#v;deep into that darkness peering ~ post-series

[shinsogi]

“Why do you continue to allow the gutter rat to keep saying such awful things” Caesar asks with a frown as large as possible, considering his feline appearance. It only makes the panther-like creature look more snobbish. “Back in the old days, perhaps we would’ve feasted on him. I know I would’ve”

[ ☾ ] There is sadness in the dhampir’s eyes, in his heart. Back in the day… The moment his parents were still alive, those times when he tried to be his father’s son. He’d failed. And now the world was what it was, an abyss of loneliness, darkness and responsibility. And a crime he would probably never get over, never cope with, a guilt that would nag at him for the rest of his long, endless days.The now, the present, though, was equally sad, in some way. He did somehow miss the old days, but his times and memories with Sypha and Trevor were also something he would cherish and keep close to his heart. Not that he would ever admit that he liked having them as friends, or that he enjoyed the mindless banter with Trevor. Nor would he ever tell Caesar that he admired his two… friends?… for their courage, commitment and for helping a stranger like him, even if the reason they did it was because it collided with their own interest. Calming his thoughts and steeling his expression, he replies to his faithful companion as casually as he could manage, pushing away painful memories and thoughts of the future, where the two would leave for their own adventure, leave to live their lives, and he would remain here, timeless, unchanged. Alone with the ghosts of the past. “He’s harmless, Caesar. And maybe a welcome change from the fear and hate we usually get. So, let him have his fun.”

@necrophagic

[rubynationwins]

So You Want To Tango? Part 2 (18+)

Stepbrother! Ransom Drysdale x Virgin!PlusSize! Reader (Soft!Dark!Ransom)

Series summary: All you were trying to do was lose your v-card, was that too much to ask? Apparently so, according to your stepbrother.

Main Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Chapter Warnings: Soft!Dark!Ransom, reader is a junior in college, plus-size!reader, virgin!reader smut, non/dud-con, fingering (f receiving), swearing, ransom being an ass, choking, manhandling, degradation, slut shaming, manipulation, angst, mentions of self-deprecation/body issues, stepcest. 18+ Minors DNI. DNR if you do not like or are triggered by such topics. Read at your own risk.

Word Count: 4,973

A/N: This part is a lot longer than the first, I guess that might explain why it’s taken me so long to fucking finish! But I did, woo-hoo! I also wanted to note that I've never written step-sibling stuff b4 this series so this is new territory for me. It's used more as a plot device and not as a 'kink' if that makes sense. I just wanted the kind of dynamic it creates & it works for me so whatever. (Fuck it, right?)  Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!

This story should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.

(If anyone is confused about the timeline, reader arrived from college at the Drysdale residence on Friday, part 1 takes place on Sunday, and this part is about a week after part 1. Hope that helps!)

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

It had been a week since the incident with Ransom and you had done your best to act like everything was okay, like your ex-stepbrother hadn’t shoved his tongue down your throat and threatened to take away your virginity. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as you had hoped to forget his twisted words.

“I’ll be happy to teach you how to dance like the slut you were always meant to be.”

An involuntary shudder ran down your spine at the memory of the intense heat of his body pressed against yours as he spoke those vile words into your ear. Whenever your… interaction with Ransom popped into your head, you felt a deep course of shame roll through you. Not only at how he utterly humiliated you, and not just at how he’d so easily set your nerves aflame but at how his accusations had hit you right to your core.

“When you get to be your age without having a dick shoved up your needy little hole, you open your legs up to whatever comes your way.”

You despised his misogynistic slut-shaming, but a niggling at the back of your mind said he was right. You had only agreed to Tod’s proposition because you just wanted to get it over with. You were tired of feeling excluded from your peers, tired of feeling like you weren’t mature just because you hadn’t “popped your cherry,” as some people put it. That pressure seemed to outweigh your moral sensibilities because you had given it up to the first guy to show you some interest.

You hadn’t really liked him – he was one of Ransom’s friends for fuck’s sake – but when Tod came on to you that day it felt like your only option. Taking him up on his offer for a quickie in one of the guest bedrooms hadn’t felt like all your hopes had finally been answered, it had felt like you were giving up. Giving up on a real relationship. Giving up on having sex with someone you actually cared about and who cared about you too.

You had already been regretting your decision when Ransom had burst into the room and sent everything to shit, but that wasn’t any excuse for the way he’d treated you like some hussy. He didn’t own you. He wasn’t in charge of your body, or your sex life, for that matter. You gulped when, again, you recalled what he’d said.

“I’ll show you who really owns this cunt: me.”

Fuck him and his domineering, supercilious attitude.

The more you thought about it, the more you were convinced his “promise” had just been another way to mess with you. The fact that you hardly saw him this past week seemed proof enough. He was a lazy trust fund kid who barely had a job, it’s not like he had much to do other than lay around the house whenever he wasn’t off with his friends partying and being a playboy douche. He was definitely staying away from the house, and if you had to guess you’d have a pretty clear choice as to why: you.

He was avoiding you. If given the chance, you would be doing the same, but it’s hard to avoid someone when they’re not around. His arrogant ass was probably worried you would try and take him up on his “offer” and that he’d have to back down.

Of course, you would never do such a thing, but it was clear that he viewed you as nothing more than a wanton skank who was going to throw herself at his knees, begging for him to rescue her from the woes of virginity. What a fucking joke. At least his absence saved you the constant anxiety of looking over your shoulder and jumping every time you heard a door shut, afraid he would corner you and try to make good on his word.

It was obvious now that he didn’t actually want to fuck you, it had been the heat of the moment that made his body react that way – that made yours react that way. Not to mention, he couldn’t possibly be legitimately attracted to you. It was just the forbidden thrill that riled him up.

You didn’t look like any of the women he’d ever brought home, he cycled through plenty and you recognized a certain type he preferred. A type that you had, and never would, be able to fit into –  quite literally. That realization should have relieved you, but it somehow left a sour taste in your mouth. Whatever. The thing to focus on was that Ransom couldn’t give two fucks about you and the incident had just been a little blip.

With that confirmation in mind, you could walk around the house like normal and not act like some coward. Instead, you walked around confidently while internally wrestling with the feelings and images he had implanted in your head.

Sure, Ransom was conventionally attractive, handsome even, but beneath his well-defined stature was a rotted pile of bullshit. That’s what you kept repeating to yourself when the feel of his thick fingers digging into your ass flooded your mind. You replaced the sensation of his kiss that still lingered after how many days with the reminder of how many other mouths he’d shoved his tongue into before.

You were nothing to him, had always just been a footnote in his privileged path through life. The daughter of the woman who had replaced his mom and stole from the pot of gold he had amassed as an only child. You knew he looked at you and despised everything about he saw; your parentage, your background, your lack of original wealth. You weren’t worthy in his eyes. But that didn’t matter, because you regarded him all the same. ---------------------------------- It was Saturday night. The staff had the weekend off and Richard had left for some kind of overseas trip before you had even arrived last Friday.

Once again, Ransom was nowhere to be seen – thank god – so you had the house to yourself. While it was fairly large and isolating, you didn’t mind being alone in the cavernous home. On Tuesday, your stuff had finally arrived from college, so you’d taken up the guest bedroom furthest from Ransom’s.

When you left for college two years ago, your old room had been stripped of any trace of you. It was back to a pristine grayscale guest bedroom with navy accents and overstuffed furniture. Obviously, during all those years you lived in the mansion, you’d just gotten in the way of the Drysdale aesthetic of meaningless overpriced decor and detail.

Presently, you were in the kitchen, microwaving some popcorn for the movie you’d chosen to watch that evening. The popping of the kernels was loud and quick, and soon the smell of melted butter flowed through the room. A beep sounded to alert you that your food was hot and ready, so you opened the microwave door and plucked the now-inflated bag off the turntable. You held it at the corner, careful not to burn yourself, and turned around to grab the large, metal bowl sitting on the island counter.

You jumped when you saw the figure standing in the doorway.

“Whatchya makin, sunshine?”

Startled, you dropped the bowl and it tumbled to the ground, the clattering setting off even more alarms in your head. The popcorn bag had also fallen from your grip, and yellow-tinged kernels were strewn across the floor.

Ransom stood at the entrance of the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes crinkled in amusement as he examined the scene, taking in the spilled popcorn and silver bowl still comically rolling on the ground, making a loud whooshing noise. Looking up, his wolfish eyes landed on you. He pushed off the doorjamb and stalked forward, monitoring your shocked expression from the other side of the counter. He stilled the spinning bowl with his foot, the room now filled with tense silence.

“Well, aren’t you the fucking chef, sunshine?” He made a show of once again looking at the scattered popcorn, “I don’t remember you being such a klutz.”

Your heart was still beating fast from the surprise of seeing him, but you scrunched up your face and hissed, “I’m not a klutz. You’re the creep sneaking up on unsuspecting girls and ruining their dinner. How can you be so massive and yet so silent?”

He grinned, “I’ll take that as a compliment, sunshine. Maybe I’ll take to cat burglary one of these days. But it was pretty easy to ‘sneak up’-” his fingers made air quotes around the label- “on you when you’re making such a racket in my kitchen.”

Your jaw clenched at his choice of words. He was always laying claim to things like that, making sure you knew you were just a guest; unwanted, at that. He always made it clear that this place was his and not yours. Which didn’t really bother you. You didn’t want his life.

You ignored his attempt at a dig and walked to the long cabinet in the corner of the kitchen that held cleaning supplies and grabbed a broom and dustpan. 

Ransom gave you a quizzical look as you swept up the fallen food, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? Cleaning.”

“Just let the help do that.” He actually sounded a bit baffled.

“They’re gone, it’s Saturday,” you stated bluntly as you swept the debris into a small pile.

“So? Leave it until Monday for them to take care of. That’s what they’re fucking paid to do.” His privileged tone dripped with sharp disdain.

You rolled your eyes. He was such a spoiled brat. “That’s how you get ants,” you said, secretly hoping your flippant tone would irk him. Inwardly, you were grateful for the task, though. You could focus on sweeping and not on Ransom’s intimidating form, or the memories it dredged up. “And I’m plenty capable of cleaning up my own messes. Although this was caused by you.”

Once you were certain all the popcorn was in a pile, you bent down, placing the dustpan on the ground and lightly sweeping the ruined food into it.

Ransom had been silent for a while, watching as you worked with a disapproving gaze, but when you bent forward, unknowingly sticking your ass out right at him, he changed his tune, “On second thought, you look pretty good as a maid.”

You scoffed and glanced back at him, eyes narrowed. He hid the glee that spread through him at your annoyance and pointed to a single kernel that sat right in front of his shiny brown shoes.

You stood back up and emptied the debris into the trash can hidden under the counter. “You have opposable thumbs and working limbs, why don’t you get it yourself?” 

“You’re the one who said you were perfectly capable of cleaning up your own mess,” he countered.

Heaving a sigh, you trudged up to him. You stared him dead in the eyes before crouching down and snatching up the tiny piece of popcorn. 

Your plan was to spring back up and flick it right into his stupidly good-looking face, but that was thwarted when a weighted hand pressed on your shoulder.

You looked up and Ransom’s blue eyes gleamed. “Why don’t you stay down there, sunshine? You look so perfect kneeling before me.”

A rush of heat flooded through you, but you batted his hand away, moving back slightly before standing up, successfully, this time.

“Ha. Ha. Ransom,” you tossed the last piece of popcorn into the trash as you walked over to the sink, “I know that you get some kind of sick amusement making misogynistic comments like that, but I’m not about to let your pompous ass intimidate me. Not again.” You turned your back to him and started washing your hands. The water was scalding, but you welcomed the distraction.

This time you would stand up for yourself. This time he wouldn’t catch you off guard. “So go back to whatever man-child frat party you came from and have fun with people who act just like you – drunk assholes with the mental capacity of 15-year-old boys who think being a dick is a personality tr-”

Two large, thickly veined, hands slammed down on on either side of you. They gripped the edge of the sink tightly, caging you in. You squeaked when you felt a domineering form hovering behind you. One of the powerful hands reached forward and turned off the roaring water of the faucet.

Hot breath prickled against your ear. “Looks like the little virgin’s finally got some balls,” Ransom’s low voice sounded sinister, even with his usual sarcastic bite, “I forgot how infuriating you usually are. Even though you play-act this strong, empowered, bitchy character, I know what you really are beneath all that big talk, and I miss that begging, distraught, wannabe whore.”

You flinched, feeling inside every bit as helpless as he accused you of being. You fought not to let it show, though, “Ransom, remove yourself from my personal space.” Instead of the strong, unbothered tone you were going for, your voice sounded hushed and weak.

His deep chuckle sent shivers down your spine. “Sunshine, what did I just say? Remember how the last time we saw each other, you were whoring it out in my home?” He shoved his hand between your thighs, cupping your mound. “All because this virgin cunt couldn’t last a single second more without being filled full of cock.” The heel of his palm dug into your pulsing core and your body curled forward, shocked by the sudden pressure. “I already told you that I’d give you the honor of losing that innocence to me, so I don’t see why we have to beat around the bush, so to speak.”

You clutched his hand and pried it away from your heat, not sure where you found the strength to do so. You pressed yourself against the sink, trying to leave as little room for another move like that as possible.

Instead of attempting to dive back in, Ransom rested his hand on your plush waist, squeezing tightly, “Still playing hard to get, huh? I know you want my dick inside you, sunshine.”

You shut out the millions of charged electrons shooting through you and blurted out, “Even if I wanted to have sex with you – which I absolutely do not – I don’t need some pity fuck from a two-pump chump like you. You could be the last person on Earth and I’d still rather die a virgin than let your limp little dick anywhere near me.”

Ransom stilled behind you, fully removing himself from your body. For a second you thought that was it, that he’d leave.

How foolish of you.

Strong hands gripped your hips and spun you around. Ransom dug a hand into your hair and pulled the locks tight. You felt the bite as they tugged at your scalp. Just like last time, his eyes suddenly lacked the mischievous glint that always seemed to shine in them. Instead, they were cold, sky-blue orbs. You could see a seething fire beneath his stoic face, only given away by the twitch in his left eye and the clench of his chiseled jaw.

He didn’t do anything though - not yet - he just held you there to cower before him, letting you become more and more fearful of what was spinning around in that twisted mind of his. You looked away but he shook the fist tangled in your hair, your eyes rattled in your skull as you brought them back to focus on him. 

He breathed in deeply, “Pity fuck, huh?” He used his grip on you to tilt your head back and forth, examining your frightened features, “That’s what you think I’m doing, sunshine?” You gulped. He shook you again, “Answer me!”

“W-why else would s-someone like you be interested in m-me?” You squeaked out, hating the self-deprecating words, but not knowing how else to combat his advance.

His eyebrows turned up in something you assumed was supposed to convey sympathy. “Oh sunshine, that’s real cute. You know, I thought this shy, self-conscious shit was just an act to turn me off, but you actually don’t see what you do to me?”

He brought his other hand up and stroked your chin, grazing your jaw as he traced some invisible line down your neck. “Besides, when have I ever been known to show pity?” He spat the word out like a curse as his fingernails scraped your sensitive flesh.

His look of pure fascination as he watched his hand’s descent baffled you. You pushed your thighs closer together, unsure as to why his expression sent heat rushing between them. His ghosting fingers came to a stop right over your heart and he splayed his fingers out, palm flat against your sternum. He stared at his hand as it moved up and down with the rhythm of your breaths.

“Sunshine, I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but I can’t keep my eyes off of you. And even when you’re not around, you still won’t leave my fucking head. It infuriates me. That this girl that stumbled into my life, this nothing, suddenly flipped a switch in my brain. I mean, I’ve fucked plenty of chicks in my day, even went out with a lucky few, but none of them have done what you do to me.”

His other hand moved to grip your waist, kneading the soft slope. “I’ll be the first one to agree that you’re not the stereotypical type of woman I keep around, but maybe that’s just another reason every time you enter a room I lose sight of all reason.” His fingers bit into your soft flesh as his grip tightened. “I lose my fucking mind, sunshine, and it’s all your fault.” 

You didn’t know what to say. All you could do was stare at him helplessly as his hand on your chest curled up to wrap around your throat. His eyes blazed with desire as he squeezed, leaning forward so that his lips brushed yours.

The way he was acting scared you more than him cursing and berating you. That you understood, that you could fight. But this? This spelled more than a one-time thing, more than misplaced desire or hate fucking. There was a possessiveness in Ransom’s eyes that terrified you.

Even more than that, though, his actions had your mind and body in overdrive. No one had ever wanted you like this before, and the fact that it was someone with an icy heart like Ransom, made you feel almost special in some fucked up sort of way.

Everything was wrong. You needed to get out of there. You shook your head and brought a hand up to pull at his wrist. “N-no Ransom, you don’t actually like me. You just like the idea of fucking someone who’s off limits and I’m off limits for a very legitimate reason-”

His hand moved from your throat to your mouth, muffling your protests. “Sunshine, you always make it perfectly clear that we’re ex step-siblings. Besides, it’s not like we were raised up together, it’s really not that big of a deal. But you’re not wrong completely, it does make this all the more enticing - and I bet you feel the same way, too.”

His hand returned to your core, this time diving past your waistband and into your panties. You shrieked, again grasping at it in an attempt to remove the appendage. It was buried in there though, so your attempts were futile and when he ran a finger along your slit you convulsed. Your body wasn’t used to this kind of sensation. It wasn’t used to any attention like this.

His sadistic laugh echoed off the sterile kitchen walls, ringing in your burning ears. When the fingers that had been rubbing through your folds, playing with the embarrassing amount of slick, moved to your clit, you lost touch with reality. The sodden digits working over your coursing bundle of nerves in rough circles was sending shocks through your system.

You cried out at the sparks and Ransom grinned. “That’s right Sunshine,” His fingers plunged into your drenched pussy as his palm ground into your clit. “Only I can make you feel this way.” You quivered against his touch, already feeling the pull of your orgasm. “You think any 20-something college shithead is gonna touch you like I do or make you cum like I’m about to?” 

You pressed your eyes closed, trying to drown out his words and focus on the magic happening between your thighs. You tried to imagine it was anyone but Ransom touching you. He grasped the side of your face, turning you to look at him.

He jostled your eyes open again and you gasped at the intensity in his darkened eyes, the pupils overshadowed any of the icy blue they usually held. “Answer me.” His grip was bruising and pulled your focus from his relentless toying underneath.

You gulped, not wanting to say the words, but the need for release beat out your pride in the end, “N-no, Ransom, only you.” The words felt heavy on your tongue but your mind was clouded with electric sparks as he curled his fingers up into your g-spot.

A garbled cry fell from your lips at the new pressure and Ransom swallowed it with his mouth as he lunged forward, arresting your moans with his own as you locked lips. His teeth bit into your lower lip until they broke skin, the slight tang of blood mixed with spit as he dragged it into your mouth, caressing your tongue with his own as he growled at the taste and feel of you. 

His fingers followed the motions of his tongue as they both explored all that you had to offer. His hand dropped from your face and moved down, roaming over the expanses of your skin. He pressed it against the soft curve of your belly, and you made a disapproving sound, your hand coming up to pull his away from the parts of you that you didn’t want anyone to know about, nonetheless touch. He growled a warning and batted your hand away.

“Mine,” he grumbled into the harsh kiss and continued to run his large, warm hand over you, over all of you. He took his time to squeeze and caress every part of you that you always hid away as if to force you to acknowledge that the feeling of his heated palm and deft fingers actually felt incredible. It made you feel desired in a way you hadn’t before, a way that made your knees weak.

His long fingers were pumping in and out of your aching pussy, the squelching sound that filled the room made you both ashamed and turned on. Your breath hitched when he focused back on your clit again, his fore and middle fingers dancing around it as you started to shake in his strong embrace. You felt lightheaded as Ransom dragged you to the edge, your feet scrambling for purchase because you didn’t know what was going to happen when you inevitably came. You had never experienced such a crushing, overbearing tension in your abdomen before, the pressure made your body tense like you were a live wire about to spring.

Ransom buried his fingers in your pussy again as his other hand ceased its exploration of your generous curves and came to join it at the apex of your thighs. He settled his fingers on your bundle of nerves and once more began his blissful torment. He worked his hands independently as one pistoned into you over and over at an agonizing speed and perfect angle and the other attacked your clit. His endless teasing was pure torture as he rubbed the pulsing nub, not letting you build on a simple incline but bringing you up and down over and over as he kept switching between determined, heavy pressure and feather-light touch.

His mouth was still devouring yours. It was like he was taking control of your entire being, working your body in a way that only he knew how, removing your autonomy from the equation. He was showing you that he was the only person who could bring this kind of soaring pleasure to you, not even your own hands could do what he was doing. It was as if he was inside your brain and knew just how to light up every one of your nerve endings.

He wrenched his lips away and you let out a lewd cry as he ran his teeth down your exposed neck, nipping and slurping as he went. Your hopes that he wouldn’t leave a visible mark vanished when his teeth bit into your pulse point and he sucked. You had always found hickeys to be vulgar and unnecessary, but the sound and heat made your knees weak. 

Your voice was a mix of unintelligible sounds and a tumble of expletives and even Ransom’s name. Every time his name spilled from your lips, he pressed into you even further, which seemed impossible at that point.

He finally stuck with grinding his fingers against your clit fully as he added another thick digit to the two that were already thrusting in and out of your quaking pussy. He’d been keeping you at the crest of your peak for who knows how long. All you knew is you would say anything - do anything - for him to make you cum right now, and that sentiment played across your lips in a garble of wanton pleas.

He must have been able to decipher the mumble of your slurred words because he stilled. You whined, your hips bucking up, but he stilled you with a flat palm to your abdomen. A low laugh brushed across your collarbone as he licked his way back up to your ear. His hot breath sent tingles along your spine as he whispered, “You better remember that promise, Sunshine. Begging for an orgasm like the little cockwhore I always knew you were. My little cockwhore,”

You couldn’t combat his claims, heat flamed across your face at his cutting words. They felt true at that very moment, even though the part of you that detested him screamed at you to deny him. “But, who am I to resist when you beg so nice and pretty for me? Go ahead, I’ll give a fucking slut just what she wants, Sunshine. Give my pussy what she needs.”

With that, his fingers thrusted back into your hole, curling up as his other hand’s fingers practically vibrated against your aching clit. 

You screamed as your orgasm overtook you, it blasted through your body in a strike of lightning that shook your bones and boiled your blood. There was nothing else there as the world collapsed around you, you couldn’t even hear the satisfied laughter of Ransom as you drifted through a fucked-out abyss.

Your legs fell out from under you and Ransom pulled you closer, grinding his hard-on into you, groaning into your ear. In the back of your mind, you knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help the muffled, “Thank you, Ransom” that flew from your mouth as his fingers worked you through your peak.

It felt like hours before you finally came down from your high, Ransom’s hand still buried between your thick thighs. He couldn’t remove it if he wanted to, not with how tightly you clenched around it. His free hand came up and brushed away the hair sticking to your sweaty brow, gazing at your still panting form.

He gripped the back of your neck and yanked you into another searing kiss before he bent down to your neck again and bit into the mark he’d already made, sucking even harder to make sure the bruise would last. “Mine,” his low voice grumbled, as he lapped at the mark.

He licked his way up to your ear before he spoke in a clear voice, breaking you from your reverie, “Gotta run, sunshine-” he managed to finally pull his hand from between your still trembling thighs. He wiped his drenched fingers on your shirt, staining it with your essence- “don’t get me wrong, I’d love to stay and continue the fun, but I’ve got a date with a hot piece of ass from my gym named Vanessa.” He spoke the name like it dripped molten gold.

For some reason, your heart sank to your stomach at his words.

He fully removed himself from you, straightening out his tight fitting, thin, sweater and rolling down his sleeves. His eyes raked over the messy, cockdumb state he’d put you in, a self-satisfied smirk played at his lips.

He checked his watch before he continued his cutting speech, “I’m already running late, not that she’ll mind though, it is me, after all.” He palmed his cock, shifting it in his straining pants. “Might have to skip dinner and head right to dessert, if you know what I mean,” he winked at you as he sauntered out of the kitchen.

Before he turned the corner, he paused, glancing back at you with fire in his eyes. “I’ll see you around, sunshine. You’re gonna have to return the favor, after all.”

With that, he exited your vision, the sound of his measured steps echoed off the hallway walls and rang in your head as you sunk down to the floor. Tears ran down your cheeks, unbidden by you, and you let out a shaky cry as you were once again left to wallow in guilt and shame and insatiable desire by Ransom fucking Drysdale.

[hellogoodbye14]

Veiled Silhouettes - Part 6 (Gwynriel)

Part 6 is all things gwynriel banter, an unexpected, protective and loyal pet and a jealous Azriel.

Side Note for Fic: This series was meant to have finished but because of a few requests, I’ve been working on continuing it. For the past two months its been a whirlwind streamlining the major story but I’m so happy with it now that its done. This fic will be updated frequently so rest easy loves. No more 2 months MIA sessions 😂

Gwyn felt Azriel come up behind her long before his front met her back. She instantly felt warm and blushed as the memory of words said in the morning rushed back at her.

Here?

She took a deep breath.

I will catch you.

She shivered as he leaned down. The breath from his lips dancing along the arch of her ear.

I have you Gwyn.

“Okay, good job Gwyn. Maintain this position.”

Gwyn shook her head a bit as she heard the words Azriel said in the now, penetrating her mind.

He frowned down at her a bit.

“Everything okay?”

She gave him a reassuring smile, “Yeah no, I’m good.”

He nodded then pointed towards the ranger near the eastern post.

“We need to cross the boundary near there and get into the keep.”

Gwyn peered around the bush to check whether the enforcers from earlier had finished their round.

“And Koschei’s second is inside?”

Azriel nodded.

“We get inside and we gather as much intel as possible.”

“Okay but how exactly are we planning to get rid of that ranger there?”

Azriel was silent for a moment and then the next words made Gwyn roll her eyes.

