant always messed up the online orders. Every good thing has its tiniest flaw. He stood as the fourth person in the long line when someone cut the line. Pushed their tiny self in between Taehyung and the person in front of him. A scowl formed in Taehyung’s forehead. Was about to confront them when an icy voice muttered an apology.

“Sorry but I’m late to the strip club.”

Late to where?

Then they had turned. Had looked at him with wide eyes. No light in them. Just hollow and dull.

You.

Once again, Taehyung felt the same effects. The hustle and bustle of Samgyeopsal place had vanished. Only person remaining in the room was you. Gaping at him with your mouth adorably open. And he knew you recognized him.

“Oh, you. Taehyung?”

“Uh- Hi!... Didn’t expect─”

“Aren’t you going to yell at me?”

“Yell at you for what?”

“For cutting the line?”

“Oh, it’s fine it’s you.”

“That’s bad Sailor… You need to learn to treat people fair.”

You had said something else. But he didn’t hear them. No. Something was happening to him. Something strange. He was in pain. Not physically. It was internal. His heart was aching. He wanted to hug you. Touch you. Knew you would slap his face hard enough for him to lose some of his teeth if he tried, though. That was the moment he realized he wasn’t just missing you. He was longing for you.

“Hey! Taehyung? You okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, of course. Bu-but I know you, so it’s fine.”

“You don’t know me at all. Three hours spent on a carnival a year ago doesn’t count.”

True. You told the truth. That was the period of time he knew you. Three hours from a long day. A year ago. Yet there he was, fighting the urge to touch you. The line was getting shorter. Sooner you would’ve been the person to take your order and vanish again. He didn’t want that. Something was pushing him to change that. At least you weren’t being so hostile toward him that day.

“Let’s dine in.”

“What?”

“I don’t know you so, let’s change that. Have dinner with me.”

Taehyung had waited with bated breath for you to turn the offer down. You didn’t. All you had done was smirk. And that smirk was cunning. It was the most beautiful he has ever seen.

………………………………

Five years ago

You should never have agreed to have dinner with a stranger. Taehyung was a stranger to you. Handsome and adorable in his sweater, yes. Yet he was still a stranger. Despite everything, you had to stick with one piece of advice your aunt gave you.

Stranger is a Danger!!!!!!

And that was the only time you disobeyed that advice.

You inspected his mismatched eyes while stuffing your mouth. The eyes you’ve missed. It wasn’t possible but you did. It was either your monsters and the voices inside your head or a pair of mismatched eyes and a mole. A boxy grin that kept you awake at night. No matter how hard you tried to keep the thoughts sunk, Taehyung always found a way.

“What?”

“Huh? Nothing. Are you sure your girlfriend won’t mind you being late?”

“Oh, not girlfriend, fiancée. Proposed to her a few months ago.”

Oh.

You had frozen. It was just like that first time. When you sat at a picnic table looking at a Ferris Wheel. It hurt to hear him say he’s about to get engaged. But that time to hear he is finally engaged; it felt like a knife piercing through your heart.

Why?

There was no reason. You didn’t even know him. You were strangers. Was that love from first sight? Bullshit. You never believed in those kinds of fairy tales. You might’ve so broken that you start to feel pain for the things you shouldn’t. But you couldn’t deny that it hurt. Couldn’t deny that you felt angry. For no reason.

“You okay?”

“Yes, of course. So, you had an engagement party and didn’t invite me?”

“Oh, no. There was no party. I just proposed to her. Had Jungkook and Jimin singing ‘All of me’. That was it.”

“Thank God, you didn’t invite me. Can’t stand those two people.”

It was a joke. A distraction from the pain you felt. Taehyung understood it. Showed you that boxy grin. Only thing it did was intensify the pain, however. You needed to leave. Wanted an escape. Felt suffocating to be in his presence. You nearly had it when you excused yourself for bathroom. But life had different plans.

“Oh, I knew it was you.”

Shaky voice had interrupted you. A voice you never wanted to hear in your entire life. You were having chills even before you turn around to confirm that the voice belonged to the same person who made your life a living hell. It was. In a blink of an eye, you were staring into the wrinkled face of your aunt. You abuser.

Despite all the effort you had put into coping with your trauma. Despite how hard you worked to develop a cold heart and a strong mind that won’t break at simple matters, you pathetically started breathing heavily. Right at the moment your eyes landed on her. A loud ‘no’ chanting inside your head. Screams starting to echo. Visions of her bloody face closing toward you starting to cloud your vision. You didn’t know she was saying something. You didn’t hear a thing. All that you heard was the venom in her voice. Over and over again. Like a mantra. The way she asked you to die.

“No… No, fuck no… get away from me.”

You had thought you were saying those words in your mind. In reality though you weren’t. It was a period you lost from your life. Where you weren’t living in the real world but inside your head. Maybe it wasn’t for a long time. But enough for you to cry a river and scream till your throat tasted like blood. You cried for your life. Begging her to save you. Then right at the time you thought there were no escape, it all vanished.

You were sitting on a cold floor of a busy restaurant. People were staring down at you with such horrified looks on their faces. Pity. Fear. You had gaped at them return. The senses finally getting on to you. Your aunt wasn’t there anymore. You felt relieved, for a moment. Then had felt helpless. You had a panic attack in front of so many people. You hated it when they looked at you like you were a wounded, caged animal. You wanted to disappear but couldn’t help the new tears escaping from you. That’s when you felt the warmth behind your back. Next you noted the arms wrapped around your petite figure. Lastly a soothing voice reached your ears.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s fine. You’re fine. I got you.”

Taehyung was gently rocking you. Like you were a child. Nobody in your entire life had held you like that. Not even Namjoon because you never fell apart in front of him. For your whole damn, painful life you had no one to hold you.

…………………………..

Five years ago

Taehyung had refused to let you go home alone. You were annoyed partially but happy mostly. It was embarrassing enough that he saw what he saw. But he didn’t leave you. No matter how hard you tried that day. Which was a great mistake. He should’ve listened to you. Should’ve left you to manage your own miserable life.

He didn’t. Even though you hated it, you had to let the guy enter your safe space. Your apartment. A place that never felt like home at all. You thought it should’ve felt more pathetic as you sat on the couch. Waiting for a stranger to bring you a glass of water. You should’ve felt more helpless to have been pampered by a stranger in your own house. Strangely though you didn’t. You felt secretly relieved. Because you weren’t alone. You knew, all the voices and monsters were about to mess up your entire night that day. There was no way they would leave you alone after what happened. So, you were grateful for him. Even though you didn’t tell him that.

But then after a few hours of just sitting there in silence, he had stood up to leave.

“Well, I should go then. She... uh- you know, I’m late.”

You panicked. Hard. So hard that you had jumped toward him. Had hold on to his arm before he could take a single step away from you. You were scared. Didn’t want to be alone. Not even for a minute. It was ridiculous how you blurted out suggestions as if it were natural. Like you knew him. As if you hadn’t acted all tough and annoyed at him earlier. The thing is, though, he made you feel safe.

“Want to hit the club with me?”

“What?”

“I mean, it’s going to be fun. Be spontaneous sometimes, sailor. You’re not getting any younger.”

“What? This is bit weird you know?”

“Well, you invited me to have dinner with you. You hold me when I was breaking apart. You sat down next to me in my own house like we knew each other for ages. And you said you wanted to change the fact that we don’t know each other. So, what’s so weird about it?”

In addition to being a bad bitch, you were a good manipulator.

“I… what club? I mean strip?”

“No need to be so worried.”

“Wait? Do you really work as a…”

“What a stripper?”

He hadn’t answered that. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips though. And it was enough to heal your scarred soul.

“No.. I’m not. I was about to go there as a punter. To a male one. But we’re not going there. We’re going to a normal one. You know, where there’s no show going on for you. Would’ve preferred the strip cub though.”

You had no intention of clubbing that night. You loved clubbing. Getting drunk. High. Stoned. Then getting laid. You did that on the worst nights, though. That night you had thought it would be a good one. Well, things always changed. Yet, Taehyung didn’t need to know that. You didn’t want him to leave you alone. You had waited with bated breath. Heart pounding violently in your rib cage. Then after some long few tortures minutes he showed you that adorable boxy smile.

“Yeah, sure why not. But why though? Why now? Wouldn’t sleep help you the best.”

“It would, but I need someone to exhaust me to sleep. So, sailor, we are going hunting.”

………………………………….

Five years ago

Taehyung didn’t know what had happened to you earlier. He didn’t know what caused it. Only that he panicked too. That he wanted to help. While you broke down the floor, he had made sure to force that old lady out of the place. He didn’t know who she was. But maybe, he thought, that she was the person who had stolen your light.

And in the end, when you asked him to join you for a club, all he wanted was for you to feel better. Couldn’t say no to your eager eyes. Or simply he was reluctant to let you go.

So, he joined you at a club. And had watched, watched, and watched. Sitting at a stool near the bar while sipping on a neat whisky. It burnt his throat, yet he couldn’t feel it. His eyes were on the dance floor. On the figure there who was tangled up with a strange man.

He felt bile rising up to his throat. Regretted ever agreeing to come with you. He felt so fucked up at the sight of you grinding shamelessly with another man. It was a mixture of feelings. He felt bothered. An urge to rip you away from the man who was squeezing your ass cheeks like there were no tomorrow. Then he felt a stir in his lower stomach. Which had nothing to do with feeling bothered. No. It had everything to do with the way his heart was beating madly. About to leap away. It had everything to do with how he couldn’t look away, no matter how much he wanted to.

You were fucking captivating. Dancing under the disco lights. Your movements were deliberate. The way you swayed your hips. The way you had wrapped your hands around the stranger’s neck. Your lips an inch away from him. Taehyung knew the stranger must be smelling the alcohol on you. Taehyung knew the stranger must be feeling your soft breaths on his lips. Knew it must be tingling. You had your perfect breasts pressed against the stranger’s chest. Taehyung knew they must be feeling so soft. You had your hips tightly pressed against the stranger. And so, Taehyung knew the stranger must be having the time of his life by feeling your soft flesh against his hardened dick.

Taehyung shouldn’t have thought about that in the first place, but he did. And it wasn’t that he thought about the way the lucky bastard might feel. No, Taehyung was simply imagining it himself. Watching you move from a distance, and he was imagining it was him. With you. It was him having the time of his life while pressing his hardened dick on to your soft skin. Hardened? Yes, he was rock hard. His pants were too tight in his crotch area. Too hard and the bulge visible that he had to turn away immediately to hide it from your view when you suddenly returned.

“Hey there sailor, enjoying the night?”

“Eh, can’t complain.”

“That’s not the answer I’m looking for. Want to join me for a dance?”

“Oh, No. No... I’m fine.”

“Yeah? Fine by me then.”

“Why’d you leave? Looked like you’ve caught your prey tonight, hunter?”

“You’ve been watching?”

“Uh- no- I- I just saw.”

“It’s fine. He is the catch but it’s a game.”

“Game?”

“Mhm. When you want to have good night- I mean a kind of night where you would fall asleep right away, you need to make them desperate.”

You leaned forward. Closer to him. You didn’t sit down on the empty stool. Bent down instead. It was a bad idea. Or maybe the bad idea was Taehyung letting his gaze averted from your face to your chest. Your low neckline was doing a poor job hiding what’s inside. Taehyung’s brain malfunctioned. His mouth went instantly dry. A whimper nearly escaped him at the sight of that delicious cleavage. Perfect. So, fucking perfect. Only he could’ve buried his face in it right there. Only if he could’ve smelled you. And you made it worse.

“So, I would give them a taste and leave Mr. Kim.”

It was a whisper against his ear. A shiver ran down his spine. It had been a great struggle for him to find his words.

“W-wow, y-you’re a vixen.”

……………………………………

Five years ago

You had frozen. Entirely. A sharp pain coursing through your entire body. Intense and unrelenting. It wasn’t entirely physical, but you felt it reverberated through every cell of your being. For a minute, it was like you were having a heart attack. And you were distraught. It felt like grief, as if you'd lost someone dear. That pain was deeply etched to your heart. You were certain that you’d never be able to escape that sensation. Even your eyes started to sting again. Pricking with unshed tears. You could’ve cried. Could’ve made a fool out of yourself for a second time that day. Taehyung had saved you, though. Distracted you with a shaky inhale of his breath. When you turned your sorrowful gaze to him, he was no longer looking at your face. His eyes were fixed on your breast. At the skin that was revealed to his eyes.

You had thought you imagined it when you saw him eyeing your cleavage earlier. He wouldn’t do that right? But he was. Shamelessly staring. And a shiver ran through your body. Made you visibly tremble. The painful sensation you were feeling replaced with something more sinful. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander. Roam across his broad figure and stop right under his torso. Fuck! He was hard. Bulge visible. His pants was straining against his hardness. You thought you had conflicting emotions at that moment. Part of you believed he wouldn’t do that. And the other part thought you might not be the reason. Then he changed it.

“Does it work every time?”

When you looked back at his eyes they were on fire. His mismatched eyes. His beautiful brown orbs were burning with desire. Your knees buckled under the intensity of that gaze.

“Course, it does. What, do you think it won’t work on you?”

It was a dangerous game you were playing. Among every little thing you couldn’t take, rejection always held the first place. You might’ve been reading the signs wrong. And the entire situation was so wrong. Not that you cared. You were a bad person. You had done far worst things in your life. However, you believed Taehyung might have cared. He seemed like a good guy. Loyal. So, you had brace yourself for the inevitable rejection when his next words came as a whisper.

“Maybe… We should try find out.”

“You want me to try that on you?”

“Please.”

That was it. It was all Taehyung’s fault. You couldn’t hold responsible for your actions. You were the bad guy, and he was supposed to be the good one. He asked for it. And you, a horny woman who was far too broken to think about morality, had no control over denying that. Above all, you really knew how to play.

“Sure thing, sailor. It’s easy, like this.”

You angled your head, so you were facing him properly. Still, bent down. Made sure you were only millimeters apart from his pink lips, when you spoke again. Wanted him to anticipate a kiss you never were about to give.

“Men are easy you know…”

You placed your hand on his shoulder. Felt smug and proud when he slightly shuddered. When his muscles tightened under your barely there touch.

“Flashing my tits always make it easier… but this way it’s better.”

Dragged your palm down through his chest. He waited patiently. Swallowed harshly. Eyes never leaving yours. You dragged your palm down, down, and down. Through the expanses of his sculptured chest and abs. Didn’t even hesitate a bit when you hovered your palm over his crotch. Fighting with yourself not to lose your control and give in right there. Kept your hand there for a few seconds.

“And this is the part I love the most, sailor.”

You changed the position of your hand instantly. The poor guy nearly whimpered. Only for a moment though. You never gave him time to mourn the loss when you were grabbing his hand.

“Please.”

You made sure you mumbled that one word in a way it spills liquid neediness into his brain. Then at the same moment you raised his hand up. Pressed his palm into your left breast. Gave him full privilege of touching your soft mound completely. He moaned. He fucking moaned. So did he understand what you meant by ‘please’. You didn’t expect him to jump into action right away. He did and you failed not to moan as well. He squeezed your soft flesh while his breathing got ragged. He did it over and over, repeatedly. You allowed that to happen for how long you have no idea. You almost didn’t want it to end. Were simply falling into an ecstasy under his touches. What brought you into reality was when his lips grazed over yours. You withdrew fast as thunder. Completely. Pushed his hand away. Took a moment to compose yourself.

“Not so easy sailor, you should try harder.”

Turned around and walked away with your heart pounding in your throat.

………………………………..

Five years ago

Taehyung had sat there motionless. He was sure his brain was broken. Oh God, everything about this was wrong—what he’d done. But his real problem lay elsewhere. Crossing moral boundaries didn’t seem to strike him as a bad thing. He had his gaze fixed on your retrieving back. On the sway of your hips. The way you never even looked back. You disappeared at a corner. He knew you went to the bathroom. There was a possibility that you might not return to him. And it hurt Taehyung. Both in his chest and lower. His cock was so hard inside his pants. Hard it hurt. Your breast felt so soft in his hand. Your breath made him sigh in relief. He felt like an animal who works on its instinct. He couldn’t control his actions. Especially when he saw that man who had you grinding your hips against him followed you.

Taehyung wasn’t prepared to see you leave with another man that night. Not after you had his cock jump at the sight of your cleavage. He worked on autopilot mode. Wasn’t seeing clear when he practically sprinted after you. Bumped on the strange man who was halfway there. Only slightly caught you disappearing through the bathroom door. Taehyung didn’t give a fuck about the sign that said it was for women. Nor did he care about the shrieks he heard from the few punters who stood near the sinks as he pushed open the door. Only thing he saw was you. Only person who existed there were you. Gaping at him with your wide eyes when he grabbed your arm and turned you around.

“Taehyung!”

“You can’t do that, Vixen. That’s so fucking cruel.”

Thats all he said to you before he crashed his lips against yours. His lips lingered for a brief second before moving against yours—desperate and rough. Felt relieved, though. Instant relief. Turned you around and pressed you against the bathroom door. You took a minute. Taehyung liked to think you were surprised. Then you gave in willingly. It was the best feeling in the world when you parted your lips without any reluctance when he brushed his tongue against your lips. Seeking permission. You tasted better than anything in the world. You smelled better than anything. You were so soft against his hard body. And you lapped against his tongue like you were gone mad. Sharing one breath and creating a mess of spit. His cock was throbbing bad. He wanted you more than he needed to breathe at that time. You pulled away first. Gasped for air.

“Do y-you realize that w-we have an audience?”

“Don’t care.”

He fell back into your lips hungrily. He was pretty sure you would’ve let him have you right there if it wasn’t for some punter saying that they minded. You were forced to withdraw. Taehyung wasn’t having it though. He needed you.

“Please Vixen.”

……………………………

Five years ago

Taehyung’s desperate plea had affected you far more than he realized. He had turned you on so hard, apparently. Had unleashed a monster. And how he loved that. You were so needy, and impatient. Pretty. Hot. Gorgeous. The most amazing thing he had ever seen.

You and he had stumbled yourself out the club. Not wanting to stop sucking each other’s lips. It was your idea to go back to your place. And he were just trying to do that, but you were so impatient. Had thrown yourself on him ever since he started driving. He’d had one drink but couldn’t bring himself to care. Wanted nothing more than to go to a place where he can savor and devour you all the much he wanted. He wanted to do it faster, but you were a distraction. You had started it by kissing his neck. Trailing your tongue on his sensitive spot. Then you had escalated it by finally touching his hardened length through his pants. Squeezed and rubbed.

You teased the life out of him. Had played with your cunt, all the while he struggled to keep concentrating on the road ahead. How impossible that was when you bunched up your dress around your waist. Spread your legs and started to rub your cute cunt over your lacy panties. Taehyung was sure he’s going to crash. Then you pushed the fabric to the side. Moaned needily as you pushed a finger inside you. What a show you put for him. You pumped and pumped and pumped. Dripping on to the leather seat of his car.

“Holy fuck, baby. Jesus.”

“Need you Tae. Oh, fuck I can’t... Need more... Can I jerk you? No... no, can I suck you off?”

“Fuck, I’m gonna crash lady.”

“No, you won’t. C’mon you can. You’re a tough guy aren’t you. You can handle a little teasing.”

“Oh, fuck… you are a vixen. You gonna kill us both.”

You slipped your drenched finger out of your cunt. All he could think was how delicious you would taste. He had opened his mouth before he could think about it. Before you could wipe your finger on your thigh. You took the hint. Pushed your finger inside his mouth gratefully. It was embarrassing but he nearly cried. You did too. Didn’t wait a second longer before you were fumbling with his belt. Taehyung’s hips bucked upward involuntarily. His cock twitching as you freed him from the tight confines of his pants.

From there it was a hazy blur. You ruined him. From the very moment your warm lips wrapped around his flushed tip. You were a fucking vixen through and through. Such a tease. Knew exactly what you were doing when you gagged and chocked yourself on his cock. Slurping and drooling. Sucking the life out of him. Keeping him lost in your warmth till his cock throbbed nearing the release and you had stopped. Taehyung complained. Not for real though. He loved every minute of it. And by the time he parked in front of your apartment building, Taehyung was surprised how he even managed that. He took a moment to collect himself as you were still going on it. He was in ecstasy. Immense pleasure. Yet if you had thought he had given you full control, you were so wrong.

He bunched up your hair in his fist. Bucking his hips upward. Pressed you down. Kept you there before let go. You slipped his length out of your mouth. Gasping and panting.

“Cum, sailor. Want to taste you.”

He used your hair to straighten you up. Looked at your ruined face. Fucking ethereal.

“Yeah, you want that? Too bad, princess. I want to ruin that tight little hole first, fill you up, and make you beg for more. Tell me you'll let me.”

Couldn’t help but kiss your wet lips. You nodded into that kiss.

………………………………..

Five years ago

It was the best sex Taehyung had ever experienced. From the very moment you managed to enter your apartment in one piece to where he had you beneath him, his cock stretching your cute cunt open, it all felt like a dream to him. You pulsed around him violently. Frantically. He made you cum twice before having you warming his cock. Both times on his tongue. Sucked and lapped on your cute clit for so long. Overstimulated you to a point you actually cried.

Funny part was that it wasn’t about showing you who was in control or taking sweet revenge for the torture you put him during the drive. No, it was entirely his feral desire. The desire to keep lapping against your sweet slick. He was starved. To keep his head buried between your thighs and get drunk on your smell. He was high. He felt inhuman, insatiable. He could’ve gone for days like that. Fingers knuckles buried inside your cunt and massaging that sweet spot. Tongue circling around your twitching clit. Drinking your sweet essence. Unfortunately, though, he had to stop before you became too tired to pleasure his aching cock.

He held on to a loose thread of sanity as he watched you squirming beneath him. Eyes teary and mouth agape. He wanted to move but felt greedy to do so at the same time.

“Shit, I don’t want to start.”

“Y-yeah? Fuck… W-why is th-that?”

You giggled beautifully. Breathlessly.

“Starting it means, ending it sometime princess. Don’t want to stop.”