“I think we should knock him out.”

“Oh, so that when he wakes up he can harp to everybody that Night Court spies infiltrated the keep?”

“Yes, it’s a risk and any information we get may be compromised but you got a better idea?”

Gwyn bit her lip and gave the ranger in question a second look.

“We need a distraction.”

A “v” formed between Azriels dark eyebrows. His hazel eyes like dark honey, sparkling gold.

“What distraction?”

“Follow my lead, Shadowsinger.”

————————————————————————

This was a bad idea. No scratch that, this was a terrible idea.

His shadows wisped near his ears, urging him to settle down.

Settle down Singer….

No affirmation from his shadows would help him from worrying. Gwyn was strong and brilliant but if this didn’t work, she’d be surrounded by hundreds of Koschei’s guards in a second.

He leaned down behind the lovrata bush, just south of the eastern wall. He sniffed at the rustic scent of the flowers on it. Gwyn’s Ryget happened to be resting on his front paws in the bush next to him. The beast was ready to pounce if anyone would dare hurt Gwyn.

At first they were behind the same bush but there was barely any watching space. One had to watch through the limited space in the middle of its leaves. Anytime Azriel tried nudging Nero aside for a better view, the ryget growled and bumped Azriel away. Eventually Azriel moved to the bush on the side grumbling about the annoying beast who had attached itself to Gwyns hip.

Azriel watched Gwyn behind the tree. She was supposed to be stepping out any minute now. Gwyn paced back and forth, she was muttering something to herself.

Maybe she changed her mind? Azriel felt a rush of relief.

A second later, she bent down and shook out her long auburn curls before flipping them back over her shoulders. The move, Azriel noted was to add volume to her already glowing locks. She then pinched her cheeks and patted down her cotton wool dress before lifting the hood over her head.

Guess she didn’t change her mind.

Gwyn glanced at him from the distance and gave a two finger salute. It was his sign to get ready and climb the near tower wall while she was busy distracting the ranger. How she was going to distract him, he had no idea. But she said she had this and he trusted her.

Gwyn stepped out of tree line, and the guard raised his hand to the hilt of his sword for a second before dropping it. His eyes in wonder and Azriel could imagine why because he was pretty sure his own jaw had almost dropped to the floor. Gwyneth Berdara had transformed.

The waves of her hair were texturized and fluffed, her cheekbones shimmered like candlelight. But the thing which stood out was her walk. She walked with such grace, it wad as if she was floating. Her hips swayed to the rhythm of nature around her. It was absolutely entrancing.

Azriel always knew Gwyn was beautiful but like this? Absolutely owning her grace and beauty… she was a goddess. Her teal eyes imploring, she looked at the ranger.

“I’m so sorry sir, I’m a bit lost. I was wondering if you could help me?”

The guard shook his head a bit.

“Uh… umm. Miss, you are not allowed to be on these grounds.”

She raised both her hands as if in prayer, “I do apologise. Sincerely. It’s just that I am new to this court.”

She chewed on her lip a bit. The rangers gaze was focused just there.

Dipshit.

“No, no milady.” He shook his head again.

“You need not apologise. Where would you like to go?”, he asked, this time offering a kind smile.

Azriel saw her motion her hand to side, a sign telling him to hurry up.

He shook his head. Right. Climb the wall. Yeap.

He quickly started to scale the wall as Gwyn kept up conversation with him. The ranger had already told her the way but he was now sharing every detail of his life. Gwyn’s laughter echoed and he couldn’t help but pause and listen. His own shadows dancing to the melody.

“Those roses are beautiful milday, even better than the one’s in spring dare I say.”

Gwyn offered him a smirk, “Oh is that so?”

He offered a besotted smile in return.

“Yes, theres a few just near the river. Let me fetch you some.”

The guard started turning towards the wall and Azriel stilled. But Gwyn touched the guards arm and he instantly turned towards her.

“Oh no sir. You are too kind but it breaks my heart to see flowers broken.”

Azriel quickly finished the rest of his climb.

“Surely a beautiful lady such as you deserves beautiful flowers.”

Azriel couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Laying it on a bit thick mate.

Gwyn blushed and traced her foot in a half circle.

“Maybe you can show it to me the next time I stumble here?”

The guard offered her a bow.

“It would be a pleasure. My name is Unqet.”

“Im Rachel.”

He smiled at her and she offered him a sweet goodbye.

As soon as Gwyn crossed the side of the wall, and the guard went back to looking ahead, Azriels shadows wisped down from the roof and encircled Gwyn. He pulled on the leash and she was airborne. He quickly gathered her in her arms and his breath was knocked from him when she looked up at him smiling bright. Not the fake smiles dipshit got. This was the real one. The special Gwyn Berdara smile.

Her eyes were lighted up in excitement.

“Dude that was so fun!”

“Had a good time with Uncat?”

Gwyn snickered as Azriel put her on her feet.

“His name was Unqet.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, “No one normal can be named that Rachel.”

“I think its a cool name.”

“No. It’s really not. I dread to think what you’ll name your child.”

Gwyn pursed her lips.

“Rain, of course.”

Azriel just stared at her.

“Why do you hate your future kid?”

Gwyn snorted and lightly pushed him towards the stairs on the right.

“It’s a cool name. And what I meant to say was, your shadows giving me a ride was really fun.”

Azriel felt his shadows wisp higher, as if puffing their chests in pride.

Azriel gave her a smirk. A devilish one really. He tucked a loose strand behind her ear and leaned in close.

“The shadows and I are at your disposal for all kinds of rides.”

He could have sworn the freckles on her cheeks turned brilliantly bright over her blush.

She gave him a playful nudge while simultaneously rolling her eyes.

“You’re such a flirt.”

Taglist:

@the-lonelybarricade @meher-sumedha @hlizer50 @amb3rpanda @snickerdoodlechittybangbang @sv0430 @shisingh @chubbygabs @trashforazriel @imsointobooks @katekatpattywack @schnipperxd @kneelingsince2012 @vikingmagic33 @brieq @the-word-cas @gellybeangoogle @alexiaperdomo @earthofemily @sydney-fae25 @camreadsum @imwritingthesewords @almosttenaciousmoon @nestaspegasus

[sincerelythedarkside]

Who We Are || Part V

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x Dark!Reader

Summary: You know what you want out of life. You want to be loved—to be safe. You want to be taken care of and to take care of someone who will appreciate it. But you’ve been shackled, trapped in a never-ending nightmare. And your only saving grace will be enticing the dark side of America’s golden hero to want you—a game of who’s manipulating who.

SERIES WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI. Dubcon sex, noncon/rape, somnophilia, manipulative behaviour, possessive behaviour, dark themes. Do NOT read if these are triggering for you.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: None

[Set after Civil War & the Accords were abolished]

Note: The modern world is lost on Steve Rogers LOL

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

Count: ~3.6k

➵➵➵☽☾➵➵➵

The room felt damp and slightly cold.

"Oh, god," Blake groaned as he opened his eyes, hissing at his mild headache. He sat up, pressing his palm into his eye to relieve the pressure.

Looking around, his heart started to race. He was in a cell, kept in by glass rather than bars. There was a bed in the corner, a toilet, and a sink. Barren, otherwise. It was unnerving looking at the completely white walls.

He checks his pockets, but this phone and wallet are gone.

"Hello?" Blake called out wearily. "Is somebody there? I—I think there's been some kind of mistake."

"There's been no mistake, Blake Henley," the voice said, deep and calm. "You're meant to be here."

"Please," Blake pleaded, standing up and coming up to the glass, trying to peer out. It was dark, the only light coming from the fluorescent bulbs in his room. "I haven't done anything! Who are you? Let me out!" Blake bangs on the glass. It hardly even vibrates. It must be some kind of reinforced glass.

Blake sees something in the back, hiding in the shadows. He squints as the figure steps forward, recognizing the familiar boots and pants before—

Blake swallows hard as he comes face to face with his captor.

"Why are you doing this?" Blake asks because it's clear he's not going to be rescued. "Why has Captain America kidnapped me?"

Steve stares through the glass, eyes blank and lips pressed in a thin line.

"I don't think you're in a position to ask any questions, Blake. Let's behave and see where that gets you."

➵➵➵☽☾➵➵➵

Blake is missing.

But no one suspects anything but you. Your father had said something about Blake calling in for an emergency. His mother apparently had a bad fall down the stairs, and Blake needed to fly to Washington to take care of her for a couple of weeks.

It was a plausible emergency. Blake had spoken about his ill mother who lived in Washington at one of the weekly dinners.

But you knew he was missing. Anyone who used social media would know. Facebook was quiet since Blake was more a lurker than someone who actively posted.

Snapchat, however, was Blake's go-to social media app. And they had recently launched a new feature called Snap Map.

And when you checked Blake's location...he was outside the city limits.

Another thing that threw you off was Blake's latest text to you.

Blake: I'm sure Henry has told you I will be out of town for a while. I'll probably be MIA for a while. Sorry to cancel our plans next week, but I'll make it up to you.

It was thoughtful and straightforward. Something Blake would really say.

But only in front of others. Only if it's beneficial to his ruse.

Blake was the type to like her photos or leave comments on Instagram and Facebook. He was the type to show up to her house with flowers knowing other people were home. He'd talk to her friends or family about what he could do for a date with you.

He would never text you privately something caring—because there was no need to. Blake knows his role in Henry's grand scheme.

You weren't really sure what to make of his text, but you still texted back, trying to see what his reaction would be.

You: No worries. Sorry to hear about your mom. I hope she gets better.

The only thing you could think of was Steve. You couldn't say for sure, but it was just a feeling in your gut. And you were going to test that theory the next time you saw him.

You pulled out your phone, rechecking Blake's location. He hadn't moved in a week. You hum as you begin to dial.

There was an answer after the first ring.

"Hey," Steve sounded breathless.

"Hi," you answered shyly.

"What's up?" Steve asked, and you could picture him running his hand through his hair.

"I was wondering if you were free to have lunch with me today," you ask, sounding demure and unsure.

"Yeah, of course," Steve agreed. "I'm just finishing some work up now but why don't you text me what you're in the mood for and I'll meet you there?"

"Okay," you add a tint of happiness to your tone. "I'll text you."

"See you later, sweetheart."

You hang up, feeling perplexed by Steve's insistent use of the pet name for you. It seemed that once he started, he couldn't stop. You didn't mind, though. It was just another piece of evidence of how Steve wanted you.

It was still rather early, so you went into the kitchen and saw your mom sitting there with a glass of wine.

"Hey, mom," you greeted her with a kiss at the temple.

She was startled as she looked up at you. "Oh, hey, honey. I didn't realize you were still home."

"Just for a little bit. I'll be heading out for lunch soon. It's a bit early for wine, isn't it?" You cock your brow at her.

Your mom merely chuckled and shook her head. "It's not early if you didn't sleep."

"Sleeping problems again?" You asked, thinking about why that must've been why Henry didn't come to your room last night. "You should really see a doctor about that."

Your mum nods a little tiredly but gives you a smile. "I think it's just too much energy. Maybe I should walk around the block a couple of times."

You hum, still concerned but dropping it since your mother didn't seem to want to speak about it anymore. You make yourself some coffee before going back up to your room.

It was probably still too soon, but you began to plan what to get Steve for his birthday in the next month. Getting something expensive for someone like Steve would be meaningless. You knew he'd appreciate it and treasure it since it came from you, but it would hold no meaning. He was a man who probably didn't have any problems getting what he wanted material-wise (provided he wasn't a fugitive).

So, you needed to get him things that would be more sentimental, something memorable.

You smile as you start to write down a few ideas and people to call.

➵➵➵☽☾➵➵➵

Steve smiles down at his phone.

You've been so shy with him lately. Bashful but not pulling away and Steve couldn't help but indulge in it.

He's starting to find it harder to pay attention to Sharon or sleep with her when all he can think about is you. Steve hasn't broken up with Sharon yet. He's still thinking of how to do that. He doesn't want to hurt Sharon...

A movement from the corner of his eye catches his attention, and he looks up at the monitor in front of him. It was Blake, starting to pace back and forth again.

It had been a week since he captured Blake, but he wasn't anywhere closer to getting his answers. He just wanted to understand why you had chosen someone like Blake. He was so...bland, and whatever you shared with him was so empty.

Steve got that from rifling through Blake's phone. He's checked your texts and any social media app interactions. There wasn't anything privately spoken. Your texts with him really only spoke to arranging dates and when he was coming to your home for dinner with Henry.

Blake only seemed crazy for you publicly. Always liking and commenting on your photos or always posting to your wall. So superficial, Steve can't understand it.

So far, Steve hasn't gotten any useful information out of Blake. The young man didn't seem to know why Captain America had captured him and only kept spouting off that he could give Steve money if that's what he was looking for. The only other thing was Blake continuously saying that Steve must have the wrong person because the only thing Blake buys illegally is weed, and if Steve wanted his dealer's information, he'd be happy to give that as well.

But that wasn't what Steve wanted. He wanted to know why you had agreed to go out with someone like Blake. He wanted to know why you kept saying it wouldn't work with him.

"Please...please! Just let me out, I won't tell anyone..." Blake wails, and Steve sighs before checking the time.

He should probably leave now if he wanted to meet up with you on time.

➵➵➵☽☾➵➵➵

Steve sees you first before you see him, and he takes a moment to take you in. You look absolutely gorgeous in your sundress as you search around for him. His chest expands almost painfully when you spot him, smiling wide as you walk towards him.

Standing up, Steve greets you with a kiss on your cheek and a hug, his fingers stroking your shoulder blades. He lingers a moment too long when he feels you shiver in his arms from his touches.

"Hey, sweetheart," Steve pulls back with a smile as he opens a chair for you to sit down. "I got us a patio table, hope that's okay?"

"It's perfect, Steve," you sit down, thanking him with a smile as he sits back in his own chair. "Was work okay? I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

Steve shook his head. "Nah, you weren't. But speaking of work, Tony's birthday is going to be in a week and I was wondering if you'd come?"

You looked surprised before shyly pinching at your earlobe. "You want me to come?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah," he smiled. "I think it'd be great for you to meet the team. It's been a while since the last of us have been really together since that night at the casino. Wanda and Vision will be visiting for Stark's birthday too."

"It sounds like it'll be a big event," you smile.

Steve nodded. "Knowing Stark? Yeah, it'll be. It'll be good for all of us. Things have been tense since the Accords even though they've been abolished."

You nod understandingly as you reach across the table and place your hand atop Steve's comfortingly. He smiles at you before he turns his hand over to hold yours.

You let the heat flood your cheeks as you give one last reassuring squeeze before letting go. Steve looks at you amusedly.

"Yeah, I mean, if you think it's okay that I come, I would love to," you clear your throat before saying.

"It's more than okay," Steve says as the waitress comes by to grab your orders. "Did you want me to come pick you up? Sharon said she had to be there early."

You tilt your head with a smirk. "That would be lovely...but I don't think riding on a motorcycle while in a dress will be good for me."

Steve lets out a laugh. "I'll be picking you up in a cab, there's no worry."

"In that case, I would be happy if you accompanied me," you teased.

Steve smiles as the rest of the lunch is smooth. He takes the time to sit there, listening to you chat and feels warm. You just talk so...easily. It makes Steve feel at ease because he's not scrambling to come up with topics to talk about.

Being in the modern world, Steve had always felt so displaced. It felt like he was constantly trying to keep up with topics. It was nice that you talked about many things, and if it was things Steve didn't know, he didn't feel weird about asking you more about it.

By the end of the lunch, you had moved your chair closer to his so you could show Steve the puppies one of your coworkers had gotten and chatted about whether dogs were something Steve or you had ever thought about getting.

It was then you had some notification come in from an icon Steve recognized. Yellow with a white ghost outline. He'd seen it on Blake's phone as he rifled through it. It didn't seem like anything but some kind of photo-taking application, but Blake did get plenty of notifications from it. Steve hadn't touched it since he was unsure of the purpose.

"What's that?" Steve asked.

"Hm?" You hummed as Steve pointed at the notification before it went away. "Oh, Snapchat? It's like a picture sending social media app. You can send people photos or videos back and forth but the other person can only view it once—or twice if they're quick enough to replay it. Once the photo or video runs out of time for viewing or you click out of it, that's it."

Steve frowned. "I don't understand. Why would you only want to be able to see a photo or video once?"

You smile at the innocence of Steve. It was amusing to see something dark lurking just beneath the surface but also have moments like these.

"Well," you giggle. "It does have many uses. Like maybe someone is sending another person a...risqué photo or video and doesn't want the other party to be able to keep it. Snapchat notifies the sender if the photo or video is screenshotted or recorded."

Steve blushed. "So...it's that kind of app?" He frowned at the thought of you using it. Were you sending Blake risqué photos and videos?

You laughed and shrugged. "It could be used like that. Generally, I think most people just use it to send photos of any kind. Their lunch, where they are, who they're with, really anything. It's popular because, in this day and age, everyone loves taking photos but not all photos need to be permanently documented."

Steve merely stared at you, and you chuckled some more.

"It's like...here, think about it like this," you say. "You like drawing, right?"

Steve nodded.

"So, do you think everything you draw should be hung up in an art gallery? Or do you have some photos that are just meant to be in your sketchbook? Maybe you show a couple of people, but there's also a chance you might throw it away after too?" You tilt your head.

The way you say it just dawns on Steve, and he nods understandingly, feeling warm as he smiles at you.

You grin back at him before you open the Snap in front of him. It was one of your friends sending you a photo of their lunch with a caption and stickers.

"Do you mind if we take a picture together?" You ask Steve with an unsure smile. "It won't circulate anywhere but it might be fun."

Steve nods quickly, and you beam at him as you lean in closer to him, holding your phone up. He's got a boyish grin while you have a peace sign up as your head is tilted towards him.

It's a great photo, showing the sunny day with a playful tone. Steve likes it because it's a memory captured of you so close to him.

"Is there a way to save the photos you take?" He asks, and you nod.

"Could you save it and send it to me?"

You turn your head to look at him, cheeks warm as you give him a nod with a tiny smile.

You send off the photo to your friend, immediately getting a chat message about what a lucky bitch you are.

"Oh!" You say as you slid your phone closer to Steve to see. "There's one more feature I forgot to tell you."

Steve watches as a map shows up on your screen with some kind of cartoonish people standing in New York and other places. Yours seemed overcrowded.

"Snapchat also has a map feature that shows other people you have added where they are if their location services are turned on. See? This is me and it shows where we are."

Steve felt his stomach drop as he stared at your phone.

Blake must've had this feature on for his phone.

The only saving grace was that the map automatically was zoomed into the general area you were in. But if you zoomed out, you'd undoubtedly notice that Blake was still actually in the state.

You and any one of Blake's friends.

That bastard.

➵➵➵☽☾➵➵➵

Blake woke up startled.

He sat up immediately, seeing a brown bag he assumed food was in. He looked up and saw Captain America standing right outside on the other side of the glass.

Blake dug into the brown bag and ate the burger and fries in there before looking at the hero.

"Please...please, just tell me why I'm here. What have I done? If I've done something, I still have rights to a lawyer!"

Steve ignored the repetitive cries of the stuck up man before him. He merely pulled out Blake's form, waving it with the Snapchat app open.

"This is about mutual trust, Blake. How can I talk to you if I don't trust you? You must've been relying on your friends to notice you were still in New York instead of helping your poor mother in Washington," Steve sighed. "I had to open your 'Snaps'—that's what they're called, right? I don't think I'll ever understand this age where people feel the need to send pictures of their food, drinks, or whatever catches their eye. It's easy enough to imitate, though."

Blake's face crumpled as he realized Steve had turned off his location services and had kept up pretences with his friends.

"No...please, I'm sorry. I—I didn't realize. Those kinds of things just slipped my mind."

Steve hummed on the other side.

"I'll take your word for it because trust is supposed to be mutual, isn't it?" Steve said with a smile, and Blake nodded.

"There is a reason why you're here," Steve admits. "We're currently investigating someone. I can't share the details with you, obviously. But it doesn't look too good. Our intel came up that you're a close contact—dating."

Blake swallowed, and Steve watched the man's eyes dart back and forth, obviously trying to think which girl he was seeing could've done something so bad that the Avengers were looking into her.

Steve pulled out your photo, blown up professionally on an 8.5 by 11 paper, as he pressed it against the glass for Blake to see.

"Familiar?"

Blake's mouth stuttered, opening and closing as he stared at your picture.

"I mean, yes, but I don't know her that well!" Blake automatically admitted.

"Don't know her that well?" Steve cocked his brow. "You have dinner at her house every week. You've gone on dates, haven't you?"

"I eat with her family and I went out on one date with her!" Blake emphasized. "I don't know anything about her and I'm not supposed to."

Steve's eyes narrowed in at Blake's words. "Supposed to?"

Blake's eyes widened as he realized what he said, looking momentarily scared before remembering the situation he was in. If he didn't spill the truth to Captain America, he was going to be stuck here. Blake didn't need to be smart to know what the Avengers were capable of.

"It's an arranged marriage," Blake quickly confesses. "Set up by her stepdad. I thought the entire thing was old-fashion but he's my boss and the man was guaranteeing my whole future if I just married his step-daughter."

"Why does he want to marry her off?" Steve cocked his brow. It wasn't like you had a shortage of options. Arranged marriages nowadays, especially in New York, seemed outdated. You weren't from a prestigious family, nor were you royalty. Why?

"I don't know," Blake answered, and Steve stared at him. "Seriously, I don't know!"

Blake sighed stressfully. "All Henry told me was that if I wanted to secure my future, then I needed to marry his daughter. Henry was very explicit that I treat his daughter's boundaries 'respectfully', but he understood that I'm a young male that has needs. The marriage is strictly business and it was clear I could see other people but I needed to be discreet and keep up pretences."

Steve scrunched his nose and curled his lip in disgust. "So, you just string her along while seeing other people because she won't have sex with you?"

Blake rolled his eyes. "I think you're getting the wrong idea, pal. It's not like she's unaware of the circumstances. She's got a strict stepdaddy and she does what he tells her to do. We're both playing nice with each other. I highly doubt she feels anything for me except tolerance and maybe acceptance."

Steve stands there, taking in the information. If that was the case, why wouldn't you see Steve just like Blake was seeing other women?

This was a problem Captain America could fix.

Was Blake the best option your stepdad could come up with? Surely, he would find America's golden hero a much better option. Steve would dote on you, love you, cherish you. Bedroom activities, frankly, was none of your stepdad's business, but Steve wasn't above lying and saying nothing was happening.

So, why?

"So, if you actually want someone who knows something, maybe you should check with Henry." Blake's voice drew Steve out of his thoughts. "Although I wouldn't recommend kidnapping him as he is a notable person," Blake said sarcastically.

Steve didn't react to the tone as he turned to leave.

"No, wait!" Blake yelled. "I told you everything I know! I'm not close with her! Aren't you going to let me out? I swear I won't tell anyone!"

Steve turned back, quirking his eyebrow at the man. "As I said, Blake. There has to be mutual trust. So, I need to verify your information...and I need reassurance about your silence. Behave and we can talk about it after I check out your story."

Steve turned back and kept walking, ignoring Blake's echoing bellows.

PART VI

[marvelhero-fics]

Snowman

Series - Chapter One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’re a HYDRA assassin that’s worked closely with the Winter Soldier, to each of your dismay you’re reunited with Bucky after the blip. 

A/N: I haven’t posted in like 300 years, but I hope you guys enjoy this new series! This follows parts of TFATWS so expect spoilers! (Also I’m sure all the Russian is absolutely wrong, if you’d like to correct it please send me a message!)

Word Count: 1,815 (future chapters will be wayyy longer)

Snowman Masterlist || Full Masterlist

New York

2023

“So tell me about this-” the therapist looked down at her notes briefly, “(Y/N).” She finished.

Bucky paused momentarily, “No.”

“James, for these therapy sessions to be effective, you need to open up to me. I can’t help you if I don't know what’s wrong.” His therapist responded, laying her pen carefully on her small notebook.

Bucky thought for a moment, taking in the ambience of the room. What would he even say about (Y/N)? He hadn’t seen her in years. Bucky was kicking himself for accidentally bringing her up in his session last week. “I- uh-” he stammered, shifting his weight on the couch, “I met her in 2011. At least I think it was 2011. Date’s get kinda fuzzy sometimes, with all the cryo.” Bucky’s hand pressed against his head, feeling dazed as he tried to think back. “It was at the big HYDRA base outside of Moscow. We had to go on a mission together-” he was cut off,

“Did she work for HYDRA?” Dr Raynor interjected.

“Yea. She was an assassin too. She went by the alias the Viper.” Bucky pretended not to notice his therapist tense up. Anyone who knew anything about HYDRA knew who the Viper was. She was one of the most prolific assassins after the Winter Soldier.

“Tell me more about when you met her.”

“We were instructed to take out a terrorist organisation forming against SHIELD. Which was ironic because we were working for a terrorist organisation. But at this point SHIELD was being run by HYDRA and they couldn’t risk any slip ups, so they put 6 assassins on the job. HYDRA usually didn’t have their assassins working together, we were all too volatile. But we had to take out over 70 people in one night. It was (Y/N), a few assassins from the Red Room, and a few agents that HYDRA had trained personally, and me.” Bucky stopped.

“Where was (Y/N) trained?”

“At a secondary facility run by HYDRA. She was trained from a really young age. It’s all she’s known.” Bucky seemed somber. But his therapist continued,

“What happened on the mission?”

“Nothing. It went exactly to plan. The targets were taken out and we all left without a trace. But (Y/N), she- she kept trying to talk to me, or get to know me. I was the Winter Soldier. No one in their right mind ever tried to ‘get to know me’.”

“Why do you think (Y/N) did that?”

“She told me she was bored.” He replied bluntly.