He pressed himself more into you. Relished the feeling of your warm walls clenching and unclenching around him. Your warmth. Having you stretched so wide and the sensation of your tightness struggling to adjust to him. Your arousals soaking his length. It was a dream to have you. To fuck you. Raw. He didn’t want that to end.

You had gone still at his words, however. Watched him with an unexplainable yet sorrowful expression. And he knew what was coming. He didn’t want you to voice that out. You did.

“I hope you know what you’re doing Kim Taehyung.”

Shit. He wanted to silence you. So, he dragged his aching cock back just to slam inside you. It didn’t have the desired effect. You moaned loudly and arched your back. Yet before he could repeat his movements, you spoke.

“I hope you realize that you’re cheating Kim Taehyung.”

It should’ve turned him down the moment those words left your sweet, seductive lips. But how fucked up he was that it didn’t make any difference at all. His hunger for you still roared inside him without a hitch. He gave you another harsh thrust.

“I hope you know; you’re an engaged man and you have a fucking fia─”

“Holy fuck, shut up you little minx. Shut up! Just use that mouth to moan my name, go on.”

He stilled himself inside you. Ground a bit. And opted into an animalistic pace straight away. And you did what you’ve been asked for. Moaned his name so sweet that his head spun. Yet there was a single thread of sanity left on you.

“Tell me you know Taehyung. Don’t go fucking blame me after this.”

“I know. All right. I fucking know. Damn know.”

He leaned forward. Kissed you hard. Withdrew only to grab the underside of your thighs. And to push your legs toward your torse. Bent you in half. Fucked you the hardest he could.

“It doesn’t matter vixen, you know. It’s only happening this one time. It’s fine.”

Told to himself more than to you. You had looked at him with void eyes. No emotion. Or not. Taehyung thought you were hurt. But you nodded. Understood. And he threw the care away. You did too. It was all pleasure. Each drag of his cock inside your warm walls. Each hit against your sweet spot. Each clench you made. It all was perfect. Perfect in the way how he wanted more even when he was already buried deep inside you. He wanted more of you. Wanted to make that last long. Especially since it was supposed to happen one time. Taehyung wanted to make you lose your mind. And he did.

Made you hold your own thighs so he can go deeper and harder. Played with your cute clit. All it took was few flicks and you were cuming undone crazily. Had put your legs over his shoulders. Kissed you hard when you came again. Had you on your knees. Yet in the end, he wanted even more. Even when you were so spent. When you lost the ability to stay up on your knees long ago. Taehyung would say it was the only reason why he fell to the bed laying on his side. Got you in the same position. Pulled you to him till your back was pressed against his chest. His hand under your neck. Curled it so you would be even closer. Held your leg up while he entered your warmth again.

Fuck, that was no ordinary way to fuck a one-night stand. He spoon fucked you, while he held you so passionately. Kissing your neck and coaxing you. Praising you for being such good dirty slut for him.

“Like that pretty slut. God, take it. Doing so fine baby. I’m so close. So close.”

“Taehyung… I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. You will. Take me baby please. Want to cum deep inside you. Tell me you want that, hm? Tell me you want my cum deep inside your slutty cunt. You gonna keep them inside, don’t you?”

“Taehyung please…”

Weren’t it the sweetest sound when you moaned his name. And when you add a nice beg in the end.

“I got you baby. Let go one more time for me? I know you got more. You can cum more for me slut.”

“Oh, fuck…”

“Yeah? Shit, feel so good princess. You feel fucking good. Don’t want to fucking stop.”

Taehyung had his face buried in your neck the whole time. Your scent was intoxicating. Addictive. You felt like home. Even though it didn’t make any sense. He didn’t know you. Not even your name.

“What’s your name?”

He never stopped railing your cunt as he blurted the question out. You giggled breathlessly. Taehyung felt you shake against him.

“Seriously, Kim? You- fuck- you’re fucking me to the next week, but you don’t know my name?”

“You never told me.”

“Why would you want to know my name?”

“So, I can moan it.”

You told him your name. And Taehyung stuck to his words. Moaned it over and over again. Even moaned it when you were the one who was cuming again. Squeezing around his twitching cock hard. Desperate to milk him. Crying his name. Taehyung held you close because he wanted to. You were so good. And the way you gripped him was the final straw for him.

It was pathetic how he whined. Almost cried when he came. It was otherworldly. The feeling. But it was all over the moment he lost it. The moment his hips stuttered, and he couldn’t edge himself anymore. Rope after rope of white cum had shot into the confine of your womb. Satisfactory. He felt whole for a minute before reality had hit him. Bad. It was bad. Even then, he hadn’t rushed away from you. No. He had waited till he couldn’t anymore. Had cleaned you up despite your half- hearted protests.

Eventually, when he gathered himself, you were fast asleep. And the thing that had made Taehyung felt most guilty was the way he kissed you softly before he left.

………………………………..

Four years and four months ago

You never saw him. Not even once since your little dirty tryst. You wanted to ask about him from Namjoon, but your ego was larger than the galaxy. No, you couldn’t lower yourself like that. Besides, he had told you it was just a one-time thing. Funny. Normally you left men wanting more. They had always come back. Not Taehyung. You understood though. Just because you felt satisfied to be the bad guy, it doesn’t mean he would too. You had fully expected that was the case. That Taehyung would stick to the good. Would do the right thing. Until that day.

It was storming outside. You were in a critical state. A shadow lingered in the corner of your living room, and screams echoed in your mind. You planned to leave the house for a good drink and a hunt that night. That was when you heard the knock on your door. And the person outside it was someone who you never expected to see again.

How ridiculous it was the way you were grinning from ear to ear like a mad woman when you opened the door. Finding a soaked Taehyung, covered in a black hoodie.

“Well, hello, Mr. Kim Taehyung!”

“Hi, vixen.”

“You’re passing by?”

“One more time. Just one more. I need it, baby, please.”

He startled you with his sudden outburst. You didn’t get to ask anything more. Simply because he was lunging at you. You didn’t get to do anything more than letting out a surprised yelp when he intruded your house. Lips pressed hard against yours. It was too quick how he thrusted his tongue inside your mouth, taking advantage of the surprised gasp.

All you saw was the door closing behind him before he had your back against the wall next to the door. You kissed him back. You did. Just after the few initial seconds of surprise passed away. Slipped your tongue inside his mouth too. Moaned at the sensation you felt only once before. At the addictive taste. He tasted like winter. You used to hate winter. It was dull and gloomy. But when you were kissing Kim Taehyung, you fell in love with the winter. He was the bright side you never saw. Your head started spinning. Above all, the screams inside your head vanished the moment his lips landed on yours. And you knew the shadow was gone too. You were the one who pulled away, first. You could’ve died if you didn’t.

“Wh- what are y- you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“Thought it was supposed to be that one time?”

“I know Vixen, I fucking know. Can you please- just… Fuck- let me fuck you one more time. I just need one more time. Can’t get you out of my head.”

Well, you didn’t care at all. You were at peace with the information that you were the bad person. If Taehyung wanted to take part in that, you weren’t going to stop him. Because you were selfish. He had no idea how much you missed him. How hard the past few months were for you. Your invisible friends have started to annoy your ass more and more since the day you woke up to an empty bed after he fucked you to the next life. That- the day he came back- was the only day you felt relieved. You were not going to play the hero who you never were.

So, of course, you said yes. An eager one. That’s all it took for Taehyung. He almost tore your clothes apart. His soaked ones following afterward before he had you straddling his sculptured thighs naked. Sat on your couch, grinding on his bare cock while he lapped against your hardened nipples. You went on it for what felt like hours. Your sticky arousals soaked his hard cock while his saliva made a mess on your tits. He created reddish artwork on your skin. And you clenched around nothing every time.

“Want me to tie you up to your bed, vixen?”

“Fuck..”

“Hm? Answer me slut?”

“Yes…. please.”

“Holy fuck! Gonna make you cum hard baby, don’t worry.”

That was your first bondage. You never allowed any man to tie you up to anything. Not even to tie your hands together with their silk ties. It took more than trust to let someone have you that way. You never felt safe. You always wanted to have your control even when you were too drunk to care. You hate it when you don’t have that control. With Kim Taehyung, however, you didn’t care. You consented to be tied to your bed gratefully. You felt safe. You trusted him more than you trusted yourself.

There was not a single ounce of doubt when he secured the knots around your wrists. There was not a drop of fear when he ate your cunt like you were a full course meal. Not even when you knew he’s going to overstimulate you. He would make you cum until your thighs shake. And you had no safe word. Yet you trusted him. So much. You felt nothing but blissful pleasure when he finally had enough of your taste. His hardened length visibly jumping. You didn’t hesitate to tell him where you had your vibrator when he asked for it. Knew you were up to a good time. So, you were.

Your back throat was raw from all the moaning when he finally thrusted inside you. You had missed the stretch so badly. He had the damn vibrator pressed against your already sensitive clit when he started pounding you on to the mattress.

“You feel good princess?”

“So- fuck- s- so good Tae... Oh, baby... shit...”

“Ahh, shit, such a tight cunt. Just like I remembered. Nobody fucked you after me?”

You only managed to shake your head. It was the truth. Not that you didn’t want. You wanted it badly. But nobody felt the same. So, you gave up on the kissing stage.

“Really? Really princess? Y-you didn’t? Fuck…. You gonna kill me. Holy fuck!”

And he was going to kill you too. It scared you how you didn’t know a way to handle that much pleasure. You wanted to touch him. Badly. Your hands itched. Restrains dug scarlet marks into your wrists at how hard you moved your hands against them. It was pure instinct that made you want to claw at his back. You couldn’t. That was torture.

“Wanna- wanna….”

“Yeah baby? What do you want?”

“Wanna touch you… Tae please.”

“No… No princess. Just take it. Hm take it. Take my cock like a good slut.”

It’s not like you had any other options to be fair. You had to take it. And you did graciously. Lost the count of how many times you fell over the edge. Convulsing around him. Somewhere between your fourth orgasm and his first, you lost your senses. Just cried for him to untie you because you wanted to touch. At last, he relented. Untied you. You jumped at the opportunity. Pulled him so close to you. Didn’t even mind his weight crushing you. It was just like the first time. You didn’t want to end.

“Go again, please, Tae. Again, I want more. Keep filling me up.”

“Fuck, sure you can take it?”

“Positive.”

So, he did. Without the vibrator and restraints. And it wasn’t a fuck. It was love making. He stared into your soul through your eyes when he gently rocked you into your mattress. Held you close to him the best way he could.

“Let’s cum together baby. Cum with me.”

You didn’t know what the best was. Cuming hard when he violently pounded you or when he slowly built the tension and made you let go together with him. Both felt ecstatic. So much your heart broke when it was over. When he cleaned you up and plopped next to you. It was all over again. And you thought you would wake up to an empty bed next day.

………………………….

Four years and four months ago

You didn’t wake up to an empty bed. For once, the emptiness was replaced by something tender, something real. When you woke up and tried to adjust your tired eyes to the bright light, your eyes had landed on a snuggled figure next to you. Then you had felt the warmth of that figure. Your bed wasn’t cold. And you felt how tight his arm was wrapped around your waist. It was wholesome. It was heartbreaking. He hadn’t left. He didn’t know how much it meant to you. You had watched his peaceful face that morning. Like a creep. The way he breathed. Way his lips were pouty. You didn’t dare to move a finger. Felt like a dream that was too good to be true. A single wrong move could make it all vanish.

It didn’t. He woke up sometime after you. And to your relief he knew where he was. Had mumbled a groggy ‘morning’. Your heart was doing the tango. Wanted to kiss him hard. You didn’t, though. You just stared at his face. He did the same until he finally felt bored of it and opted to play with your hair. It was peaceful. Peaceful in a way that made you do something you thought impossible.

“You know, when I was a kid, monsters lived under my bed.”

You never meant to tell him that. No. It slipped your mouth before you could stop. Nobody knew. Not even Namjoon. Your aunt knew, just because you ran to her when the first monster crept out under your bed. She didn’t give a fuck. You had to deal with your monsters on your own. You were a little kid. But what else you could’ve expected when she was the one who created those monsters.

You kept them as a secret. Were afraid of people treating you differently. Were afraid of Namjoon treating you differently. Had thought he would not want to be your friend anymore had he known. You always thought, if there was a someone who would eventually know, that someone would be Kim Namjoon. Your best friend since you were little kids. The boy next door. He was all you had. His house was the place you ran to when your aunt was too drunk, making your life hell. He was your only relief.

Then he betrayed you. He found a girlfriend when you were fifteen. You were jealous. Scared. But that wasn’t what broke you. What broke you was when he came to you to let you know that he’s flying abroad. And he did. You were left alone. Partially you hated Namjoon for that. You always waited, though. Thought the monsters would go away when he came back. Because that’s how it was before he left.

Funny, how it wasn’t he who made your monsters go away in the end. True, he brought the light you were craving. Only not in the shape of him. Still, you didn’t mean to tell it to Taehyung. At that moment you were so sure you made him run away from you. You were beyond surprised when he just stared at you. Affectionately. Brought his hand on your hair to cradle your cheek.

“You did.”

You had remained still. At the verge of tears. He was supposed to run away. Yet you nod anyway.

“My-uh- aunt, she… um used to… I mean she didn’t really treat me well. And this one day she came home all bloody. I don’t know what happened but- uh- I was so scared of her. She- fuck… well, she kinda took her anger out on me and ever since that day, monsters lived under my bed.”

You sniffled. Tried hard not to cry when Taehyung changed his position. Dropped his hand to your waist again. Just to pull you closer to his still naked body. Hugged you so close. Inhaled shakily yet, he didn’t run away.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry that happened. I wish I could have been there to protect you.”

“It’s not your fault. Why would you be sorry for something that you have no control of?”

“Do they return often?”

You didn’t know how he knew. Were you that visible? You wanted to tell a white lie. That you were fine. Something made you tell the truth, however.

“They do but I’m not afraid anymore.”

“Call me when it happens the next time.”

“Why? Told you I’m not afraid, sailor.”

You failed to hold your tears. Especially, when he hovered over you. Kissed your lips.

“I know. Just call me.”

He made a severe mistake that time. You and he made a severe mistake. You agreed in the end. Just before his soft kiss started to deepen. Before his lips started to trail down your jaw and neck. Before they ended up on your already hardened nipples. Nobody questioned how it shouldn’t have happened again.

……………………………..

Five years and three months ago

You didn’t call him until a month passed. Taehyung considered visiting you unannounced again but felt like a scumbag for even thinking about it. You were not a sex toy for him to use. And he still had a fiancée. Who was innocently unaware of his infidelity. He wanted to have better control over himself. Not to commit the same sin again. Convincing himself he was only meeting you to help made it seem acceptable, though it wasn’t just an excuse—he genuinely wanted to help. Not that he knew a reason. He just did.

Because he finally knew what made you, you. Knew it was your aunt that made you broke apart in a Samgyeopsal restaurant. Knew how it happened. How the said aunt clipped your wings. He wanted to help. Felt an urge to protect you. Be next to you each and every minute so, no monster, no human would be able to harm you.

So, when he received a call from an unknown number. When he heard a sob from the other side when he answered. Taehyung had gone into a frenzy. There was only one thing on his mind. That you needed help. You needed him. You had only muttered one word.

“Taehyung…”

His heart sank at that. Shattered. Brain started to ring alarms. There would be no other way to explain that feeling than fear. He thought you were dying. You weren’t. When he finally reached you, he found you curled up next to your couch. Screaming with your hands covering your ears. Tears streaming down. One word chanted through your dry lips. Desperate.

“No. No. No. No.”

Taehyung didn’t know what he should do. So, he did what he thought would be helpful. He hugged you tightly. Told you he was there. And kissed you passionately. Tasted your tears on your lips. It felt like hours passed until you finally calmed down. But when you did. When your cries fade into little whimpers, he finally felt like he could breathe.

…………………………..

Five years and three months ago

You never wanted to be a burden. Yet somehow you became one. Taehyung said that’s not who you are. But you knew you were. You started to rely on him completely ever since that day. From the very moment he stepped inside your apartment while you were crying for a little relief. When it was over, you knew you had to let him go. You couldn’t though.

“C-Could you, um… stay a little longer?”

“Course, I can.”

You sighed in relief. Snuggled against his chest. You sat on the floor next to the couch. Both of you. As long as he was there, the bloody woman won’t return. You knew it. You were staring to calm down. Collecting the shredded pieces of you. Still very shaken from your earlier outburst. You never learnt a way to cope with it afterwards. At least not until Kim Taehyung happened.

“Want to forget it ever happened vixen?”

“I would like to.”

He said nothing when he got to his feet. Said nothing when he fished for his phone. You watched him with a curious gaze until the sound of music filled the silent air of your apartment. Reggae- rock. It was, ‘can’t remember to forget you’. You rolled your eyes to the back of your skull. Shook your head so fast that it made you dizzy.

“Oh my god, no, Taehyung.”

“C’mon, it’s fun.”

You protested the best you could. Yet ended up swirling under his arms after he pulled you into your shaky legs. You were reluctant as hell at first. It was amazing how he eased you slowly. How he made you swirl and sway your hips. You didn’t even realize you were actually dancing in your living room with a man you had no business being with. Didn’t know you were grinning like a fool. In your baggy hoodie and leggings. He didn’t have to make you dance anymore. You did it by yourself. Pressed you back to his. Wiggled your shoulders in sync with him. Sung the lyrics through top of your lungs.

I rob and I kill to keep him with me

I do anything for that boy.

I’d give my last dime to hold him tonight

I do anything for that boy.

Only you didn’t know that was the truth. That in the long run, you would really do anything for him. And that won’t be enough.

In that moment, it was the life. It was one of the happiest memories in your distraught life. You saw the universe in his eyes that day when he finally turned around and turned you to face him as well. He was happy. You were happy. In a little bubble you created.

“Gosh, sailor, you’re crazy.”

“Yes, I am.”

He mumbled before softly kissing you.

……………………………….

Three years and six months ago

You called him rarely first. Then more often. Then every day. First, it was when the voices and visions got unbearable. Then it was for no reason. And he was more than happy to visit. After few months, you didn’t have to call him anymore. He came every day. He danced with you every day. He fucked you every day. The thing was, though, you both knew it was temporary. You thought you were just fine. You did it because you were the bad guy. That thought shielded you against the guilt. So, you kept thinking that. Until, of course, you couldn’t anymore.

That day when he rocked you onto your bed while staring at you with those sparkly eyes, you knew something had changed. Not in him. But in you. You weren’t doing it to be the bad guy anymore. You weren’t doing it to feel like you have control anymore. No. You were genuinely enjoying every moment with him. You loved them. You loved the way he looked at you. Loved the way he talked to you. Loved how he smiled at you. Loved how he laughed. Walked. Ate. Slept. Loved his smell. Loved his presence. Simply, you loved him.

You inhaled a shaky breath. There was no denying anymore. You loved Kim Taehyung. In a crazy way. Just like on your second day together, you hadn’t meant to voice your thoughts. But once again, the words slipped out before you could stop them.

“I love you.”

He had still immediately inside you.

“What?”

“I love you, sailor.”

…………………………….

Three years and six months ago

Taehyung had panicked too much. Too hard. He never expected to hear that. You surely didn’t love him. It couldn’t be true. It was such an unexpected confession. He stumbled away from your bed. Had denied what you said. Shook his head. Got dressed in record time. Had stormed away from your apartment while you looked at him with wide innocent eyes.

He didn’t even give you time to explain. Didn’t give you the explanation you deserve. Vanished from your gaze. You called him several times. He ignored you. Just because he was so scared. You couldn’t love him. You knew he was engaged. Above all, he couldn’t accept your feelings. You were worlds apart. He had every intention to keep ignoring you. To hide away from the world. And you stopped calling him too. He knew you had a huge ego, that you wouldn’t even look at his face again.

He thought that would be the case. But how hard that day was for him. He was a huge mess through and through. His heart was aching like someone was squeezing it in their hand. He felt like he was physically bleeding. Yet he could’ve made the day if it wasn’t for the call he received from you at midnight. He never ignored your late-night calls except that day. He didn’t answer. Waited few minutes lying in his bed, imagining how it might be for you. He knew you hadn’t called to say anything else. He knew so much about you by then, that he knew you called him because you were scared. Knew the visions might be back. Knew you might be hearing the sounds.

And that was when he realized how much he cared. He cared always, yes, but that’s when he realized that. He cared too much. Too hard. He couldn’t stay away from you. Couldn’t ignore your calls for help. You were too precious. Even though he didn’t know you had been his everything lately.

Taehyung practically jumped from the bed. Ignored his startled fiancée. Broke every speed limit as he raced to your place. Just to find you nowhere. Nowhere in your apartment. That was the first time he had felt hollow. A strange sensation shot through his spine. His heart was beating in his ears as he stood still in your living room. Trying to clear his head and think straight. That’s when he had heard the sobs. Muffled. You were inside. Somewhere there. He followed the sound. Slowly and quietly until he found you finally. The sounds came through your closet. Taehyung didn’t think it was possible to feel more heart broken. He did somehow, when he sprang open the closet door. Gaze falling on to the figure in a fetal position. You had looked up at him with your red and puffy eyes. Your panicked expression morphed into an angry one in a blink.

“Why are you here? What the fuck are you doing here Kim? Why are you here? Get out. Leave. I don’t want you here!”

He didn’t listen to you obviously. Crouched down before you. Touched you when you started to thrash. Throwed a tantrum.

“No. No for fucks sake vixen, I’m not leaving you like this. I’m so sorry baby.”

“You did once. You can do it again. Fucking go away Kim.”

“I’m sorry princess. No, stop─”

You were stronger than a lioness that day. He had a great struggle holding you still, pulling you into his body. You tried your best though.

“I don’t want your fucking pity, Taehyung, I don’t want it.”

“I’m not giving you my fucking pity! I’m fucking giving you, my love”

He yelled. You stopped wriggling like a worm at once. Everything went still for a minute before you broke apart. Crying hard into his chest. He cried too. But at the same time, he made sure to tell you he loved you like it was a mantra to calm you down.

“I fucking love you too Vixen. I love you.”

…………………………………………

A year ago

From the moment Taehyung confessed his love for you, your life turned completely around. It wasn’t the sour and dull life anymore. It was bright as summer and comfortable as winter. Sure, there were heart breaks and days you cried. Like how your heart broke when Namjoon confessed to you in a fancy restaurant. You had blinked at his face stupidly. You couldn’t believe it. That Namjoon liked you. You had a fat crush on him until the day he left to states. You thought you harbored the same feelings when he came back too. But somewhere on the line things had changed. Even though Namjoon was very special to you, you had to break his heart. You were in love with Namjoon’s friend. For years. Namjoon understood your rejection, but he shut himself out from your life.

It hurt you. But you knew he was hurt too. There were other incidents too. Sometimes you fought with Taehyung. You cried a little. He brought you cupcakes instead of beer after those fights. Brought you Orchids. Despite everything you were living your best life. Things changed for good too. Like how you loved winter. Because he tasted like winter. Because he took you to that winter carnival. Only you two. You giggled like a teenager. Enjoyed everything like a toddler. He showed you the things you missed. Healed the little girl inside you. Taught you it was okay to love someone unconditionally. To be loved unconditionally.

He made you watch cliché movies and read you books. You learnt how beautiful it was to dance in the rain. You looked forward to his silly dates. You missed him when he was gone. But with everything, you both knew in the very end of the silver line there was a looming darkness. You ignored it the best you could though.

“Do you think she meant this?”

Taehyung played with your hair- a habit he developed- as you lazily laid there after he fucked your brains out. It was noon. Harsh sunlight was creating glowing patterns on his face. You looked at him wearily.

“Who?”

“That fortune teller. She told our fates were tied together.”

“Really sailor, you still believe those shits?”

“You don’t?”

There was such tender look in his eyes. How you loved him. You turned to your side to face him, thinking his question through.

“Well, I don’t want it to be real, so, I don’t believe.”

“Why?”

“Because she said we had unresolved issues Taehyung, that’s bad. And…. She said that cycles repeat. She said something about pains lingering. If it was true, then that part comes true as well. If it was true, then something bad happened to us in that past life Taehyung. I don’t want that again. Don’t want you gone.”

Taehyung had frozen for a minute. Had looked at you with his eyes pouring out his heart. Had kissed you deeply. Held you close.

“It won’t. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

You trusted him that day. But you forgot that your life isn’t supposed to be that good.

………………………

Six months ago

It was storming just as it had been the day Taehyung suddenly popped up in front of your apartment door, after months of your first day. And he had knocked on your door similar to how he had done then Instead of simply walking inside as he used to. You were so surprised to find him there soaked to the bones. Ironically wearing a similar black hoodie. And you, stupid you, had grinned uncontrollably to see him there. Only until you realized he wasn’t smiling back. Until you noticed that his eyes were puffy and red. Undoubtedly from crying. Even the tip of his nose was red. He hadn’t spoken a word. Not a single word before you understood it for yourself. He had this look on his face. Somber. Distraught. Guilty. Hesitating. It all screamed one thing. That loomed darkness was there.

You knew. Before he could tell it, you knew. And you jumped into action before anything else can happen. You desperately had believed it won’t happen if you stop it before he says anything.

“No. No. Taehyung. I- fuck- I don’t want to hear it. Turn around please. Leave.”

What you wanted didn’t happen. He spoke. Instead of listening to you he spoke.

“She knows.”

“So what? I don’t care Taehyung. Turn around. This isn’t happening. You’re not- you’re not- not─”

Your words had muffled by a sob that erupted from your throat. You didn’t want to cry. It meant, it was happening. No, it wasn’t.

“Look, I- (__), I’m s-so fucking so-rry baby─”

“No, you’re not, you’re not sorry Taehyung. If you’re really sorry, don’t do this to me. Don’t─”

“She doesn’t deserve that. I wasted her whole life. I can’t do that to her.”

She doesn’t deserve that. So, you did?

He wasted her whole life. So, he didn’t waste yours?

He can’t do that to her. But he can do that to you?

You took a step back. The tears were out of your control now. That wasn’t how it meant to happen. It was meant to be a happy ending. You did your best. You did everything you could. You never asked him to make a decision. You always soothed your heart saying, he would do it at the right time. You always understood his situation. You made peace with being a secret, and not being able to tell anyone who your boyfriend was. You did everything. In the end, it wasn’t enough. None of it was enough.

Despite all your efforts there stood Kim Taehyung. The man you loved dearly. Loved crazily. Blindly that you didn’t even see that you wouldn’t be the one he chose. He stood there while tears rolled down his cheeks as well. But in the end, he was leaving you. For her.

You carry the weight of a past undone. Shadows of a life lived before. A tragedy. You’ve crossed paths now to mend what was broken... or to fail once more. Beware. Cycles repeat, and pain lingers. Choose wisely this time.

Pain lingers. It sure hell did.

You were starting to lose the ability to breathe. You dug your nails to your fists. You wanted to stay calm. Talk it through. Yet the pain made it come out all wrong.

“So what? You gonna walk away like that? Do you realize, how much of prick you are?”

“No, don’t do that.”

“Do what Kim? You cheated on her for years and only now you realize─”

“Shut the fuck up (__).”

“Oh, I will. I will shut up. I will be the one to shut up and bare it when you’re tossing me aside after using my body for years.”

“That’s not what fucking happened.”

“Then what the fuck does happened?”

“I didn’t fucking use you. You knew what you were getting yourself into. Don’t blame me like a hypocrite (___). Don’t fucking do that.”

“I didn’t know Taehyung. I fucking believed in the lie you told me.”

“Well, then why did you fucking let me lie. Maybe you should’ve thought better before slutting yourself for me. I should never have visited the carnival that day.”

That had hit hard. Like a slap. Shut your mouth. Only pain remained in the suddenly silenced air as you looked at him with pathetic eyes. It took him a minute. Then he nearly lunged forward, shaking his head violently. You recoiled instantly.

“No, fuck I don’t mean that vixen. Fuck, I’m sorry. Hey, baby─”

“It doesn’t matter Taehyung. Guess what? You’re so right. It’s my fault. Should’ve known better. I’m a slut and I would put that into good use.”

“No, vixen wait.”

“Bye Kim. Live your fucking life.”

You closed the door in his face.

……………………………..

Now

“There’s no hope anymore, is there Tae? You were long gone when I found out?”

Taehyung just blankly stares at her face. Sighs. Drops his head into his hand. Ever since he left your apartment, it hasn’t been the same. With him. With her. Taehyung has forgotten to smile. He has drowned himself in alcohol. Nothing helps though. He wants you. He needs you. Like how he needs air. He misses you. Your warm smile. Your voice. Your scent. Oh, he loves you crazily. Blindly. He now realizes that he can’t do this.

He wanted to do the right thing. Right by her. Because he thought that’s how he would find peace. This isn’t peace, however. He’s living in a burning hell. Each passing second without you feels like an eternity in a pit of fire. He loves you. He can’t do it. So, he shakes his head. Biting back the tears.

“I- uh I─”

“Save it Tae.”

The despair in her voice is visible. Taehyung doesn’t know what to do. To add more to his misery, he feels a sensation that is unexplainable but enough to make the hair in the back of his neck stand. To give him chills. He doesn’t like this. It’s uneasy. Scary. He feels helpless.

“You’re such a fool Tae. A coward.”

She adds at his silence. Taehyung snaps his head toward her. A bit offended at the words yet says nothing. So, she continues.

“You cheated on me for years. Years Taehyung. That’s not a simple mistake. That’s- that’s…. You love her. Even though you told me it was just physical needs, you love her Tae. You barely talk to me anymore. You don’t eat, sleep. You barely leave the house. You, Kim Taehyung, are not the man I once fell in love with. You were long gone when I found out. But do you know what makes my heart break the most? It’s that after everything, you were a coward who couldn’t even make the right decision.”

She steps forward.

“You weren’t brave enough to fight for what matters the most. You broke my heart, and then her heart and in the end, you decided to hide away? Gosh, how much of a pathetic coward you can be?”

“Wh-what do you mean? I- I did the right thing.”

He finds his voice lastly. Is too shaken by her sudden accusation. She hasn’t talked to him this straight or rude even the day she found out.

“Did you? No, you didn’t Tae. What you did was choose the easy path. I am that easy path Tae. She- she is the hard path. All the judgments, and facing Namjoon, all of your friends, our friends, our families. And not to mention that she isn’t exactly normal, is she?”

“She. Is. Normal.”

Even Taehyung can’t comprehend the way he’s shifted from a mourning widow to a protective wolf in one minute. He is glaring at her now. She doesn’t even wince, however. Gives him a soft smile instead.

“There you go. You should’ve done that way earlier. Fight for what you want Tae. Not everything comes easy in this world. You’re an asshole. But guess what? People always make shitty mistakes. This doesn’t justify what you did, but I don’t think you and I ever will be the same again. We’ve been engaged for forever now. You’ll never marry me. Even if you did, that would be a great mistake we both make. You’ve become part of her.”

Taehyung blinks at her face. His throat is constricting. Eyes burning. He wants to say something. But what can he say when every word she utters is true. He was a coward. He let you go, and now he gets this feeling that everything is about to end. He gets a bad feeling.

“I don’t know. I- um… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Do you love her?”

Taehyung sighs heavily. Nods. What good it’ll do by lying anymore.

“Y- yeah. Ye-yes. Fuck… yes, I do. I- fuck I’m sorry but I do. I love her. And- and holy shit I feel like it’s too late. I feel like somethings wrong, and it drives me fucking crazy.”

Taehyung rubs his face in frustration. He’s going to explode. Something’s wrong. He can’t breathe.

“Well, I’m not going to be the bigger person here and ask you to run to her Tae. And I won’t say that I’ll forgive you either. But…. My grandma used to say that you shouldn’t ignore it when you get a bad feeling about something.”

With that she turns around and leaves. Taehyung watches her for minute. A long one. His brain struggles to process what just happened. Until it suddenly kicks him. He shouldn’t ignore the bad feeling. It’s still not the way how he should do it. She deserves a better explanation. An apology. A sincere one. She deserves to know the truth. But he needs to see you first. He would do it right this time. For real. Right by you. He would just find you first.

…………………………..

Now

You wonder if this is how it was in the past as well. Just as the fraudulent woman told you. She said that it was a tragedy. That you were met to mend what was broken. Or fail. And what happened was the latter. You failed, once again. Funny, how you’re believing it now. You were so adamant of believing it was a scam. Now here you are. Perch on the edge of your rooftop. Thinking about your past fucking life. You let out a shaky laugh that spirals into something maniacal.

Your life is ridiculous. You lived your entire life battling a battle that nobody else can see. Monsters. Voices. Hate. No friends. No love. No light. Then when you met the man who was supposed be tightly connected with your fate, you thought you finally won that battle. Well, it seems you were wrong. You lost it even before it starts. Now, you’re too tired to keep fighting. It’s suffocating. Exhausting. When Taehyung left that day, the voices and visions became unbearable. There’s not a single day you slept peacefully. Night terrors when you were asleep. Shadows and screaming when you were awake. No amount of alcohol or endless nights spent clubbing. No man who you brought home was able to help you.

Sure, Taehyung brought the light to your world. And he took that light away by himself. Like a candle flicked off. Now it’s only darkness and you don’t think you’ll ever see a light again. You never had anything to lose. But now when you sit here staring into the road down, bustling with vehicles and people, you feel like you’ve lost everything. Maybe, somewhere in between before Taehyung and after Taehyung, you lost your hope. Desire to hang into life. It’s not like anyone would ever miss you. Would they?

Would Taehyung miss you?

Did you die first in your past life? Did he miss you then? Did you kill yourself before? Was that because he rob your light? Does it matter anymore?

Oh, you’re tired. So, tired. You need a peaceful moment. Just one is enough. Maybe in your next life, you will have a normal life. Good family. Parents who won’t abandon you. Good friends. A life without monsters. And maybe… just maybe…. You would meet Taehyung again. The man who wasn’t scared of your haunted scarred soul. The man who helped you to fight them. Your anchor. He was the person who held you to your life lately. The man who you still love like he’s your sun and moon. And then he won’t choose anyone else over you. He would stick to his promises, and you’ll love each other until you grow old. There will be no tragedy.

You turn your head slightly to look at the looming presence of the woman next to you. She has an evil smile on her lips. She’s winning after all. You’re giving up.

“Jump!”

……………………………

Now

Taehyung storms inside your apartment. Surprised that you haven’t changed the password. It’s like that day. It’s empty. No sign of you. He steadies himself in the middle of the living room. Staying quiet in hope to hear your muffled sobs. Like how it was the last time. Only, that he can’t hear anything. Only the hum of your fridge and the ticking sound of your wall clock. It’s empty. It’s silent. Eerily silent. Taehyung is visibly shaking. He is covered in sweat. So, he shrugs his jacket off. And that has nothing to do with the fact that he took stairs instead of the elevator. But everything do with the fact that he’s terrified.

Something is wrong.

It’s night. Did you go to a club? Bar? You don’t have many friends. Taehyung knows you and Namjoon fell apart after his confession. You can’t be at someone else’s house then. He had called you thousand times by now. You haven’t responded. Yet he tries one more time. Dialing your number with his hands shaky. Trembling badly. Cursing when it takes him more than necessary time to unlock his damn phone. When he finally does, he puts the phone on speaker and wait. Waits till the call connect and starts ringing. After what feels like hours, it does. And Taehyung can hear a phone ring inside the apartment. It comes from your room. He checked there earlier. You are not there. But your phone is, apparently. You went somewhere without your phone.

You don’t do that. You have so many demons. You don’t feel safe without your phone. You won’t leave it unless you don’t need it anymore.

Why would you not need it?

Where are you?

Where would you go?

Taehyung’s head is spinning. He feels like banging his head against a wall so that he can think straight. He tries his best to rake his brain for any kind of idea. He knows you after all. It can’t be this hard to guess where you would be.

Where?

A place you like.

A place you don’t like.

Taehyung slowly raises his head. An idea dawned on him.

The rooftop. You like that place. You and he used to stargaze there. And you hated that place. Said those voices become the most annoying when it’s quiet. Taehyung turns around like in a dream.

That’s where you are.

The sickening dread intensifies tenfold. He breaks into a run the moment he leaves the apartment.

Whatever you’re doing up there, it’s not good.

Taehyung doesn’t believe he can run this fast. He does somehow. He takes the stairs instead of elevator again. Can’t waste time waiting for the stupid thing. He runs fastest he can. Feeling his pulse thundering. He can’t be late. He has things to tell you. He needs you to know he made the wrong decision. Wants you to know that he loves you. Needs to tell you that he loves you. He wants to tell you that the day he met you at that carnival was the best day of his life. And it was the best decision he ever made.

He feels like he saw heaven when he finally reaches the top. When he can finally see the rickety door to the rooftop. He yanks the door open. Like how he did open a closet door once. His gaze immediately lands on the figure sitting on the edge. Like how it did land on a figure in a fetal position. The figure turns slightly to glance at him. Like how those eyes looked upon him like a deer caught in a trap last time. This time though, instead of getting mad at him, you look away. No emotions in your eyes. Not even a sign that you acknowledged him. You just turn around.

And Taehyung’s heart stops.

“Vixen, NOOOO!!!!”

……………………………….

Now

You stop.

Freeze.

You were just about to jump. About to end the misery. About to have your peace. You knew someone came. Your blurry vision prevents you from seeing them clearly, and their presence makes you rush, hoping to act before they can stop you. But that voice. Wait? Did they call you Vixen?

You turn around slowly again. Blink. Tears roll down your cheeks, clearing your vision. It takes some minutes for your brain to register that he’s here. Kim Taehyung is here. It takes some time for it to make any sense. Takes time until you finally clearly see him. Standing there. Panting, eyes glittery with unshed tears. He’s taking little steps toward you. His hands up in raised in a gesture of surrender. As if to let you know that he is no harm to you. Ridiculous since you always knew he wasn’t.

“S-sailor?”

You ask groggily. What if this is another hallucination of your mind.

“Yes baby- me. It’s me.”

He takes another step toward you. Slow. Puts one of his hands down. Again slow. Only to stretch it forward. Hesitating.

“Why?”

You look at his hand for a moment before looking at his face again. A single tear has rolled down his cheek.

“Wh-what do you mean why?”

“Why are you here?”

“For you.”

“Yeah?”

You keep looking at his face. He takes another step. Now he’s at a length where he can touch you. He doesn’t, however.

“Yes, I am. Baby- c-can you? Uh- please?”

He stretches his arm toward you. Is asking you to take it. Silently.

“What do you want Taehyung? Why you came back, when you just fucking left me. I can’t do this anymore. I- I, I’m fucking tired. I need to end this damn pain.”

You turn your head to look at the woman. She is no longer there. Because Taehyung is here. But that’s temporary. The moment he will go again, she’ll return. And it will happen anytime soon now. Because Taehyung would leave again. Inevitably. He would leave you again.

“I know baby, I know. I know it hurts. B-but… listen to me, will you? Just get down from there so we can talk. Let’s talk. Please. Please baby….”

“There’s nothing to talk about Taehyung. You can’t do this to me. Go where you belong.”

“But this is where I belong. Baby don’t do this. Don’t leave me to suffer again”

He sounds desperate. Helpless. Why though? You’re the one who should be desperate here. And what does he mean again?

“I’m not the one who left. What do you mean again?”

“I- I d-don’t know. I feel like I’ve lost you once. I know it’s crazy, but I can already fucking feel the pain. I feel like I’ve suffered before. Vixen please don’t do it again. Don’t- fuck, just please get down.”

You can see his hand tremble. Can hear his voice shake. He wants to touch you. You know that but he’s afraid. Like you. You wipe the tears from your hoodie sleeve.

“You wanted to go Taehyung. You chose her and─”

“I know. I’m a fucking coward baby. I am. I made a fucking mistake, but do you think I deserve this kind of punishment? To lose you forever? Do you think I’ll survive this, knowing I lost you forever? Please, Vixen, I’m begging you. Just one chance, that’s all I ask for.”

You simply look at him. He tilts his head back for a moment, trying to steady himself. He’s a mess. You’re a mess. He’s crying hard. It breaks your heart. You hate seeing him cry. Can you trust him, though? What if he leaves again? What if the woman returns again? But then what if he cries this way for the rest of his life when you’re gone? Despite everything, he is here, isn’t he.

“We can try again. In the correct way this time. I’ll be there for you; in every step you take. I’ll help you; you’ll help me. We can try again vixen. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“I don’t know sailor. I’m tired. I want them to be gone forever. Monsters, sounds. I- what if you leave me again?”

“I- God, please trust me this once baby. I won’t. I love you. God, I love you so fucking much it hurts. We’ll make them go away forever. We can do it. I got you. We can light it up baby. Trust me please. Just once, all I need is one more chance.”

That’s all you need as well. One more chance. You take a moment. You don’t know if this is going to work. All you can do is trust him. He broke it once. Maybe you won’t trust him fully now. But what if he works for it. Really hard. Maybe you’ll learn to trust him again. He said he’d help you. You’ll heal. He promised he’d do it right this time. After all, you don’t want to see him cry. You love him. Still. Blindly. Crazily. Sue you for that but you do. Maybe you have a chance, and you shouldn’t wase that.

No, you shouldn’t waste your chance.

You should choose wisely this time.

After another long second, you place your hand in his slowly. He lets out a shaky breath in relief. You get down from the edge with his help. Your legs are too shaky to keep you up right. Yet that’s no problem because you’re in his arms the moment you are down. He pulls you into a fierce embrace, holding you as if he’s afraid to let go. Peppers every inch of you he can find with kisses. Hides his face in your hair. Inhales deeply.

“Thank you. Thank you, Vixen. God, thank you for fucking trusting me. I- God, I promise I’ll make it work. Not gonna let you go again. No. Never. I- I...”

He stutters through his tears. You hide your face in his chest. Let yourself drown in the smell of winter. Get closer as it’s physically possible. Oh, you missed him. What if you’ve never got a chance to be in his arms again? The thought makes you greedy. You clung to him for your life. Still trembling.

There’ll be a long way to go. It will be hard and easy. The road will be smooth and rocky. It will certainly require some work. But in the end, nothing matters. You’re in his hands. Again. And you’ll make sure you are making the right decision from now on. That you won’t let if fail. Won’t let you and Taehyung fail.

“Do you know I love you. Gosh, I thought I’d never get to say that to you again─” Taehyung pulls away to peer at your eyes. Presses a kiss to your lips. Hugs you tight again. “─ I fucking thought you’ll never know. I─”

“I love you sailor.” You interrupts his ramble.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Say it again then.”

“I love you. God, I fucking love you. Let’s say that more often from now on.”

He quietly laughs this time.

“I love you.”

THE BEGINNING.

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five-rivers · 2 months ago

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Listed in order of nomination. Descriptions of each fic are under the cut. Feel free to reblog and include propaganda!

Snow and Song - Danny has to participate in the school musical to graduate on time, while coping with new vocal powers. DP.

The Caterpillar Does Not Know - Due to his unique biology, Danny's body needs help from Clockwork to take on the form it was always meant to have. DP.

Pilgrimage - Sam, Tucker, and Jazz travel across the Infinite Realms to achieve enlightenment complete a rite that will ensure they become ghosts when they die. Sequel to Mortified. DP.

Cult Division - In which Danny is kidnapped by a cult for the purpose of sacrificing him to... himself. Yeah. His life is stupid. Also, his body's been stolen. Part of my Exhumed series. Corpse AU. DP.

Doorways - After a run-in with a monster posing as one of Jack and Maddie's college occult club buddies reveals Danny and his interesting relationship with the portal, the family goes on a road trip to check in on other former club members. DP.

Ancestral - Maddie is a memeber of the royal family of Avlynys. A family whose members are being murdered. Danny will need all the help he can get from family both living and dead to keep everyone safe. DP.

Danger First - What if the first quirk Izuku got from One for All wasn't super strength but Danger Sense? Featuring the undead peanut gallery. BNHA.