Moscow

2011

The poorly lit conference room was filled with a myriad of assassins and officials. The only illumination came from old LED lights hanging from the concrete ceiling. The mossy green paint on the walls looked as if it hadn’t been patched up in years. The only new-ish part of the room was the large, oak conference table, surrounded by black, leather seating. It was difficult not to notice the red HYDRA symbol holding a spot on almost every piece of clothing in the area.

“TITAN terroristicheskaya organizatsiya, formiruyushchayasya protiv nas. (TITAN is a terrorist organisation forming against us.)” Kuznetsov spoke, “Izbrannyye budut otpravleny segodnya vecherom v Ukrainu dlya vypolneniya postavlennoy zadachi. Uberi ikh. (The chosen ones will be sent to Ukraine tonight to complete their given tasks. Take them out.)”

That was all it took. You stared at the file in front of you. You had read through it multiple times, going over every single name, every single skill set your targets had. You were more than certain you could complete this job on your own. But you had no choice on the matter.

Your eyes darted around, taking in the faces of the assassins that were to accompany you on your mission. Two youthful females, dressed in black leather sat next to each other. The older, grimacing woman behind them was Madame B., the head supervisor of the Red Room. You moved your gaze to the two agents in dark green uniforms and red, soviet berets. Neither looked particularly menacing.

You finally landed on the last assassin. His dark hair fell like curtains around his face. Gloomy blue eyes searched their way through the room. His sharp jaw seemed tense through his stubbled cheeks. He was large, extremely built. Covering his frame was an amplitude of black clothing and gear.

“Play nice.” Your mentor spoke softly over your shoulder, breaking you from your train of thought.  

“I always do.”

~

Your padded snow boots ripped through the thick snow covering the ground. The six of you had hiked your way to the set point on your GPS systems, the clouds of snowfall covering your vision held the illusion that there were absolutely no structures nearby. A large helicopter had dropped the group a few miles out from the hideout to ensure nothing was compromised. The trek was in utter silence, fighting against the harsh temperature in mid February.

The waypoint became closer on your map, a tiny building slowly appeared in your vision against the foggy downfall. It was a small, wooden cabin. Everyone hustled their way through the unlocked door. It was barren, it held no furniture, no blankets, no means of any life. There appeared to be a few doors that led to small, empty rooms. The entrance only held a small fireplace, filled with old cut down logs that had been eaten by bugs.

The group quickly dispersed, you headed to one of the rooms alone, throwing down your belongings onto the floor. The bag you carried was mainly filled with weapons and ammunition, along with a very warm sleeping bag. You knew too well you wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, but you would need the extra heat for now.

There was no chatter anywhere in the house. Your mission would begin in 6 hours. Everyone was likely putting together their artillery. You decided to cozy up in your navy sleeping bag for a moment of comfort.

Someone had lit the fire in the lounge. A warm, orange light crept through the cracks in your door. The ambiance was strangely calming for a shitty cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Snow continued to fall against the tiny glass pane of your room. You weren’t a fan of assassinating in the snow. It was low vision, harsher climates, and it lessened the ability to move. Snakes weren’t creatures of the cold. Conveniently you’d been grouped with someone who called himself ‘The Winter Soldier’. I’m sure he loves the cold, you thought.

You’d heard a lot about him. Everyone had. He was the perfect assassin. He never failed a mission, his body didn’t reject cryo, every form of enhancement HYDRA had used on him had been a success. He was what every assassin had aspired to be.

Without thought, you grabbed the glass bottle laying next to you and walked off to the room the Winter Soldier had claimed for the night.

“Privet (Hello)”. You announced, pushing his door open with a creak. His head didn’t turn towards you. He sat on the floor, the sound coming from him indicated he was sharpening knives.

“Khochesh' vypit'? (Want a drink?)” You asked, motioning the bottle towards him.

He stayed silent for a moment. Finally he turned, looking up at you from his position on the floor. “What is it?” His dark tone asked back. The amber light from the fire crashed against his features. His strong jaw was covered with a dark stubble, his brunette hair tucked behind his ears. His most obvious feature was the hauntingly blue eyes that sat in sunken sockets, he looked drained.

“It’s vodka.” You stated, honestly. You were surprised to hear he wasn’t Russian, he sounded… American?

“You’re drinking before a mission?” He queried.

You shrugged. “Alcohol doesn’t freeze.” You sat down next to him. “Plus it takes the edge off.” A faint clinking noise announced as you placed the bottle on the floor between you two. He stared at you for a moment, before quietly going back to his knives.

“Wanna play 20 questions?” You interrupted the silence.

“No.”

“What about truth or dare?”

“I’m not 14.” the soldier replied, his eyes not leaving his handy work.

“How old are you?” You shot back,

“Why are you trying to get to know me?” He dodged your question.

“I’m bored.” You shrugged, taking a deep swig of the vodka. “And by my calculations,” you peered down at your watch, “we still have 3 hours and 27 minutes until the mission starts.”

He gave a shallow sigh, “93.”

“What?”

“I’m 93. How old are you.”

“93?! You were born in 1917?”

“Mhm. How old are you.”

“25. You look great for 93.” You chuckled.

“You look old for 25.” He jabbed back. His knife sharpener still grinding across a 6 inch blade.

“You flatter me.” You replied sarcastically. “So what’s your story? How’d you make it to 93?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Why would I ask if I didn’t want to know?”

Bucky looked over at you. “I’m telling you, you don’t want to know.”

“C’mon old man,  I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” You smirked. He once again, went back to his knives. It almost seemed as if he was trying to threaten you, pulling out larger knife after larger knife.

You huffed, opening your mouth to speak, “I was born in Hungary to a drug abusing mother, and an absent father. I was kidnapped and sold to HYDRA when I was 6. I was placed under the care of the Kraken. Not sure if you’ve met him, he’s this large guy-”

“I’ve met him.” Bucky stated, interrupting your spiel.

“Right, well, he trained me for years. Eventually HYDRA got involved again and I was tested on, experimented on, messed with, ya’ know, all that fun stuff.” You explained.

“Are you enhanced?” Bucky asked, almost as if he was actually interested.

“Yea. I have this whole snake venom trick. It’s great for up close combat. The experiments really should’ve killed me though. But maybe that’s what makes us so good-” Bucky looked over at the woman next to him, her bright eyes stared back at him as she spoke “ya’ know, the best assassins are the ones living off borrowed time. Because we’ve met death before, so we’re not afraid to do it again.”

Bucky quickly grabbed the Barrett M82 rifle next to him, his metal arm making faint whirring noises. “I’m going to scope out the base.” He stated bluntly. And with that, his large black boots walked him out the bedroom, and out the door.

You let out a faint sigh, creeping back to your room to sort out your weapons. You were sure it was something you said that scared him off. I guess at 93 you have to be living off too much borrowed time, you speculated. You absentmindedly set up your pistols, your mind not being able to wander from the Winter Soldier. Maybe annoying the Red Room girls would get your mind off it.

[bitchassbucky]

.png

Word Count: 1.4k

Warning/s: toxic relationship dynamics, dark!bucky x dark!reader, stalking, coercion and lying, manipulative tendencies, injuries and blood mention, food was mentioned for a bit

A/N: WE ARE GETTING THERE, BABES WHEW OKAY

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

A month had passed since your not-date date had happened. You tried to forget the rest of the day, only focusing on how he looked and talked to you that day. How he smiled, trying to play off the ‘cool guy’ narrative.

You suddenly grew cold, noticing how your conversations became sparse—dry in between. Fewer texts and long waits. It made you nervous, sad, and a little bit annoyed. You barely see him around the office too—has Bucky been avoiding you?

His office is a bit out of the way for you to accidentally stumble in, anyway; the days you’re in the office were unsynchronized. Would it count as a punishable offense if you mess up with your company-approved laptop?

Saying you missed Bucky is an understatement: the bottle of cologne that smells like him sits empty on your dresser. The pictures you took of him taped loosely on your corkboard. Bits and pieces of papers he gave you tacked on it haphazardly.

Can someone die from loneliness?

Is this what being in love feels like?

Suffocating, consuming, your chest feels heavy, and your stomach is in knots.

—

Another month, another throng of employees needing new passwords. There are literal posters around the floor reminding everyone to use a password manager. Bucky can’t believe that he has to work with idiots around him. When he took up computer science as a major in college, he imagined himself hacking into… government intel, or something. Not looking after dimwits that don't know how to install an update.

His text messages are red with notifications—bank updates, deliveries, and you.

For some reason, Bucky can’t bring himself up to return your messages. Hi’s, hey’s, and how are you’s littered his text chain. Is he a bad person for not replying back? He can always just make up an excuse, right?

When you told him that you liked him, kissed him like you meant it, his fondness dispersed into thin air. The easy is never worthy and the worthy is never easy, as his father told him.

A ding from his phone brought him forth, another text from you: coming up right now, can we talk?

Now, he can’t come up with an excuse.

—

Bucky heard you before you come in, knocking on his door like the first time you met.

He clears his throat, calling out a come in! before rolling back from his cluttered desk. Tickets were few and far in between, he knows he can spare you at least 20 minutes but he just doesn’t want to.

“Hey,” you said, your head poking into his office. You weren’t entirely sure why you came up here in the first place, you really, really, really just wanted to see him again.

Bucky chuckles, pulling the door open for you. “What’s up? Is everything okay?”

You breathe out a little, shaking the feeling sinking deep inside your stomach, “yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.” Stepping into his office, you eye his desk. He’s been busy. Papers and files are piling up on the left side of his desk, half of his setup is covered with those post-it notes. Several mugs littered his small space.

Huh, “Sorry, I can come back some other time.”

Turning on your heel, you pivot a little to grab the door when Bucky grabs your upper arm, “don’t go—”

He realizes the implications if someone were to see the two of you and so he lets go, much to your discomfort. You face him, either way, you’re sure he’s not gonna let you go that easily.

“Sorry, it’s just- I missed you.”

And there it was. I missed you.

He was thinking about you.

He was thinking about you.

He was thinking about you.

He was thinking about you.

He was thinking about you.

“I was just gonna drop off some files… But,” you rake your brain for a coherent train of thought, “I missed you too.”

A smile of relief overcomes Bucky’s features, his eyes crinkling just the way you like. His steely blue eyes hidden beneath his lashes.

“I have uh, a thing later… Dinner with friends—do you wanna come?” You make a show of peering over his shoulder and onto his desk, “unless you’re busy?”

“I’d love to come.” He says, tucking his pointer finger underneath your chin, flicking it forward so you’d look at him, “what time is it?”

“Come by around seven. I’ll text you my address.”

Bucky doesn’t need your address. He already came a dozen times by your building, trying to build up the nerve to knock on your door and kiss you silly. Like in those movies you watch late at night.

But he’s conflicted, no?

Are you really as good as they come?

—

At six-thirty, you already sent the text: take the east street, beige apartment block. I’m on the third floor, second door to your right. :)

At six-fifty five, Bucky’s already there, his car idling on the sidewalk. He’s… nervous. Why is he nervous? It’s just dinner. A small get-together with friends. Speaking of friends, he didn’t see any unfamiliar cars parked on the block. Maybe it’s not work friends?

Letting out a sigh, Bucky fetches the small bouquet of flowers and wine he brought, just in case. He doesn’t wanna be the only one showing up empty-handed.

On the dot, Bucky knocks on your door. He plasters on his best smile as you open the way, revealing yourself.

God, you look gorgeous. Why did he stop hanging out with you in the first place?

Oh, right.

“Aw, flowers and wine? You’re too sweet!” You chirp out, stepping out of the way to let him into your apartment. Taking the gifts from his hands, you put them away while Bucky busies himself checking out your place.

It’s weird seeing your place in real life. Bucky noted the hint of lavender in the air, coupled with a smidge of coffee brewing. He’s so used to seeing parts of it but not everything-everything. He careens his neck to look down the hallway, catching a glimpse of your bedroom.

“If you’re lucky, you can see it tonight.” A peal of boisterous laughter comes out of you, lightly kicking his foot with yours, “I’m kidding. It’s off-limits for visitors, sorry.”

“Right…” Bucky looks around, shifting his weight from the balls of his feet up to his toes. “Am I too early? I can help you set the table.” The table is halfway finished and you’re stirring in cheese into a sauce. Roux, perhaps.

“No, it’s okay…” You trail off, lowering the heat before facing Bucky, “I lied.”

“What?”

“There’s no dinner—I mean, there is. Just not with friends.” You bite your lip, looking down on your shoes before tearing your gaze away from the floor to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“You lied? Why- why would you lie about that?” Annoyance and frustration all seep out near the surface. His jaw ticking as he gritted his teeth.

“Are you mad?”

“Are you mad?” Bucky asks back in a mocking tone, bringing his fist down the dinner, “you—you’re crazy. I knew it, I knew you’re crazy. Lying about dinner and what, trying to get me alone? Jesus, what--” He lets out a mirthless laugh, the one that sends chills down your spine.

You stood there, frozen at your spot. You’re hurt. He called you crazy. He called you crazy when he’s the one who spied on you for weeks on end.

When he’s the one who watches you at night.

When he’s the one who left those notes on your desk.

The one who sent those texts and left calls and voicemails.

“Fuck you.” Your words rang empty as Bucky walked out of the kitchen in long strides. The dinner long forgotten.

You calmly watch him turn the doorknob open, failing when the adjacent locks prevent him from opening the door. Two deadbolts and a chain lock. Never would you have thought that the threat would be coming inside your home.

“I’d think twice before leaving without dinner.”

—

Bucky stirs awake. The sound of cutlery on plates grating on his nerves. His head is throbbing. His right temple feels tight and tender, there’s something hard and crusty covering the right side of his face. He can suddenly feel the weight of his left arm, leaning over to compensate for the sudden pain.

He wasn’t aware that he had closed his eyes; the lights suddenly glaringly bright.

Right, the dinner.

The dinner?

Wasn’t he supposed to—

“Thank fuck. I thought you were dead.”

God, he hopes he is.

[mightydragoon]

Tiny Luke and Dad Vader fanfic recs

As of @silvereddaye request . 

1 A Simple Twist of Fate By: TheRealThing

Destiny brings Darth Vader's twin son and daughter, who he has believed dead for ten years, into his life unexpectedly.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4292852/1/A-Simple-Twist-of-Fate

2.   Force Bond 1: Orphan By: KittandChips 

AU After Owen and Beru are killed by a mysterious stranger, young Luke ends up as an orphan on Coruscant. It's a race against time as Obi-Wan struggles to find Luke before Vader realizes the boy is his son.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/347383/1/Force-Bond-1-Orphan

3.  Force Bond 2: Threat By: KittandChips 

Luke finds himself moving in with a moody, secluded Sith Lord who is also his newly found father. Vader has his own set of challenges to overcome, as he struggles to come to terms with his fatherhood.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/388791/1/Force-Bond-2-Threat

4.  Force Bond 3: Son By: KittandChips 

Third in the series of an AU where Luke is raised by Vader on Coruscant. Luke is getting older and struggling to come to terms with what awaits in the future.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/562682/1/Force-Bond-3-Son

5. Force Bond 4: Jedi    By: KittandChips 

AU. Fourth in a series where Luke has been raised by Vader on Coruscant. Luke is caught between his loyalty and love for the man who raised him, and his desire not to become a Sith.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/1037550/1/Force-Bond-4-Jedi

6. The Father By: frodogenic 

Ten years after ROTS, tormenting nightmares of his unborn child drive Darth Vader to extraordinary measures with unexpectedly drastic consequences. Clearly, experience has taught Darth Vader nothing... L/V, the gang, and a few OCs for flavor. COMPLETE!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3092590/1/The-Father

7.  Dark Father By: JoieMaris 

Four years after ROTS, Vader is haunted by nightmares from the Force. His dreams lead him to two special children. AU.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10806023/1/Dark-Father

8.  Silence By: Shy Snootles 

AU story, set four years after ROTS. Darth Vader has become the Empire's very image of death and destruction. But a fortuitous encounter with a little boy will shake the until then rock solid foundations of his Darkness and hatred.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2946568/1/Silence

9.  Free to Fly  By: Mahina 

Luke is nine and a slave in Jabba's palace when Darth Vader returns to fulfill an old promise. LV list challenge.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7045903/1/Free-to-Fly

10.  Dissociative Identity Disorder By: T. Alana M 

Formerly titled "The Good Son". DID: a condition wherein a person's identity is fragmented into two or more distinct personalities. Or, where Anakin Skywalker makes it his life's goal to drive Darth Vader to the brink of insanity. His four year old son spectates.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9706778/1/Dissociative-Identity-Disorder

(Note* Incomplete) 

11.  Darkness's Son One: But Light Was Always the Son of Darkness By: The Hope Lions

After getting caught at a rebel rally, ten year old Luke Skywalker is arrested and brought to Coruscant. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan Kenobi will do anything to prevent Darth Vader from discovering his son's existence, but will the Jedi be too late?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11850017/1/Darkness-s-Son-One-But-Light-Was-Always-the-Son-of-Darkness

12.    Darkness's Son Two: The Darkness Is There By: The Hope Lions 

Sequel to "But Light Was Always the Son of Darkness" Luke Skywalker has been living with his father for four years, but that doesn't mean it's gotten any easier. Now that Luke is no longer a child he has to deal with a whole host of new problems. Sooner or later he's bound to crack under the pressure of what it means to be Darth Vader's Jedi son. Updated daily!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12011466/1/Darkness-s-Son-Two-The-Darkness-Is-There

13.  Far From Over  By: Above the Winter Moonlight 

COMPLETE AU, Eight years post ROTS. When Darth Vader learns that his son is still alive, he is determined to find him. All the while, Obi-Wan Kenobi is struggling to hide the young boy from his father's prying eyes…FS inside, R&R

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5445132/1/Far-From-Over

14. Second Time  By: Brievel 

Darth Vader finds a five-year-old Luke Skywalker wandering the dunes of Tatooine, lost, and realizes the child is his son. What is he to do with the boy?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11326985/1/Second-Time

15. every planet, every star, every single grain of sand --- loosingletters

In which Darth Vader finds 9-year-old Luke on Tatooine, proceeds to have a breakdown, kills Palpatine and makes his preteen son Emperor, as you do. Otherwise known as the Adventures of Teeny Tiny Emperor Luke and his Royal Dad Guard Darth Vader.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22714810/chapters/54283174

16. In Which the Force Finally Becomes Proactive --sparklight

Better late than never, right? This has gone on long enough, and the Son of the Suns need some help to get out of that poisoned swamp he's stuck in. What better help than his own son, and the planet he was born on?

Luke starts out dreaming, first about his father, then about his grandmother. She wants him to help save his father, but his father is dead, isn't he..?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9109462/chapters/20705959

17. Skywalker Family Values --Ariel_Sojourner

Camp Chippewa is proud to be the Empire’s foremost camp resort for privileged young adults. Located on the picturesque forest moon of Endor, your child will have the opportunity to participate in wholesome outdoor activities and socialize appropriately with their peers. We invite your offspring to join us for the experience of a lifetime and a bright future in service of the greater glory of the Empire.

On opposite sides of the galaxy, on opposite sides of a civil war, Darth Vader and Padme Amidala unwittingly send Luke and Leia to the same camp during school break. Chaos naturally ensues.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14258124/chapters/32883750

(note* Comedy freaking gold) 

18. The Necklace  By: Ellisaed 

What if Padmè's japor snippet hadn't been buried with her on Naboo? What if it had somehow been able to bring together the children that had been torn apart? And with her husband - now a notorious Sith Lord - on a endless search to regain the necklace back, will it end up being the galaxy's greatest mistake? *NEW: Chapter 10!*

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8765936/1/The-Necklace

19. Chiaroscuro -- SpellCleaver

A series of oneshots focusing on Luke and Vader's relationship, with other characters occasionally thrown into the mix.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16363772/chapters/38293637

20.  Visiting Shmi Skywalker’s Grave --Iva1201

Darth Vader decides to visit his mother's grave one last time to finally get rid of all his attachments. Can he succeed when there is one more person visiting the tomb at the same time, this person being his own young son? Or will Anakin Skywalker resurface when meeting the boy?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8239112/chapters/18881579

21.  Glove --Superheronerd_1

It wasn't as though he wanted to murder the younglings, that he wanted to murder those around him that he had seen in battle. Those who have had his back, who have saved him and he then countless of times.

But sacrifice was necessary.

“-dodged a large rock-”

Yet this, this he could not sacrifice.

He will not sacrifice.

“-flew over, no Luke, don't nibble my cape.” Vader said, amused.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6430528/chapters/14719456

22.  Imperial Babysitters -Laivaaja

Star Wars Fan Comic: Luke Skywalker is raised by his father Darth Vader on a star destroyer. The young officers Piett and Veers are Luke’s awesome uncles who constantly end up babysitting him (and worrying too much when he gets into trouble).

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621658/chapters/26131065

23. Between the Light and Shadows: Luke & Vader One-Shots -SilverDaye

One-shot collection focused on Luke and Vader. All AU.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15128117/chapters/48583628

(Note* Silver has a bunch of these so here we go, not all but godamn I would say the vast majority of these are.  ) 

24. Sent Out for Safety-- throwawayflames

At the age of eight, Luke Skywalker and his sister, Leia, are split up for their safety. Leia stays with their Uncle Ben, and their mother, to learn how to be a Jedi. Luke, on the other hand, is sent to the Organa's, where he will pretend to be their adoptive son who was orphaned. Ben had only given Luke one rule to live by while he was away from his family, don't tell anyone his last name, and he followed that.

It wasn't his fault that Darth Vader sensed that he was a Force Sensitive and now he wants to train him, as a Jedi no less. That's the complete opposite of what Ben had told Luke. And after asking Darth Vader about his dad, Luke can't help but say yes to Darth Vader training him. After all, Luke's always wanted to be a Jedi like his father.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22659655/chapters/54159751

25. For Want of a Skywalker --acuteneurosis

After the miracle of having survived Bespin, Piett does not ask why they are stopping on Tatooine. Or why Lord Vader suddenly has acquired a small child. Or why this child's name is Luke. Or how long they are going to keep him.

He probably should have.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22044874/chapters/52612567

26. Where Our Intrepid Hero Doesn't Get Away- sparklight

One-shots surrounding either AU situations of canon/legends works where Luke would normally have gotten away (or Vader is simply inserted into the action to come pick his child up) but in these instances doesn't, or completely new scenarios of the same. Any time an AU is mentioned to be based on a comics issue it's from the new Marvel Star Wars comics (2015) (unless otherwise noted).

There are no deep ruminations on consequences of the situations here, just our awful Sith dad picking his son up when he'd rather not be.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4837094/chapters/11078918

(note* again not all include Little Luke but they do involve Luke and Vader) 

27.  Runaway SilverDaye

Imperial Prince Luke runs away from home to escape his overprotective father Emperor Vader. Jumping from planet to planet he finds himself creditless on Tatooine. While working for more money to leave the planet, Luke meets an old man named Ben Kenobi. But Luke knows he can't stay in one place for long for surely his father is hunting him down.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14630196/chapters/33813027

28. Bring Him Home -- KeeperofSeeds

Vader is sent to Tatooine by his Master after a series of failures. While there he discovers the existence of Luke. He meets Luke, convinces him to come with him off planet, and manages to hide him away for a while. He knows his Master won't tolerate a powerful force sensitive like Luke running around as a free agent once he's old enough to be a threat, and he also knows exactly how horrible it is to serve Palpatine. He won't let Luke be taken and used like that.

Eventually though, his deception is discovered.

Vader knows he isn't powerful enough to protect Luke on his own, and he isn't ready to overthrow Palpatine yet. He decides the only safe place for Luke is with the Rebel Alliance, the very people who've managed to stay out of his reach so far. So he takes Luke and defects.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15994967/chapters/37317818

29. Stranger Danger LadyVader23

When Vader is suddenly given custody over the five year old son he didn't know he had, he attempts to get his daughter, Leia to befriend him. But as soon as his back is turned, Luke runs away, hiding in the mall that Vader owns. Vader tries frantically to find his son while Luke enjoys exploring the mall on his own. Shenanigans ensue.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23010670

30.  A Mother's Decision -- Valerie_Vancollie

What if Padmé had brought Luke to Vader when Luke was only nine months old?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12915687

Other Links 

Luke and Vader

Founder: Moyima - Stories: 198 - Followers: 573 - Staff: 3 - id: 5265Stories featuring the father and son relationship between Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader a collection of fics inspired by the vivicious yahoo group: The Luke Vader Writers.

https://www.fanfiction.net/community/Luke-and-Vader/5265/

(Note these ones include Luke and Vader though not all are Tiny Luke. Good place to start though) 

Luke and Darth Vader Tag 

https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Luke%20Skywalker%20*a*%20Darth%20Vader/works

[peachywise]

nullify

an umbrella academy fanfiction // klaus hargreeves x reader 

- part 6: the beginning of understandings || part i ⋆ part ii ⋆ part iii ⋆ part iv ⋆ part v ⋆ more to be released 

- synopsis: It was finally time to meet the bringer of the apocalypse– a petite girl wrapped up in a blanket drinking tea. Totally chill. Nothing unusual about the situation at all. At least Klaus was consistent with his irritating commentary.

- note: my bad sorry i haven’t updated in so long!! but i’m back! and since season 2 is now out, please just note that this story is my own continuation of the story after season 1. also, i am no longer doing a tag list. honestly i just can’t be bothered, and i’m sure most of the blogs have changed since the last one for this series. i post on ao3, so you can subscribe to the story there!! 

link on ao3 

_______________________________________

Okay. So you were going to face the person who allegedly caused the apocalypse. No big deal. This was just a normal day, and she was just a girl. Albeit one who had undergone pretty severe trauma in her life, but hey. Nothing you couldn’t handle with a pleasant smile and a cup of tea, right?

Maybe the tea was a bad idea. But you felt like you needed a peace offering. Something to break the ice before asking someone who was relatively a complete stranger, “I think I can contain your powers, so why don’t we try? Also, why don’t you move into my apartment for the time being? I promise the occasional cockroach that comes out the drain won’t do any harm. It would be nice if he paid rent, but I can’t complain.”