Long Night in the Valley sequel - Izuku and Toshinori are on the run after an ill-advised attempt by the Hero Commission to reveal Izuku as the traitor. Featuring alternate early One for All users because they weren’t all revealed when I started it. BNHA.

On Obsession and Free Will - How a relationship between Danny and Clockwork might look in an AU where Obsessions are absolute. DP.

Changeling - Jack and Maddie bargain with a strange Fae. Fertility, in exchange for their future second-born. They don't intend to ever have a second child. But then they do. Their attempts to get out of the deal have unintended consequences. DP.

Loved - Eldritch AU with aggressive adoption tactics. One of my few M rated fics. DP.

Take Me Higher - Danny explores the upper, rarified reaches of the Ghost Zone. Part of Kingdoms of Fish. DP.

#danny phantom #bnha #poll

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brailsthesmolgurl · 10 months ago

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RETRIBUTION

SEQUEL TO DAMNNATION. kindly read the prequel to get a better idea on the story's direction. I know I promised an alternate ending, where angst is not involved, but I want to prolong this pain for you masochists :> Enjoy this long, hefty, and incredibly hurtful read. But, it is okay my lovelies, I shall have a good-comforting parallel-universe ending written for you guys this week. SOOO pls do keep up with my profile :)

The legend goes on, with the God of the Sea failing to protect his beloved. His fate was decided for him by his people, but now, he shall take fate upon his own hands and remake his own endings. But, does fate falter? Even to a God?

Warnings: Angst Angst Angst Angst, Spoiler to Rafayel's Lore and I put in some of my own zesty twists to the lore, Deaths and Bloods and some okay maybe not some descriptive gore.

Rafayel walked across the sandy paths of Lemuria, in his human form, with his beloved laid peacefully in his arms. Rafayel did not even bothered to shift back into his merman form as he wanted to dedicate the mundane's death to his people. Or rather, to show how much he loves her, by being a shadow of her, a human, walking amongst Lemuria. A promise he had always given her.

"You promise to show me Lemuria someday right?" He remembered the way her face would light up when he tells her stories of Lemuria. From how Lemurians had sourced for various kinds of sea stones from different parts of the ocean to build their homes to how Lemurians were created, to what do their daily routines consists of and many other kinds of stories that a man could ever dream of hearing from an actual Lemurian.

There was not a moment that y/n was ever bored of it. Instead, whenever he visits, it naturally became a conversation starter. Y'n would ask him of the most random things. "So do Lemurians possess any gardrobes?" Rafayel nearly spat his tea out, snapping his head towards her when she mentioned about toilets as they were having snacks in the middle of the night within her chambers. "Or perhaps they just do their business wherever they are allowed to---" Before she could even finished, Rafayel would have his hand on her lips, to silence her before she continue ruining his appetite for the rest of the night.

The swipe of his fingers on her pale lips reminded him of those days. She is no longer smiling now, eyes and mouth closed, her skin looked ghoulish under the water, skin reflecting light whenever the lightning above struck the surface of the sea. Rafayel's face is a sheet of calm demeanour, but the soul that lays beneath the hunk of this man is a roaring sea, just like how he summoned for the storm before he stepped foot into the vast ocean.

Fishes and various kinds of sea creatures that used to swim along the pathways are not seen nor found within miles of Rafayel's sight. None of them were brave enough to be within his presence as they knew the aura that Rafayel had emitted. It is no doubt that sea creatures are much smarter than Lemurians. Every step he took made the sea creatures scattered further away, burying deeper into their hideouts, scared for their lives.

Rafayel stood in front of his kingdom, eyes pinned against the marble white towers that he calls home. Cheers and laughters could be heard from the banquet hall, where the Lemurians were probably herded, awaiting for his return for a grand celebration towards the revival of Lemuria. But Rafayel was far from a celebratory mood. "We have arrived, my love." His voice monotonous, no hints of happiness nor giddiness, nor sadness, nor disappointment. Just numbness. A man with feelings bears empathy and sympathy, but, a man without feelings bears emptiness, null and void of all emotions.

He continued his course, holding onto y/n tighter in his arms. He had the initial thought of wanting her body to rest within his chambers before he commits bloodshed. But, having an audience might not be a bad idea. Instead, Rafayel wanted this. He knew that she could not be able to tell nor see, nor to be there to stop him, but he wanted her soul to watch him commit this, to execute damnation upon his kind. All he wanted, was to show her how much he loves her, to the point he is willing to do this, to be a mad man.

The heavy doors leading to the banquet hall slowly opened with a chant of a spell. Rafayel's eyes staring straight ahead, his once two-toned irises had now dissolved to be a dark maroon colour. His guess was right, all of the Lemurians were gathered within this hall, laughters and conversations filled the environment. But, almost abruptly, the laughters and conversations seized, and Rafayel could care less about the whispers that started to take place within the silence.

It did not took long before some of the Lemurians sensed something was off and they started swimming towards the heavy doors. Rafayel chanted something under his breath and the doors slammed right in front of their faces. The ones who tried to escape were shocked, but none of them made their move to question why the God of the Sea had a dead girl with a gaping orifice on her chest within his arms and why did he chose to present himself in a miniature form of a mere mortal. Practically the size of an ant compared to the average 2m Lemurians surrounding him.

"Your highness!" Arvia was initially cheerful, emerging from the crowd before he spotted the girl the God was holding onto. He stopped in his tracks, wanting to turn back before he felt a strong force pulling him towards Rafayel. Arvia faced Rafayel, eyes bulging when the invisible force coiled around his neck. "Your highness.... please!" The young merman coughed, the crowd watching in horror.

"You were the messenger weren't you?" Rafayel asked, eyes looking past the young merman, not even sparing him any last bits of attention.

"I was only...executing...what...was being....told..." The merman replied, his breath getting more restricted by every passing second. "I did...not...know...of...the ceremony. Please...I just want to save---"

"Your highness, no!" A mermaid appeared from the crowd, with blonde hair curling like tendrils on land, hazel eyes staring at the young merman before darting over to Rafayel's figure. She happened to be Arvia's mother. "He did what he have to...To save us all." Her sentence made Rafayel's right eye twitched slightly, fueling the God's wrath even more. "Then," Rafayel turned his head and angled it upwards to stare at her right into her eyes. His dark eyes could quite literally burn a hole through her soul as she finds herself talking back to a God. Not just any God at this moment, for he has taken his stance as a vengeful God. "Should it be justified? That I am only doing this to save my beloved?" Before the mother could even say anything, Rafayel only exhaled his breath and Arvia's head immediately got cut off clean by the invisible force. The head's eyes blinked a couple of times, floating upwards towards the surface, while its body sank onto the sea floor, twitching as it goes down. Blood seeping out into the ocean waters, creating symbols guided by the waves.

Lemurians within the banquet hall went into immediate panic, screaming and screeching, wanting to leave the banquet to save themselves. Rafayel looked up, watching as the Lemurians tried to flee. Like a bunch of fishes trapped within a fisherman's net, pushing against one another and fighting for whatever that is left for their puny lives. His voice was hushed, but clear enough to be heard within the hall. "Don't worry my people, you shall only feel the hurt that I had felt." And all of the screams halted.

...

Amund dragged himself across the sea floor, a trail of blood painted by his very own body fluids. The man was in agonizing pain, nearly to the point of passing out. Just a while ago, he was getting all cozy within his own chambers before he heard loud screams that travelled through the sea rifts. But it did not took long before it stopped so he took no mind to it, figuring it was just another norm for those celebratory parties. Not segregating the mischievious ones from the docile ones, that is just an invitation for a mishap to happen at a party.

He heard a swoosh coming from the side of his house and his door slammed open to reveal the God of the Sea, in his mundane form, covered in splatters of blood from head to toe. Amund's jaw dropped when the screams finally registered into his head. The screams may just be caused by this man standing right in front of him. The very girl Amund had tortured set securely within Rafayel's arms. Rafayel's unusual calm demeanour is not part and parcel of his personality, which further solidified Amund's questions to himself.

"Your high---" Amund was literally smashed through the walls of his house and the merman landed roughly onto the sand pile behind his house. Rafayel walked through the hole, eyes still hollow and face expressionless. "Pleas---" Another slam through another wall. And this repeated for a couple of times, until Amund was laying on the sandy pathway in the village, blood pooling out of his mouth. He tried to escape, pushing himself up and trying his best to get his tail to wag so he could generate enough momentum to give him a boost off of the ocean floor.

"It was a fairly easy instruction." Rafayel spoke, finally. Maroon eyes boring into Amund's skull. "And yet, you failed." Rafayel knelt down, showing Amund the girl he was holding onto the whole time. "You had deeply failed me, Amund. And you had failed Lemuria." Rafayel stood back up on his feet, licking his lips and looking back towards the towers that he had walked out from. "For what you had done to her, death would only be the easy way out for you." Rafayel's eyes turned a darker shade and Amund let out a blood curdled scream, begging for his highness' mercy.

It has been a while, with Amund crawling on the sea floor. Dirt and rubble trapped under the old man's nails. Some of his nails however, were ripped off due to him being tossed around---his failure to hold onto anything to slow down the impact, caused some of his nails to be ripped right off of his fingertips during the impact---with Rafayel's invisible force whenever he tried to plead for the God's mercy.

Rafayel had managed to pluck out the merman's scale, piece by piece. Lemurians scale are used to make lethal weapons not only on land, but also in the waters. Yet, they are the hardest to harvest as pulling off ONE scale would equate to a human ripping off their whole scalp in one go. So, one could only imagine the pain Amund is going through currently. Amund could barely crawl, eyes swollen from the sand that had entered his tear duct and hoarse voices turned into silenced croaks.

If Rafayel was not holding onto his beloved, he would have easily been the one to pluck out Amund's scales one by one. Rafayel's blinding rage had deluded his mind, as he watched the merman who is the reason behind his lover's death. "She was going to be my mate, my lifetime mate, for this upcoming season, do you know that?" Rafayel scoffed, tears stinging at the back of his eyes.

"But you had to just test my patience, and my capabilities as the God of the Sea. Hence, what you had experienced today, shall never equate to the pain you made me go through. For you had taken my fate, my people's fate upon your own hands." He gave Amund a good kick and the guy groaned in agony, facing down as he regurgitated blood. "What I did today, was nothing but a mere taste of what I am capable of. AS A GOD." His last sentence carried a strong surge of disgust, his bloodlust psyche temporarily separated his status between Amund, an ordinary merman and himself, which is made to be a God.

"I curse...curse her." He managed to choke out and Rafayel's eyes widened, immediately leaping forward to grab the merman's head to face him. The merman croaked out his very last laugh, taunting Rafayel's actions and the last sentence of his was spoken in Lemurian, a rendition of a chant to curse y/n to be reincarnated into a sea witch.

Rafayel's blink of an eye sparked his evol, and he stood there, watching the eternal flames that was casted on Amund burn the merman from what was left of him into a pile of dust, waiting to be consumed by the planktons that lives within the sea water's ecosystem. Tears unknowingly flowed down his cheek and trickled onto his lover's face. The show is over and so is his wish to see her to be a mundane again in her next life. Rafayel held her corpse closely and tightly to his body, soft sobs finally leaving his lips as he faltered to the sea floor.

...

Hundreds of years has passed. And hundreds of years, Rafayel had travelled the seas to search for her. To at least sense any signs of her presence. Ever since the massacre, Rafayel was tied down by his own guilt, for not only failing to protect his lover, but also being the sole reason for the extinction of Lemurians. How uncanny, a legend that tells the tale of a God seeking vengeance upon his own kind just because they had killed his one and only lover. That tale would surely be pure nonsensical or would and could possibly generate pure hatred from anyone who hears it.

Rafayel could care less, like how he heard the screams of his people in their very last moments, the sound of blood and tears splattered across the once white and pristine walls that they were confined within. The sound of Amund begging not to be killed---with his throat slowly giving up on him---the last curse that he uttered and the last sounds that had bubbled from him when he was lit up with Rafayel's evol.

A hint of humming caught his ears and the man stopped his movements, ears twitching in directions to catch onto the tune. A tune only he has ever whistled. With a gesture, dolphins came surrounding the God in circles, by command. "Find out the source for me, yeah?" Rafayel asked and the circling dolphins chirped in return before they dispersed into all directions.

Rafayel's heart skipped a beat, out of nervousness? He had no idea, he still has not gotten used to the idea of his heart being whole again. Because his heart has only been whole only when he was with her. He does not need a whole heart, he only needs her to fill in for the whole of his heart. And for that moment, he shall forever await.

One of the dolphins returned, whistling back to catch the God's attention. Rafayel looked up, and without hesitation, grab ahold onto the dolphin's fin and he was led towards the source of the humming. The dolphins brought him through the kelp grounds, where his people would usually come by to forage for food when they migrate to the northern side for warmer waters during the changing in seasons.

The dolphin led him to the side of the cliff, where it plunges down to the deepest part of the ocean. Creatures beneath those waters are indespicable, and no Lemurians had ever dived that deep. And that includes the God of Sea himself. The humming came again, this time further confirming that the source of the sound came from down below. Rafayel turned around to look for the dolphin, but the poor creature had left him all alone the moment it dropped him off here.

With a deep breath and a puff of his chest, the purple haired God swam deep into the dark waters below. All of his senses heightened to the max as he himself would not expect what he might encounter. Legends were told that there lives a sea serpent so huge that it could engulf the whole world if it awakes. And that was the only legend that still kept Rafayel on edge till now.

His fear dissipated almost instantly when he spotted a faint light in the far distance within the dark. You see, Lemurians although are half-fish and half-man, they do not possess infrared vision that allows them to see in the depths. Within the depths, Rafayel's flames do not work as well as this is the place where Gods are not exactly welcomed. He sped up his swimming when he noticed the light bounces further down into the dark. Pause. Then the light comes back up, but this time, at a very high speed.

Noticing a huge shadow, Rafayel turned and immediately started charging full speed towards the cliff again. But due to the darkness of the waters around him, the God found himself entrapped in the darkness, bumping and hitting himself against the cliffside. The bone-crushing, chomping sounds that came from behind him made him not-one-bit curious to see what was actually chasing him. Right when he was about to be gnawed by a creature, he heard a voice calling out in a language he had not heard of and he blacked out.

...

"I think he is waking up." A voice whispered next to Rafayel. "His eyes are fluttering."

"Is it? Oh yeah, he does look like he is awakening." Another voice intruded, deeper, but not enough to be known as a man's voice.

Rafayel slowly opened his eyes, before he was met with two snailfishes. One with a red while another is tinted with a blue hue. His eyes darted in between the two fishes as he was trying to comprehend if they were the ones talking earlier.

"Good morning." The red one spoke and Rafayel gasped, moving away from the fish. His pupils blown out as he was shocked. He has seen fishes all of his life, but he had never encountered talking fishes. EVER. But making spells to make fishes talk is definitely a skill only a sea witch possesses. This gave Rafayel a thought, maybe she felt lonely down here so she made herself some friends.

"You scared him Red." The blue one spoke this time, and it swam closer towards Rafayel, using its spiny fins to mimic how a mundane would usually talk. Gestures, as what was taught to the snailfishes, is a common courtesy of good body language to humans. But given the snailfishes had never been in contact with any humans, they took the closest resemblance to what their highness looked like. Rafayel looked just like a human to them.

With parted hair and two eyes, a nose and a lip. He is obviously a human to their knowledge. "We are not going to hurt you." The blue fish gestured it's small fins in circles, speaking slowly for each word, afraid that the man before it would not understand them. "Our master ask us to care for you as she went out to gather some food."

"Who is your master?" Rafayel asked as he sat up, kindly hoping that it was the girl he had awaited for many years. "Where is she?" His excitement made him winced, his head still hurts, a side effect of a sea witch's spell.

The feel of the water temperature shifting made the two snailfishes swam off to one of the tunnels. Rafayel took this time to observe his surroundings. Contrast to the dark waters he was in just now, he is currently in a cave like structure, with huge seaweeds and some pebbles laid out beneath him and a sea lantern hung up at every corner of the cave to provide some decent lighting. For a moment, he did not believe that he is in a sea witch's abode.

The walls had paints on them, some forming artworks of the seas above, and some were writings written in what Rafayel assumed to be sea witch's language. Rafayel stopped at one of the drawings, it was a rough sketch of Lemuria. Seeing the sketch, his breath hitched in his throat. The past memories of his massacre surfacing again but he forced it down. Not willing to show weakness in such a foreign territory. Below the sketch, there were symbols that Rafayel could not read. But he decided not to further crack his head.

The fishes returned and Rafayel's heart dropped to the bottom of his tail when he was met with her. The girl who he had always been waiting, the girl he had committed massacre for, the girl that had made him suffer with loneliness for the past hundred years. Y/n is now in front of him, but other than human legs, it was swapped with a black and singular long tail, resembling one a Moray eel has. Her once brunette curls took on a much darker shade, the same as the waters below here. The curse happened after all, for she had became the sea witch of the depths.

"You are awake." Y/n spoke and oh how he missed her voice. The voice that produces the best laughters and asked the most silly questions. Yet, with this version of her, her voice held none of those characteristics he remembered. It was deadpanned, the lack of emotions nearly made Rafayel winced. With his lack of a response, the sea witch looked towards both of her friends. "Does he happen to be a mute?"

"He spoke to us just now, but more like engaged us in a question or two." The blue snailfish chirped, swimming back to the side of Rafayel. The same fin that used to make gestures came to give a pat onto Rafayel's cheek and the merman turned to look at the fish in question. Seeing Rafayel's reaction, the fish hurriedly swam back to its master. "He is a human as you described right? Right, master?"

"Not quite, Blue." Ironic, Rafayel thought. It is very ironic of her to name things exactly based on the way they looked. It has always been a habit of hers. She placed the seashells she had harvested neatly onto the floor and she swam over to have a closer look at Rafayel. "I think, his origins are of a mermaid." Her eyes are now a different shade of colour, black irises match the shade of her pupils. Another staple for a sea witch. "I apologise for the black out you had to experience earlier on. I had to cease the Angler Fish from rising towards the surface as I did not want it to disturb the ecosystem as of above."

"Do you know of my name?" Rafayel asked, a glimmer of hope shined in his eyes as he really wished for her to remember at least a slither of memory of him. For he had been her one and only lover in her past life. But with the way she raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, his hope got extinguished like a fire that could not be ignited.

"What do you seek for, Lemurian?" Y/n swam back towards the pile of sea shells she had collected and she grabbed one of the bottles from above her shelf. Examining the shells one by one before placing them into the bottle, only the ones that has spots on them would be chosen while the other would be tossed aside and the two snailfishes seem to be having a feast with the leftovers.

The turn of her head got her to look him right into his eyes. The warm glow emitting from the sea lantern casting a soft glow on her face. Just like the time when he held her in his arms, on top of the rock. He tore his eyes away from her, his cheeks burning from how affected he was from her gaze. But he answered her. "I came here for a potion. A potion to cure me from my wandering heart." ...

It took y/n 100 days, a cycle between 50 days and 50 nights to produce the potion that Rafayel had requested for. Shortly after the interaction, Rafayel had returned back to the shallow seas, as he could not bear to watch the love of his life not knowing him for who he is and who he was to her.

His last words to her before he departed to the shallows was, "Once the potion has been completed, I shall meet you at the sea stacks by dawn. The one far north." He said, index finger pointing towards the said direction. His eyes does not meet hers before he left. That was how heartbroken he was. His heart wearing him down day by day as he waited for the potion to be crafted.

During the 100 days of wait, he kept going back and forth between the waters and land to keep himself occupied. But the land served him better as the mourning of the princess had ended long ago. When the princess went missing, the King sent out every single one of his troops to search for the lost princess.

Rafayel purposely placed her back onto the sea stacks so she could be found easily. Knowing the God, he would have kept her by his side even if she were to be nothing but a bag of bones, but he knew, her people would want to know of her whereabouts. Even if it would only bring them to her corpse. He could not give himself anymore liberty to take her away from her people, like how he had singlehandedly perished the people of his kingdom. He did not turned his head back at all once he had left her there, swimming away in full speed so that he would not be discovered and caught, and to save himself from crying anymore.

The beloved princess' death was mourned by all. Every citizen within the Kingdom's grounds were in tears, regardless if its a man or a woman, an adult or a child. That was how loved she was. Her people mourned for her for nearly five decades, and that was how long Rafayel refused to surface and to walk on land. Every time he closed in to the shores of her kingdom, the sounds of the cries of her people would strike his ears. He became so used to it that he would visit the same place every day, by dusk, just to silently cry and mourn with the people of her kingdom.

He would not even go anywhere near his kingdom either. For it was filled with the bones of his people. The people that he used to cherish, that he would always go back to. But now, all he returns to, is a dead and eerie silence. The bloody stains of his people had now hardened, taken over by sea crustaceans as Lemurian blood offers a lot of benefits to the sea creatures. If any Lemurians lived past that day, Rafayal would definitely earn the title of 'The God Who Went Deranged'.

The day has finally came, where they shall rejoice by the sea stacks. Rafayel was already waiting there since dusk, body floating above the waters, facing up towards the bright skies painted in pastel yellows and reds. Blobs of clouds that seemed so edible Rafayel wished he could fly instead of swim. A bunch of bubbles surfaced next to him and he slightly turned his head, watching as she emerged from the waters, holding two vials in her hand. Her face expressionless and cold as the first time he had met her in this life.

"Here." She handed him one of the vials and he took it, repositioning himself from having to float, to facing her directly. "Are you sure this is what you desire?" Her question caught his attention, his mixture of lilac-lapis orbs stared into her obsidian ones. "Because your memories will be perished forever, do you know that?"

Rafayel looked at the vial, the contents of the fluid is watery, and takes on a sheen of coral-like pink. "My mind is set." His eyes caught her again. "This is what I had desired when I met you that day." His words although does not hold any meaning to the sea witch, but it held meanings that one could never fathom, within the God of Sea's memories.

"This is usually done between two, one to forget while the other to contain the forgotten memories." She explained, holding up the vial to her eye level as she continued. "And since you do not have anyone you want to consume this with, I shall be the one to contain your forgotten memories."

As expected, Rafayel knew she was going to say this. He had never once mentioned anything about the Lemurians being extinct. Neither did she asked. Always putting people ahead of herself, her nature still seeped through from her past life that it has easily become one of her core personalities even till now. Rafayel silently sighed in his own mind when he looked at this woman in front of him. The lover that he had sworn his life to, became the lover that was seemingly a stranger to him.

"We shall consume this together, and with a chant of a spell, hence the void of the memory shall take upon its place." Rafayel pulled the cap open, mirroring her actions and they drank the mixture together. Rafayel winced at how bitter the content tasted but y/n seemed unaffected, as sea witches are not equipped with a sense of taste as most of their potions tasted wicked as their personalities had always been portrayed to be. "Well enough to start?"

"Hu-Ayr-Tey Ta-Fa-Fu-Lei." Rafayel chanted and he watched as y/n's eyes widened. Finally, a reaction from her. Not in the way he had hoped for a reaction of course. You see, Rafayel, being God of the Sea, although had never travelled through the deep waters and had never knew of the Sea Witches' language, but the spells equipped by the sea witches were born out of a God's nature. Should there be benevolence, there shall be malevolence. Just like how Rafayel's massacre is a proof of a God's malevolent nature taking place physically, a sea witch's spells are born out of a God's mentally twisted nature.

"What have you done?!" She held onto her neck, feeling herself struggling to breathe as her neck is closing up on her. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" She raised her voice, looking at him with anger that starts to paint her face a shade of red. "How do you know of this spell?!" She was in disbelief, eyes shooting daggers into the merman in front of her. Rafayel showed no amusement though, his eyes although were entirely focused on her, his heart crushed.

Fate in general, creates thousands and millions of possibilities towards one's ending. For a God, fate should easily be nothing but a just another miniscule issue within their palms. But for Rafayel, the moment he fell for a mundane, was the moment he signed a blackmail for himself. He has to gamble with fate now, just like with any other mere mortal. The only advantage he got is that he could look into the near future to help him better plan out his upcoming course of actions.

This happening now, marks one of his course of actions. The fate he had chosen was to kill y/n with his own hands, so she could be reincarnated to be a human in her next life. Then, he could take place as a man, on the land, seeking for her love and attention, just like how a mere mortal would. Yes. Rafayel, the God of the Sea, would risk his status of being a God just to be a human, just to be with her. "This is the only way." He spoke to her, as he watched her slowly lose her memories to swim, her tail, now a pair of legs, flailing clumsily in an effort to save herself.

The spell that he had uttered, does not only make her forget her own identity, but it makes her forget everything, wiping everything off of her memory and giving her a clean slate. A reincarnated soul would always remember bits of their past lives, that is how deja-vu and realistic dreams come about. But this spell would wipe her memory of her past life as well. As bad as it sounds, Rafayel sees this as the only viable way for him to live his next life, having to protect her. All the other courses of action, would only lead to more bloodshed and he grew tired of it.

The tears came flowing again, watching his beloved struggle to breathe as she started to choke onto the seawater that is rapidly entering her lungs. Rafayel could only watch, he could not interfere as it would ruin the course of her next life. Heart wrenching, gut punching, every other word of torturous feeling would describe him perfectly at this moment.

Y/n reached out her hand to him, desperately looking at him and clawing for him, seeking for his help to drag her out and onto solid land. But his refusal seemingly made her accepted her fate. Her pupils then slowly stopped moving, her body slowly stopped thrashing and twitching as she continued descended deeper into the waters. A scene that reminded him deeply of Arvia during his last moments.

Once the bubbles had stopped surfacing out of her agape lips, Rafayel swam down as fast as he could, and he held her cold body in his arms again, closely studying her very last moments. Her eyes were opened, in a state of shock and acceptance, lips blue like the shade of his lapis-coloured eyes, tail had now taken form into two legs, her body stiff and hollow like how she was when he first found her in the past 100 years. The curse was finally broken, but it also broke Rafayel. With shaky breaths, he uttered. "In your next life, I promise you. I promise. You shall only ever hear of my name as to be Rafayel. I shall no longer...be the God of the Sea."

Parallel Universe Ending is Out: Salvation

I love doubling the damage sometimes, this one-shot had became somewhat of a small series. I enjoyed using a bit of my gore movie visual experiences within this piece of writing. Thank you for the ones who wished for a sequel. I hope this makes you bawl your eyes out.

But do not worry, I am already starting on a not-so-angsty ending that takes place in a parallel universe. I don't think this series would continue on as I think it is best to leave it to you lovelies' vast imagination.

As usual, any requests you want me to write? I can write it for ya :)

Have a good day and pls cry for me lovelies :)

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #lnds #rafayel sfw #rafayel x reader #rafayel angst #zayne love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace

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coffee-in-rain · 5 months ago

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Vulnerable Hannibal Fic Rec List

Updated 11/30/2024 with two new additions located at the bottom of the page. A few of these fics are mine, but the rest are some of my favorite fics I've ever read that feature vulnerable Hannibal in various seasons, AUs, and post-canon.

shrike (to your sharp and glorious thorn):

Will begins to notice a change in Hannibal's behavior post-fall. He's become something akin to a fretting housewife.

The Ache Against The Wind (Rewritten):

3x13 AU: Will travels into an alternate dimension after plunging into the Atlantic and is confronted with the unexpected aftermath following the removal of Hannibal's toilet in the BSHCI.

Pareidolia:

Six weeks post-fall, Hannibal suffers from a seizure during dinner.

Je Te Laisserai Des Mots:

Six months have passed since Will pulled them over the cliff. Even in light of their progressing relationship, much of Hannibal still remains a mystery to Will. For reasons unknown, he’s begun to pull away. (A sequel to Shrike--my housewife Hannibal fic!)

Between The Hour Of Reprieve:

At the cliff house, Hannibal receives a much-needed-hug.

A Cabin In The Woods by KoolJack1:

Hannibal is thirteen and runs away from the orphanage when he feels that a fate of the elements will be better than the fate of abuse. He finds a small cabin in the woods, thinking warmth will be all he finds. He also finds Will. But who changes who?

this is absolutely amazing. i've never read an AU quite like this. a true masterpiece.

Recipricol Alchemy by Scifibabe:

In the silent echoes of his dreams, Will Graham treads a line blurred between control and chaos, each step drawing him inexorably towards claiming Hannibal as his own. It's a perilous dance on the edge of darkness, where the thrill of possession whispers of a transformation too profound to resist.

one of my faves. i can't even describe how perfect this explores their season 2 dynamic. such a unique trajectory and i am living for it.

Hold Me, Don’t Let Me Go by sourweather:

It's a few months after the Fall when it finally hits him. Hannibal has barely been touched in 3 years. And Will won't let it go on for another moment.

so precious omg. love it

Hosanna In The Highest by sainthannibal:

During the fall, Hannibal receives the brunt of the injuries, which leaves him unable to care for himself. Will discovers how much he enjoys taking care of him.

the post-fall whump is immaculate 🤧 love it

You Made Me Soup by itsybitsylemonsqueezy:

Hannibal comes down with pneumonia while incarcerated. Will decides to make him some soup. Absolutely no one thinks it's strange that Will comes to give his ex soup when he finds out he's sick. No one at all finds this suspicious. At. All.

god, i love this one so much. sick hannibal being hand-fed in the BSHCI? wailing my heart out

The Boy Under The Monster’s Bed by Wr4tttttthh:

There were deep wounds that needed healing, new and old, physical and otherwise.

one of my faves. Will finding Hannibal hiding under the table? a gut punch 😭

Delicate Ghost by hannigramcracker & TimmyJayBird:

She was different- not the ghost of his memories, but something about this bloodied child ripped right at Hannibal's chest, and left him drowning in a cold snow he thought he had left in his childhood, that he had locked away within his skull. Drowning, with only one hand to grasp at, one body to cling to. One man to work him through the trauma and remind him what life was.

so amazing. a unique perspective of how Will would deal with Hannibal becoming distressed while on a case together. one of the first vulnerable hannibal fics i've ever read 🥺

You With Those Nails, Me With This Cross by TheBitterKitten:

Will goes too far.

wailing into my pillow omg this had the perfect amount of angst.

The Distance Is Quite Simply Much Too Far For Me To Row by softhan:

Hannibal is having a rough time recovering from his injuries post-fall, and retreats into himself to avoid confrontation with Will while he's still weak and ill. Having to play happy husbands hardly helps.

my all time fave Hannibal whump fic. the way he's scared Will is disgusted by his accident? eternally sobbing. forever recommending this to anyone who is searching through this rec list.

Silk and Lace by jonnimir:

Bedelia leaves Hannibal and Will a gift at the house on the cliff.

crying because this was so tender and sweet. touch-starved hannibal at the cliff house. chef's kiss.

Not So Fast by scifibabe:

Hannibal wakes from a heated dream with a need that can’t be ignored—and Will, half-asleep but all too eager, is more than happy to help. What begins as a midnight indulgence quickly spirals into an overwhelming game of push and pull, as Will’s relentless appetite pushes Hannibal to the edge and beyond. Kinktober Day 10: Overstimulation + Face-Sitting

desperate and needy hannibal. need i say more? loved it 🤭

Hush Now by scifibabe:

What starts as Will stitching up Hannibal's latest hunting injury turns into something else entirely when a teasing "let Daddy take care of you" slips out. It's meant to be a joke--until Hannibal's reaction tells a different story. One playful push leads to another, and soon enough, they're both realizing they might be into this a little more than they expected. Kinktober Day 19: Fisting.

I truly cannot recommend Hush Now enough! It'll live rent free in my mind and heart for the rest of my life ♡

The Antidote To Grief by incidentsofunkownorigins:

On Will's idea, they visit Mischa's grave. What Will had hoped to be a healing moment of closure breaks something in Hannibal and he is the only one who can put the pieces back together.

this is such a beautiful take on Hannibal and Will visiting Lithuania together and how that would impact Hannibal. ♡

Pulse Point:

Post-Fall, an injured Hannibal awakes from an erotic dream, desperate and needy, aching for Will's touch.

Marveling at a Spoon by scifibabe:

After a gourmet dinner, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter decide to indulge in something a little more... pedestrian—a joint. As the smoke settles and their usual control begins to loosen, Hannibal finds himself experiencing a sensation he never expected: a heightened sensitivity that unravels him under Will’s teasing touch. What starts as a curious experiment in relaxation quickly turns into a surprising discovery, one that leaves even the meticulous Hannibal completely undone. Will is all too eager to take advantage of his newfound knowledge, and Hannibal, for once, is too overwhelmed to resist.

god, i loved this so much.

We Are Now Among The Ruins by ADeedWithoutAName:

Hannibal survived the fall, but not unchanged. He intends to give Will the only gift he now can, and Will intends to honor him in the only way that matters.

i rarely read MCD, but this one is so worth the pain. i am eternally sobbing from this 😭 i also cannot recommend this one enough!!

Something Sacred by scifibabe:

In the quiet aftermath of their survival, silence has taken hold. Hannibal hasn't spoken since the night they washed ashore, his voice swallowed by their shared trauma. Will, haunted by the absence of words and the weight of unspoken things, has learned to reach Hannibal through touch, through the quiet rituals of care. When the strain of Hannibal’s pain becomes too much to hide, Will draws a bath—an unspoken offer of comfort. But today is different. Today, beneath the surface of familiar rituals, something stirs. As the warmth of the water surrounds them, walls begin to crack, and a fragile trust, once guarded so fiercely, blooms into something more intimate and vulnerable than either of them anticipated. In the quiet steam of the bath, two men find solace in each other’s arms, where tenderness can no longer be ignored.

this was so beautiful and soft omg. forever wailing about Hannibal asking Will to join him in the bath. ♡

A Pinch Of Salt In The Wound:

Renderered mute and bedbound post-fall, Hannibal begins to spiral.

You Believe Me Like A God:

Hannibal becomes severely injured post-episode 3x13.

compimento by cervviidae:

Hannibal learns what it's like to be Will's husband.

one of the most beautiful fics i've ever read that explore post-fall hannibal being loved with genuine tenderness and affection by Will. one i'll forever recommend.

Solace In Being Heard by air_of_the_Waterfall:

Hannibal is having terrible nightmares, and Will comes up with a rather unexpected method of helping him get a full night’s sleep.

i love that this offers such a unique look into Hannibal's childhood trauma and how it would impact his sleep. can't recommend it enough!

Bright Burn by Shotgun_sinner:

Hannibal suffers life-threatening injuries post-fall. Will makes decisions to save Hannibal, while trying to recover the life with him that he's only just realized he wanted. How far will he go to keep what's his?

the whump is immaculate in this post-fall fic too 🤧

crave, then succumb:

Hannibal receives a second hug post-fall, while high as a kite on morphine, and ends up unraveling in Will's arms.

chimera of the chapel by bleakmidwinter:

When Will Graham wakes up from a coma three months after the fall, Jack reveals that Hannibal Lecter didn't survive. Outside the realm of Hannibal's influence, Will decides to discover the full truth behind the world's sudden and seeming falsehood. Everybody seems to hold their own opinion on Hannibal's fate, but Will knows better than anyone that trust and honesty are as elusive as death.

incredible. i can't even express how much i loved this. the tender moments and development of their relationship is so beautiful 😭♥️

Keep Me Warm by nbcravenstag:

Will arrives home after walking through a blizzard, fully expecting an angry husband, but instead finds a traumatized little boy, terrified of the cold and haunted by what he's already lost.

the hurt/comfort in this was amazing. love it so much.

Beauty Not Needed Here by kralbellen:

“I know you are in love with me.”

It's not a question but not fully a statement either. A certain amount of doubt colores Will's tone, giving the sentence a nervous lilt.

Hannibal's first instinct is to deny it, in some half-hearted, last effort at self-preservation. He almost smiles – there is no self-preservation left for him when it comes to Will.

Hannibal is asexual. this was so tender and sweet. eternally wailing into my pillow. as someone who's ace this was like a breath of fresh air.

#minors dni #hannigram fic rec #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannigram #hannigram fic #fic rec #fanfic #hannibal nbc

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milkbobatyun · 4 months ago

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mooncakes and wine, my memories of you will alway shine

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

genre: fluff, sequel (maybe?)

summary: though thousands of years have passed, it's mid-autumn again, traditionally a time of reunion. who better to spend your time with other than your lover and (adopted) son, as well as the friends you made along the way.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: speedwrote this so i could post it in celebration of mid-autumn festival. i was thinking this could be an alternate ending to a zhongli fic im currently working on, but i REALLY wanted to post this in celebration of mid-autumn so here it is! to those who celebrate it, 中秋节快乐, to those who dont, have a good day ig !! (●'◡'●)

the cool, autumn breeze drifted in through the window, ruffling the curtains. the remnants of summer’s heat lingered in the room. in a distant corner of the room, a stick of incense burned, its delicate smoke curling into the room. long, golden beams of light bathed the interior of the traditional liyue style home, illuminating the wooden floors, mahogany wood bed and the infernal dust particles that hung in the air.

the sunlight spilled onto the pillows, warming the geo dragon and his mate, nestled together in the bed, blanketed by peaceful sleep.

you blinked open your eyes, roused from your lazy afternoon nap by birdsong spilling from outside the windowsill. finding yourself securely embraced in the arms of a sleeping zhongli, you let out an amused sigh of resignation, turning to admire his serene, sleeping face.

noticing a strand of chocolate hair laying across his face, you reached out a hand, gently sweeping it off his face. zhongli’s draconic senses tingled, his nose twitching and scrunching in alertness at the disturbance.

a narrowed eye, glittering like cor-lapis, peered at you, clouded with sleep. when it caught sight of your startled and apologetic face, its hard stare softened almost immediately. zhongli gazed at you, molten amber eyes overflowing with love.

“you’re awake, mr sleepy dragon.” you teased, a warm smile on your face. “i believe it’s time to get up and get prepared.” you mused.

zhongli shook his head with mock displeasure, burying himself deeper into the heat of the blankets. with a soft chuckle, you pressed a kiss to his forehead before slipping out from his grasp, eliciting a rumble of displeasure from the geo dragon.

slipping your feet into the slippers, you padded into the bathroom, changing into your festive hanfu. the silk rustled softly as you moved to your vanity table, the polished wood cool beneath your hands. with delicacy, you glided to your low set table, seating yourself before your mirror. you reached for your brush, gently untangling the knots in your hair.

your movements are halted when a pair of hands place themselves over yours, gently taking the brush from your grasp, before deft fingers comb through your hair, practiced hands twisting strands into delicate hairstyles atop your head.

you glanced in the mirror, zhongli’s tall form standing behind you. his amber eyes filled with unspoken adoration. a gentle smile carved upon both your lips, a silent exchange of love passing between you.

with gentle grace, zhongli slipped a hair pin and decoration into your hair, completing the hairstyle. reaching towards your box of homemade makeup, you picked out a sheet of red paper, placing it between your lips, pressing it firmly onto your lips. the red dusted your lips, a soft layer of red coating them.

unscrewing the china pot of red, you wet your brush, saturating it in the red ink that inhabited the inside of the pot. careful precision and a deft flick of your wrist, your eyes were lined with the signature red eyeliner, the bold colour accentuating your eyes.

you turned around, red brush still in hand, looking expectantly up at zhongli. understanding your unspoken question, zhongli leaned forwards, placing his chin on your hand. taking the opportunity, you teasingly squished his cheeks.

“you look like a little puppy, not some fearsome dragon god.” you chuckled.

zhongli huffed in displeasure, though a glimmer of playfulness in his amber eyes betrayed his true feelings.

“you’re the only one who can tame such a fearsome dragon god into an obedient puppy.” he laughed, his voice a soothing rumble.

his only response was a playful roll of your eyes, your hand reaching out with the red-tipped brush. the coolness of the ink glided across his eyelids, a practiced flick of the brush and his eyeliner had been applied.

while zhongli leaned over your shoulder to peer at himself in the mirror, reminding yourself of a proud dragon admiring its appearance, you ran your brush through zhongli’s lucious hair, his deep, pleased purrs vibrating throughout the room. you took the chance to leave a swift kiss on his cheek. unbeknownst to zhongli, a faint mark of red lingered on his cheek.

the tranquil atmosphere was broken when a cough alerted you to a new guest. framed in the doorway, a grumpy cat xiao stood with his arms crossed, a scowl present on his face.

his hair stuck up in all kinds of directions, reminding you of a frazzled cat. what made you laugh was the thick, uneven lines of red eyeliner around his eyes, turning him into a spotted cat, rather than a fearsome yaksha.

“ā niáng…” xiao trailed off, his face turning sheepish. “could you help me with this?”

both zhongli and you couldn’t contain your amusement, a rumble of laughter sounding from zhongli, mixing with your tinkling laugh.

xiao turned red as a tomato at your laughs, a pout forming on his face.

you gestured him to come over, brush working through the mess of his hair. you collected his hair into a ponytail, securing it with a simple metal head helmet, to match his hanfu.

while you prepared xiao, zhongli went and changed into his hanfu, his hair flowing over the velvety dark silk of his clothing.

as you smoothed out the wrinkles in zhongli’s hanfu, you couldn’t help but smile. after so many years together, these small gestures of care felt second nature, but the warmth they brought was still as strong as ever. even xiao, with his grumpy exterior, seemed to melt into the quiet love of the moment, his earlier pout softening as he waited patiently. though he was careful to fashion a face of mock disgust, sticking out his tongue cheekily when he caught your eye.

as the sun began to hover over the horizon, bathing the streets with a vibrant orange, the three of you made your way around liyue, your arm looped in zhongli’s, while xiao marched on in front.

in the betwix of dusk, the lanterns flickered to life, flames dancing, shadowy will-o’-wisps behind the paper. some were fish-shaped, some shaped like flowers or rabbits, while some were the traditional cylindrical shape. admiring the array of lanterns, hanging from shop windows and children’s hands, from the makeshift rafters built atop the streets, the wonderful smell of cooking made your stomach grumble.

passing by a liquor shop, zhongli stopped to buy a few bottles of osmanthus wine. after all, it was the mid-autumn festival, the only appropriate wine to drink was osmanthus. as expected, when zhongli reached for his wallet, his search yielded no results, realising–once again–he forgot his wallet. you shook your head hopelessly at zhongli’s forgetfulness, pulling out your own wallet to pay.

your little party made your way to wanming restaurant, the clinking of wine bottles against each other your pied piper’s melody. as you strolled through the streets, you picked up several friends along the way.

xingqiu and chongyun’s playful banter filled the air, while hu tao attempted—and failed—to sneak up on you, switching her target to zhongli instead. with a tiger-like pounce, hutao jumped onto the shoulders of zhongli, earning a startled gasp from the otherwise composed dragon

chuckles of amusement rang out, while zhongli could only sigh and shake his head. of course his own wife wouldn’t alert him, they’d been married for thousands of years, what could he expect?

cheerful chatter rang out from the balcony of wanming restaurant, everyone turning to greet your party when you arrived. sitting around the large, circular table, many of your friends from liyue and beyond gathered, even the traveller and paimon were there, celebrating the mid-autumn festival.

there was the occasional pranks by xingqiu, keqing accidentally knocked over xiangling at one point, sending food flying everywhere. amidst the chaos, zhongli sat peacefully, appreciating the wine served, reminiscing on past memories.

the lively atmosphere warmed you, settling into your heart. you admired the sun, sinking below the horizon, dying the sky with rich shades of gold, orange and crimson, before deep hues of blue and purple surfaced, fluffy clouds replaced with glimmering stars.

as the night shone brightly with the full moon, fireworks lit up the darkness, cheers ringing out into the sky. leaning close to zhongli’s ear, you quietly whispered to him.

“happy mid-autumn festival, morax.”

resting your head on his shoulder, whilst you were entranced by the fireworks display, zhongli watched you with golden eyes brimming with love and adoration.

in that moment, amongst the boom of the fireworks and chatter, it was just the two of you, bound by the memories you shared, by time and fate.

footnotes:

1. mahogany wood as a symbolism of status, a traditional material for chinese furniture

2. hanfu — a traditional style of clothing originating from china, nowadays is usually worn during traditional festivals

3. ā niáng — a traditional term in Chinese that means "mother" or "mom."