Yeah. Just a normal day.

An abrupt tap on your shoulder and Klaus’s breath tickling the side of your neck forced your eyes away from your previous stare down with the white bedroom door, and any and all courage you’d built up to walk in quickly dissipated.

“Hey, you think if this whole—” his voice caught on a sharp intake of breath as he tried to find his words, his hands rolling, “trying to convince my sister to not start the second apocalypse by moving in with you thing doesn’t work out, I can still crash there? You can’t begin to imagine just how stifling it is here. I don’t even think Five has changed out of his little uniform in a week, let alone had a shower. You smell so much better. Like vanilla with a bit of stale coffee and deep-seated cynicism.”

Turning your face fully towards his, your noses almost touching by how close he had leaned in, you kept your expression passive. And then you tipped your hand to let half of the scalding tea fall over the lip of the cup and on his bare feet.

As Klaus jumped back, hopping between his feet and hollering a string of “ow, ow, ow,” you took a small step back and replied with a drab and mocking, “that has to hurt.”

Klaus gave a curt laugh that was almost lost, given his teeth were clenched in pain. “You know, I don’t know if I like your violent style of foreplay.”

“You’re making it very clear why Vanya destroyed the world in the first place, Klaus,” you responded, voice raised. “You haven’t even experienced just how sadistic I can be. I can turn around right now and just let her cause the second apocalypse again.”

“How original of you, threatening to leave. What is it, the tenth time already? Maybe if we’re all lucky, you can get a couple more in before dinner!”

“You know what’s original? Your desperate need for attention because you never got any from daddy as a kid. I’ve never seen that before-“

The door opened in front of you, and someone’s soft cough had you and Klaus both turning in their direction.

Allison Hargreeves.

“Are you guys done?” She questioned, a tight impatient look crossed on her features. At a loss for words, partly embarrassed now that you’d raised your voice, you tried to find anywhere to look but her eyes. Your gaze ultimately got caught on her neck, and the healed, puffy scar raised on her skin. Right. They’d mentioned Vanya had injured Allison. Pretty horribly at that. You remembered what you were nervous about in the first place.

“Allison, this is Y/N, though they will reply to trouble or travel-sized Satan just as well,” Klaus offered, slipping past his sister, who stood fully in the frame of the doorway.

Reaching behind to scratch your neck, you forced a timid smile on your face and gave a small wave with your free hand. “Hey. Nice, uh… place you got here.” Totally casual. “Very clean.” Not awkward at all.

Allison snorted. “Uh-huh. Nice to meet you. Let’s see if this was all worth it, shall we?”

Straight to the point. You could respect that. Nodding, you kept the nervous smile on your face as you walked past her after she sidestepped away from the door. You didn’t really know what you were expecting. Part of you thought the room was going to be some weird pit of despair. Dark and broody, like it was supposed to set the scene for some comic book character about to delve into their villain origin story.

But nope. It was just a standard bedroom, very well lit, white linen, clean carpet. The only thing that really stood out was the sunny yellow blanket wrapped tightly around a petite frame huddled on the single bed, a sky blue polka dot teacup clutched in both of her hands.

Well, now you didn’t feel so bad that you’d poured out basically all the tea you were going to give Vanya on Klaus.

“I’m guessing you’re Vanya?”

No shit, she was Vanya. You literally knew what she looked like.

You shuffled your feet awkwardly as the girl’s eyes flickered up to you. You still had the teacup in your hand.

“I brought you this, but I… spilled a little,” you commented off-handily, moving over to set it on a small side table.

Klaus made a notably shocked look. “Is that what you call a little?”

Vanya nodded her head once, her tone quietly gruff as she added, “we could hear you through the door.”

Allison offered a very helpful, “I’m sure the whole apartment floor heard them.”

Klaus, unable to contain himself from continuing this rally of comments, added, “well, it’s not the only time my screams have woken up someone next door. Certainly won’t be the last, God hoping the world doesn’t explode again.”

All three of you groaned. Good to know you weren’t the only one exhausted.

“It’s nice to meet you, Vanya. Did they explain to you why I’m here?” You asked, moving closer to the girl in question.

Vanya’s eyes glanced quickly over to Allison, who nodded her head in encouragement. She then turned to look at you once more and gave a slight jerk of her head in affirmation. Despite what had happened between Vanya and Allison, you could see the trust between the sisters. You might have gotten the story of what happened three months prior, but obviously they had worked out some stuff. At least a little bit. “Yeah. Yeah, Five uhm, gave me the gist of it,” Vanya replied, her voice still quiet with an edge of hesitance.

“It really works,” Klaus stated, looking at you with a joyful look. “Not seeing Ben’s ugly mug for once…” he pressed his hands to his heart and contentedly sighed, “it was the biggest blessing one could have given me.” His serene mood quickly dissipated as he looked to an empty corner and bit out a tight, “zip it, ghoul boy.”

“I don’t know,” Vanya carried on, as Klaus and presumably Ben continued to have an argument in the back. “Our powers are different. I don’t know if I want to take the risk of using it again in case it doesn’t work.”

You sighed, and Allison brought her hand up to nervously to chew on a nail. Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, you tried your best to settle the situation. Yeah, the money you would get for this would be nice, but you could tell this all went beyond that. It was important. You knew they wouldn’t have just let you into their inner circle if it wasn’t.

“I get it. What happened was awful, but you aren’t in that place anymore, right? Panic makes you do stupid shit. You aren’t you when you’re in such a crisis. That doesn’t mean you don’t take accountability for those actions, but the you sitting here isn’t actively trying to blow up the moon and cause the end of the world.” Peering over to Klaus, who stood grumpily off to the side, you asked, “it was the moon, right?”

His attention quickly fixed on you as he replied back, “oh yeah,” making a sudden explosion movement with his hands and horrible sound effects to go with it.

Allison’s blunt, “Klaus,” was enough to quickly shut him up.

“But I could panic again,” Vanya pleaded, her hazel eyes cutting in their pain. As stable and as comfortable as she appeared now, you could recognize that constant fear that must have lived in her. You knew too much about regret. You could see that in her eyes.

“And that’s where I come in. I can stop that. But we have to try first to see if it can work.” Reaching out a hesitant hand, you placed it on her knee still covered with the blanket and offered, “this power is inside you whether you like it or not. I don’t have perfect control over mine. I wish there were things I had done differently.” People you could have saved. People who you accidentally hurt. “You tried suppressing it, but that only made it explosive once it was actually let out. We can try to make it so you can live with it. Even if you don’t use it, at least you can control it.”

Vanya bit her lip and drooped her head, her hair falling in curtains around her face. You were curious about what her thoughts were. The furrow between her brows tensed and untensed in a way you knew her answer to the proposition was continually changing.

“Vanya, I’ve gone the self-destructive route to try and drown the voices out,” Klaus chirped up in the silence, his compassionate tone odd to your ears. From the corner, he strolled past you and rested a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “But I’ve never experienced quiet so fully until they put their field around me.” Soft eyes met yours as he added, “I never thought it was possible. It’s all I ever wanted.”

Holding his look for a moment, you weren’t quite sure what to say. You’d never really been… praised for your gift. Whenever you tried to use it to help someone else, you’d get called a freak or something worse. Any other time, it accidentally (well, purposefully sometimes) harmed someone. You could tell Klaus was sincere. Listening to the voices of the dead so much must be harrowing. You never really gave much thought about spirits and their presence, but for all you know, there could be multiple in the room with him at any moment. Always in pain. Always sharing that with him.

All you could manage to offer in response was a gentle smile before you tipped your head back to look at Vanya. “You don’t know me. I can’t ask you to trust me to do this. But why don’t you stay with me for a bit anyway? Klaus will be there, and you can come and go as you want, the others too. I’ll show you a couple of things I can do with the force field, and when you’re ready to test it out, we will. This is in your hands, Vanya. You’re in control.”

That’s all people like us could ever want. Control. Certainty—

Understanding.

“I already called sharing the bed with Trouble, just so you know,” Klaus said.

Although, it seemed your understanding clearly had its limits.

“If you did that, I would have to burn my bed so I didn’t get fleas. How about I get you a nice doggy bed instead?”

That got a grin out of Vanya, and when Allison added, “I think a flea repellent collar would be a wise investment as well,” her smile grew a little more comfortable.

“very funny, really, ” Klaus muttered.

“Okay. I’ll come with you,” Vanya finally conceded, reaching over to set her cup on the nightstand. “I’m— I don’t think I’m ready to try it out yet, but I guess if I do lose control again, having you there will be a good safety net?”

“We’ll all be your safety net this time.” Allison’s tone was earnest, remorse and care wrapped up on one. “I promise.” She sat on the bed and Vanya gently rested her head on her shoulder.

Whatever had gone on with this family, whatever tragedy had occurred in the past or with the current ordeal, seemed to be mending. You were kind of in awe staring at the scene. You had never known this kind of support since your father, and even then, you were so young that your memories of those feelings of comfort had faded. You lived alone. Didn’t really have any lasting friendships. You had the old couple across the hall who you played cards with at least once a week— though you were pretty sure they cheated every single time— but that wasn’t even close to what the Hargreeves had.

Family.

Standing back up, you heaved in a heavy breath. “I’ll leave you to pack,” you offered with your best shot at a cheery smile despite the sudden growing muck (jealousy, sadness, regret) festering through your veins. “Would you mind if I use the bathroom?”

Allison started to talk, offering you directions before Klaus interjected, “I’ll show you where it is.”

You were going to argue that you were perfectly capable of managing directions in the single apartment, but he placed his hand on your back and was quickly ushering you out of the door and down the rest of the hall.

“You really okay with doing this?” His questioned jarred you, eyes widening as you stepped away from his touch.

“Klaus, are you kidding?” You shot back, your exhaustion entrapping your exasperation in one low, breathy air. “I didn’t see you caring about that when I had originally said no multiple times.”

“You didn’t have that,” he stalled, struggling to come up with words as he haphazardly waved his hands in front of your face, “that look before. You looked sad when Vanya said she would come.”

Ah. You thought you’d shielded your face away from what you had felt. Strange that he would pick up on it. “It’s fine, Klaus. I want to help.”

Klaus didn’t look so sure, but he was also resigned enough to accept that answer. It was the truth anyway. It was a brief second of allowing yourself to feel bad. We all had those. A desire for something else someone has, for love, for care. But maybe this situation would help. Helping someone else, someone relatively similar to you, given the fucked up freak birth that messed up all their lives, would give you a sense of purpose.

“Can I ask you something, though?” You said, biting the inside of your cheek in a sort of nervous gesture.

“Yeah, sure,” Klaus prompted, curiosity lowing his eyebrows as he slightly tilted his head.

“Did you mean what you said in there? Did my blocking your power really help you that much?” You just needed to know. He looked so earnest, almost… desperate to experience it again. You felt seized by a sudden warmth. You just wanted to experience that again, whatever that was. To feel like you had done right.

“Trouble, you have no idea how much that helped. I meant what I said,” his tone turned almost affectionate, his eyes almost pleading with you to believe, “It really is all I ever wanted.”

And suddenly, the warmth that you hoped would have a growing familiarity in your body came back. However, there was something else there, nagging at the back of your consciousness, that you couldn’t quite grasp. It almost felt like concern or empathy, but there was something more. Despite Klaus’s kind words, there was an undercurrent of sadness to them. The man in front of you, who sometimes seemed so much younger and fragile than what he was, had been through hurt. You could recognize it. You had the moment you had met him and all the Hargreeves. But you were finally beginning to fully comprehend what his particular sadness was.

“It’s horrible to have been forced with a burden that could probably do so much good, but we just haven’t been able to see it.” You murmured, speaking your thoughts out loud without really meaning to. “All of you guys were forced to do good with your powers. Be the good guys, get the bad ones. That in itself was another burden just on top of it. You were kids. You never got to experience normal lives and have your powers adjusted to fit normalcy. I guess I’m lucky in that regard.”

You didn’t really know what you were saying. Just looking at Klaus’s face and the emotions you couldn’t read had you spewing words so freely that surely he must have thought you to be the erratic one now and not him.

“Sorry,” you laughed lightly, trying to break the tension. “I guess I’m just trying to say, if my power can do good by helping you guys out, then I’m happy. Whenever things get too noisy, just let me know and I’ll try and drown it out for you. Maybe just… living for a while, not stressing about your next plans, will help too.” You could try to provide some sort of normalcy in your shitty little apartment, with shitty cable, and an even shittier view.

“I’ll do that,” Klaus’s voice was so quiet you barely caught what he had said. “Thank you.”

Averting your gaze to the floor, you rubbed the tip of your nose with the back of your hand and stood in silence for a few moments.

“So uhm. Where’s that bathroom?”

“Oh, shit! Ah, yeah, just down the hall and to the right off the kitchen,” Klaus laughed, tension easing.

“What, not going to lead to it?” You teased.

“No, I think you can manage pretty well,” he smirked, before walking off into one of the adjacent rooms, probably to go pack.

What a shame. You’d probably have to burn all his clothes before they touched your carpets, now that you thought about it. You know, because of the fleas and all that.

[shinsogi]

[ ☾ ] He’d been dozing off, covered in now already mostly dried blood. The best part of it was not his, he had not been that reckless. But a well timed dying strike from the werewolf he’d been fighting had hit a vulnerable spot, leaving the dhampir weak and unable to heal himself on the spot. Changing back was also out of the question. It would seem he had underestimated the fight and got to reap the consequences. A helpless wolf, lying there, still bleeding and almost losing consciousness. Sleep would help, but his still alert senses told him someone was around, so not even this was permitted. Yet. Maybe they would just consider him beyond help, and leave him be.

@thebloomingrosefamily - Sa’mir

[historiestold-a]

@everythingheard for steve!

something had shifted, slowly at first and then all at once as the air around her had been charged as she’d walk through the streets of paris; it was in the way the winds blew and skies were electrified, the way the water called to her as she basked in apollo’s light at the beach and in the way she’d watched waves crash against sand. it had been building for some time, in small ways until she’d peered back into the eyes of animals which seemed to watch her closer and closer as days past. the owls were not what they appeared. nor were the others. it had brought a kind of awed reverential smile to her features. rebirth was upon the world, upon her as she remade herself in the public eye, a warrior having accepted her duty to a world filled with light and darkness but beautiful in it’s imperfectness. it is this feeling which brings a lightness to her features as heels click upon floor, crystalline sunlight refracting through the museum’s entrance. a greeting is granted the security officer at the staff door, diana questioning how his vacation with his family had went (her having made it clear when she had revealed herself to the world she was not to be treated differently). 

it’s later that day which finds a cell phone buzzing across a wooden work station, a new text message from bruce wayne crossing the screen and two previous ones from barry allen unopened. a series of aerial view photographs are tacked onto a board displaying the city of pompeii with various post-it notes and transparent sheets marked on the northeastern section of the city. an excavation of the regio v section had recently uncovered new findings with special attention granted a thermopolium which was among at least eighty other similar ones. on the table under her phone are splayed pictures and papers detailing frescoes of gladiators in combat, a nereid riding a seahorse, and a dog on a leash. the excavation team suspected the dog skeleton which was found to be that of the shop’s owner who had also been discovered in his bed and diana had been reviewing what had been unearthed in preparation for some items to be transferred to the museum for further study. so engulfed in this endeavor is diana that she gives little notice to bruce’s message questioning if she had any information on the sudden influx of violent incidents on her side of the world, or to the shift in air or the rustling of papers, or even the way the doorway opens and closes except to offer a file to whoever had entered without looking up, surely it was the intern. “look at this and tell me what you s--.” she is unsure what prompts her pause, or the hesitance in which she brings her gaze upward, however, when she does, a million expressions play across her features all at once, settling on what perhaps may be unexpected. 

“it is not possible. who are you?! what is the meaning of this?” diana’s tone is disbelieving, angry even as she stands from her stool with such force it knocks it backward. she has already played the fates’ cruel games and refused to allow them to take anymore. this trickery would not go unpunished. a step forward is taken, eyes narrowing as seas rage deep within her hues. hand moves toward her hip, the golden prefect hidden from view though always there. hand shakes as she releases it toward the man with the face of her greatest love, becoming steadier as it lands around him. “who are you to dare and come here? who are you to dare and appear as him to me?” she allows her hold to pull the prefect tighter, until his words cause her lips to shake. has she not dreamed of this even on those long nights helping--- no, none of that mattered now. the lasso of hestia compelled the truth to be revealed. it could not lie anymore than the man.. than steve could to her now. prefect is dropped, motion so fast as she allows herself to embrace steve trevor that it sends them steps backward. “i can not bare to lose you again, steve trevor. how is this possible that you stand before me? you must promise me this is not a dream.” what cruelty disguised in happiness was being played upon them?

[xadoheandterra]

Series: Semblance Title: Patriciate Fandom: Jak and Daxter Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI Characters: Jak, Daxter, Samos, Keira, Kid!Jak, Ashelin, Torn, Tess Tags: Worldbuilding, Accidentally King of Haven!Jak, hurt/comfort, things go wrong, things get better, things get worse again, slow build, slow burn, slow to update, cross posted, fantasy racism, canon divergence, been meaning to share this here Summary: “It’s yours,” Jak said softly. “Keep it…remember where you come from. At least one of us should remember….”

If Jak knew the consequences of that one, selfish choice…well, he’d probably have made the same decision either way.

Bloodlines mean a lot to any Havenite, whether you were actually born in the city or not.

Jak let the sounds of the Naughty Ottsel wash over him. He kept his forehead down on the table surrounded by his arms, a glass of whatever Daxter grabbed for him from the bar in his hands. Occasionally his ears twitched as he registered a conversation from elsewhere in the bar, but for the most part he let his mind drift in a sort of laze reminiscent of his time on the beaches of Sandover. Here Jak remained simply Jak. Not King Jak. Not Jak of the House of Mar. Just simple, old Jak who happened to absorb dark eco like water and turn into a monstrous beast when angry.

Jak never felt more grateful that only a select number of people even know about the kid, let alone the kid and him being the same person almost thirteen years apart.

“You know the Commander is looking everywhere for you?”

Jak huffed. “Isn’t everyone?” he grumbled, morosely, but didn’t bother to look up at the young Underground soldier Daxter all but adopted. He could hear her laugh faintly at his misery, or possibly at the irony of the situation. Jak sighed and shifted until his chin rested on the table. He debated the merits of nudging the drink over to tilt against his lips; could he maintain the necessary balance or would he spill the precious mixture all over the table?

“No one knows you’re here, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” she said. From this angle Jak could see her chin nestled in the palm of her hand, and he had to fight down a rather violent flinch. He couldn’t stop his ears’ twitch back, even if he could contain his facial reaction.

Fire-bright, darkly amused stared down at him; a face nestled on a hand with a grin he’d begun to loathe, a twisted smile, pain—so much pain, so much fear, hatred—he couldn’t stop it. He tried. He tried.

She sighed, shifted, and turned her head away.

“Sorry.”

Observant, Jak grumbled internally. He let his head fall back against the table, if only to hide the sudden burst of shame that wanted to grace his features.

“I know I look like him.”

Jak snorted.

“You and a prick,” Jak mumbled.

“Ain’t that the truth?” she laughed self-depreciatingly, and Jak could hear her tug up the red scarf that almost all members of the Underground seemed to wear. He wondered, not for the first time, if it actually marked them or not.

Jak also wondered if the red scarf he wore—the one now tightly wrapped up like a hood over his hair, the one he’d worn for over two years now—meant to foreshadow his eventual membership into the organization. Such thoughts inevitably lead down the road towards questions of his own independence—were his thoughts actually his anymore?—so he quickly stomped them down.

Still, Jak huffed another sigh and shifted to peer only at his drink, she made for decent company—her uncanny resemblance or not. He just wished she were less observant.

“You never ask for my name, you know?” she murmured. By the sound of the way the cloth moved, Jak figured she shifted her head in the direction of Daxter’s voice. Jak figured by the rise and fall of a story told it came from somewhere over by the bar itself.

“You don’t seem to mind Dax’s nicknames,” Jak shrugged, “and you don’t offer it.”

She hummed, tucked her feet up—probably towards her chin. She stood taller than him—everyone stood taller than him except for Tess, Jak admitted grumpily—but with better proportioned limbs than Jak’s gangly own.

“I’ve not really had a nickname,” she said. “Not one I liked before.”

“Dax’s good at ‘em,” Jak murmured, then shifted his drink closer to his face.

“You’ll get your clothes soaked doing that.”

“So?”

“Do you want to ruin your lovely red hood?”

“Drat.”

Jak let his head slip back down again, let the noise wash over him. Even her, the sound of her breathing and heartbeat, of her voice, he found more soothing than the time at the palace. He wondered if he could just sleep behind the bar at night instead of the plush bed Ashelin all but ordered him to use.

“Think Tess would mind if I slept here from now on?” Jak asked.

“I think it’s more if Lady Praxis would mind, instead.”

“Ashelin can shove it,” Jak grumped, and then opened his mouth to continue on when his companion tapped the table with her nails. It stood for the unspoken warning signal that someone grew close to listening distance who wasn’t aware of Jak being more than simply Jak.

“Hi,” his companion chirped, and Jak’s ear twitched to the sound of feet that thumped and thunked in an even rhythm.

“Hello there, firecracker,” Sig’s deep baritone eased what little tension that drifted into Jak’s shoulders away, and prompted Jak to raise a hand in greeting. “Hello there, cherry. You drinking yourself into a stupor?”

“I wish,” Jak growled. He sighed and sat up, gaze stubbornly and morosely on his drink.

Gorgeous, firecracker—whatever nickname people used for her in the moment—shifted over so that Sig could sit down beside her. Jak glanced up, took in the weary features, and glanced back down with a frown. Sig looked worse than the last time Jak saw him. How long ago had that even been? He remembered Sig at the party, but after that? Jak sighed again. He sighed a lot lately.

“You look troubled, cherry,” Sig arched an eyebrow, and Jak shifted one shoulder up. His arm twisted slightly, his brow ticked down—without Daxter no one really noticed the full meaning in the motion. “Boring, huh?”

“Close,” Jak mumbled, “and yeah, kind of. Not a lot to do, I guess.”

“Not a lot you’re getting to do,” Firecracker pointed out, and Sig arched the other eyebrow. “Commander Torn has Jak on ‘hero leave’ for the time being.” She even did the finger quotes and eye roll that Daxter would at the words, even added the little sneer. Jak would’ve called it cute, once, except now after all this time he found someone mimicking Daxter a bit creepy.

“That what he calling it?” Sig questioned with a snort.

“That’s what Dax’s calling it,” Jak corrected faintly, picked up his drink, and took a sip. Tess wandered over, dropped Sig off his drink, and then wandered away with a smile and a wink. “Torn calls it needed rest.” Jak scowled. Ashelin called it getting caught up on all the shit Samos should’ve taught, Jak internally grumped. Like he even really wanted the lessons to begin with.

Precursors he was the King of Hell. Jak dropped his head back to the table with a faint whine.

“I just want to shoot things in peace,” he sounded like a whiny teenager, damn him, but he hated politics.

“I hear ya,” Sig nodded, tipped back his drink, and sighed. “What with this crazy traveling embargo Haven’s got up and running I can’t go salvage crap.” Sig glanced to Jak. “Your friend Ashelin tell you anything about that?”

Jak huffed. “I’ve had enough of Ashelin right now, Sig.”

“That bad?”

Jak scowled at his drink, sighed, and stood up.

“I’m going to go find Keira,” he mumbled, and started off. He only paused when Sig called out, “By the way like your new headpiece!” For a moment Jak thought Sig meant his hair, then he remembered his scarf and grinned.

“Trying something new,” Jak shot back, and slipped out the door of the Naughty Ottsel.

Keira peaked her head out from underneath the zoomer she worked on when Samos went quiet. She’d just begun to actually fall into a rhythm to the tone of his lecture, so the sudden stop felt almost jarring. The aged sage stood tiredly, a contemplative frown on his face, gaze off in the distance. Keira sighed, pulled herself completely out from under the zoomer, and wiped her hands down with a rag.

“Daddy?” she asked, a faint tilt to her head in curious worry.

“Hm? What?” Samos jerked around twisted around, the logs at his feet clacked noisily on the metal-and-stone ground of the garage. “Ah, Keira. Yes, where was I?”

“Daddy are you okay?” Keira questioned. She set the rag down on the bench and walked over toward Samos, hands snapped out to grab him by the elbow. “Maybe you should sit down?”

“Keira I’m fine,” Samos brushed her grasping fingers away with a harrumph. “There is merely a lot on my mind, so much to prepare…so much you need to know!”

“I’m not going to take up anything political for a few years, daddy,” Keira pointed out carefully. “Just because you and the rest of the Underground decided to…push Jak into this doesn’t mean I have to suddenly do everything either. I’ve got a good job here, a good thing going…and after everything that happened this city needs a good mechanic and some decent distractions.”

Samos sighed and didn’t resist as Keira moved him towards the couch set up on the other side of the mechanic pit. Kiera had the thing installed after the fourth time Jak popped up with the kid out of nowhere, intent on hiding from KG patrols. There was even a bowl for Krieg, the crocadog—although where the darn thing got off to Keira didn’t know.

“I know, Keira,” Samos said wearily, “I just don’t want you to be unprepared. I didn’t anticipate this outcome, and….”

“…now Jak is floundering,” Keira rolled her eyes. “Yeah, daddy, I’ve heard the story. Daxter won’t stop about how you should’ve told Jak something—even if it was just stories.”

“I tried…I did, Keira,” Samos shook his head. “That boy never listened. In one ear, out the other—if only he listened then none of this would be the way it is!”

Keira frowned. She’d heard Samos make the same arguments, and yeah she understood his concerns. As kids Jak, Daxter, and sometimes even herself were quite willful. Jak and Daxter always got into trouble, always into a mess or a location they should’ve been well away from—a part of Keira worried about them, too—but in the years in Haven they’d grown up. They were stronger, older, and world-wearier than Keira even expected to see.