4. lanterns — a symbol of beacons lighting up people's paths to prosperity and good fortune

5. osmanthus wine — ironically, osmanthus wine is traditionally drunk during the mid-autumn festival, with it symbolising reunion and prosperity

6. clinking wine bottles + pied piper's reference — just a little allusion to how you and zhongli are the leaders of the group, when the others hear the wine bottles clinking together (if you search up "traditional chinese wine bottles" or you've watched 'the untamed' then you'll know what i mean)

7. mooncakes and wine, my memories of you will always shine — a reference to zhongli's voice line about memories shining like gold, while referencing the mooncakes and wine of the night

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #zhongli fluff #x reader #zhongli #genshin #mid autumn festival #genshin impact drabbles #dragon zhongli #zhongli x you

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uranometrias · 7 months ago

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wait for your love, spencer reid (pt. 2)

this is the second part to this. tysm for all the love on the first part, as well as all the new follows. this literally took so long, and i'm literally so sorry. i suck, but i hope you all enjoy it nonetheless. xx

you can read the alternate version for jj right here.

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau! reader | spencer reid x bau! reader | s7 team x bau! reader (platonic)

summary: following the dismissal of the case against the bureau, you're trying to get back into the swing of things. that moment of realization that comes with discovering the love you feel for someone else isn't reciprocates is never fun. but it's a truth you're meant to accept nonetheless, with a bit of help from your dearest friend spencer, you find that through a conversation about the realities of music and their hidden messages getting the courage to move on is not quite as difficult as you might have initially thought. especially when there's someone like spencer reid waiting on the other side. except of course, things always get difficult when it seems now as you're moving on, the past object of your desires is believed to feel the same way you always have.

content warnings: this is the sequel to angst lol. it's still very kind of angsty, but not as bad! it doesn't exactly end with spence/reader running off into the distance together, but i think it has a very bittersweet & sort of hopeful ending, which i felt made the most sense for a storyline like this. sometimes people have feelings for people that don't like them back, and sometimes it's just something we have to deal with.. sad but true. && i didn't want spence to seem like a rebound for reader, so i tried to go the route of her slowly putting the pieces together that maybe spence had romantic feelings for her && going from there. still spencer somewhat confesses his feelings for reader, hints that hotch might actually like reader, jj/reader reconciliation, because it needed to happen soz! she might have feelings for y/n too idk... she's kinda pulling everybody. this feels kinda melodramatic, but also idk i want epic romance vibes so i tried my best xx

i also love how hotch was such a focal part of this story and never physically showed up once... hmm.

tagged the people that asked for part 2 xx

@stvrlitsky , @cocopuff213 , @aaronhotchnerlover , @ofagathachristies , @blurpleuni-squid , @wolf-phoenix-lover , @babyspiderling , @queermaxwooo , @jihyowrrld , @minkyungseokie , @silentjudger , @btskzfav , @barbeddreams , @ah-blossom , @darker-december

It had been about a week since the court proceedings, you'd been more than a little surprised to find that you all managed to walk away scot free. You still hadn't managed to work up the courage to place your resignation papers on Hotch's desk, probably because you still hadn't gotten up the strength to face him or anyone else for that matter. You weren't outwardly abrasive, you'd offer small nods of greeting when you showed up in the morning, waves as you left.

But everyone knew that it wasn't the same.

Penelope had been trying to get you out for a night of bonding with her, Emily, and JJ, and you'd been keen on turning her down. You don't think you were quite there yet, the wound however surface level was still fresh. Looking at Emily, only reminded you of your grief, how much you had missed her. Looking at JJ only reminded you of how she hadn't had the courage necessary to tell you the truth. You'd tried to take their positions into account, look at things through a different view, but it hardly worked. You just wanted to be left alone.

Spencer was still the only one privy to the thoughts you had about ending your career at the FBI, and everyday he seemed to be holding his breath. It had become a habit to catch him staring at you with his face pinched up like he was deep in thought. It was partially why, even as your eyes skimmed over a file, you knew that he was looking in your direction. "Spence." you mutter quietly, eyes not quite meeting his as you highlighted something of importance in blue.

He sits at attention, back straight, eyes wide. He looked like a puppy that'd been caught doing something bad and was waiting for punishment. "You're doing it again." you exhale, and then you finally manage to peel your eyes from your work, eyebrow raising as you take him in tiredly. "Do you need something?" and he bares down on his bottom lip, almost as if he was thinking over his next move. He stands tall, grabbing hold of his chair and tugging it until it was planted on the other side of yours, before he sat down politely.

"Are you okay?" he's talking quietly, likely to salvage a bit of your privacy. You'd become a bit of a walking attraction in the bullpen, everyone seemed to follow every one of your actions with their eyes. You tap your highlighter against your desk, head tipping to the side as you scrutinize the man. You didn't know exactly what was going on with Spencer, but you had a small inkling, it was nothing more than an internal feeling if you were completely honest about it.

Your sister had been asking about him quite constantly lately, and after learning that day in the courtroom that for some odd reason the duo spoke over the phone, it made you pay a bit more attention to the certified genius than before. "I'm fine, Spencer. Just like I was when you asked me yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that." you keep your tone light, not wanting him to think that you were by any means annoyed with him. "What's going on?"

"I guess I keep waiting for you to disappear." he admits, head nodding involuntarily. "You're here right now, and you look fine." he continues, and you like listening to him, even if he was breaking one of the rules, and choosing to profile you. "So shouldn't things feel different? Better at least, like before?" he asks, and you don't expect that. Maybe he wasn't profiling you at all, and instead was expressing himself to a friend. "At least a little bit?" he asks, and you think it over.

"I don't think it'll ever be like before, Spence." and you hate to be the Betty Buzzkill, but it's as true as you can be. "How can it?" and Spencer's eyes jump across the room, landing on Emily who was not so subtly watching the two of you speak. You follow his gaze, and blink harshly when Emily's eyes connect with your own. It forces you to look right back at Spencer. He looks pensive, and you wonder how long he's been working up the courage to say more than 'Are you alright?'

"She was dead... and now suddenly she's not. That's great, but I grieved my friend, and maybe I'm not done grieving the Emily I knew before." and it's the first time you're admitting this aloud. "Our Emily, not the- Interpol Superspy." and you huff. "And look, I know I should be grateful, how many people get back the people they love after death?" and Spencer doesn't answer. "But is she really back? Is she really still our Emily? And how long before she's ready to pack up her stuff and take off? I'm not opening myself up to that again."

Spencer thinks your point is valid, he at one point had insisted that he had the worse abandonment issues on the team, but you had been right there through most of it. You were, in your own way protecting yourself from being hurt again. He couldn't fault you for that, none of them should. "I understand." and truthfully he does, and he's glad that at least you trust him enough to be upfront about it. "There's nothing wrong with shielding yourself from heartache, I just don't want you to close off completely... not from all of us."

You falter, and Spencer hates that he can't just say that he doesn't want you to close off from him. He didn't want this situation to change the way you behaved with him, he couldn't handle losing you.

"I won't." you promise. "And I won't do anything to jeopardize what we do here, I've got enough self control to be civil." you add with a small smile. "I haven't quite decided what a future at the bureau will look like, but I am willing to give things here a chance to get better." and you do love your work, Profiling was something you enjoyed doing, you wouldn't toss it away, unless you absolutely had no other choice. "So you don't have to worry about losing me, Spence." and you hold your breath, mostly because it's a bit audacious on your part.

He offers you a half smile, and you notice the way he visibly relaxes. Still, he doesn't want you to feel obligated to stay somewhere just for his sake, so he feels the need to be honest with you. "I'm not worried." he promises you, and it's a tiny fib, one that could become true if he grew just a touch more confidence. "Even if you did decide to leave one day I would put in the work to keep you in my life." and his smile stretches across his face now, and reaches his eyes. "You're not someone anyone would want to lose." your stomach twists.

"You're not either, Spencer." and you say it firmly, mainly to show just how much you need him to believe it. "I'd just make it my job to take up all your free time outside of work." and his face feels incessantly warm, like he'd stuck his head directly in the stream of scalding shower water. The funny thing about you was that you were oftentimes one of the hardest on the team to read. He figured that because he spent so much time hyper focused on you that he'd get better at it. He still hadn't, and you still managed to leave him stuck.

Comments like the one you just made were common for you, but the meaning behind it always escaped him. Were you flirting with him or were you just being nice? Was it possible that you knew that he had feelings for you? Were you using him as a rebound after the mess you'd found yourself entangled into with Hotch just months ago? The thought of him merely being an emotional rebound made him sad, disappointed, and insecure. But then he's taking in your expression, how despite your confidence you still look shy, and reels it in.

You had never been that sort of person, maybe you were just as oblivious as he was. "I'd be okay with that now." and you look a bit surprised, but also pleased. You nod your head slightly, leaning forward just a little in your seat. Spencer isn't sure if he's moved too quickly, but he's got no room to second guess it now.

"We should do something." it's not at all what he'd expected you to say, and he's surprised, it's more than evident on his face.

"Who? Us? Just the two of us?" he asks, and you find yourself offering him an amused sort of glance.

"Yeah, it could be fun." you insist, and you're not trying to play with his feelings, at least not in the traditional sense. Spencer Reid was no rebound. "It's not often we have days off, you know?" and you lean against your palm, head tipping slightly to the side. "Only if you want." you add, hoping that this addition would make him feel a touch more comfortable. It seems to work, because he untenses just a bit.

"Y-Yeah." he nods his head slightly, hair moving with the action just slightly. "Yeah, we should definitely do something." he agrees, and your smile is bright, clearly pleased at the turn of events. "When would you?" his eyes jump to his watch, and he shakes his head. "Obviously, not right now." he says and you're staring at him a bit bemused, because Spencer Reid was nothing if not a bit unserious.

"There's this music store I've been dying to check out." you say, and you witness Spencer's eyes seem to brighten. "It's sort of right on the strip, if you don't mind going with me to look at some vinyls and cd's for my collection, we could just go-" and you're eyebrows are raised, "And see what happens? There's a lot you could do..." you finish, and Spencer's already nodding his head in agreement.

"T-That's..." and he clears his throat, you think to keep you from acknowledging the fact his voice cracked in his nervousness. "Yeah, I don't mind that at all." he agrees politely. "Did you know that in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, record stores only sold gramophone records, but over time they've sold other formats like eight-track tapes, compact cassettes, and compact discs." his hands curl into one another as he relays this message and you snort.

"Did you know that there's a national record store day? It started back in 2008." and he's a bit surprised that you're shooting him a fact of your own, and one that he wasn't actually aware of.

"Really?" he questions, and your eyes sort of crinkle, smile broadening enough to show off both rows of your teeth.

"Don't tell me that I know something the brilliant Doctor Reid doesn't." you tease, and his eyes roll, though his entire demeanor remains lighthearted. "So, what's your poison?" you sidestep, but just barely, your work ignored as you focus all your efforts on keeping this conversation with Reid going.

"My poison?" and his mind of course drifts to alcohol, a bit of a confusing pivot in the conversation. "I don't really see myself as much of a drinker." he admits truthfully, and he's confused when you're laughing, hand flying up to cover your mouth as his face contorts.

"I meant your favorite music genre." you correct. "And I know you're partial to classical," and you try not to stretch your eyes. "It's great when I need to concentrate, but I wouldn't exactly say I'm dying to put on Bach and Tchaikovsky in a regular setting." you explain, both hands resting against your cheeks as you await the hopefully longwinded answer he'd have to give you.

"What if that's my only answer?" he asks, and you scoff.

"It's not." you deadpan, and he exhales through his nose. "I know you and Morgan have that understanding about music..." you explain, head cocked to the side. "He got you to listen to Nas." you remind him as he purses his lips at the reminder. "And Garcia's always sending music recommendations." you proceed as Spencer shoots you a look that clearly reads 'What's your point?'.

"Are you really telling me that out of every genre of music that's ever been released to the entire world, the only genre that's ever stood out to you is the one where old men sit behind a piano and twinkle the keys to their hearts content?" Spencer's releasing another one of those quiet laughs, this one is clearly full of exasperation though.

"I think they're doing a little bit more than twinkling keys." he corrects you, and you know that. You'd only said it to get under his skin just a little, he was fun to mess with. "Classical music is one of the only genres that seemingly does so little and is able to express the full spectrum of human emotion and life experience." he explains, and you fight your smile, leaning in just a bit more to show you were focused. You weren't sure what was happening or if anything was really happening at all, and it was all in your mind.

But you were finding that you didn't mind just listening to Spencer go on and on about whatever he wanted. You thought a lot about what had happened outside of that court room, how he'd listened to you. Really listened to you, and had never once made you feel like the emotional failure you'd imagined yourself to be. You couldn't say that in the span of a week all of your feelings for Hotch had vanished. That'd be bullshit, because deep down you knew it wasn't that easy.

And sometimes you wished it could be, sometimes you wondered why you had to fall for Hotch when Spencer was right there.

Still, whether or not you were being forced to come to grips with the fact that Hotch was not, and wouldn't ever love you the way you loved him, you couldn't deny that it was nice to have a friend there. Spencer wasn't coming to you with heavy confessions and tear-streaked cheeks begging you to look and see that he was perfect for you, which is why you think you like him even more. You knew a lot of times it was hard, rare even to find someone who would just care for you without expecting anything in return. That was Spence to a T.

"Go on." you instruct, and you find that despite the way you'd baited him into this conversation, it was well worth it. He didn't get a lot of time to just be Spencer, and with no clock over your heads, no rush for time to solve a case, you figured it was the least you could do. Especially after he'd spent the last week trying to show you how much he cared.

"I just mean that in classical music, it's actually very common to have one piece of music encompass an entire host of emotions, experiences, and subject matter." he expresses, and you hum, nodding along. "And it's all because most classical pieces use a similar formula that uses textures, dynamic colors and key modulations to express things certain words can't properly articulate." he proceeds. "That's why certain sounds and notes manage to adduce certain reactions." he seems finished.

"Oh, yeah?" you press and he nods limply, seemingly awaiting the moment you offer some jab regarding his oversharing. "I guess Mozart and Beethoven were really onto something." you mutter, and he snorts. "Still, I'd much rather listen to something a bit more obvious." you admit, not that you had a real problem with Classical Music.

"What do you mean?"

"Well I'm just saying... music's always sort of been the perfect tool for expressing everything you might need to say." you counter. "And while I agree that music in any form does a great job of invoking certain emotions, sometimes you don't want to guess what someone means." you admit, and it's partially (mostly) because you had never been good at reading in between the lines. Things always made the most sense when they were plainly spelled out.

"Or maybe that's just a me thing." you correct. "I've found that I always enjoy things when they're a little more laid out... there's no way to misunderstand when it's spelled out for you, right?" you ask and Spencer's lips curve down into a slight frown. He's not pitying you, mostly just sympathizing with how torn up you must have been about everything. Especially as your eyes instinctively are drawn to the shut doorway of Hotch's office. Spencer thinks that's when reality sets back in and hits him like a brick.

Because he knew something that you didn't. Something that would probably make everything better for you, but would undoubtedly double his heartache. In truth, he, much like everyone else on the team tried their hardest to ignore just how obvious you'd been about your feelings for hotch. spencer more than anyone.

He remembered how things had changed a few months back, how you'd started to move on all for the rug to be pulled from up under your feet. It had been outwardly cruel, undoubtedly. because while everyone else on the team seemed to be just fine with 'don't ask, don't tell', Spencer had been unable to not pay attention to the way Hotch had actually changed too. Did he hate him? Absolutely not... and he knew you didn't either, because despite how idiotic the plan was, he hadn't done much besides give you more attention.

And Spencer guessed the act of giving you more attention had unsurprisingly ended with Aaron Hotchner realizing it was something he actually enjoyed. Hence the sudden change their boss underwent.

He supposed that was the worst part about it all, the fact that everyone had the right to tell you that "nothing had happened", and there was nothing you could do about it. Because in the grand scheme of things nothing really had happened. Hotch was no heartless womanizer, Spencer couldn't even imagine the man flirting with anyone, let alone stringing someone along for kicks. Still, that didn't change the fact that you'd gotten your hopes up, and now you were back to your own harsh reality.

Not because it wasn't a real possibility, more so because Hotch was self destructive, and sabotaged himself and his happiness at every turn. Spencer wants to stay quiet, to bask in the fact that you were slowly on your own terms getting over Hotch, and paying more attention to him, but he can't do that. He'd hate it if someone did it to him. So instead he decides to throw you a bone, push you in the right direction. "Why haven't you just talked to him?" it's not what he had meant to say. He had meant to play the role of the supportive friend.

He'd wanted to pat you on the back, mumble some agreeance that would validate how you were feeling, and possibly give him cool points. Instead, here he was about to push you in the direction of someone else. He supposed that's how stupid love made you.

"What?" you exclaim, and Spencer doesn't know what's so exasperating about his question. It was obvious that you needed to, it wasn't fair that you were slowly deteriorating on the inside whilst trying to maintain some semblance of being a "team player". He said 'screw the team' if it wasn't genuine. And clearly, from the way you'd still been icing out JJ and Emily, it wasn't. Not fully anyway. He'd never rush you to get over it, mostly because it'd make him a hypocrite. He still cringes at the thought of the tears he'd shed to JJ.

But, that was his own problem.

"Hotch." he lowers his voice a little, because it's just now hitting him that the two of you have been slacking off for a while now. Emily wasn't exactly focused in on the both of you anymore, but every so often, he'd find that she still look up every few moments. JJ, Derek, and Rossi had made a habit of leaving their respective offices, eyes glued to what was apparently becoming unit news. "You should talk to him." he says simply as your eyes cross dramatically.

"What's there to talk about?" you ask suddenly distracted by a smudge on the corner of your desk.

"What happened." he says simply. "I mean, don't you think there might be some explanation you might be missing?" Spencer tries, and you curl into yourself just a little bit.

"It's still work hours and he's still Hotch." you deny, and Spencer's lips push to the side, an obvious sign of his slight discomfort about what he was going to say next. "He's not going to want to talk about it." you admit. "And what exactly do you say in a conversation like that? Oh by the way boss, I was in love with you, and it kinda felt like maybe you felt the same, except oh wait, it was just a ploy to keep me from realizing you were lying about Emily being alive?" you say sarcastically. Spencer huffs in retaliation.

"Yes actually, you could say exactly that. Maybe you'll learn something you didn't know before." he deadpans, and your nose curls. You cut your eyes over at the man, who's not amused.

"I kinda thought you'd be the last person pushing for this sort of confrontation, you know?' you admit before you can really help yourself. You watch as Spencer's face seems to set into one of surprise, his cheeks and neck slowly gaining a red sort of tint to them.

"What do you mean?" he questions, and your mouth parts just slightly. And you think the same way he's been gentle with you is the exact same way you need to be gentle with him, so you pivot, head shaking from side to side.

"Nothing." you say firmly. "Forget about it." you say quietly, and then you're looking back at your paperwork. Spencer, embarrassed finds himself fiddling with his fingers, trying to scold his heartbeat back into submission. It suddenly felt way too cramped sitting at your desk.

"You should go after work." he says, and your eyes snap back to him. "Talk to Hotch after work, I mean." he says and your stomach feels a bit tight. "I think it'll be best." he proceeds, and you frown.

"You do?" you question, and you try not to sound despondent.

"Y-Yeah, I do." he agrees despite his stutter. "Things like this don't go away on their own, you know?" and you chew on the inside of your lip, and feel that gloom cloud from earlier making its way back.

"I thought we were supposed to be hanging out today, Spencer." you start and he blinks owlishly, long lashes nearly caressing the tops of his cheekbones.

"We could always raincheck." he says, and you stare at him just a bit blankly. "It's not like it was a date or anything. They were just plans..." he adds, and your teeth chomp down on your bottom lip. He doesn't really know how to read the look on your face, but he knows that he feels like he's being noble.

"Just plans." you shrug your shoulders dismissively. "Right." and then you pick up your pen. "Well if that's what you want, I guess it's fine by me." you add, body curling into itself as you position yourself away from him.

"Isn't that what you want?" he questions, and you cut your eyes.

"Do you think I'd be sitting here if it was?" you keep your voice level, but your leg is bouncing. You're not quite sure why, maybe because Spencer was being Spencer. You supposed your comment that made it clear that you knew that he had feelings for you had scared him. Now, he was trying to protect himself, but you weren't so hungry for a relationship that you'd string him along for the sole purpose of getting over Hotch. You would've made this call had you figured it out or not, and you supposed the fact he didn't get that was what sucked. "I'm not that pathetic." you add with a quiet scoff.

"It's not about you being pathetic." he denies. "I don't think that about you., I just know that you're in a vulnerable place. You had real feelings for him, and I think it'd be best for you to get it all off your chest correctly, before you start projecting all those leftover feelings to the first person you can." and he doesn't mean it in the way it sounds. In fact the statistics about rebounds would sound a lot worse, but as usual, he's horrible at communicating exactly what he feels.

You blink. Once, twice, three times.

"I can't believe you just said that to me." you say, and you're abruptly standing up, mostly because you're about to cry like the fucking baby you were. Spencer's certain this is a new record for how quickly things could go left just because he couldn't shut the hell up. What he'd been trying to convey was that after a rejection, it was much easier to mistake platonic feelings for romantic ones. He had been a consistent shoulder for you to lean on since everything went south.

He didn't want you to think that he was being nice to you only because he had feelings for you, and convince yourself that you felt the same all because you refused to fully shut the door with Hotch. But he'd never actually meant to make it seem like you'd be so desperate, and especially not with him. "Y/N, wait. That's not what I meant-" except you're already leaving, taking in the shaky breath that told him he'd stupidly made you cry.

"L/N?" Emily's calling as you pass her, but you don't respond to her either. Instead you're rushing off in the direction of the bathroom, likely to calm yourself down. Emily's eyes are immediately snapping over to Spencer, and her eyebrows are furrowed. He instinctively looks away, internally cursing himself out.

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"Y/N/N?" you're surprised to hear JJ entering the bathroom, and you're hurriedly moving to splash at your face with water to keep it from looking so puffy. Still, JJ was as perceptive as she was pushy, so it's clear she's already put it together that you're crying. "Hey, is everything alright?" she takes on that motherly tone she uses with Henry, and the rest of the team when they're feeling down.

"I'm fine." you insist, and she doesn't look convinced. She takes a tentative step towards you, standing beside the sink you were occupying. "Seriously JJ, please just leave me alone." you partially beg.

"I know you're upset with me, but you're still my friend." she reminds you. "I'm not going to leave you in here when it's clear you're upset." she exclaims. "So you can talk to me or not, but I'm not going anywhere." she deadpans, and you sniffle, rubbing harshly at your cheeks. They're sensitive to the action, blood rushing to your face.

"You're so annoying." you mumble, but there's no bite. It makes JJ snicker, and it's a step in the right direction you're sure.

"It's my job." she retorts with a shrug, and she leans her back against the sink beside you, legs crossing slightly. "Is everything okay?" she tries again, much more gently as you frown. No, everything was not okay. You hadn't actually expected to be sitting here crying over Spencer's remark, but you supposed that the fact he believed you'd ever use him as a rebound had kind of hurt. You supposed it also didn't help that he'd so callously canceled your plans.

You'd actually started to look forward to hanging out with him.

"Do you think I'm desperate?" you question haughtily, and JJ's eyes widen, surprise overtaking her features as she turns to you fully.

"Of course not." she denies firmly, blonde ponytail bobbing with all her intense animation. "What would make you think that?" she pries, and you cut your eyes just slightly.

"You guys could have trusted me with the truth." you counter, and she falls silent. "And even if you couldn't there were so many other ways to keep me from finding out about Emily. Ways that didn't involve making me look like an idiot to the rest of the team." you mumble crossly, and you blink enough that you feel like your lashes are crumpling into your cornea. it forces you to drag a hand over them roughly, rubbing harshly at your eyes until the sensation left.

"That wasn't what we were trying to do." JJ tries, and it doesn't really matter what exactly she was trying to do. What mattered was what had happened. "You know that." she adds, and you think she's trying to appeal to the part of you that knew the type of people she and Hotch were. The ones that had proven their loyalty to the team for years and years. "Is this about Hotch?" she says and you wince because the problem wasn't that simple.

And you didn't understand why everyone seemed to think so.

You weren't some girl that couldn't handle rejection, what bothered you the most was that Hotch and JJ had felt like they couldn't trust you, and it bothered you that Hotch had felt like he had to play along to some stupid fantasy to ensure you'd play your role. And it especially bothered you that you'd mourned your friend Emily and everything you thought you knew about her, and all anyone could focus on was the fact that you liked Hotch and he didn't like you back. As if your entire world stopped all because of it.

"No, it's not about Hotch." you deadpan. "I wish you guys would just stop being so casual about it." you add on as JJ's mouth parts.

"Y/N... it's not really something that you'd ever really been subtle about. Everyone knows." and she's still trying to be gentle, despite the fact that the words still managed to slice at you.

"So that makes what you guys did, okay?" you shoot back. "Is that really the hill you want to die on?" and you're growing crosser. "This isn't about not being liked back by a guy, this is about me believing that the people I spend most of my days with have my back. How are we supposed to be a team when I can't trust you?" you press. "Because you never would have done that to Spence." you add, and JJ blinks, mostly because she doesn't know how to counter that.

"You didn't have to do it to Derek or Rossi or Penelope either." you remind her. "So what was it about me, about this that made your only course of action rubbing salt in a wound that I was doing a damn good job of healing all on my own?"

"I-I don't know." she admits, and you suppose it was an answer.

"Yeah, well I don't know if I have the patience to wait around for you all to figure that out." you mumble.

"What are you saying?" and JJ's blinking a bit more, eyes misty but not quite showing any signs of shed tears.

"I'm saying that before I didn't know if I wanted to stay here anymore. I love my job, but I don't love how it makes me feel now." you say plainly. "When Elle got like that and ignored her gut it got someone shot." you say, and it sounds melodramatic, but it doesn't feel that way at all. JJ gasps, though it's faint. "I just don't want to wait around for that to happen to me." and you inhale sharply, shuddered breath wracking through you as JJ stares at you clearly gobsmacked.

"But-" and she can't quite grasp the words. "You can't just leave." she exclaims, and it sounds like she's pleading. "Look-" and she's starting to sound just a little desperate. "Look we never wanted to hurt you, okay? And-and none of us..." and she stops to make sure she's staring you directly in your eyes. "None of us want to lose you, Y/N." she insists. "I-" and she's shaking her head again. "Please don't do this." and she sounds the same way Spencer did when he said it. Your nose twitches, "We just got the team back together." she mutters.

"JJ, that's not fair." you huff at her, and she's not really trying to be fair. She just doesn't want you to leave.

"I'm so sorry that we hurt you." and while most apologies that start that way are usually rife with deceit, JJ sounds more sincere than she probably ever has before. "And I'm sorry if it feels a little flat, especially with you already having a foot out the door." she sighs, "It wasn't okay, but-but I know how Hotch feels about you. How the entire team feels about you." she reiterates. "We can't do this without you, we can't." she emphasizes sternly. "And maybe that's selfish to bring up, but we all care so much about you." she promises.

You want to cut her off, but she doesn't give you the chance.

Classic JJ.

"Do whatever you need to! Take as much time away as you need, hate us forever if you have to, but please don't- don't walk away from what you do here." she exhales shakily. "And-and for the record, whether it helps or not... we didn't sit around discussing your... feelings for Hotch." she tells you quietly. "It wasn't some master plan that we composed, and-and I don't know... it couldn't have all been fake." she whispers, and you wonder why she's changing her tune, because just last week she was telling you that 'it wasn't real'

"JJ-" you finally manage and she's shaking her head.

"I'm serious." she insists, and your nose crinkles up again.

"Stop." you deadpan. "You're being really mean." you huff, and you begin to click at your nails just slightly. JJ thinks you're a little bit exasperating. Too stubborn for your own good, but she wont push.

"Could you just listen for one second?" she exclaims, and you're pouting as she grows more overwhelmed at it all. "I wouldn't lie to you about this." she insists, and you wonder why she, and Spencer have taken this sort of stance with you. It should make you hopeful, right? Oh, there was some chance that Hotch felt the same way as you. Except you can't be happy about it, because he's not the one that was sitting here telling you this. It was JJ.

What had you told Spencer earlier? 'There's no way to misunderstand when it's spelled out for you, right', and emotionally exhausted or not, you meant it. Which meant you refused to do the work for him. If he couldn't say it, if he couldn't admit it, than it was as if it wasn't true at all. Which is why you exhale, blinking away whatever bleariness tried to keep itself latched to your eyes. "I love you for trying so hard, but I'd rather you didn't." you instruct sternly.

JJ inhales deeply, audibly expelling the breath from her nose. "That's what you're missing, Y/N." she begins, and she reaches out, hand cupping your shoulder. "I'm not trying to do anything. Everything I've said today I meant. You're important, and you're a lot to lose." she admits. "If you're going to leave, leave because you hate the job, do it because you don't feel fulfilled any longer. But don't let this be what makes you throw in the towel, Y/N." she says and you huff again.

You were doing a lot of that today. "We'll make up for it." she begins, and then she sighs. "I'll make up for it, however long it takes." and you think her pivot from sharing the blame to taking it all for herself makes you feel a little less like you were being ganged up on. She was no longer the spokesperson for everyone involved, and was back to just being JJ, your friend JJ. "Please?" she tries again, and it's not like her to beg, which tells you all you need to know about how serious she was.

"We should get back to work." you mumble, and it's not quite the answer she's expecting, but at the very least it was a promise that you both still had until the end of the day at the very least. She doesn't have the strength to fight her smile, arms looping around you in a move that's much too invasive for your still sour mood, but you don't slight her for it. You instead let her hug you, because obviously it meant a lot more to her than you knew. She'd missed you.

"Alright, alright. That's enough." you tease, moving to lightly push the blonde off of you as she exhales.

"Can you blame me? I thought you were gonna hate me forever." she admits honestly, and you crinkle your nose.

"Guess I'm softer than I thought." you reply, and she waves you off at the remark. Still, despite this slight turn in the direction of your relationship with JJ, you still couldn't feel all that settled. But, you know hiding out in the restroom was by no means the best choice. So when JJ moves to leave, you tail her, surprised when on the other side is a nearly pacing Reid.

"Spence?" JJ exclaims in surprise, the tawny haired man turns to you both. He's immediately looking past JJ to take you in. JJ follows hos gaze and whistles under her breath, deciding that her job was done. She offers you a hopeful sort of look before she continues on towards her desk, leaving you and Spencer mostly alone.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and you're subjectively alright, for the moment. You're better than you were, but not as good as you could be. You're not anywhere near where or who you were before, but you suppose after what the team endured there wasn't much that could be done about that last bit. "I'm so sorry." he's exclaiming, and of course, he means it. He always means it. "I didn't mean to-" and he doesn't really know how to articulate all his thoughts correctly.

He's good with words, knows facts and statistics and data, knows what runs through his mind when he thinks about you, and knows what he wants to say. It's when he opens his mouth that things go awry, because despite all his grand attempts, he always manages to screw up when it came to expressing the emotional side of things. His pep talks sometimes fell flat, and a lot of times he missed the mark when it came to cheering someone up. But, he'd never wanted to be a person who hurt you, so he needed to fix it.

Even if it ruined everything forever.

"I wasn't trying to insinuate that you'd-" and he motions between the both of you. "I don't think that you see me as a rebound." he finally vocalizes. "That would mean you'd have to see me in a potentially romantic way." Spencer's voice is as steady as it often was when he was giving a geographical profile or helping to relay some form of fact or evidence during a case. Which said a lot about his intentions, and how serious he was about you not misunderstanding him.

"I was merely trying to note that a lot of times in circumstances where we're faced rejection from someone we hold to a high regard, it's really easy to misinterpret our own feelings and latch onto people before we really mean to." he expresses, and your chewing on the inside of your cheek, albeit subtly. "For example, because you've established me as someone who you can trust during this time, it'd be really easy for you to misinterpret what you think you feel for me." he says, and your eyebrows furrow inwardly.

"How could I possibly do that? They're my own feelings." you retort.

"Because, the first thing people do after a breakup, is they seek validation, or a new way to boost their esteem and self worth." he doesn't quite lecture, but it's clear he's intent on your knowing all of this. "And that doesn't necessarily mean that you're vying for me as a potential person to bounce back with, but a lot of times when you don't process the end of a previous emotional bond, your view of the entire new dynamic can be warped." he proceeds, and you're still not really understanding his point, instead you're feeling more silly.

"What are you saying, Spencer?" you question quietly.

"All I'm trying to explain is that I don't want you to tell me that you want to go out and listen to me promenade facts unless it's what you really want to do." he says, "I don't want you to feel like you're obligated to play along, because you think we're in the same boat... where we- we love someone that we can't have?" he presses, and he winces once it's out, you think you may have started holding your breath. "Does that make sense to you?"

You nod your head limply, and you take in his words. You find that your little hunch about your dear Spencer was correct. You also note that it doesn't quite scare you the way you'd initially believed it would. "Spence, I wouldn't do that to you." you remind him, and he nods too.

"I know that." he promises. "At least not consciously, but our minds can play tricks on us. You could think that this is what's best, moving on... forgetting about- about everything that happened." he presses, and your lips form into a thin line. "And then wake up in three weeks and remember why you fell in love with Hotch to begin with."

"Or-" and his eyes widen.

"Or?"

"Or...I could choose to stop waiting around for someone to not be afraid to love me." you counter. "I could- I could choose to hang out with my friend, Spencer and be okay with whatever happens after that. I could- We could do that. And it could be okay." you purse your lips. "Because, it's what I want to do. Nobody's entitled to my feelings but me, and you know what that means, Spencer? It means that if you think that you might love me, you need to be okay with that." he looks a bit startled that you're saying it so bluntly, but stays quiet.

"And you need to know that sometimes your statistics are gonna be wrong, and sometimes the guy that's too scared to admit how they feel doesn't get the girl." it's a shock, you can't say that you've fallen out of love in a day, you can't say that you've fallen in love in a day. But you do know that Spencer Reid managed to invoke a hope inside of you that you hadn't managed to feel in a long time. He made you girlishly giddy, and you liked talking to him, you liked listening to him, you liked the way it felt when you'd made plans together.

And maybe there was no such thing as a happily ever after where everyone gets who they want, maybe in three weeks you would wake up and find that you and Spencer were better off as friends, but you weren't going to hold up your life in the hopes that maybe someday Aaron Hotchner would wake up and decide he was finally ready to love you out loud. Not when there was a chance to take your own life, your own emotions by the balls and do with them what you wanted.

"He doesn't?" Spencer asks, and you're not quite sure you can place what emotions are resting on his face and in his eyes.

"We can find out." you offer, and it's not some heady and heavy declaration of unyielding devotion, but wasn't that sort of how every relationship started? With some decision to take a chance. Maybe, you didn't really know. "There's this music store I've been dying to check out." you say, and for the second time that day Spencer seems to brighten right in front of your eyes. "It's sort of right on the strip, if you don't mind going with me... there's a lot we could do…" and the small change is almost everything. It's scary, causes a pit in your gut.

Still, it's a nicer feeling than uncertainty and the hollowness left behind by idleness. "Are you in?" you ask, and Spencer is already nodding his head, smile reaching his eyes as his pretty teeth reveal themselves to you, eyes twinkling in a way that's very very beautiful.

"Yes." he agrees with a simple nod. "I would-" and you think it's cute the way his smile refuses to leave, and sweet the way he's suddenly grown nervous all over again. "I'd like that-" and his voice cracks, and earns him a laugh, your own demeanor seeming to change as your excitement starts to brew in the depths of your chest.

"Good." you beam.

"Good." he repeats, and there's a small moment, a flicker where you're certain you both look nervous, frightful of what came next. But it only lasts a second, because you're both suddenly being called by Derek, a resounding 'Pretty Boy, Pretty Girl' forcing you out of your bubble and back into the fray. With another shared smile you find yourselves in step, making your way back towards the heart of the bullpen where the rest of the team is huddled. It's rare when work is so light, but you know as well as everyone else, you'll all take advantage of it.

When Penelope smiles at you, you smile back, and it's real.

When JJ plants herself on top of your desk, the two of you actually laugh, spilling secrets and trading gossip like nothing's ever changed.

When Rossi calls you Piccola, you relax even more into the familiarity of being surrounded by your teammates.

When Derek slings an arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss to the top of your head, you remember why you loved your job.

When Emily calls your name and waves you and JJ over to the group, you oblige, meeting Emily's eyes with no mirth left behind. When she calls you by your nickname, you feel that familiar swarm of familial adoration filling your chest, and recognize that things with her would be okay. You find that in the grand scheme she is still your Emily.

When you find yourself standing next to your boss, his usually stern and stoic persona shed in the presence of the team he considered family, you hardly bat an eye. When he smiles at a joke you make, you're pleased, but the anxiety, the panic that tormented you is all gone. The butterflies are too, replaced with the respect you remember.

And when you find yourself looking across the circle and meet the pretty brown eyes of one Spencer Reid, you feel it when your heart tremors, just a little bit.

And you think, in the end, you made the right decision.

314 notes · View notes

galactic-magick · 2 months ago

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Arcane Masterlist

* - female reader/pronouns

** - male reader/pronouns

*** - gender neutral reader/pronouns

X Readers:

Viktor/Machine Herald:

Same Continuity:

***The Handsome Assistant: Tumblr Link AO3 Link

You keep running into the handsome Dean's assistant, whom you find you have a lot in common with. You develop quite the crush, and things get a little messy when your friends find out about him.

***A Proper Date: Tumblr Link AO3 Link

Viktor wants to take you out on a proper date.

***Life Changes: Tumblr Link AO3 Link

Viktor confides in you about his meeting with Jayce, and he contemplates his future with you a lot more seriously.

*Rest of My Life: Tumblr Link AO3 Link

Reader and Viktor have their wedding and first time together.

***Nights Like This: Tumblr Link AO3 Link

You and Viktor get ready for bed.

*Be Proud (plus size!reader): Tumblr Link AO3 Link

Viktor's newfound fame as the co-founder of Hextech has taken its toll on your insecurities.

*Only Bought This Dress So You Could Take It Off (plus size!reader): Tumblr Link AO3 Link

The smutty part 2 to my fic "Be Proud." Thicc curvy Viktwhores come get your juice!!

Headcanons Collection

Other:

*I Thought You Were Dead: Tumblr Link AO3 Link

Smutty reunion sex with Machine Herald after the council exploded. I wrote this before S2 so Machine Herald design is based more on the game and the council is all dead bc I didn't think any of them were gonna survive originally lol.

*Maybe in Another Universe, You're Still the Man I Love: Tumblr Link AO3 Link

You get sent to the same alternate timeline with Ekko and Heimerdinger, and you find out just how wonderful your life could've been.

***I Love You, I'm Sorry: Tumblr Link AO3 Link

Sequel to the fic above, in which Reader returns to their reality while Viktor tries to talk to them from the cosmic void.

*Cosmic Love: Tumblr Link AO3 Link

You try to resist your corrupted lover, but you ache too much for his touch that you can’t refuse any longer. AKA, galaxy quaking, star bursting, 5th dimensional, cosmic anomaly Viktor smut. Takes place between when Jayce tries to kill him and when he goes through the full Machine Herald transformation. Hope you enjoy.

***The Assistant: Tumblr Link AO3 Link

You're Jayce and Viktor's lab assistant, and you've found yourself heavily crushing on the latter.

Silco:

***Love and Protection: Tumblr Link AO3 Link

Alternate Timeline!Claggor:

*For You: Tumblr Link AO3 Link

#Arcane x reader #viktor arcane x reader #machine herald x reader #silco x reader #arcane

98 notes · View notes

wildernessuntothemselves · 7 months ago

Text

Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Part 4

Word Count: 6.1k

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again.

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous.

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before?

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams.

Warnings: fem!reader, breast play, humping, slight somnophilia, switch!reader, switch!beomgyu, mentions of past rape, yandere!beomgyu, reader gaslighting herself

He is lying on his side with his arms wrapped around you, staring at you, while you lay on your back, one hand on his arm draped over your chest and your eyes staring up at the ceiling. You’ve been lying like this since your alarm went off, waking you so you can start getting ready for work, though you think Beomgyu may have been awake even earlier.

Your middle finger traces a small line over a vein on the back of his arm, feeling the warmth there as if you can feel his life’s blood. His grip on you is steady, confident, and he never takes his eyes off you.

“Don’t you get tired of it?” You ask softly, voice heavy with sleep. You don’t elaborate on what you mean, and Beomgyu doesn’t ask for it.

“No.” Comes his quick reply. ”Because just being here with you like this… It makes it all worth it.”

You finally turn to look at him, and your heart swells up in your chest. You love him so much. Despite everything, you love him.

“Call in sick for me.” You tell him and he jumps at the opportunity, not hesitating for a second. He grabs your phone and dials your work, making up some bullshit story about you being sick and needing to stay home. You’re usually a dedicated worker despite the grief Beomgyu brings you–because of the grief Beomgyu brings you. The harder he makes it for you, the more you want to hold onto your job because it gives you independence from him and prevents you from being completely codependent on each other the way you know he desires and the way you find yourself secretly wishing you were when things get very tough and all you can think about is being wrapped up by him, protected and cared for and safe from the horrible, cruel world that causes you so much pain and suffering. Because why go out there to fight every day when you can be with him and let him take care of everything?

But then you force yourself to push these thoughts away and act like a grown-up because despite your immense love for Beomgyu, you're not stupid enough to hang your entire future on a man in this day and age. Yes, he loves you but you’re sure all the women who made that mistake before you were also in love. Or at least you like to think you're not that stupid…But for today you’ll let him win. For today you’ll see what the alternative is.

Beomgyu ends the call with your boss with a toothy smile on his face. He looks excited, like you’ve given him the best present ever and he jumps back in to take you in his arms, kissing the side of your face.

“What do you want to do today?” He asks and you shrug, throwing the question back to him. “What do you want to do?”

“I just want to be with you.” He admits and your heart clenches.

“Let’s eat first. I’m starving” You tell him and he’s so excited he doesn’t even whine at your lack of reply to his loving proclamation.

________________________________

Beomgyu makes sure to make the food for you. He keeps apologizing for not having a lot of materials to work with and lamenting the fact that he can’t make this dish or that dish as if you were expecting some extravagant feast.

“Beomgyu, it’s just breakfast.” You reassure him but he shakes his head. “I want to give you the best. Do you want to go eat out? There is this really good restaurant 20 minutes away.”

When he tells you the name of the restaurant, you frown. “Isn’t that place really expensive?”

He shrugs. “Only the best for my princess.”

You shake your head. “I don’t need something fancy, Beomgyu. Pancakes are fine.”

He frowns at that, seemingly upset that you don’t want the expensive restaurant. What’s the deal with him? Sometimes you think he dislikes that you don’t want him to spend his money on you.

Still, in order to make him stop fretting, you say, “Being with you is enough.”

That makes him light up, and he is suddenly content with pancakes too.

“It looks nice outside. Maybe we can pack up some lunch and go for a picnic?” You suggest and he perks up even more. “Yeah. We've got some cold cuts I can make into sandwiches and we can grab some cupcakes or muffins on the way.”

He sounds very excited about getting to spend the day like this with you and it makes you both happy that you've made him so excited by such a small thing but also sad that he has probably been feeling a bit neglected by you recently as you pulled away from him due to everything that’s going on with the dreams and Taehyun.

Well, today you'll make it up to him. Today, you'll set all your worries aside and just enjoy the day with your loving boyfriend.

“Sounds good.”