“Daddy…” Keira said softly, and nibbled on her lip. “We’ve…put a lot on Jak’s shoulders.”

“He’s a strong boy,” Samos waved off her concerns. “He can handle it.”

“We put a whole city on his shoulders,” Kiera pointed out. “Sandover was one thing, saving the Sages was one thing, stopping the Acherons was one thing…it involved travel and danger and fear, but daddy? This is a city. This isn’t just the Sages, or the Acherons, or dealing with Lurkers. There’s so much to Haven and Jak…I think Jak needs a break.”

“He’s fine.”

Keira didn’t believe Jak to be fine. In fact he barely reminded her of the Jak she knew. Sure the zoomer races made her think of the times Jak helped her test the A-Grav, and the few times she saw Jak on the hoverboard—it was like Jak surfing on land instead of off the beaches of Sandover. There were little things, small snippets of the fourteen year old boy she knew, but the majority of Jak stood as a tightly wound ball that just waited to go off. Kiera didn’t like to admit it, but she feared Jak in a way now. She feared what Jak became, what had been done to Jak these years in Haven.

“Dax said he spent two years in the prison,” Keira whispered. “That he spent two years looking for Jak.”

“Probably did the boy a world of good,” Samos harrumphed. “A little solitude to think never hurt anyone!”

“Daddy…” Keira sighed. “I…don’t think that’s what prison was like for Jak.”

Erol never once mentioned Jak being in prison, back in the first year that she’d asked. In fact he seemed completely unaware of who Jak actually was, unlike during the races this past year. More times than Keira liked to admit Erol came into her garage, charm and wit in equal measure, just to ask her about the mysterious racer whose zoomer she worked on. Keira didn’t mind gushing to Erol—this was Jak, after all—and given Erol’s response at the time he obviously knew who Jak was.

“Be careful, Keira. Your friend is dangerous, more than you know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Samos waved aside her concerns.

“If you say so, daddy,” Keira mumbled, and not for the first time wondered how long Samos sat in the prison.

Jak never did tell her just where he found Samos, but given the haunted look in his eyes it wasn’t anywhere nice. Keira patted Samos hand, gave him a wane sort of smile, and shifted over to her zoomer.

“You go back to work, dear,” Samos sighed, “and I think I’ll head over to Main Town and the Palace District.”

“Oh?”

“I have to reintroduce myself to what remains of the sage lines,” Samos continued with a huff. “Now that they know what I did in my errant youth there is quite a lot to make up for. Not that what I did was wrong; dare I say half this city wouldn’t be around if it weren’t for the Underground!”

“If you say so,” Keira said offhandedly, and Samos hobbled his way out of the garage. Keira watched him go, lips pressed thin. She looked back to the zoomer, and then looked away. Too much noise in her head, too many thoughts and concerns. Too many memories.

“Keira, I mean it; be careful around Jak. He’s not the boy you knew.”

Keira closed her eyes.

“Neither were you,” she muttered to the memory, and stepped around the zoomer. Maybe tinkering with the precursor artifacts were a better idea. Zoomers, right now, had too many bitter memories.

Halfway towards the Stadium and Jak decided not to visit Keira’s instead. He turned his feet over toward Main Town, and from there toward the upper noble houses. He kept his walk toward the shadows and fingered the passes in his pocket. Over the year he’d gotten quite the collection going. Red, the original card he’d found, then green, and then yellow for the areas connected to the agricultural sectors. Once, somewhere in the middle of the year when his rage started to mellow into something a bit less uncontrolled, but still fairly feral, Jak was given a pass for the upper crust of Main Town.

Now Jak found himself in control of two, but then he never did mention the first pass to anyone but Dax. He picked out the two passes from his pocket and stared at them contemplatively. Vin, way back in the early days, actually manage to lock the passes together into a wallet and Jak meant to use it—he did—but he always seemed to forget about the thing somewhere. Ashelin gave him something similar after being named King—said he should keep it on him at all times. Jak stuffed it into the sock drawer back at the palace in disgust.

If a wallet Jak must use, then he’d use the one Vin gave him—wherever it might’ve gone. He trusted Vin over anyone else with matters of technology, if only because Vin made sure Jak could follow along. Sure a lot of what the older man said went right over his head for the most part, but the fast-paced speed talking always felt like a slice of home. The way his eyes virtually glowed when he finally took off his goggles, the way they swirled like liquid blue eco, felt familiar. It reminded Jak that eco saturated blood beyond dark eco still existed in the world. That there was more than just dark eco here if you knew where to look. It felt like a slice of heaven in hell.

A house, lopsided and more ‘old world’ compared to the metal walls set in square designs with neat and perfect gardens, loomed up ahead. It looked rickety, worn and well cared for, and still somewhat chaotic and stranger. Tubes, wires—electronic devices of some make or model that Jak couldn’t understand—poked out of holes and out of a couple of windows. The eclectic design felt reminiscent of the Blue Sage’s hut that Jak sometimes visited as a child.

Jak slipped out of the shadows and into the blinking lights of the house in front of him. He pushed open the gate, ignored the way it creaked and groaned, and slipped past the overgrown front lawn. The flowers were pretty, as were the weeds that had over taken it, and the few pieces of discarded technology that seemed to thrive with the overgrowth. Calmly Jak picked his way towards the front door, raised his hand, and waved with a sort of faint smile.

“Uhm, hi,” he said, and shifted nervously on his feet. “I’m…sorry I didn’t call ahead. I—” The door swung open before Jak could continue, and Jak closed his eyes. He took in a shuddering breath and stepped past the threshold. Behind him the door slid back shut, and when Jak looked up it was into the eclectic, electric eyes of the person he came to visit.

“Jak.”

Jak breathed out a heavy, shuddering breath. “Hi, Zoe,” he mumbled. “Sorry I haven’t called.”

Matriarch Zoe smiled softly, the drawn lines of her aged face gentle and caring even as she lightly brushed her fingers against the red of his scarf, as if to tuck invisible hair behind his ear.

“You came now, child,” she said carefully, “and that’s all that matters. That’s all he’d want.”

Jak nodded once.

“Tea?” Zoe asked. “I was making Vin’s favorite.”

“Yeah,” Jak muttered. “That’d be great.”

​

[hrina]

Hanging by a Thread (Thank God for Sewing Needles II)

PAIRING: Harry/Y/N RATING: R WORD COUNT: 9.4k REQUESTED: yes!

hi everyone!!! i finished my last exam not even a week ago, and i’m so excited to start writing again! think of this sequel as me extending metaphorical olive branch, lmao 😘 i worked really hard on this piece, and im v happy with how it turned out! this little series honestly feels like my baby lol. as always, if u like it, please don’t hesitate to leave me some feedback! and here is where you can find the rest of my masterlist. enjoy! 💕

p.s. thank u to the ppl who acted as my betas!!! @yes-daddy-i-willl, @harryonstage and @smokeinherperfume i appreciate u sm! 

~*~

The past few months have probably been the best of Harry’s life.

Of course, he’s still got his challenges—snooty events filled with pretentious people, a mother who is just a bit too difficult to please, a schedule that leaves very little room for relaxation and leisure.

But all of that means nothing when he gets you to laugh at his corny jokes and stroke his cheek with delicate fingers. There have been negatives in his life, sure, but they’re greatly outweighed by the newly-offered benefits that accompanied his confession the night of the gala.

Benefits which he’s currently enjoying.

“Fuck, pet,” Harry groans, gripping your hips tightly as he drives into you from behind. Your skin slaps against his, and the obscene sound only adds to the growing fire in the pit of his stomach. His eyes rake up your naked body, from the round perk of your ass to where your fingers are fisting tightly at the silk sheets.

Harry’s pace nearly falters when he realizes just how many times he’d dreamt of having you like this: wrapped snugly around him, in his bed, moaning out his name like a prayer. He digs his fingers into the plushness of your hips, groaning low in his throat when the tip of his cock reaches even further inside of you. Your velvety walls flutter around him and you bury your face into the mattress, whining loudly.

“You’re so deep,” you choke out, subconsciously beginning to move in harmony with him. Each time he drills forward, you push back, and it makes a deep, guttural sound echo in the back of his throat.

“Fuckin’ love this cunt,” Harry swears, wrapping his arm around you so that he can cup your pussy; his fingers split apart around where you’re both joined, and he grinds the heel of his hand into your clit.

You squeal, trying to simultaneously escape the contact while pressing back against him. The both of you are ravenous, hot and sweaty. Harry drinks you in, running his free hand down your soft side, from your shoulder to your thigh. He doles out a quick, sharp spank to your ass, and you moan in affirmation, wiggling your backside to encourage him.

“Knew you’d like that,” he grins, giving in to your pleas. “Always did love it when I pushed you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut. Harry has stilled now, allowing you to control the pace at which his cock fucks into you. You work your hips along his length, purposely clenching around him and giggling innocently when he groans. His hands fly out to your waist, steadying you so that he doesn’t lose it and cum right then and there.

“That’s not fair,” he growls, pinching your skin in admonishment. “Don’t wanna nut off just yet, love. Want you to cum with me.”

“Keep doing what you’re doing, and I will,” you moan. 

Harry smiles, his fingers finding your clit once more; he rubs quick circles into the nub as he takes back control, beginning to pick up speed again. The wet sound of skin against skin grows louder with each thrust forward until it’s drowned out by your sharp gasp.

“That’s it,” Harry coaxes, watching with dark eyes as the muscles in your back tense up. “Cum for me, darling. Give me a good one.”

His words are enough to push you over the edge, and you cry out as your orgasm washes over you. Harry grunts animalistically, throwing his head back when your cunt spasms around his cock. The heavenly sensation sets him off as well, and he releases a string of creative curse words as his mouth pops open and his eyes flutter shut. The knot in his pelvis explodes, and he hunches over you as he shoots hot ropes of seed into the condom.

For the next few moments, there’s only heavy panting and the shuffling of limbs. And then you laugh quietly, lifting your head from the bed and gazing up at him with twinkling eyes.

“That was really good,” you murmur; your lips curl up into a small, satisfied smile. “Even better than last time, and I didn’t think that’d be possible.”

Harry chuckles, pulling out of you slowly with a devious grin. “I’m full of surprises.”

You snort and push yourself up onto your knees. Your thighs shake a bit—something that doesn’t go unnoticed by him—as you turn around to face him. He’s in the middle of peeling off the condom, but you slip your fingers beneath his chin, angling his face up. He’s sporting a lazy, post-coital smirk, and a light sheen of sweat is apparent on his forehead. Without saying anything, you lean in, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. He sighs happily.

“I’m going to go pee,” you tell him, mumbling the words against his mouth. “And then I wanna cuddle. Is that cool with you?”

“Very cool.” Harry nods, and you grin. You slide off the mattress, your knees quivering slightly as you take a step toward the washroom. Harry bites his bottom lip, watching the way your ass jiggles with the movement and trying to quell the barbaric voice in his head that spurs him on.

He shrugs to himself. Fuck it.

A moment later, you feel a sharp smack on your bum, and you shriek in surprise, your hands flying down to shield the abused skin.

“Hurry,” Harry teases, beaming stupidly when you turn to shoot him an affronted look. You cackle and quickly speed away before he gets the chance to deliver another blow.

~*~

“Christ, woman,” Harry utters, tipping his head back against the wall of the small closet.

He’s not quite sure what’s come over you; fifteen minutes ago, you’d both been joking around, bumping hips while you raced to see who could fry an egg the fastest. The kitchens of the palace were quiet, with all the staff having gone home for the night. Harry knew that nobody would be down in the basement at two in the morning, and that’s why he’d suggested a little competition.

But now, he’s here: trapped inside a small storage room with his hands wound in your hair and your lips wrapped around his cock.

He really doesn’t know how you both ended up here. He vaguely remembers you laughing victoriously, sliding your fried egg onto a free plate and sticking your tongue out at him as he pouted. You’d won, and you’d celebrated by switching off the burners on the stove and grabbing his hand, pulling him into the nearest secluded space before kissing him frantically.

And now your tongue is laving up his shaft and you’re giggling softly to yourself while he grunts in pained delight.

“You gonna cum soon?” you whisper, pulling off of his cock so that you can press a quick kiss to his hip bone. Your hand doesn’t cease its movements along his dick, continuing to stroke him languidly. Harry nods, his lips parting slightly as he feels his thighs tense in anticipation.

“Don’t stop,” he breathes, rubbing his thumb against your temple. 

You smirk slightly, opening your mouth and tapping the head of his cock a few times against your bottom lip. You stick your tongue out, dipping it into his slit, and then Harry’s groaning far too loudly as he comes undone. You catch every drop of his release, swallowing enthusiastically before pressing one last kiss to his tip and tucking him back into his pants.

Harry’s out of breath when you stand back up, and he watches with tired eyes as you purse your lips to hide a proud smile. You yelp quietly when he grabs your face in his hands and plants a passionate, bruising kiss onto your mouth. Your fingers wrap around his wrists to keep him close, and for the next minute or so (which then bleeds into the rest of the night), all he can think about is how hard he’s fallen for you.

~*~

“We’re going to freeze to death, Your Lavishness. I hope you know that.”

“As long as we’re together, right?”

You scoff and roll your eyes playfully while Harry just grins at you. Two towels and a few blankets are bundled up in his arms, and you’ve got an extra few coverings draped over your left shoulder. You walk side-by-side, trying to appear as casual as possible whilst strolling through the basement halls. Harry nods graciously whenever a staff member from the kitchen passes you by.

You finally reach that same little nook in the wall. Harry peers around, making sure that no one is watching before he ushers you through the narrow door. You cough quietly when you step into the dark, dusty stone corridor.

“Ever think about renovating?” you joke, fumbling for your cell phone so that you can illuminate the way. You jump slightly when Harry’s right hand falls to your hip, guiding you along. Your cheeks warm at the contact and you smile to yourself, grateful that he can’t see your face from where he’s following behind you.

When you both finally reach your destination, you don’t miss the chill that bites at your skin (but of course it’d be a bit cool; it’s nearly February, and there’s a massive hole in the ceiling of the cave).

“We’re going to freeze to death,” you repeat. Harry shakes his head and laughs quietly. He makes his way over to the small pond in the middle of the cavern, dropping all of the fabric in his arms onto the ground. You snicker and do the same. Together, you both splay out the blankets and towels so that you’ve got a massive covered space onto which you can settle down. Once you’re just about finished, you stand back up, placing your hands on your hips and observing your handiwork.

“’S good, I reckon,” Harry says, smiling up at you. You return his dopey expression before crossing your arms over your body and tugging your shirt up over your head. Once you’ve successfully freed yourself of the material, you glance shyly down at him and bite your lip to conceal a giddy grin.

His eyes have gone wide, and his jaw is locked tightly in place. You cock an eyebrow, shooting him an expectant look.

“I thought we were getting naked.”

“Bleedin’—,” Harry doesn’t finish his sentence, instead scrambling to his feet. His fingers fly to the first button on his shirt, and he makes quick work of undoing each clasp. You watch with excited, hungry eyes as the expensive white fabric falls to the ground.

The two of you remove the rest of your clothes, shedding your pants and undergarments frantically. You’ve just unclipped your bra when Harry stumbles over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to yours. You both giggle into each other’s mouths, nearly tripping over a fold in the blanket below your feet.

“C’mon,” Harry murmurs, gently flicking your chin with his index finger. “I’ve already got goosebumps.”

“How unfortunate,” you reply dryly. “Whose brilliant idea was it to go skinny dipping in the middle of January?”

“It was brilliant, wasn’t it?”

“Shut up.”

Harry grins boyishly at you before pinching his nose dramatically and leaping straight into the pond. Your jaw drops, and you dodge the droplets of water that have gone flying thanks to his theatrical display. Harry’s head appears from beneath the surface and he stands up, splaying out his arms as though he’s expecting some sort of praise. The water reaches just beneath his pectorals.

“How is it?” you ask nervously.

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s actually fine, love. C’mon in.”

And he honestly doesn’t look cold or uncomfortable, so you take his word for it and jump in.

You soon realize that you’ve made a grave mistake.

“Holy fuck!” You shriek as soon as the water surrounds you. It’s freezing.

And Harry’s grinning.

“You dick!” you accuse, splashing him before wrapping your arms around yourself in a pathetic attempt to keep warm. “How did you manage to keep such a straight face?”

“It’s one of my many talents,” Harry replies smugly, and you scowl. You’re about to splash him again, but he quickly wraps his fingers around your forearms, stopping you before you succeed. “Smile for me,” he tells you, pressing his forehead against yours; he’s beaming like an idiot.

“Fuck you.”

“If you insist.”

You squeal with laughter when he grabs your thighs, wrapping them around his waist with ease. You’re still as frozen as ice, but Harry’s body heat is radiating off of his skin and lessening the chill.

“The water’s so cold,” you tell him, a mocking lilt infiltrating your words, “I’d be surprised if you were able to get it up.”

“Is that a challenge?” Harry asks, the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly. His eyes flick downward for only a moment, and he wiggles his brows at you. “’Cause you seem to be doing just fine.”  

You follow his gaze, only to find that he’s staring at where your nipples have hardened and pebbled from the low temperature. As if to prove his point, Harry pinches one of them softly, and you yelp, batting his hand away.

“My boobs aren’t the same as your dick!”

“Right about that, love.” Harry snickers. “They’re much, much better.”

“You’re—,” you break off when he ducks his head, beginning to pepper soft kisses to the skin of your neck. “You’re too cheeky for your own good.”

“But you like it,” Harry laughs hotly into your throat, squeezing you closer to his body. His lips are soft as they sponge pecks along your jawline, and you can’t stop the content sigh that escapes your mouth. You jolt slightly when you feel him begin to stiffen against your thigh, and your eyelids flutter shut.

“I’ll be damned,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. “You’re hard.”

~*~

When his sister had told him that there were ongoing preparations in the ballroom for the dinner, Harry hadn’t expected much. Perhaps a few members of the staff polishing the floors and dusting off the walls. He’d tried to wean more information from her, but Gemma had simply pursed her berry lips and shot him a look, as if telling him to go see for himself.

Once he pushes through the grand doors of the hall, however, he finds that his predictions had been very, very wrong.

There are several dozen employees milling around, setting up tables with crème-coloured sheets and sparkling silverware. Matching chairs are brought out and arranged in groups of eight around each placement. Harry looks to his right, watching as a team of individuals work together to roll out a velvet red carpet and smooth away any bumps and folds; the material spans from the very top of the staircase to about a quarter-way down the length of the room. There’s a tinkling sound from above, and Harry cranes his neck, his eyes going impossibly wide at the sight.

Oh, God.

They’ve brought out the good chandelier.

He hears a familiar laugh to his left, and his gaze falls on his mother, who is chatting casually with—of course—Marina.

“Mum!” Harry’s voice is uncharacteristically high as he makes a beeline in her direction. Anne catches sight of him and waves him over warmly, holding out her arms as he approaches.

“Hi, dear,” she says. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Harry rushes out, forcing a smile (though he’s pretty sure it resembles more of a grimace). “Hi, Marina,” he greets the other woman. 

Marina curtsies deeply, brushing her short black hair away from her face once she straightens back up. Today, she’s wearing a red dress with a slightly puffy petticoat and thick straps that rest on her shoulders. Naturally, her lips are painted the same shade of red, and when she beams happily at him, there’s that same smudge of lipstick on her teeth.

“Er,” Harry gnaws on the inside of his cheek, shuffling a bit awkwardly. He directs his next words to Marina. “Do you mind if I borrow my mum for a second?”

“Take your time.” She nods and curtsies yet again as she makes her exit, her short black heels clicking on the shiny floor.

Once she’s out of earshot, Harry turns to his mother, trying to decide how to properly articulate his thoughts. “Mum…,” he starts, but then his mind goes blank. Eventually, he sighs and regresses to the simplest question possible. “What’s all this?”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Anne places a dainty hand on her chest as she laughs. Harry mimics her, though his chuckle is far less carefree, and he knows that he must look absolutely lost.

“I just—,” he gestures to the commotion around the ballroom, “Is this all for my birthday?”

“You only turn twenty-five once, love,” Anne smiles, one of her eyebrows kinking up amiably. “I just wanted this dinner to be special; plus, it’s only a few weeks away! I thought we could get a head start on the preparations.”

“And I appreciate that, I really do,” Harry says quickly. He reaches for his mother’s hand and gives it a light squeeze. “But don’t you think it’s all a bit…too much?”

“Nonsense,” Anne chuckles, placing her fingers on his biceps and giving his arms a few reassuring taps. “It’s your birthday, dear. And it’s quite the milestone, too. Won’t you give a poor mother the opportunity to arrange a nice dinner for her son?”

Harry smiles slightly, leaning in and kissing her cheek. “I’m sorry,” he says once he pulls back. “I—thank you for all of this. I’ll let you get back to it.”

She beams and nods. Harry returns her expression, but his chest is tight and there’s an anxious knot beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. He backs away from his mother, and his grin slides from his face as soon as he turns around. His feet carry him out of the ballroom quickly, and he pauses just outside the double doors to gather his thoughts.

She’s good.

Harry shakes his head, running his hands through his dark hair. He subconsciously begins to fiddle with a strand that curls right below his ear, twirling it around his index finger.

The dinner is going to take place in just over two weeks, and he still hasn’t told you how he truly feels about you.

A maid pushing a cart of cleaning supplies passes him, bowing her head dutifully in greeting. Harry does the same and tries for a smile, but it’s not sincere.

He’s pretty sure that he’s fucked, and unless he can come up with a quick yet effective solution, that’s how it’s going to stay.

~*~

When Harry phones you later that night, you’re hunched over your bathroom sink, scrubbing the remnants of a charcoal exfoliator from your face. You accept the call and immediately put it on speaker, squeezing your eyes shut and bending back down so that you don’t drip water onto the floor.

“Hey,” you say over the sound of the faucet. “Sorry, I’m just washing my face.”

“How very sophisticated of you.” Harry’s voice is deep and thick, as though he’s only minutes away from falling asleep. You laugh quietly and rub your palms over your cheeks one last time before turning off the sink and reaching for the small towelette next to you.

“Okay, I’m done,” you tell him, pressing the soft fabric against your skin to dry off. “How was your day?”

“Was alright,” Harry says simply, and though you can’t see him, you know he’s probably shrugging his shoulders. “Found out that Mum’s throwing a massive dinner for my birthday—I tried telling her that it was all too much but then she pulled the whole ‘it’s a milestone’ card.”

“It is a milestone.” You smirk, and Harry groans.

“Christ, you sound just like her.”

You giggle, wiping any excess water from your hands before chucking the small towel down onto the counter. “I think it’s nice that she wants to do this for you,” you say, reaching for your phone. “Before her diagnosis, my mother threw me a huge party for my twenty-first birthday. It was actually a lot of fun.” You smile fondly at the memory.

You make your way into your bedroom, tossing the device down onto the duvet and pulling your shorts down your legs. One of the straps of your tank top has slipped off of your shoulder, and you quickly yank it back up before tugging at the covers and sliding into bed. You set your cell phone onto the pillow next to your head before reaching over to flick off your lamp. A moment later, everything is dark.

“That sounds nice,” Harry replies; you can hear the smile in his voice.

“It was,” you agree. “My uncle’s turning fifty this year, and I’m pretty sure she’s already planning something big for him. She wants it to be a surprise, but I don’t know how well that’s going to turn out, considering she’s staying with him. It’s kind of hard to pull a fast one on your sibling when you’re both, like, living under the same roof.”

Harry snickers, and you bite your lip. “Sorry,” you tell him, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m rambling.”

“No, no,” Harry says. “It’s okay, love, I don’t mind. How was your day?”

“Same old,” you hum. “But it wasn’t too hectic, which was nice. Although…,” you grin deviously, “I did get a call around noon asking if there was space for a very last-minute booking for tomorrow.”

Harry chuckles sheepishly. “I’m a bit of a procrastinator, alright?”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Piss off.” He laughs, and you join in. After your giggles have trailed off into silence, he speaks again. “Can I take you out for ice cream tomorrow night? I can wait while you close up.”

“You won’t have to wait long,” you jest. “You’re my last appointment.”

“Really? Brilliant, then.”

You snort quietly, unable to stop a smile from curling along your lips. You turn onto your stomach, folding your arms over the pillow and settling your head down over your wrists. The screen of your phone has gone dark, but you still stare at it dreamily, wishing—more than anything—that you could have Harry laying here, instead. You can picture his boyish grin, his sparkling eyes, his messy hair. He’d probably want to cuddle and force you to spoon him, and you’d pretend to protest for a few moments before inevitably giving in.

“I miss you,” you say softly, the words hanging in the still air of your room. There’s a beat, followed by a second of shuffling on the other end of the line, and then Harry sighs.

“I miss you, too.”

You purse your lips.

“I just saw you a couple of days ago,” you say plainly. You’re trying to make light of your words, trying to disguise the painful pressure that’s suddenly formed in your chest. “It’s kind of stupid that I’m already missing you, isn’t it?”

“No,” Harry tells you. The sincerity in his voice is nearly tangible. “No, it’s not stupid at all. I promise.”

You nod, reaching back to pull the duvet up over your shoulders. Harry exhales quietly, and you close your eyes as you ask, “You tired?”

“A bit,” he purrs. “You?”

“Same.”

Harry hums faintly. “You should get to bed, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, inhaling deeply. “Goodnight, Your Lavishness.”

He chuckles. “Goodnight, my love.”

~*~

“I really like this pattern on you.”

“Find it sexy, do you?”

“Honestly, yeah.”

Harry groans. “Don’t do this to me. Not here.”

You flash him a wicked grin, running your fingers up his thighs and batting your eyelashes innocently. You’re on your knees in front of him, and your behaviour isn’t making it any easier for him to keep himself in check. He’s fully aware of the handful of stoic men standing just outside the door, and as much as he would love to show you off, he’s decided that he wants your moans to be reserved for his ears only.