___________________________________

Beomgyu made way too much food for the picnic and he insisted on preparing everything all by himself, wanting to pamper you. Maybe he himself also feels guilt over not stopping when you asked him to but in a way that makes you feel even worse. He didn’t know that you were serious and you’re no stranger to playfully whining for the other to stop when you’re messing around–even you have done it to him before–so you understand why he didn’t immediately stop. He must feel awful about it. You may be having issues with Beomgyu but that doesn’t mean that he would ever hurt you in that way. You’re his entire life and it's unfair to him to be having these disturbing thoughts, even if you can't control them.

Maybe you just need to agree on a safe word so this doesn’t happen again… if you can even get yourself to get over your irrational trepidation every time you think about having sex with him now that is.

“Beomgyu, I can feed myself.” You roll your eyes when he tries to put a sandwich to your mouth and push his hand away, feeling an uneasy sense of deja vu at the action. For some reason, the most random actions you or Beomgyu do feel like something you’ve done before. Every moment feels like you’ve lived it before and it’s freaking you out. You secretly worry that you’re losing your mind.

He pouts, looking deflated at the small rejection. “I know. I just want to take care of you.”

“I don't need you to take care of me.” You say again and he puts the food down, looking even more dejected at that.

You sigh and open your arms. “Come here, Gyu.”

He eagerly gets into your embrace, laying his head down on your chest and letting you wrap your arms around him.

You kiss the side of his head, breathing in his scent and feeling it soothe your anxiety like a healing balm. “I don't need all of this. I just need you. The you that I love, and not this crazy possessive guy that scares me.”

“And I only ever want you.” He looks up at you, his eyes sad. “If I can be sure that you'll only ever be mine, I wouldn't act so crazy.”

You want to argue with him, get angry that he's asking you to prove your loyalty to him as if you had cheated on him, but you also know that what you feel for Taehyun isn't completely innocent and it would be hypocritical of you to act like his worries are completely irrational.

You sigh, looking at the park around you. You were at one of your favorite parts by the lake. Though it is a little hard to enjoy with so many people around, kids screaming and guys jokingly cussing each other out. You wish it would just be you and Beomgyu here.

“You know these grounds once belonged to the royal family.” You tell Beomgyu, “Imagine having all this beauty to yourself. Wouldn't that have been wonderful?”

“I suppose so.” He mumbles unenthusiastically but you keep going. “Their lives must've been so easy. Eating good food, dressing in fancy clothes, sipping tea in their huge ass gardens…”

“I'm sure they had their struggles.” Beomgyu interjects and you snort. “Yeah right. Their struggles of where to spend all that money.”

“They didn't control their own decisions. They were trapped in what everyone else expected of them. They didn't choose what to wear, who to hangout with, what they want to do with their lives or even who to marry.”

Beomgyu's sudden speech gives you pause. “Damn I didn't know you were so passionate about royal life.”

Is he saying that because he wants to discourage you from talking about the prince dreams again? Well, you weren’t planning to mention them to him anymore, not after how twisted and ugly they’re become.

He falters, seeming to realize how odd it was for him to get worked up over your silly complaints. “It's just… things aren't always what they seem.”

“I suppose. I mean I hear that their lives were filled with deceit and betrayal, like killing each other for power and shit. I'd rather be poor and alive, thanks.” You finally say to lighten up the mood and he smiles, thankfully playing along. “I want you alive too.”

“How romantic.” You roll your eyes and he laughs. “I admit it's not one of my best lines.”

“Well, good thing I got you some love poems to learn from.” You declare, pulling out the book you brought along to the picnic.

“You just want to hear my sexy ass voice narrating your favorite poems.” He calls you out and you don’t even try to deny it. “Guilty. What, I can't take advantage of my sexy boyfriend?”

“You can take advantage of me all you want, baby.” He says greasily and you pretend to gag. “Stick to the poems, loverboy. Don't waste your voice on these corny lines.”

“Yes, princess.” He grins, grabbing the book from your hand and flopping his head on your lap so you can play with his hair while he reads your favorite poems.

Sitting there, with the love of your life in your arms, his deep voice reading out words of love and longing from the most gifted poets and writers of the world, you feel lucky. How could you not when those words that have moved millions over decades and centuries, driving them to long for a love just like that, feel like your reality.

The love you have with Beomgyu is what those poems are written about. Yes, it can be dark and scary, but it can also be so, so beautiful. Just like now, with him sneaking glances at you in between every proclamation of love and adoration he reads off, as if his eyes can’t help but jump to you at every reminder, seeking the sight of the exact love they’re reading about.

Yes, doing this was the right choice. You feel so happy and content right now, the sunshine beaming down at the both of you and warming up your skin can’t even compete with the internal warmth and love you feel holding Beomgyu at this moment. This is perfect. This is where you belong. And this is just what he’s trying to make sure lasts right? He acts crazy sometimes because he knows this love is too rare and special to lose, right?

But the feeling of peace and happiness doesn’t last forever, and an unexpected gloom arrives in the form of one of your favorite poems–Annabelle Lee. Sure, it’s a sad and deeply moving poem but you didn’t anticipate the way it was going to affect Beomgyu.

It all starts off normally, his rich voice setting the perfect tone for the beautiful poem as you play with his soft locks, running them through the fingers of one hand while the other gently massages his scalp.

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

You smile to yourself as you look down at Beomgyu. It’s funny how that’s just what you were thinking–that all that matters is the love you share between the two of you. You bend down to press a kiss to his forehead, and giggle at the way he unconsciously lifts his head up to get closer to your lips.

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea:

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven

Laughed loud at her and me.

Then he hesitates, pausing as he reaches the last line, and you have to nudge him gently to get him to keep going. You see his eyebrows knit together in a perturbed frown but he continues for you.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,

Went laughing at her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

You try to smoothen the lines that formed between Beomgyu’s thick eyebrows but even another kiss to the troubled lines are of no use as his focus was now entirely on the book in front of him. His anxiety was palpable and infectious, and a strange sense of doom creeps up on your protective bubble.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the laughter in heaven above,

Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

Beomgyu's voice turned hoarse and patchy as he carried on, and you feel a prickling at the back of your throat as a profound and all consuming grief that you've never felt before and don’t think you have the capacity to contain threatens to engulf you. You hold onto him tighter, suddenly terrified. It’s silly. You’ve read this poem more times than you can remember, and sure it always moved you and made you sad, but it never caused you such gut-wrenching pain as it was doing right now. Whatever misery the poem was triggering in Beomgyu was transferring directly to you through your skin and suddenly the poet was Beomgyu and you were Anabelle Lee–he’d lost you and you can only sit there and watch him suffer and waste away as he cries over you.

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea,

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Beomgyu's voice breaks completely as he utters ‘my life and my bride’ and by the time he finishes the poem, he is openly crying. You’re crying too, and hugging him tightly to you. You’re sure you’re both making quite the spectacle of yourselves but you don’t care. You hold him so tightly your fingers turn white and numb, and he does the same. The sense of loss that is filling you up is so intense and vivid, it's as if you've lived it. You’re scared that if you let him go, you’ll be taken away from him just like in the poem.

“Why–” He sobs into your chest, his cries rattling your already injured heart. “Why did they have to be ripped apart?”

“I don't know, baby.” You bend down to kiss his sweet lips, not really knowing what to say but wishing to calm him down–calm yourself down and try to shake off the irrational fear that something like this is going to happen to you. “Sometimes life is just cruel.”

“No. I can't accept that.” He says resolutely, sitting up to face you and reaching out to hold your face in his hands. “Promise you'll never let anyone or anything take you away from me.”

“Beomgyu–”

“Please…” His voice shudders as he tries to speak through his tears. “I can't lose you.”

“Oh, baby.” You sigh, reaching out to wipe the sparkling tears off his face. Oh, how you'll say and do anything for this beautiful boy.

“I promise.”

_______________________________

When you get back to work the following day, Taehyun corners you in the back room as soon as he gets the chance.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks with concern in his voice and you look at him in confusion. “Yeah, why?”

“You called in sick yesterday.” His eyes narrow, already suspicious.

“Oh, right.” You remember Beomgyu calling in sick for you, and you try to brush off his concern. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But Taehyun doesn’t let your small slip up pass, now probably convinced there was some malicious reason behind your absence. “Are you sure? Beomgyu didn’t do anything weird, did he?”

His question pisses you off, perhaps because you already feel so guilty towards Beomgyu for your unjustifiable aversion to being physical to him because of your dreams, but you certainly don’t want Taehyun to think Beomgyu is abusing you or something. “No, he didn’t. He took care of me all day yesterday.” You say sharply and Taehyun winces, realizing he has gotten off on the wrong foot with you and that you’re no longer tolerant of him denigrating your boyfriend’s image to you.

“I’m sorry.” He quickly backs down, which is unusual for him, and you feel a twinge of sorrow for going off on him like that. He was just worried about you, but still, he was inadvertently part of the reason you and Beomgyu are having issues and you can’t help but feel frustrated and resentful about that.

“Whatever.” You try to brush him off and get back to the main work area but he is not done talking.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said.” He goes on, stopping you in your tracks and you sigh. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

"Can we start over?"

You stare at him, seeing the hope in his eyes and it brings you nothing but pain. “I’m not sure we can.”

Maybe in another world you and Taehyun may have been something–in a world where you met him before you met Beomgyu, maybe. But you would be acting wilfully ignorant if you went back to your budding friendship with Taehyun. Because you know it upsets Beomgyu. Because you know it wouldn’t be just an innocent friendship and that there is more at play here. You need to nip it all in the bud before it grows out of control and suffocates your actual, real relationship with Beomgyu.

You’re loyal to your boyfriend. Whatever strange and inexplicable feelings you hold for Taehyun should be abandoned and forgotten, and they can’t be if you keep being such buddies-buddies with him.

His face falls at your response and you think you can detect an edge of anger to his voice. Why the hell is he angry? He has no right to be upset with you for setting boundaries in order to protect your relationship. “I was out of line. I get it. I swear it won’t happen again.”

“It can't.” You affirm, getting angry yourself. “I'm dating Beomgyu. I love Beomgyu.”

Though Taehyun is usually good at managing his facial expressions, you can clearly see the way his face twists in pain at your proclamation. This is exactly why you have to stay away from each other.

“I know that.” He says through gritted teeth. “Believe me I don’t want to be having these feelings as much as you do, but I can’t control it. There is something drawing us together and I know you can feel it too.”

“Oh, come on, Taehyun, now you sound delusional like me.” You scoff, berating yourself as much as him. You’ve let this delusion get too far. “Next thing you’ll be saying you’re having dreams of us in a past life too.”

“Don’t mock me.” He scowls, the hurt still plainly clear on his face no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it with his unjustifiable temper.

You sigh again. This is not a fight you want to get into. It’s over. You have to end this. “I am not mocking you. But I can’t let whatever this is ruin what I have with the man I love.”

At that, Taehyun turns and walks away wordlessly, and a deep wound opens up in your chest as you watch him leave. You do your best to ignore it. Just as suddenly and inexplicably these feelings developed for Taehyun, you’re sure they will pass away and everything will return back to normal. This is all just a result of the doubts that have been plaguing you about Beomgyu. It’s just your mind coming up with weird feelings and scenarios that mean nothing. Soon enough, you and Beomgyu will be living in mutual bliss like before and you’ll forget about this whole nightmare.

_______________________________

Beomgyu is holding back. You can see it. He tries to keep his desires in check so he doesn't hurt you again without meaning to. He doesn’t want to rush you but you can tell he is suffering.

You can feel the way he reluctantly pulls away when his kisses get heated. You can see the way he averts his eyes when you wear something too revealing around the house. You can hear him when he sneaks to the bathroom in the middle of the night to relieve himself.

And you can definitely feel it now in the way his unconscious body ruts against yours in his sleep.

“Beomgyu…” You call out, mouth dry as you feel his cock grinding against your ass.

“Princess…” He moans at the sound of you calling his name, his hips driving into your ass harder, still asleep. “Need you…”

And you'd be lying if you said you weren't affected too. You need him too. Your body naturally reacts to his, panties already getting wet as his bulge grinds between your legs. But you still haven’t been able to shake those disturbing images and feelings out of your head completely, especially not when he calls you princess. The word now carries an unexpected negative association for you.

“Princess, please…” He cries in your ear, his fingers digging into your stomach. “Oh god, please.”

It makes you feel so fucking guilty to hear how desperate and needy he sounds, unconscious and unable to hold himself back like has been doing so many times recently. You want so bad to help. You want to push him on his back and ride his cock until he’s satiated and happy like he always gets when you fuck him, but you’re not sure you can.

“Wake up.” You urge him, torn between the heat gathering in your belly and the suffocating feeling of being trapped in his hold. You want to help him–you want to help yourself–but you’re fucking scared that it would trigger those horrific images once again.

But Beomgyu only whines and drives his hips into your harder. “My princess…”

“Beomgyu, wake up.” You call out once again, much more firmly this time, and he finally jolts awake, sitting up so he’s now hovering over you and checking you over.

“Wha–what?” His first instinct is to make sure you’re safe and unharmed, looking over your body and touching you slightly all over to confirm you’re not injured. Then the confusion comes in–why do you have that look on your face?--but that only lasts a few seconds before the realization finally kicks in and his face crumbles in dismay. “Fuck, sorry. I’m so sorry. I've just been–”

“Needy? Yeah, I can feel that.” You push your thigh between his legs, trying to push away your unwanted feelings. He was so panicked about you being hurt that it all just makes you feel that much more guilty. Beomgyu would never hurt you. It was all in your head, and you want to get rid of it. You want to allow yourself to feel the love of your boyfriend again.

“Oh, princess, I missed you so much.” He falls right into it, humping your leg just like you expected. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so weak.”

“Aw, puppy…” You coo, brushing his hair out of his face so you can take a good look at the pathetic look on his face that you love so much. It sends a fucking jolt of electricity down to your already heated core.

“It has barely been a couple of weeks.” You reprimand as if your panties weren’t rapidly getting wet right now. But Shame isn’t in Beomgyu’s vocabulary anyway. “A couple of weeks of having you right next to me and not being able to touch you. It was torture.”

He pushes your nightshirt up and buries his face in your tits. You almost laugh, of course this would be the first thing the pervert does. Except what comes out of your mouth are not laughs but moans as his mouth quickly finds one of your nipples to wrap around.

“Fuck, I missed these tits.” He mumbles, voice muffled as he continues to kiss and suck all over your breasts, making your back arch up into his touch and small whines escape your lips.

“Good boy, gyu.” You whine, fingers pulling ruthlessly at his hair that you’re usually so careful and gentle with as he pulls your other nipple in his mouth and sucks harshly. Your hips thrust up against his body as you seek some relief from the liquid heat dripping out of you.

He quickly notices and one of his hands sneaks between your legs to cup your soaked panties. He pulls off your nipples with an obscene pop, smirking cockily. “Looks like I'm not the only needy one here.”

You can't do anything but bite your lip as his palm kneads your sensitive pussy, your teeth tearing into the soft skin as you try to hold in your own needy moans. But Beomgyu doesn’t like that. He uses his other hand to pull your lip away from your teeth and push his thumb in so he has your mouth open and nothing in the way of the salacious noises he craves.

“Beomgyu…” You slur, struggling to talk with his thumb pushing down on your tongue but it's clear from the way you push your pussy further against his hand what you want.

“Are you gonna cum, princess?” He asks, his eyes raking up and down from your flushed face to your exposed tits as you arch your body up, seeking your high against his hand.

“Uh-huh.” Drool dribbles down the corner of your mouth that is still held open by Beomgyu before he finally removes his thumb from your mouth and uses it to flick and pull at your perked nipple.

That extra bit of stimulation makes you cry and jolt as your orgasm comes crashing down like a wave onto your poor deprived body. If your panties were wet before, you're sure that now they've drenched and staining the sheets under you.

But Beomgyu doesn’t care. He focuses on your face as the embarrassingly wet sounds of him continuing to palm your pussy through it all fill the room.

He doesn't stop until after your body is no longer convulsing and just settling into a sluggish tremble as your slack open mouth lets out small, hoarse moans.

Finally he stops, bending down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into open mouth and his hand wrapping around your jaw to get you to wrap your lips around it. You sluggishly respond, your mind still blank from the intense pleasure you just experienced. You didn’t even realize how much you'd missed his touch until now.

But it's not over yet. You may have gotten what you needed but he is still as needy as he was before–even more so after the little show you put on for him, and you can feel exactly how much when pulls your soaked panties to the side to press his bare cock against your pussy.

But as soon as you feel the head of his cock at your entrance, your body seizes up in terror and your mind goes into overdrive with image after image of that horrible nightmare.

“No!” You shriek, trying to close your legs and push him away but you can't because he's lying between your legs and you only succeed in pulling him closer to you which freaks you out even more and you start sobbing. “No. Please, no.”

“What? What happened? What did I do?” He freaks out too. It must be such a whiplash for him. Everything was going so well and he probably doesn't understand what caused your sudden breakdown, but it's not like you can explain it to him when you don't even understand it yourself.

All you know is that you don’t want him to stop so you just cry and shake your head. “Don't. Please, don't.”

The blood drains from his face as he helplessly watches you descend further and further into this unprovoked mental break. “Baby, what's wrong? Just tell me what happened.”

He tries to reach out to calm you down but you finally manage to push him off you and scramble off the bed. “Stay away.”

You pull your night shirt down to cover yourself. You feel disgusted, tainted, used. Why is this happening to you? What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Princess, please. Talk to me.” He pleads, and you can see his fists clutching tightly onto the bedsheets in order to hold himself back from leaping off the bed and taking you in his arms like you know he is dying to. That's his natural response. It's what his body and heart compel him to do. When you're hurt and in pain, that's what he does–he holds you, kisses you, comforts you, reassures you until you forget everything that has hurt you because nothing in heaven or on earth can get through him. He would never let anything hurt you. But how can he do that when he's the one who is hurting you? How can he protect you from himself?

“You're killing me, baby.” He weeps, distraught and not knowing what to do with himself when he doesn’t even know how he's hurt you. “Please, please, tell me what I did so I can fix it.”

How can you say it? It's too cruel. If he's upset and miserable now, you don't want to think about what he'd be like if you revealed to him that the reason you have been withdrawing from him and reacting so negatively to his touch was because of the terrible disgusting images your fucked up brain decided to randomly conjure up and that he had no control over. It wasn't his fault and you were basically treating him like a rapist.

But Beomgyu will not let it go. How can he when he can't even touch you without you reacting like he had burned you? He has to know. He deserves to know it's not his fault.

“It's… the dreams.” You start, finding it difficult to talk through your parched throat. Your eyes flutter all over his face, searching for the smallest reaction to your words. You know he won't take it well–and you can't blame him. This is why he was so wary of the dreams. He didn't want them to infect your real life and now they have completely infested your brain.

“I had an awful dream that you… that you..” You break down crying again. You don't want to say it. You don't want to break him twice. The worst thing is that they weren’t even just dreams anymore. It was like you were recalling actual memories. They come to you while you’re fully awake now. There is no escape and you don’t know what to do.

“That I what?” He asks, voice so shallow with fear that it's barely a whisper.

“That you… forced yourself on me.” You finally say it and the color drains completely from Beomgyu's face. “I tried so hard to push those images away. I know you would never do that to me but every time we touch–”

“I got it.” He cuts you off, not wanting to hear anymore. Beomgyu never shuts you up. He always wants to hear you talk–to hear every thought that crosses your mind. He soaks them all up whether good or bad. This is the first time he's ever had enough and that scares you more than anything. Is this how you ruin your relationship? Is this the final straw?

“Oh god, Beomgyu, I'm sorry.” You can hardly see through your tears so you walk closer to him, your need to be comforted by him, to know he still loves you, finally overpowering the heinous images in your brain.

But your heart rips in half when Beomgyu flinches away from your touch. “Don't.”

“I'm sorry.” You repeat, holding your arms out slightly from your body, waiting for Beomgyu to slot his own between them where they belong, selfishly needing him to make you feel better about everything when you’re the one who hurt him. “I'll do better. I will force myself to get through this. Just please…”

“Okay.” Beomgyu replies emotionlessly and gets off the bed and away from you.

“Where are you going?” You ask him, terrified. “Are you leaving? I'm sorry, I swear. Forget about everything I said. I'll do whatever you want, just please–”

You walk towards him, reaching out to grab the top of his pants, intent on doing anything to make him stay but he pushes you off, disgust etched on his face. “No. Don't touch me.”

You knew those words hurt him when you said them to him before but you couldn't have imagined just how much, but as you stand now with those same words directed at you, it takes every fiber of you being not to hunch over from the agony they inflict on you. You never thought those wretched words would ever come out of Beomgyu's mouth–no, not your Beomgyu. And it's all your fault.

“Please, don't leave me.” You cry, and Beomgyu looks at you in shock. “Leave? I told you I would never leave you.”

That brings you some comfort, but it's not complete as he continues to stand far away from you, and you make sure to tell him as much.

“Then come hold me.” You ask petulantly. Is it hypocritical of you to demand physical closeness from him when you had before pushed him away when he was in your shoes? Yes, but you don't care. You just want him to stay and put your heart back together before you bleed out.

“I need space. I need to think.” He says and you shake your head resolutely. “There is nothing to think about. I want you to stay.”

He gives you a smile so ingenuine it looked more like a grimace. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Don't walk out on me, Beomgyu.” You tell him, a threatening edge to your voice. Threatening what? You don't know. What are you going to do, sulk until he comes back?

And he knows it too because he just shakes his head and tells you to get some sleep before he walks out. You scream after him, probably waking up all the neighbors but you don't care.

“Beomgyu! Come back! You're just gonna leave me here like this, you fucking asshole?” You scream and scream until your throat raw but he doesn’t come back, and with the last bit of your energy spent on your screams, you crumble to the ground and curl up into a ball–your knees pressed up to your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around them–trying to staunch off your hemorrhaging heart as your world falls away around you.

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A/N: this will always remain my comfort fic despite how dark it can be. i will never get over this. anyway let me know your thoughts and depending on the result of this poll, the next chapter may be the last one or there will be one more chapter.

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #tomorrow x together smut #yandere #take care that i said who do you want her to choose #not who will she end up with lmao #there is a difference

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