“We could be quick,” you murmur, hooking your thumb into the dip of one of his pockets. “I could be quick.”

“You’re killing me,” Harry says, grimacing dramatically. You giggle quietly, securing a sewing pin in place and pushing off from your knees. Harry holds out his hands and helps you stand, and you curtsy teasingly once you’re properly on your feet.

“Thank you, Your Lavishness.”

He just smiles, folding his thumb beneath your chin and guiding you into a long, sickly sweet kiss. You cup his cheeks in your hands and grin against his lips, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear with your pinky. Harry’s free hand falls to your hip, and he pinches your skin lightly over the material of your jeans. He laughs when you squeak and stiffen.

“Let’s go,” he tells you, peppering a few kisses to your forehead and along the bridge of your nose. “Gimme just a minute to get changed and then we’ll be on our way. I’m craving some of that cookie dough ice cream.”

You throw your head back and make a delighted sound. Your fingers run along the fabric of his lapels, tracing the design of vertical red and black stripes. “That’s the best one. Didn’t know I’d gotten myself a man of taste.”

“A man of impeccable taste,” Harry corrects. You snicker.

“Let’s not push it.”

~*~

“Oi, you had yours!” Harry lifts his ice cream cup out of reach when you try to jab your spoon into the cold treat. You laugh loudly, the sound echoing through the staircase of your apartment complex. Your place is located on the third floor, and you and Harry had both agreed to take the steps rather than the elevator (Harry’s telling himself that it’s because the pair of you need to work off the calories you’d just ingested, but in reality, he knows that it’s only because it allows him to spend a bit more time with you).

“I can’t help it!” You protest, grinning widely. “It was so good, I’m addicted now.”

“That sounds an awful lot like what you said after you first fell into bed with me.”

“Oh my God!”

“I’m joking, bleedin’ hell!” Harry races up the remaining few stairs while you chase him, swatting half-heartedly at his bum. You’re both in stitches and out of breath when you reach your door, and you fish your keys out from your purse while trying to curb your laughter.

Eventually, you manage to unlock the entrance. Harry’s still wheezing quietly when you tumble through the threshold and into the front hallway. You quickly remove your shoes and hang your purse and jacket against the wall before ushering him to do the same.

Your keys jangle when you set them down onto the kitchen counter. Harry takes a seat at the small island in the middle of your kitchen, placing his elbows onto the smooth surface and digging his spoon into what’s left of his ice cream.

“Want something to drink?” you ask, already beginning to rifle through your cabinets for glasses.

“Water’s fine, love,” he replies. “Thanks.”

“All that cookie dough got you thirsty?” You quip, shooting him a lopsided smirk. Harry chuckles when you slide a glass of water over to him. He picks it up and takes a hearty gulp before holding out the remainder of his dessert.

“Here,” he says. “Finish it off.”

“Are you serious?” Your face splits into a grin, and he can’t help but to return your happy expression. Your smile is just so goddamn contagious.

“I’m serious,” Harry affirms, laughing softly. “Take it, go on.”

You squeal joyfully, circling the island so that you can accept his offering and simultaneously press your lips to his. The action catches him a bit by surprise but he definitely isn’t complaining. You pull back slightly, littering small pecks against his Cupid’s bow and letting out dramatic smacking sounds with each kiss.

“You’re the best.”

“Am I?”

“Mm-hm. The finest man I’ve ever met.”

“Oi. Better stop that before I take you to bed,” Harry warns, feeling his cock give an admonitory twitch in his trousers. You simply smile, licking a scoop of ice cream off your spoon before flashing him a mischievous look.

“Is that a promise?”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re sat in his lap, your hips moving in slow undulations as his hands stroke up and down your back. Harry feels you shiver beneath his palms; his hands are a bit cold, contrasting dramatically with the warmth of your skin beneath your knitted sweater. You cup his face sweetly in your hands, your lips moving unhurriedly against his. He’s not sure if he wants to get you naked or if he wants to just stay like this, with his fingertips dancing along your skin and your satisfied sighs floating in the air.

“Do you wanna fuck?” you whisper, and Harry freezes, because…no.

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t want to fuck. He doesn’t want to make you cum and then pretend as though his feelings don’t run so much deeper than what’s been established. He wants to be able to whisper words of adoration against your skin and profess his feelings for you after the whole ordeal is over. He wants to tell you how much you mean to him. He wants to finally end a bloody phone call with, “Love you, bye.”

“Actually,” he grunts, his voice slightly hoarse. He places his palms on the cushions, pushing himself up a bit. “I was kind of hoping to first talk to you about something, if that’s alright.”

“Sure,” you reply easily, shrugging. You brush a strand of hair away from his forehead and poke the space where his dimple usually appears. “What’s up?”

“I told you about my mum throwing me that birthday dinner,” Harry starts, and you nod. “And I was just wondering…would—would you wanna go?”

“Okay,” you say, but Harry knows that the true intentions behind his request haven’t fully settled in.

“No,” he says slowly. “I mean…would you wanna go…as my date?”

You tense.

“As your date,” you repeat, as though checking to make sure you’ve heard him correctly. 

Harry nods, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously. You sigh quietly, sitting back a bit and running your fingers through your hair. The expression on your face is indecipherable, and Harry thinks that seeing you wear a mask of indifference is far worse than any amount of anger that could warp your features.

“Harry…,” you begin softly. Your eyes are sad, and he already knows where you’re going with this.

“You like me, don’t you?” He rushes out, nearly biting his tongue in his haste. When you hesitate, his heart drops into his stomach. “Don’t you?”

“I do,” you whisper; there are tears slowly gathering along your waterline. “I just—I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“For what?” He questions, nearly begging. “How’s it any different than when I took you to the gala?”

He doesn’t understand. It suddenly feels like someone has set his whole world on fire, and he can’t do anything but watch as the flames mount higher and higher and burn everything to the ground.  

“It’s very different and you know it,” you say thickly. Air escapes from your mouth in a trembling exhale. 

Harry wants to argue, but he recognizes that you’re right. The circumstances aren’t the same. His intentions aren’t the same. And he knows that the potential repercussions won’t be the same, either.

“I’m not ready to be in the spotlight,” you elaborate; your voice wavers slightly. “I—I’ve seen how the world works, Harry. They’d tear me to shreds.”

“It’s none of their business, is it?” Harry tries again, reaching for your hips, but you quickly slide off of him and stand up. 

He watches as you step back, trying to put as much distance as you can between the two of you. It makes his chest ache, and he feels like he’s choking, his throat closing up when he tries to regulate his breathing.

“It’s not,” you agree, sniffling gently. “But that doesn’t stop them, does it? And what about your mother? Your sister?”

“Gemma loves you,” Harry implores. “C’mon, love, you know that.”

“And Anne?” Your laugh is hollow as you shake your head sadly. “I’m no idiot, Harry. I know that she’s got her own opinions, and I don’t think she’d be very happy to hear that you’re fooling around with someone like me.”

“What do you mean, someone like you? What—?”

“Someone normal! Someone average.”

“Average,” Harry echoes; the word tastes vile on his tongue. “Love, you’re—you’re anything but average.”

“That’s not how she’ll see it,” you tell him, hugging yourself tightly. 

Harry’s heart is pounding erratically beneath his ribs. He places his palms on his knees and stands up, hoping that the abrupt move won’t scare you away. He’s half-expecting you to take another step back, but his veins flood with a touch of relief when he sees that you’ve stayed rooted to the spot.

“You’re not average,” Harry insists, raking his fingers through his hair. “And I’m not just ‘fooling around’ with you, Y/N, I’m bloody in love with you!”

And then it’s there, out in the open, available for you to dissect and analyze as you please. Harry’s eyes widen slightly when he fully processes his words, but it’s too late. The syllables hang in the air like dusty cobwebs; Harry feels like they’ve been printed out onto a piece of parchment and taped onto his forehead. You’re staring at him with parted lips and terrified eyes, and when you choke on a sob he wants to punch himself in the face.

“Stop,” you croak, shaking your head and holding up your hand. “Please just—stop.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, but it feels like he’s underwater, the words wobbling from his lips and muffled in his ears. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, I’m sorry,” you say, wiping at your wet cheeks with the back of your hand. “I just—I can’t do this right now. It’s not a good time.”

“Is everything alright?” Harry’s brows cinch together.

You wave off his concerns, trying to speak through your tears. “Everything’s fine. But I…I need some time alone right now, Harry. I’m sorry.”

He nods dejectedly, swallowing down the lump in his throat. 

“’Course,�� he mumbles. He’s trying to hold in his own emotions, but his eyes are itching with sadness and humiliation. “I’ll go.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, a fresh wave of tears spilling over your waterline. You cover your mouth with your hand to keep your cries at bay as you watch him walk away. “I’m so sorry.”

Harry doesn’t respond, because he doesn’t have to; the sound of your front door opening and closing rings louder than anything that he could’ve ever said.

~*~

“Hey.”

Gemma knocks after she’s already opened the door, which Harry finds silly. He turns over so that he doesn’t have to face her, instead giving her a wonderful view of his back, which is covered in a periwinkle silk pajama top. He grunts softly as he pulls the duvet up his body, clutching the luxurious fabric to his chest and smothering the left side of his face into his pillow.

“Hey,” he croaks back.

Gemma bites her lip before deciding to take the plunge. She slips through the gap in the door before shutting it quietly.

“You weren’t at the brunch,” she states. “One of the duchesses asked about you, but Mum said you weren’t feeling well, so…I just wanted to check in.”

“I’m fine,” Harry mutters. “Thanks.”

Gemma hesitates before barrelling through, because she’s never been one to avoid a problem.

“Did something happen?” she asks gently. She knows better than to confront him with a hard tone, because her brother has always been a sensitive grump. When he gets like this, it’s very easy to say the wrong thing and have him close up quicker than a beartrap. So, she chooses her words carefully, speaking them with delicate prose and never pressuring him to answer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s nothing.” His reply is muffled and monosyllabic. She’s about to give up and leave, but then he adds, “Just did something stupid, that’s all.”

That’s a good sign, Gemma decides, and she presses subtly.

“I’m sorry things are hard right now,” she starts. “If you need to vent, I’m here.”

“It’s alright,” Harry shakes his head slightly. “Don’t wanna waste my breath. It’s been a week, and she’s not called, so I’d say it’s a lost cause.”

“‘She’?” Gemma questions, taking advantage of her brother’s small slip. “Are you talking about Y/N?”

The stiffening of Harry’s shoulders tells her everything she needs to know.

“Did something happen with her?” Gemma probes, digging deeper. She understands that she’s treading far too recklessly; if Harry’s worries are uncharted waters, she’s navigating with a flimsy paper sailboat. Still, she persists. “Is she alright?”

“She’s fine.” Harry sighs before adding, “Least, I think she is; I dunno. She’s refused to talk to me, hasn’t she?”

“H,” Gemma says quietly, closing her eyes and rubbing at her temples. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Harry grumbles, curling into himself, and his sister knows that he’s through with their conversation. “I’m done talking about this,” he states, as though he needs to drive home his point. Gemma steps back and nods, even though she knows that he can’t see her.

“Alright,” she concedes. “I’m sorry, I won’t pry.”

“It’s fine,” Harry replies, his voice low and scratchy. “Can you please tell Mum that I’m still feeling shitty?”

She nods, because it technically wouldn’t be a lie.

“H,” Gemma calls out once she’s got one hand on the doorknob. “I wouldn’t worry too much, you know. She really fancies you; I can tell.”

At that, Harry peers over his shoulder, gracing his sister with his side profile. His eyes are inquisitive, and his lips are pursed into a fine line as questions whirl around in his head. He eventually settles on the simplest query imaginable. “You knew?”

Gemma snorts. “Of course. You lot really aren’t too subtle with how you ogle each other.” She pauses for a moment. “Pretty sure Mum’s caught on, too, but you know her. She likes to wait for confirmation before jumping to any conclusions.”

“Mum knows?” Harry’s voice rises an octave; his sister shushes him.

“Relax,” she says, “She hasn’t thrown a fit about it—at least, not to my knowledge. You really are quite dense, aren’t you?”

“Piss off,” Harry grumbles, but—to her surprise—he doesn’t turn back around. In fact, Gemma thinks that she may have even seen the hint of a small, relieved smile pull at his lips. She nods soundly before pulling open his bedroom door.

“You can mope around for the rest of the day, but tomorrow I want to discuss with you the guestlist for your dinner.” She fixes him with an expectant glare. “I’m assuming you want me to leave Y/N’s name on it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry echoes. There’s a hollowness to his voice, but also a hint of something else—gratitude, maybe. 

“Gem,” he speaks up quickly before she can disappear. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Gemma replies. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And then she’s gone.

~*~

Your day starts off exactly how it had the day before…and the day before that…and the day before that.

You wake up and for the first minute or so, you’re blissfully oblivious. You stretch and squeak and sigh contentedly when your joints crack. The past few mornings have been unusually nice, and you relish in the sunlight that streams in from your window. The space beneath your blankets is warm, and you wiggle your toes to urge some feeling back into your feet. A few inches away, your phone is charging on your bedside table (you know that you’re not supposed to leave it plugged in for the entire night, but it’s easier that way).

And then the memories from a week ago come rushing back, and you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut.

I’m not just ‘fooling around’ with you, Y/N, I’m bloody in love with you!

You squeeze your eyes shut, groaning loudly and burying your face into your pillow. If you could somehow strangle yourself with your own two hands, you would. You deserve it, anyway, you think.

You remember the night before everything had crumbled, when you’d asked him over the phone if it was stupid that you were missing him after only a few days apart from each other. Even then, the pair of you had been messaging back and forth and clinging to some sort of communication. You hadn’t been truly prepared for what it would be like to not speak with him at all for a full week.

You despise it, though. That’s a given.

You roll out of bed and decide to take a quick shower before pulling on your clothes for the day. Under the warm spray of the water, you soap up your body and watch childishly as the white lather drips from your fingertips. You hate that it reminds you of the way Harry would constantly shake out his wet hair whenever you both crept away to go skinny dipping. After the first instance, you’d both agreed to make it a habit, and you’d stuck to the resolution with a worrying amount of willpower.

You shake your head free of the recollection, quickly rinsing off and shutting the water.

As you rifle through your closet, your eyes land on the red gown you’d worn to the gala all those months ago. You freeze, trying to compose yourself. The lump in your throat proves difficult to swallow but, nonetheless, you manage. With a gentle sigh, you tear your gaze away from the ruby-coloured fabric and settle on a plain white V-neck and a simple navy blue cardigan.

You’re in the middle of tugging your jeans up your legs when your phone chimes with a notification. Leaning over, you unlock the device, and you swear quietly upon discovering that it’s a reminder from your calendar.

One week until His Royal Lavishness’s birthday!

You’d added a few emojis after the exclamation point, and with each party hat, balloon, and crown that your eyes skim over, a new crack forms in your armour. You quickly swipe your thumb to the side and disregard the reminder, turning off your phone and clearing your throat when the screen goes black.

That’s enough of that.

~*~

You’re just pencilling in a follow-up appointment for your last client of the day when the small bell above the entrance of the shop jingles pleasantly.

“I’m so sorry,” you call out politely, keeping your gaze trained on your computer screen. “I’m about to close up for the evening.”

“Of course, dear.” The woman’s voice carries a delicate lilt, and your eyes widen in shock. “This will only take a minute.”

Anne is quite literally glowing when you meet her gaze. You stand abruptly and bow your head, feeling a warm flush creep up onto your cheeks. “Your Majesty,” you say quickly, feeling your heartbeat accelerate beneath the cage of your ribs. “Hi, hello. Good evening. How are you?”

You’re rambling, and you couldn’t be more embarrassed. Anne laughs softly.

“Enough of that, darling,” she tells you. “Come here. Give me a hug.”

“I—okay, sure.” You gnaw anxiously on your bottom lip as you slip out from behind your desk. She holds her arms out and flashes you a warm smile. Despite the tension in your shoulders, her embrace is calming, and you feel yourself relax in her hold. She smooths her palms up and down your back and tilts the two of you from side to side. You giggle.

“How can I help you?” you ask, glancing nervously as a handful of men pile into the store. They’re all wearing black suits and dark sunglasses, and a coiled wire hooks a small device into their right ears. Their faces are unreadable, but being around Harry so often, you’ve learned that they’re fully capable of cracking a joke or two when the situation allows for it.

You shake your head slightly, trying to eradicate all thoughts of Harry from your mind. Now isn’t the time.

“Just felt like paying you a short visit,” Anne answers, pulling back and staring at you with piercing green eyes. You try to avoid shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. Not only does it feel like she’s peeling back every layer of your being, but her irises are identical to those of her son.

“How’s your mum?” Anne continues, oblivious to your internal turmoil.

“She’s good,” you reply, nodding. “Doing better than ever. How are you? How’s your family?”

How’s Harry?

It’s the only thing you care about, the most pressing question on the tip of your tongue. But you clamp your mouth shut before the words can escape, reeling in your yearning and trying to keep a level head. If you were alone with her, you might have dared to ask. But standing in front of several resigned, apathetic—and frankly, intimidating—men, you feel far too naked already.

“I’m doing alright.” The queen’s lips quirk up into a small, clever smile. “I’ve got nothing to complain about, really. Gemma’s wonderful, but she says she misses you. Harry does, too.”

Your eyes drop to the floor and stay there; you’re too ashamed to meet her gaze. Anne notices your sudden apprehension—humiliation is written all over your face. She steps forward, her fingertips brushing your wrist before she sets a comforting hand onto your arm, just above the crook of your elbow.

“I’m not one hundred percent certain of what’s going on with you and my son,” she starts. Your heart plummets, and your shoulders tense up as she continues. “But I do know that you haven’t been coming around as much, recently. And—coincidentally—Harry hasn’t been in too much of a chipper mood these past several days.”

You gulp.

Anne holds up her hands in mock-surrender. “I know it’s none of my business,” she says gently. “But I…I would like to see the two of you on good terms again. You lot were quite precious, if I’m being honest.”

You laugh softly, but it feels like there’s an elephant sitting on your chest. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She smiles. “And just know that you’re always welcome to attend Harry’s upcoming dinner, whether you want to or not. I hope to see you there.”

You flash her a small smile, gratitude and pain evident in your expression. Anne pulls you in for one more hug before bidding you goodbye, and you watch with stinging eyes and a tight throat as she exits the shop. The room suddenly feels impossibly tiny, and you glance quickly at the walls to make sure that they are, in fact, not closing in on you.

When the last of the queen’s guards slips outside, you’re left alone, standing in the middle of the small lobby and trying to keep yourself from falling apart.

~*~

Harry’s admiring himself in the massive, three-faced mirror in the corner of his bedroom when the door cracks open slowly. He watches through the reflection as Jeff pokes his head into the room while tightening the black tie around his neck.

“H,” he says gruffly, his expression unreadable. “You’ve got a visitor.”

Harry nods at him and leans in, skirting his thumb along the corner of his lips to make sure that there’s no excess lip balm gathering along the edges of his mouth. There’s a dull pain thrumming beneath his sternum, but it doesn’t worry him as much as it normally would. In fact, he’s pretty sure it’s one of the side effects of a broken heart.

He had been trusting that this past week would be easier without you, but his hopes were dashed quite rapidly. Everything reminded him of you.

He’d scrolled through his phone for hours, one night, reading over your previous conversations and trying not to let his tears drip onto the screen. He hasn’t even touched the playlists you’d previously shared with him, knowing that he’ll end up associating every song with some part of you. He’d lied to his mother about feeling sick for five days straight, but he’d finally called off the ruse when she’d declared that she was going to head into town herself and return with some medication. And he hasn’t been back down to your “spot” since the night everything went to shit, leaving the small cave abandoned and alone.

Harry sighs. He’s obviously no good at dealing with breakups.

Does this even count as a breakup?

He honestly doesn’t know.

He’s fiddling absentmindedly with the lapels of his pinstriped suit when a slight movement in the mirror catches his attention. His breathing stops, and his eyes grow unfeasibly wide as he watches someone step into the room.

Speak of the fucking devil.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

You’ve definitely achieved a perfect score with your outfit, decked out in a pretty black dress that reaches a few inches above the knee. The long sleeves are lacy and end right at the crook of your arm, leaving your shoulders bare. In one hand, you’re gripping a small silver clutch; in the other, there’s a bright yellow gift bag with blue tissue paper sticking out of the top. Harry watches you shuffle nervously in your black, strappy heels, his heart hammering wildly beneath his ribs. You’re gorgeous. You’re absolutely beautiful.

And you’re here.

“Hi,” he chokes out, meeting your gaze in the mirror. He quickly realizes, however, that he’d very much prefer to see the real thing, so he spins around and faces you properly. 

You approach him slowly, stopping when your bodies are only a few feet apart.

“How are you?” you ask, gnawing anxiously on your bottom lip. Harry opens his mouth to respond, but then you shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut, seeming to silently reprimand yourself. “Sorry. Stupid question.”

And then you’re thrusting out the hand that’s carrying the gift bag, the action robotic and abrupt. The sheer blue tissue paper crinkles with the movement, and for a few long seconds, it’s the only sound in the room.

“Happy birthday,” you whisper, the words feeble as they roll off of your tongue.

Harry clears his throat, tucking a curl behind his ear and gingerly taking the present from you. He tries to ignore the way his skin tingles knowingly when his fingers brush against yours. “Thank you,” he murmurs, gently toying with the edges of the bag.

“You can open it,” you tell him, and Harry’s worried that your lip is going to split open from how hard you’re biting down on the soft flesh. You continue, beginning to ramble. “I wasn’t really sure what to get you, because how do you shop for someone who’s already got everything, you know? So, I—,” you shrug, “I just figured I’d make it myself.”

He pulls the tissue paper to the side, fumbling for a fleeting second before his hand bumps into something soft. Harry grasps it and pulls it out, studying the object carefully.

Clutched in his fingers is a small throw pillow, no bigger than his hand. It’s rectangular in shape and ivory in colour, so pale that it’s almost white. Along the edges, you’ve carefully sewn a simple lace trim. And in the middle, embroidered in red, the word LOVED stands out in capital letters.

Harry stays silent, admiring your handiwork. It’s clear that you’ve dedicated a lot of time and effort into the cushion—each stitch is perfectly placed, and the needlework is meticulous and nothing short of impeccable. He runs his fingers along the lace border, marvelling at the softness of the material. There’s a lump in his throat, and try as he might, he can’t seem to swallow it down.

You take his silence as disappointment.

“I thought you might like it,” you say hastily, playing with the silver bracelet on your wrist. “I know you’ve got those pants with that same design—and you wear them all the time—so I just assumed…yeah.” You catch your breath, fixing him with a fretful look. “You hate it, right?”

“No,” Harry says immediately, his head snapping up. He stares into your eyes, shaking his head earnestly. “No, not at all. It’s—it’s incredible. Truly.”

“I just thought you should have something else,” you start, swallowing heavily. “Something else that reminds you of—of how loved you really are. Anne loves you; so does Gemma.” You inhale shakily. “And so do I.”

The little bit of air residing in Harry’s lungs is quickly lost when he processes your words. His breathing hitches quite audibly in his throat, and he studies you with intense, piercing eyes. You stare right back, and he finds nothing but sincerity beneath your gaze. He’s never seen you so vulnerable.

“You do?” he asks, but the question actually sounds like more of a statement. You nod vehemently—your eyes shine with unshed tears—and bless him with the confirmation that he needs to hear.

“I do.”

And then he’s kissing you, and you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and whimpering against his lips and trying to get as close to him as possible, and everything is perfect. Harry’s got your face in his hands, your mouths convening with a bruising force. He swallows down your soft cries of relief and fights to keep his own tucked away. Your fingertips dig into his back and you pull him in until there’s not enough room to slip even a piece of paper between your chests.

When you both finally break apart for a much-needed gulp of air, Harry presses his forehead to yours, squeezing his eyes shut. He’s trapped in his own head and then promptly wrenched from his thoughts when he realizes that you’re speaking.

“I’m so sorry,” you’re prattling; he doesn’t miss the crack in your voice. “I just—I needed to think. I’m sorry it took so long; it’ll never happen again—”

“Shh.” He soothes you, stroking your cheekbones with his thumbs. “It’s alright, love, I promise.” He shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief. “God, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you confess, playing inattentively with his hair. You reach up to wipe a smear of lipstick from his mouth. The plum colour stands out against his pink lips, and he nips teasingly at the pad of your finger, making you giggle softly. A long beat of silence ensues, and neither of you bother to break it, basking in the solace of the other’s proximity.

Eventually, you’re the first to speak up, but your voice is gentle, as though you don’t want to disrupt the serenity in the room.

“Thanks for leaving my name on the guestlist, by the way,” you murmur. “I would’ve looked really stupid, otherwise, just standing outside with a gift bag and this whole speech ready to go along with it.”

He snickers, shaking his head. “Was praying you’d show up. Last hope and all.”

“I’m here,” you tell him, squeezing his shoulders. His warm breath fans out onto your chin—a gentle reminder that he’s here too—and you sigh in delight. “You look so handsome.”

Harry can’t keep the smile off of his face. “Thank you. I’ll give your regards to the tailoress, yeah?”

You chuckle bashfully.

“You look absolutely magnificent,” he continues, his words keen and ardent. “Took my breath away the second you walked in. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“I am.” You nod, pulling back and gazing up at him with heartfelt eyes. His palms find your cheeks again, and he feels your jaw move beneath his touch as you speak. “I love you, Your Lavishness. I’m yours.”

And Harry really doesn’t know how to convey his newfound joy, so he just kisses you again.

 ~*~

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[thestorytellerofkpop]

The Steps in Finding Love; Patience

Title: The Steps in Finding Love; Patience 

Word Count: 7.2k+

Rating: T with eventual M

Genre: Realistic fiction, slice of life, drama, fluff with eventual smut

Warnings: Smoking, Established member x member relationship, angst that heals, bad made up makeup names and references, mentions of bad past relationships, a supportive yet sassy maknae line. This is part two of a four part series.

Pairings: Female Reader x BTS members, Jimin x Jungkook (Jikook)

Summary: “Mama said the next step was always the worse for the women in our family, and that step, was patience.”

1, 2, 3 (coming August 9th)

Tonight was the night. Tonight was the launch of the Cake palette you and your team worked tirelessly for, for months. You worked through the pain of your breakup until you passed out from exhaustion, filling the painful and broken void of your heart with the struggles and stress of work. You worked yourself to the bone up until tonight, making sure everything was in place for the party and informing security that Kim Seokjin was removed from the guest list and shouldn’t be allowed entry under any circumstances. Eventually Taehyung’s words started to make sense to you: you felt enlightened now that you’ve experienced a real heartbreak. The amount of tears that you cried grew less and less with each passing hour and day of work until you couldn’t come up with a logical reason to cry anymore. And the pain? Well, most of it was gone. But then again, no one ever really gets over the pain of their first real heartbreak, do they? Now here you were with your three friends in Jimin’s and Jungkook’s apartment, getting ready for the night of celebration.

“Babe, you need to chill.” Taehyung pursed his lips at you, bopping the eyeshadow brush he held against your nose. “I’m gonna ruin your makeup if you keep shaking like that.”

“Sorry Tae,” you said absentmindedly, playing with the hem of your bright turquoise dress. “I’m just nervous.”

“About the party or about you-know-who?” Jungkook asked from across the room, carefully applying Jimin’s eyeliner. He smiled and clicked his tongue when he was done, holding up a mirror to show Jimin his work.

“Beautiful as always Kookie.” Jimin smiled, straightening out his husband’s tie before moving to sit next to you. 

He held your hand, and the warm gesture made you relax enough to allow Taehyung to finish applying your bright white eyeshadow, the shade you dubbed ‘Bavarian Cream’.

“Y/N. It’s been three months honey. If Seokjin was going to try something he would’ve done it by now.” Jimin tried to calm your nerves.

“Yeah, I’m surprised he didn’t pull our distributor out from under us.” Jungkook chuckled, touching up his smoky eye look.

“Seokjin may be a jerk, but he isn’t as low as to destroy our business. He believed in us, believed in me.” you felt tears well-up in your eyes from the fond recollection and before they could fall Jimin and Taehyung were on you in an instant.

“Nuh-uh babe, no tears tonight. This is a happy night! And if you cry you’re gonna ruin your look.” Taehyung fussed, placing a tissue under your eyes to catch the stray tears.

“Oh honey. You’re too good for that asshole. I know you loved him, but you’re so much better than he is.” Jimin kissed your knuckles in reassurance. “Prove that bitch wrong, Y/N. When he sees pictures of tonight’s launch he’s going to be wishing he never cheated on you.” you laughed at Jimin’s exuberance, nodding your head at him. 

“You’re a motherfucking woman, you don’t need an ass like Kim Seokjin to make you happy! He’s not worth your tears or your time. He’s just a scrub compared to you; a self-made, independent business woman who don’t need no man.” Jimin snapped his fingers at you, making a new wave of giggles expel from your lips. 

“You’re right Jiminie. I’m gonna prove him wrong.” you spoke with a newfound confidence the boys haven’t heard you have since the breakup, and they all smiled at each other. 

“That’s my girl.” Jimin squeezed you hand in determination. “Now, let Tae finish you up so we can leave and celebrate!” Jimin cheered, allowing his husband to place a kiss on his colored lips. You smiled at the boys, turning back to Taehyung with confidence in your eyes.

“Make me look like a bad bitch, Tae.” he giggled at your words, giving you a boxy grin.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do girl!”

You chuckled as Taehyung finished up your eyes, and you made funny faces at him when he put on your highlighter and blush (”Only the best of the V line for you, my dear”). You looked at each of your boys and pride swelled in your chest at how far you all have come. They all looked radiant.

Jungkook was the simplest of the group; his brown hair was quaffed and his foundation was basic, but his eyes were dark and smoky with underlying sins and promises, and his suit was form fitting with a black tie to match. Jimin was pristine. His eyes were in the deep matte purple of the famous ‘Mixed Berry’ color from Cake, his eyeliner was a rich blue that came from his own collection and his mouth held a nude lip color that he was touching up from the kiss he shared. He wore all white, drawing more attention to his eyes and freshly bleached-blonde hair. And Taehyung? He was absolutely gorgeous. His eyes reflected that of a sunset: the reds, oranges, and yellows from all your palettes blended in to create a cacophony of color that matched beautifully with his red hair. His full bodysuit was red as well, and even though it was a women’s cut, Taehyung’s curves and ass filled it out perfectly. His custom made six-inch heels from Gucci were drool-worthy, made with red velvet material so that he “Could walk the red carpet all the time”. His lips were thick and blood red from Jungkook’s Devil line, and you prayed for Taehyung’s boys for when he returns home that night, because god damn if you didn’t jump your friend, you knew his boys would.

“And…there! The most beautiful one of us all, is complete.” Taehyung flourished, turning you around to meet the gaze of Jimin and Jungkook. 

Your eyes were white with glitter and a sparkling liner to boot, shining wonderfully against your bright turquoise dress. The dress was low cut, revealing the skin of your chest and thighs in the most seductive way. Your lashes were long and luscious and your cheeks glowed under the lights of the apartment. Your lips looked divine, the tint of pink Taehyung applied made your lips look natural, yet enticing to the eye. And when you stood and toed on your sparkling Betsey Johnson heels, you suddenly became as tall as Taehyung, spinning around to give the boys a complete 360 view. Jimin ‘ooo’ed and Jungkook whistled low in his throat.

“If I wasn’t gay I would be all over you Y/N.” Jimin said in awe, gently running his fingers over your cheek. “Taehyung, you did an astonishing job. Your technique is superb with the winged shapes.”

As Taehyung giggled and thanked the eldest of the group you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, and you knew it was Jungkook when he chuckled behind you, his hands splaying around your hips.

“Well, I’m not completely gay, so I have every right to hang off of my incredibly gorgeous friend.” You saw Jimin purse his lips at the man behind you and Jungkook whined softly. “Oh c’mon Jiminie, can’t we whisk her off into bliss for one night? They always say that two is better than one.” he teased. You rolled your eyes and removed yourself from his hold.

“I already told you Kookie, I’m not indulging you in your threesome fantasy.” you laughed as he pouted, crossing his arms like a child would.

“But why not?” he whined. Jimin sighed and linked his arm with Jungkook’s, a coy smile playing on his face.

“Because she doesn’t want to Kookie. You’ll just have to deal with me, your loving husband.” Jimin teased, pressing numerous kisses into Jungkook’s pouty cheeks.

“Children,” Taehyung sighed fondly, linking your arm with his. “Now c’mon, or we’re going to be late for our own event!” Taehyung guided you out the door and you couldn’t help but giggle at Jungkook who whined behind you, 

“Oh, so he can hang off Y/N but I can’t?! Totally unfair.”

~*~

“What kind of sick game is he trying to play!?” you yelled in frustration, causing numerous heads to turn towards you. Jungkook chuckled nervously at your outlandish display, guiding you towards the empty bar and away from the public eye.

“Get her a drink, anything, please.” Jungkook turned towards the bartender as you groaned in frustration.

The launch had been going smoothly. Everyone adored the palette, the media attention was great, and you and your boys were having a blast. But right in the middle of it all, when you were talking to the executives of Jancôme, your phone went off. Normally you would ignore notifications during events like this, especially one you worked so hard for, but it was Seokjin. It was Seokjin and you couldn’t help but excuse yourself from the conversation to peer at the Tweet he posted. Jungkook followed in confusion, asking you why you left so abruptly when you exploded, leaving him to guide you to where you were now.

“I can’t believe the nerve of this guy,” you huffed as the bartender brought you a glass of wine. You quickly chugged it down and asked for another before turning on Jungkook. “Look at this!” you slid your phone to him.

The main part of the Tweet was a picture of the four of you in front of the Cake palette display, right next to the actual cupcake display that the owners of your favorite cake ship in Seoul catered for the event. You all were smiling as the owners of the cake shop held cupcakes in their hands, the four of you holding the palettes like you didn’t have a care in the world.

“‘I’m so proud of @BeauVCosmetics for releasing their new #CakePalette, it looks good enough to eat! Almost as good looking as @y/n_l/n007 does in that beautiful dress, own it BeauV Team!’“ you read out loud to Jungkook, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Who does he think he’s fooling, trying to play it off as if we’re friends I mean c’mon! He’s just trying to get a share of the limelight we’ve taken from him and his Bloodlust line.” you shook your head, gripping your second glass of wine hard enough that your knuckles turned white. Jungkook chuckled nervously beside you, awkwardly patting your shoulder in some semblance of comfort. 

“Maybe he really is just trying to be supportive? I mean you said earlier that he believed in us and our business?” Jungkook tried to reason with you. You huffed, standing and grabbing your wine.

“I need some air.” and with that you left him, ignoring Jungkook’s calls of your name and to wait.

You took the elevator up three floors to the rooftop lounge, and once you were out in the open air you allowed yourself to scream in frustration, running a hand through your styled hair as you kicked off your heels. You took a deep breath, looking up at the open sky as you tried to calm the rising anger you felt. But no matter how many times you took deep breaths and counted the stars, you still felt angry. The rooftop was pretty, with lounge chairs and low lighted lanterns in the planter boxes of flowers and small shrubs, but your eyes traveled to the hot tub in the back corner. You marched over to the edge of the hot tub, sticking your feet in the searing water with a shiver as you took a sip of wine.

“I’d give that scream a solid eight.”

You jumped at the sound of another voice, placing your hand over your heart when you realized you weren’t alone. There was a man standing a good couple of feet away from you, leaning against the railing of the roof, and with the low lighting and nighttime sky around you, you couldn’t make out any of his features. How had you not noticed him before?

“You gave me a fright. I’m so sorry for screaming.” you chuckled, splashing the water around you with your right foot. 

“It sounded like you needed it.” he admitted, moving closer towards you as the low lighting began to illuminate his features. 

The man was good looking, extremely so. He wasn’t the traditional kind of handsome like Seokjin was, but he had is own unique charm about him. His cat-like eyes were piercing and when laced with the light, you could clearly read the nonchalant attitude they held. His lips curled up to his left cheek in a half-sided smirk as he sauntered towards you, plopping himself down next to you on the edge of the hot tub with his back facing the water. He tilted his head in your direction, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he offered, his gaze never leaving yours.

“It’s silly, really.” you admitted, staring into your glass of wine as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. You heard him chuckle next to you.

“Do you mind?” he asked, his long fingers wrapped around a pack of smokes. He raised his brows as you looked at the package, gently taking his lower lip between his teeth as he waited for your response.

“Go ahead,” you said. You watched as he put one between his lips, flicking the old zippo lighter he had until the tip of the cig burned bright amber. He puffed out a breath of smoke and looked up at the sky, his eyes wandering over the light of the stars.

“Whenever you want to talk, I’m ready to listen,” he smirked, bringing his attention back on you. “And I know you want to. I can see it behind the hesitation in your eyes.”

Your mouth fell in a gape when you turned to look at him. The man didn’t seem to care though, puffing at his cigarette in content as he looked back up at the sky. You pursed your lips as you mulled over your thoughts, idly kicking at the water. You had already embarrassed yourself in front of this man when you screamed, why not indulge him even further?

“It’s my ex.” you started and the man next to you snorted.

“It always is,” he said through a stream of smoke.

“He cheated on me with some random chick and we broke it off on bad terms. He hurt me and broke my heart when I was in a growing phase in my life and I’m just now getting over him. But then he tries to act like we’re close on social media, complementing me and my team like he cares about us or some shit. It’s fucking pathetic.” the man hummed softly, tapping his foot as he pondered his next words.

“Seems to me like you really cared about him.” you could tell this stranger chose his words carefully and you sighed in defeat, downing the rest of the wine in your glass for liquid courage so you could tell him the truth.

“I did. He believed in me, believed in us, before we were large. He was the one that got us our connections, our distributors, without him our business would be nothing. Without him, I wouldn’t know what pain truly felt like.” you admitted softly, blinking away your tears before the stranger could see you break. Silence greeted you for a few moments, and all you could focus on was the man’s puffs and the bubbling from the hot tub.

“Seems like you’re at an internal war with yourself. On one hand, you thank him for your success, but on the other hand he hurt you beyond the point of repair. You’re not really angry at him for putting on a façade for social media. Are you?” he questioned.

“No,” you sighed. “I’m not mad about that, not really.”

“You’re upset because you feel like he’s playing you, right? Using you for his advantage and knowing he’s over you even though you’re not over him.” the stranger sighed, dragging the nub of his cig across the titles of the hot tub to put it out.

“How do you know all this?” you couldn’t help but ask. The stranger laughed through his nose, looking over at you with a sad smile as the corners of his eyes turned up.

“Because I’ve been there before.” he simply said, chuckling as he pushed himself off the hot tub. “But you know what princess? Things get better. You live, you learn, and you heal eventually. Patience is but a virtue and you have to have a lot of it to heal a broken heart completely.” he held his hand out to you, helping you out of the hot tub with a surprising gentleness. He didn’t let go of your hand as he walked you to your shoes, bending down to pick them up and hand them to you.

“These aren’t my style, but y’know what they say. Every princess needs the perfect pair of shoes. Whether they are heels or Converse, it doesn’t really matter,” he knelt down, taking your foot in his hand as he slid on one shoe, than another. He stood up, grabbing your hands as a smirk laced through his lips when he saw that you towered over him. “As long as they have the perfect fit.”

This man’s words were disarming; you never met someone who spoke as eloquently as he did. And his smile was something else, reserved but open at the same time. He intrigued you in the best of ways and you wanted nothing more than to just sit and talk with him for hours.

“Who are you?”

The man opened his mouth to speak but before he could, the elevator dinged open and out rushed Taehyung, his heels clicking against the ground. You both turned to look at him and when he saw you two his eyes widened, his lips falling open in a soft gasp. You followed his eyes to where yours and the strangers hands were linked, quickly dropping them down to your sides.

“Y/N.” Taehyung broke the silence, moving towards you in swift steps. “We were worried sick. Jungkook came running up to us, saying you stormed off and we couldn’t find you anywhere-”

“Taehyung,” the stranger cut him off. “Y/N’s fine, she’s been up here with me. She just needed to vent for a little bit, isn’t that right?” the stranger playfully nudged your side

“Wait, wait, hold up. You two know each other?” you asked Taehyung, your eyes darting between the two men.

“Y/N, this is Yoongi-hyung, my plus one.”

“Taehyung invited me because he said I needed social interaction,” Yoongi smirked, looking up at his lavish friend. “And much to all our shock I did in fact engage in conversation, even though it wasn’t in the setting you expected, huh Tae?”

“I’ll admit I am surprised hyung. I’m proud of you.” Taehyung smiled, patting his friend on the back. “But c’mon back downstairs you two, the party is still alive and well and people are still dying to chat with you Y/N.” Taehyung grabbed yours and Yoongi’s hands, dragging you into the elevator much to both of your dismays. 

“So how did you two…?” your thought trailed off, wondering how two contrasting men ever came to be friends.

“Meet?” Yoongi chuckled. “At an art gallery in Daegu. Taehyung found me and he was utterly enamored.”

“Hyung,” Taehyung whined. “Don’t say it so lamely. When I heard Yoongi’s music, I knew that we had to be friends. I couldn’t just let raw talent like that walk away from me!”

“I made the music for the event,” Yoongi explained, noticing your confused look. The elevator opened back out into the party and Yoongi clapped his hands together.

“As much as I enjoyed this, I really should be on my way to the other guests. I enjoyed myself tonight Y/N, hopefully we’ll meet again.” he left you and Tae with a parting smile and a flick of his wrist, escaping into the throngs of people. You chuckled, stepping off the elevator with Taehyung, shaking your head.

“Oh, I know that look.” Taehyung frowned, his eyes squinting at the expression he saw in your face. 

“Don’t worry about it Tae.”

Taehyung sighed when you went back out into the crowd, shaking his head in disbelief before immersing himself into the talk of makeup and brand deals.

~*~

Yoongi idly walked through the art exhibition, cigarette between his fingers as he examined the pieces with mild interest. The art gallery was in an outside hotel plaza, fairy lights adorned the trees as Yoongi’s jazz compositions flew through the open air, embracing the guests in the warm comfort that only pianos and saxophones could bring. He hummed along softly to the wordless music as he wandered, coming to stop at a piece depicting an alien world in some nameless galaxy. He chuckled, his eyes never wavering from the painting as he shook his head.

“Y/N?” he called, “Come out from hiding, I know you’re there.”

You cursed under your breath, coming out of the shadows to stand next to Yoongi.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“I guess you could call it a seventh sense,” he told you, sending you a half-sided smirk as he took a drag. “How’d you know I’d be here?”

“Taehyung told me you would. He said you always compose for Art Walk.”

“For good reason. They fund local artists, showcase their work to potential clients. It’s a good organization and event.” Yoongi deliberated, flicking some ash away into the open air. You both stood there in silence for a few minutes, staring at the painting before Yoongi flicked his spent cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his foot for good measure.

“Come walk with me.” he told you, turning to stroll through the rest of the gallery. You followed him, idly looking at the various displays with little interest.

“So, why’re you here?” Yoongi asked.

“Can’t I just be here to support local artists?” you defended, making the man next to you chuckle.

“I would’ve believed that if you weren’t hiding behind those trees.”

“Okay, fine, I just really wanted to talk with you again.” you admitted with blush on your cheeks.

“Y’know, most people would just call and ask for a date right?” Yoongi smirked when he saw you sputter, his eyes growing soft when your blush grew.

“W-Who said I wanted to go on a date with you?! Maybe I just wanted to see you in a merely platonic way.” you stuttered. Yoongi hummed, looking at you with a small smile on his face.

“Right.”

You two continued walking through the plaza, thanking god you chose to wear flats to this event instead of heels. Without the added height from your shoes, you were almost level with Yoongi, give or take a couple of inches that his dress shoes gave him. He looked handsome under the soft glow of the lights, his dark hair shining and his all black attire made him look mysterious and provocative. Sure it was just black jeans, a button-up, and a leather jacket, but he made the simple clothing look great. He had in silver earrings, noting that he didn’t have them in at your launch. Could he have been insecure about them enough to take them out as to not make the wrong impression in front of potential clients? You knew Jimin and Jungkook did the same thing (Taehyung, honestly, couldn’t give two fucks about it and kept his earrings in always) but you would’ve thought Yoongi wouldn’t care about trivial things like that. 

“Have you been to the music plaza yet?” Yoongi asked you suddenly, making you jump slightly at the sound of his voice.

“No, I haven’t.” you admitted.

“Would you like to?” he asked, holding his hand out to you. You glanced between his face and his hand for a few seconds too long before Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Fine, don’t hold my hand then.” he teased, dropping his hand back to his side as he walked away. 

You scurried after him, hearing his soft chuckle when you laced your fingers with his. His hand was calloused, but smooth and oh so warm as his long fingers loosely gripped your own. Yoongi began to swing your hands lightly as he guided you out of the art gallery and down the block towards where the bands were playing. He squeezed your hand gently, looking over at you expectantly.

“So, what’re you in the mood for?”

“Hmm,” you pondered your next move carefully. You didn’t know what kind of music Yoongi liked, all you knew was that he made soft jazz. And THAT didn’t help much considering the fact you couldn’t hear any brass elements in the air that made up jazz. 

“Can we wander? Stop at something we both like?” you suggested. Yoongi gave you a nod, before taking you along the avenues of music. Everyone was good, and everyone was talented. Different genres rang through your ears the more you walked and nothing really caught your attention, until you made it down the end of the street. You gripped Yoongi’s hand a little tighter, making him stop in his stroll.

“I didn’t take you as a soft rock fan.” Yoongi chuckled, guiding you closer towards the stage. There were four or five couples slow dancing to the sounds of electric guitar and pounding drums, the tempo slow and steady. The singer’s raspy voice made your heart pound in anticipation as you looked at Yoongi. Would he allow you to slow dance with him and savor the music? Yoongi hummed along to the melody, gently letting go of your hand. You almost whined in protest.

“Now don’t pout,” Yoongi smirked, his eyes light and full of mischief. “Otherwise I may take back my thoughts of asking you for a dance.”

Yoongi’s smirked turned into a full smile when you blushed, taking a step closer to him. Yoongi’s hands guided your arms to drape around his neck, his own wrapping loosely around your waist as he led you in a slow shuffle. You both swayed to music as you turned in slow circles. You noticed Yoongi’s eyes never left your face, even as yours shifted focus from him, to the band, and down to your feet, his eyes were steady like the music. 

“What’re you staring at?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“You,” Yoongi’s voice was soft and endearing, and his bluntness made you part your lips in shock. “Aren’t you supposed to look at your partner when you dance?” Yoongi countered back snidely. You had no comeback for that, so instead you just laid your head down onto Yoongi’s shoulder as you moved.

“So, how’s the business?”

“Going strong, we’re taking a break before we start coming up with more products. We want the Cake hype to die down then wait a couple months before trying to come up with new products.” you spoke softly and Yoongi pulled you closer, whether it was to just hear you better or create more contact you didn’t know, but you liked it.

“And the ex drama?” Yoongi asked. You scoffed, shaking your head into the leather of his jacket.

“Over it. It was silly and he hasn’t done anything since.”

“That’s good to hear. You’re too strong to be hung up over an idiot like that.”

Yoongi’s words made you smile, and you finished the slow dance in silence, clapping and leaving a tip for the band as they packed up their equipment. Yoongi walked you back to your car, making you laugh and making you smile, making you intrigued to want to know more. To know more about him, what he does, what his passions were. You knew you made the right choice when you asked for his number, because the smile he gave you was one like no other as he punched it into your phone. You knew Yoongi was something else, because the only other smile you’ve seen that radiant was from Taehyung, and you wanted to make it appear over and over again.

~*~

Days turned into weeks, and the time you spent with Yoongi increased with each day that passed you by. The more you both talked, the more you both laughed, the more you realized you had some sort of feelings for the man. You didn’t know if it was love, but whatever it was, it was there, and it was growing, and it was so much better than anything you felt with Kim Seokjin. Seokjin was seductive and Seokjin was society’s standard of perfect. But Yoongi? Yoongi was provocative, not in the way he acted, but the way he spoke. His words never failed to make you breathless as your mind pondered over his thoughts. Yoongi was ragged around the edges, but he was beautiful in the way he spoke, the way he acted, in the way his eyes would flicker with sparks when speaking passionately and in the way he really smiled, a thing you’ve seen more as time went on.

And his music was just like him. You couldn’t remember how many times Yoongi asked you to listen to his music, new and old alike to get your opinion. You didn’t realize the extent of his passion and work, originally thinking all he did was instrumental pieces. Oh, was that far from the truth. He rapped, his way with words making memorable compositions that you begged him to let you download for your personal use. He also produced music for others; some fellow rappers and some singers. The variety of music though, is what surprised you the most. Whether it was classical or jazz  or rock or rap, Yoongi always added his own flair of life into the music with hip hop undertones and beats you could always count out when listening to the song. 

That’s what you were doing tonight. And as you sat on his bed, waiting for him to start the song, you noticed the hesitation in his eyes.

“You alright Yoongi?” he sighed at the sound of your voice, turning to look at you with a solemn expression, as if he was about to confess his sins to you.

“I want to listen to this song with earbuds this time.” he said, laying down on his side of the bed as he plugged the buds into his phone. This was unusual for him, he always played his songs from his laptop with the speakers on his desk.

“Is there any reason why?” you probed.

“This song…is very dear to me,” he explained. “I wrote it when I was in a very dark place, when my ex broke up with me. I’ve never shared it with anyone before, besides the woman that sings it for me. But I want you to hear it. Because I trust you, Y/N.” he confessed.

“Yoongi-”

“I’m sure I want to do this.” Yoongi stole the words right out of your mouth, the corners of his lips turning upwards at your shock. “You’ve been asking why I act the way I do and speak the way I speak. Well, this explains it all. So come, lay with me.” he patted the open space with one hand, the other offering you the other earbud.

You sighed and laid yourself down next to Yoongi on his bed and allowed the music to consume your entire focus. The bass reminded you of a heartbeat as the vocalist sang behind it; her voice powerful and strong. Soft electronic undertones and piano joined the composition, and your ears felt light as the lyrics dug deep into your heart and rooted themselves in with no intention of coming out. You listened carefully to Yoongi’s words and the emotion he had laced into them. Your eyes welled with tears as the song went on and you tried to blink them away, but Yoongi reached out for your hand, meeting your gaze in dim light of his room. His eyes were dark and stormy and matched the lyrics of the songs perfectly. He shook his head, and with that you allowed the tears to roll freely down your cheeks, squeezing his hand back as the song ended. You both laid together in silence, holding each other’s hands as if they were your lifelines to the real world. 

“You were really hurt.” you stated softly, looking into Yoongi’s soulless eyes. He hummed in acknowledgement, tentatively brushing his fingers along your cheek.

“I was,” he whispered. “I still am sometimes, but it’s okay. I guess that’s why I act and speak the way I do now. I don’t want to be personable nor do I want to be relatable. Reading people comes easy now after that experience, and I keep my distance to keep from hurting again. But it’s okay.”

“Yoongi,” you sat up, pulling Yoongi with you as you took the earbud out of your ear. “I care about you a lot. More than I probably should for knowing you only for a few months. But I really like you. I like you so, so much and I don’t want you to live with the memories of that hurt anymore.” your sudden confession was met with silence at first, but then, Yoongi laughed, removing his own earbud.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, yeah I’m sure.” you chuckled nervously, running a hand through your hair as you blushed. You weren’t planning on sharing your growing feelings with Yoongi, but it was out there, and you couldn’t take it back now. Yoongi didn’t say anything for a minute. He just stared at your fingers that were laced with his. With a sigh, he let go of your hand and you felt your blood run cold.

“I can’t.” he said, shaking his head at you. “I’m sorry.”

“But aren’t you tired Yoongi? Aren’t you tired of living in an inescapable trap of pain?” 

“Of course I am-”

“Then why can’t we heal each other and stop hurting?” you asked. “I want to move on completely, and I want to be happy again, and I want to do it with you. I know it’s hard, living with that hollow feeling pain brings you. But pain doesn’t last forever, I should know, but-”

“I can’t because you don’t love me.” Yoongi said simply, finally turning his head to look at you. “Not really.”

“You don’t know how I feel Yoongi.” he just chuckled, pulling out a smoke and lighting it up.

“You’re right. I don’t know how you feel Y/N. But I do know what love is. And what you have isn’t it.” he paused, contemplating his next words.

“Love isn’t that easy to come about,” Yoongi explained with a sigh of smoke, standing from the bed to languidly pace around the room. 

“We aren’t in a John Green novel or a 90′s rom com. Love is insatiable. Love in the real world isn’t like the Disney fantasies that’ve perpetuated everyone into believing that you can fall in love in a short period of time. Love is-” Yoongi stopped his movement, turning to look into your eyes from across the room. His lips pulled up into a half-smile as the cigarette hung between his teeth.

“Love is raw. Love grows with time, and patience. You can’t just jump into love. You have to earn it, respect it, and let it grow.” Yoongi moved towards you, his gait slow and each step he took felt like minutes were passing by. Finally, he stood in front of you, your head level with his chest. You looked up at him, the white of your eyes growing red with tears. Yoongi blew out a puff of smoke, extinguishing the half used cig with the tips of his fingers and shoving it in his pocket. He gently cupped your cheeks with his hands, tilting his head as his eyes roamed your face. Yoongi sighed out a laugh, gently biting his lower lip as he shook his head.

“Y’know, I told myself I was never going to fall in love again. And that plan was working just fine until I met you. What I feel isn’t true love, not yet anyways. But it’s enough to know I can’t deny my feelings for you.” his thumbs rubbed your cheeks as he spoke, his gaze never wavering.

“But you, princess, are surely mistaken. You don’t love me. You love the idea of me. The idea of a happy ending after the pain you’ve just been through. An easy way out. Hmm?” Yoongi wiped at the tears that fell down your cheeks, mascara caking onto his thumbs. He gently shushed you, guiding your head to lay against his chest as you hugged him around his middle. Yoongi began to hum, gently rocking you as you cried. 

You cried because he was right. You cried because you were mistaking friendship for love; and everything became clearer once Yoongi said those words. Because what you felt, felt like how you did with Taehyung, only intensified from the newness of the experience. All the blushing, all the nerves and racing heartbeats, came because you had only done those things with past lovers, and with Taehyung. And the idea of Yoongi being in the same realm as Taehyung never crossed your mind, only the thoughts of a potential lover did, spurred on from impatience of finding some semblance of love again to rid yourself of the lingering pain in your heart. Even though Yoongi was more reserved than Taehyung was, both men had that flirty edge to them, and both loved contact. Maybe you had really undermined them and their personalities; they were more alike than you thought. Once you realized this you just cried harder, for not only leading Yoongi on, but for being so stupid as to mistake what you felt for romantic love. Were you really that desperate?

“I’m sorry.” you gasped into his chest.

“It’s okay Y/N. Just let it out.” he coaxed, placing a kiss into your hair. 

“You’re right. You’re always right about how I feel. I’m such a fool.” you sniffled, peering back to look up at Yoongi’s blank face.

“You’re not foolish to want something, Y/N. It’s not foolish to want love, not at all. But that love won’t be with me. Princess, you’re beautiful. Smart. Insightful. You’ll find your Prince Charming eventually. I promise you that. You just need time, that’s all.” he smiled down at you sadly.

“I’m willing to wait.” you tried to give the man a feeling of hope, but he just chuckled.

“I’ll believe you if you can come back to me and say those same words of confession in a year.” he smiled. “I’ve been patient all these years, what’s a couple more added on? I don’t think I’m going to hurt very much anymore, now that I know you.”

“I’m sorry Yoongi. But I do like you, platonically that is, can we still be-”

“Don’t.” Yoongi cut you off, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t say the ‘f’ word yet, because once you say it, everything’s going to change for me.”

“Yoongi…”

“Can I do something? Can I do something before we shift into being just friends? So I don’t regret anything.” Yoongi’s words were ominous, but you nodded anyways. He stared at you with a newfound determination at your approval, his eyes searching yours intently. 

“What’re you waiting for?” you whispered.

“I want to remember every detail of this, so I don’t forget.”

Yoongi nodded once before leaning down to place a kiss on your lips. His lips were firm and warm, the taste of smoke filling your senses as your lips moved against each other. His movements were languid and slow and you wrapped your arms around his neck to relish in the feeling of being kissed again. You felt fingers tug at your hair, angling your face up to give Yoongi better access to your mouth as his tongue gently parted your lips, meeting your tongue with calculated strokes.  There was no rush to the kiss, nor was there any urgency behind it; the two of you were content in just savoring the feeling of warmth spreading through your veins. To savor the feeling of being held with such love and care, of feeling protected and safe within the grasp of another. 

You parted from Yoongi’s lips with a soft gasp, your noses bumping together as you caught your breath. You could’ve sat there and kissed Yoongi for hours, you didn’t want the feelings to end. Yoongi chuckled low in his throat, leaving a peck against your lips.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “That was amazing, and more than I could’ve ever hoped for.”

“Of course,” you whispered.

“Y’know, Taehyung told me about the time you both kissed in middle school, how you were each other’s first kiss.” Yoongi smiled, moving to sit next to you. “Since I figured our friendship is gonna be like yours and Tae’s, we should kiss at least once. That and because I just really wanted to.”

You groaned in horror that Yoongi knew that secret, burying your face in your hands. The mood was completely gone now.

“I’m gonna kill that son-of-a-”

“Easy there tiger,” Yoongi chuckled, “No need to get all worked up. It’s cool.”

“It was supposed to be a secret though.”

“I think it’s cute. Since you’re both still close.” Yoongi admitted and you smiled sheepishly at him.

“Taehyung called me after the Cake launch y’know? Telling me that you were curious about me. He also told me not to hurt you if anything happened between us. He really cares about you, you know that?” Yoongi continued on, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Taehyung…” you paused, trying to come up with the right words to say. “Taehyung means the world to me. He’s been with me through thick and thin.” you admitted.

“And you mean the world to him too.” Yoongi said.

“How long have you known that I didn’t really love you?” you couldn’t help but ask, the curiosity was eating you alive.

“Art walk,” Yoongi shrugged. “You didn’t have that spark, and even though your body language said differently, I think it was because you were nervous. And to be physically intimate like that with a new person always gets pheromones running.”

“Hit it right on the head,” you chuckled. “I wanted to know more about you. I love the way you talk and provoke the mind with your thoughts.”

“That’s an overtly sexual way of saying ‘You have a cool brain, let’s be friends so I can talk to you.’“ you giggled at Yoongi’s bluntness, shaking your head at him.

“You really meant what you said?” you asked.

“About?”

“About me finding love, you think I can?”

Yoongi just smiled, taking your hand into both of his own.

“Well, I never lie. And yes, I do. Like I said, you’re beautiful, smart, an amazing kisser,” Yoongi paused to send you a cheesy wink. “You’ll find love and get your happily ever after. Believe me, you will. Even if it isn’t with me, I’ll still be happy when you finally meet the right person for you, and I expect every single detail when it does happen. And like my mother always said; good things come to those who wait.”

[scribeofmorpheus]

The Rebel Queen (v)

Chapter Five: Severance

Pairing: Poe Dameron x (OFC) Princess Calista Ordell

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | A03

Words:  | Warnings: More ramblings of a delusional fanfic writer…

A/N: Ahhh! The Mandalorian’s trailer dropped and I’m... Whew! On a separate note, here is a post that links to causes to help aid Brazil Indigenous tribes and here is an article that talks about what is happening and other causes you may want to check out.

Taglist is open

Epilogue | About Thesmora

Takodana...

The ship had descended upon a blanket of clouds, dispersing them like puffs of smoke. The drone of the engine was so loud it constantly kept the entire metal hull vibrating like a sinister, predatory animal waiting to pounce.

With a single push of a button, a plasma charge as bright as a falling star was fired from the ship's cannon, devouring a clearing of woods where a Resistance ship was parked. Then a shadow befell the land as a quiet hush crept over the ship while the canon’s recharged.

Versengen could feel a waring energy rage beneath his feet. Tunnelling far beneath the ship and the air, all the way down, to the green grass below. There was a familiarity to it, like a thousand needle pricks to his back. He knew he was here. He could feel him. Mokk-Toh was so close that his presence turned the air inside his pressurised ship acidic.

Versengen's scorched face stung like it was a new wound. The burning beneath his flesh was uncomfortable, triggering past memories and past trauma's until his entire body seemed to be on fire with invisible flames.

Anger rose like bile to burn at his uvula. The taste was bitter and primal. A metaphysical ignition inside his belly turned his blood into kerosene and his nerves into kindling. He was burning from the inside out like he had swallowed a thousand suns whole and left them to incinerate whatever remained of the man he was before the helmet and armour. Whoever that was mattered not anymore. He was and always would be Versengen. And it was time to do what Versengen did best.

Immolate.

His ship touched down with no grace. The entire mechanical beast growling like a starved animal. Light bled into his dark compartment, flooding it with white as the doors peeled back.

Versengen stood ready. Teeth grinding. Jaw locked. Muscles tense. Mokk-Toh would not get away from him this time. This he swore.

He stepped into the light and spoke for the first time since their last encounter, “I told you, I’d find you... And look...” he tilted his head as far as his restrictive armour would let him. “You’ve got friends.” Versengen laughed, finding humour in what he was about to say next, his vocal cords too damaged to make his laugh sound natural anymore. “Hello… Calista. You look so much like your father..."

Calista furrowed her brows in confusion and Versengen noticed how quickly Mokk-Toh and the little Knight-Captain beside him clenched in anticipation for a fight. One defensive hand brandishing an unsheathed sword. The other brushing against the hilt of a concealed blade while the rest sought after their crude blasters strapped to their thighs.

This is going to be fun.

 The bounty hunter encroaching towards them was frightening in the way he held himself. Six to one and yet he still spoke with a confidence to his menacing voice. Calista had always thought Mokk-Toh and Koa to be indestructible, but now, faced with such a mangled presence, she felt unsure whether that age-old belief would hold up against such an unhinged foe. His armour alone was soldered together in a cacophony of strife. One of his arms looked to have belonged to a Death Trooper. That alone was cause for concern.

Mokk-Toh spoke without ever removing his eyes from Versengen, “Get to the ship.”

Calista peered to try and catch a glimpse of his face, “What about you? You aren’t healed yet.”

“Go, princess.”

Those words grabbed Poe’s attention, but Calista ignored his confused gaze. “Not without you. I just got you back.”

A commotion began to grow by the entrance to Maz’s castle. Several bounty hunters and mercenaries glanced down at their datapads and various other communications devices. Soon Calista and the very distraught Resistance soldiers would have more to contend with than just Versengen alone.

“Where ever your ship is, I say we make haste,” Poe offered as he unholstered his blaster. “Now.” He urged when more of Takodana’s less-than-desirable’s poured out of the large structure.

Paige, Poe and Zeeke started glancing from one side where Versengen’s ship was obstructing the path to the other side where a line of angry mercs were filing up. Everyone was jittery, like cornered animals. Zeeke and Poe held themselves together while under pressure, but Paige seemed to be having a hard time keeping her footing steady.

“Poe, get Calista out of here,” Koa said sternly. Her face growing cold and serious as she pushed forward. “Mokk-Toh and I will hold them off until you get to the ship.”

“Koa—“ Calista was about to protest, her stubbornness forcing her to stand her ground but Poe had already wrapped a hand around her arm, pulling her closer to the dense brush of trees.

“Zeeke, Paige!” He shouted after his teammates. “Into the trees, we’ll lose them in there.”

Koa unsheathed her viro-blade and it came to life in a bright yellow hue, her back facing Mokk-Toh’s as she stared down the advancing troop of enemies.

Calista struggled against Poe’s grip, she wanted to stand and fight beside Koa and Mokk-Toh. But when had she ever gotten what she wanted? Begrudgingly, she yanked her arm free, but before Poe could protest, she kept following them into the dense woods and through the black smoke. Her hand cramping into a fist.

With one last look behind her, Calista prayed. Stay alive.

Koa held her ground. Fighting off any and all mercenaries that dared chase after her princess. Her blade strokes were swift, sure and lethal. Slicing at the air until her blade whistled viciously. The hum of the plasma charge crackled like static whenever it came in contact with armour plating.

Mokk-Toh was not having as nearly an easy time as Koa. His stance was poor, faltering, and his arm would shake whenever it clashed with Versengen’s own sword.

Through the corner of her eye, Koa made sure to monitor Mokk-Toh’s situation. All the while, she couldn’t shake this eerie feeling swirling in her gut. It was like she knew that bounty hunter in the stitched-together suit of armour. More accurately, it was as though he and Mokk-Toh had an intimate knowledge of the other. Their battle movements were identical, like watching a man take on his reflection. Even Versengen’s sword was similar and, if not for the burn damage, it probably would be a perfect replica. Everything about their skirmish didn’t sit right with Koa. But now wasn’t the time to inquire about such matters. Now was the time to focus on survival.

Another hoard of mercenaries advanced from a flanking position, knocking her onto the ground and allowing a handful of stragglers to get past her defensive perimeter and head into the woods. Koa bit back swears as she used her sword as an anchor to get her back onto her feet.

Just as her spine stretched upwards, a hot streak missed her cheek by a centimetre or so, burning through a small loose braid and severing her hair. She weaved to the side, ducking away from any more oncoming blaster rounds, but a grunt from behind her drew her attention.

Mokk-Toh was brought to his knees as a circlet of singed clothing and flesh appeared instantly below his right rib cage. Koa thought for sure Versengen would use Mokk-Toh’s new state of injury to his advantage, but instead, he craned his neck over to the man who had his finger on the trigger and a shaky growl left his helmet. After a moment of unsettling silence, he then did the strangest thing. He steeled his blade and advanced towards the line of mercenaries and bounty hunters Koa had been fighting and took them on with great ferocity.

Koa rushed to Mokk-Toh’s side while Versengen ripped the mercenaries apart. His rage so pure and unbridled that she almost felt too scared to look at the onslaught –it was all screams and incendiary grenades.

“No one kills him but me!” Versengen growled as he practically ripped someone in half.

“Can you stand?” Koa asked as she scurried to Mokk-Toh’s side, slinking her arm around his heavy frame to act as his anchor. A whirring in the distance alerted her to the Somnambulist growing airborne.

Mokk-Toh took in a deep breath, sweat covering his brow and dripping to his knees, “I can try.” He croaked out. He tried to rise to his feet, but his knees buckled and he took Koa back down with him. “Arrghhh!” an unnatural sound emanated from his left arm.

A ball of flame erupted in her peripheral and out strode Versengen, new blood sprays on his armour and sections of its metal frame ripped apart by blaster fire.

“Stay down,” Koa whispered to Mokk-Toh, his arm slipping from hers as he failed to clamp his fingers around her wrist tight enough.

Versengen gave her wide birth, “Move.”

“You want him?” she picked up Mokk-Toh’s sword off the ground with her free hand. “You’ll have to go through me.”

“Move aside. I won’t ask again.”

“And I’m not moving.”

Versengen sighed but still reached for his sword, unsheathing it once more. “Then you will die.”

Mokk-Toh strained to speak but all Koa could hear was his pained gasps and wheezing breath. She needed to hold fast until Calista and Odhen pulled through.

Versengen’s approach was slow, at first. Then his pace picked up into a sprint. With the sound of metal clashing against metal, and sparks of energy crackling against metal, Koa and Versengen were locked in battle. Nowhere near evenly matched, Koa staggered and slid about, constantly getting knocked off her feet or thrown to the ground. Her arms were shaking, just as Mokk-Toh’s had been earlier. And now her brow was the one covered in sweat.

Versengen fought like a beast. Yet, there was some grace to his fluidity. A sliver of order to his chaos. His fighting style resembled that of her homeworld’s mountain tribe’s. It felt wrong to fight against such ancient technique. Like fighting an elder. It still bothered her that much of him felt… familiar.

Koa parried and blocked, but he was too overpowered and most of his attacks broke through her defences. With a painful kick to her stomach, Versengen pushed her away so he could slice clean through her bone in a lightning-quick motion. A sickening howl left her lips as pain nearly paralysed her. Her body falling back onto the soft grass limply.

“No!” Mokk-Toh protested as he crawled towards her bleeding body.

“I warned you,” Versengen sneered and his shadow covered half of Koa’s face. Her eyes were fluttering in an internal battle to stay awake as tears streamed from her honey-coloured eyes. Wrapping both his hands around his sword's hilt, he lifted the sword high in the air, the final killing blow dangling over Koa’s heart like a guillotine waiting to be set loose.

With struggling breaths, Koa stretched out her right hand, fingers wiggling close to the sword’s hilt a few inches away. Almost in reach and yet… it was simply too far.

Red –sizzling, hot and fast– streaked through the dense brown and green of the shady thicket. Plasma rounds hailing like sideways falling rain, cutting through tree-trunks and branches and leaves.

Paige was swift on her feet, darting in front of them as she pushed dense leaves out of her way. Between each interval of red rain, Calista would glance over her shoulder every now and again, letting off a round of shots after she took cover behind a thick trunk. Zeeke was light and agile on his feet too. Tucking and rolling when necessary and shouting after Paige so she wouldn’t go too far ahead.

They took a quick moment of respite behind a line of trees, the smoke was much thinner this far in. Poe was grateful, it meant his eyes would no longer sting and his lungs wouldn’t feel like they were on fire. Calista took cover to his left while Zeeke and Paige were to his right.

“How much farther?” Poe asked between shallow breaths.

“Not far, it’s just beyond that treeline over there,” Calista nudged her head past Zeeke and Paige.

A few more shots glided through the air, flinging splinters into Calista’s eye. A drop of blood spilt from the apex of her eyelid and meandered down like a scarlet teardrop. She wiped it off as though timber hadn’t just scratched the side of her eyeball. She appeared numb to the world in that moment –dazed.

Calista pulled out her blaster and called after Zeeke, “Hold onto this for me,” she said as she tossed the light weapon his way.

Zeeke’s nimble fingers caught it easily, hands bracing it like a trained professional.

“Where are you going?” Poe asked as another hail of rounds made him crane his neck back to save his nose from getting an impromptu nose job.

“Sneaking around. Do you have any charges?”

Poe checked his belt and frowned when he pulled out two measly ion pulse grenades. He held them out to her, “I should go with you. Wouldn’t do me any good if you wound up hurt… or worse.”

She smiled, but it wasn’t whole, “Keep your people safe, Poe. I’ll worry about myself.” She peered over the large block of timber she was leaning against to get a better view. More plasma rounds drilled through wooden surfaces. She hissed in disappointment and then turned to Poe with a half-cocked smirk, “Maybe a little cover fire wouldn’t hurt?”

Poe nodded and turned to his right, “On my mark,” he held up three fingers and silently counted down. Once he hit one, Paige and Zeeke opened fire. Calista dashed into the dense forestry and was lost from his sights almost instantly. Poe prayed he hadn’t just made a mistake.

 Paige was trying hard to keep her aim steady and her breathing focused. Zeeke, on the other hand, was still soldiering on. Poe wondered what had happened in his life to make him so desensitised to such displays of violence. An explosion sounded out in the air, but there was no fire, no smoke and no blinding flash of light. Instead, a cushion of atoms rushed through the epicentre of the point of impact and rippled outward with tremendous force, nearly knocking him back and causing several branches to lean outwards.

Calista had set off the grenades. Wherever she was. Now they had a chance to make a break for the treeline and board the ship.

“Head for the treeline,” Poe ordered Zeeke and Paige.

“What about you?” Paige asked with a shaky voice.

“I’ll wait a few seconds then follow you guys, lay down cover fire if I need to.”

Zeeke nodded and held out his hand for Paige, she stalled for a second, shooting Poe a worried look before she accepted his direction and took Zeeke’s hand.

Poe counted the seconds until they turned to a near minute. He flirted with the idea of waiting one more second, one more minute, longer but he couldn’t. He left his spot behind the tree and made haste towards the ship. Relief flooded his system when Calista burst through one of his blind-spots and jogged beside him.

“Did I worry you?” she asked.

Poe wiped his smirk away with a simple, “Hardly.”

They embarked on the ship swiftly. Poe was in awe of how such an old rust-bucket was able to fly with little resistance.

The ship glided low, almost close enough to the canopies to touch. It took immense skill to keep such a heavy ship low without much turbulence shaking them about.

The bay doors were left open and wind washed through the cargo bay area. Paige was holding onto a sheet of tarp wrapped around several crates to keep her body steady. Zeeke mimicked Poe and Calista held onto a low handing pipe on the ceiling.

A shrill scream found its way to his ears and Calista gasped in shock when she saw Koa laying on the ground, Versengen’s sword mere inches from plunging into her heart, her left arm severed from the elbow in a clean, precise cut. The green of the grass beneath her body was slowly staining a dark red.

A squeaking wheel stopped short of the edge of the open door, the Jawa from before had wheeled a half bodied droid close to Poe’s leg.

“You may want to take a step back,” the droid said courteously before he pulled the trigger of the rocket launcher strapped to his shoulder. The rocket flew down in a spinning motion, hitting Versengen’s shoulder plate and sending him hurtling through the air. Dirt was raised into the air by the action and Mokk-Toh crawled to shield Koa from the violent winds that grew stronger the lower the Somnambulist descended.

Calista jumped off the ship before it landed, racing past the clearing to get to her people. Zeeke darted after her, using his strength to hoist up the taller, slimmer man over his small shoulders once he got to him. Poe ran to help them and called for Paige to follow.

Versengen’s body began to stir, he was still alive. Poe reached around to pick up Koa hastily while Zeeke and Paige half-dragged, half-carried Mokk-Toh back to the ship at a sluggish pace. Calista saw the bounty hunter rise up and crawl towards them and she instinctively grabbed Poe and Zeeke’s blasters, firing off shot after shot as she backtracked to the ship. Versengen didn’t have the strength to dodge so he simply took each hit, slowing his movements with every blast.

The Jawa fixed another rocket to his droid’s shoulder launcher and waited until they were all safely inside the ship before he fired. Versengen was already aiming at their ship when the second explosion blew him clear of the Somnambulist, his body disappearing into the dark cover of the trees.

Poe closed his eyes for a moment before making his way to the med bay. Artificial light lit the way as the doors finally closed and the ship pressurised. Calista, Zeeke, Paige and the Jawa in tow. A stream of blood mapping their way while Koa groaned in pain around his chest.

The heavy sound of flesh sagging down onto the medical gurney in the med bay was disconcerting. Koa’s teeth bared down, molar to molar, canine to canine. Calista had stayed by her side, holding her hand. White knuckle in white knuckle from the death grip Koa had on Calista’s soft flesh. Red marks forming in the shape of long fingers on their palms.

“Does anyone have medical training?” Poe asked with wide eyes. His brown jacket slick with blood. He shrugged it off and made a mental note to get it cleaned later.

The Jawa uttered something in quick succession, his arms banging against the legless droid’s head.

“I am versed in several basic medical procedures. I can cauterise the wound to keep her from bleeding out. If we put her under, she should survive the journey to your base of operations. My master requires the co-ordinates,” the droid said like it was a regular afternoon. His pleasantly programed vibrato annoyed Poe, but he tried his best not to dislike the helpful droid for something he was programmed with.

Paige’s face turned white as a sheet of paper, “Cauterise the woun—“

“Do it,” Calista said stoically, her expression unreadable.

Poe handed the Jawa his data-pad displaying the co-ordinates and the droid was lugged onto a higher surface so he could reach the would-be stump where Koa’s arm used to be. A plasma torch ignited in the droid’s steady hand. Koa turned to glance at Calista’s foggy eyes, her face a portrait of despair.

Paige whimpered, struggling to keep her eyes small and serious. The involuntary action forced her to place her hand over her face to stifle her sounds.

Zeeke held his breath.

“I’m going to cauterise the wound now,” the droid informed the two distressed women.

Koa’s bottom lip started to tremble, but her cries were inaudible –mute.

“I won’t leave your side. I’m right here,” Calista nodded, smoothing the hairs away from Koa’s sweaty face with clammy hands. She leaned close and whispered over and over again: “It’s going to be okay.”

The smell of burning flesh carried with it a harrowing feeling of nauseating sickness. Koa’s screams followed next. They were so shrill and sharp that Poe actually feared she’d sever her vocal cords if she kept screaming herself hoarse.

Poe’s stomach turned inside out from the smell and he had to dig his blunt nails into his palm as hard as he could to try and distract himself. Paige wasn’t as controlled as the rest of the room. That was the final straw. Her face contorted from a look of horror into one of disgust as she sprinted out of the room.  

When the screaming stopped, Koa’s head slumped lifelessly to the side. A deep exhale slipping between her clenched teeth, one of which had cracked from the pressure. Shaky breaths were traded in for held back sobs. Calista was still chanting her promises that everything would be fine while her legs buckled and her knees hit the floor. Her hand still holding onto Koa’s.

Mokk-Toh limped towards Calista, a consoling hand placed on the crown of her shaking spine.

“It’s going to be okay…” her voice barely managed to choke out.

Zeeke helped the droid down into his red trolley and dragged him as quietly as he could out of the room.

Poe couldn’t breathe. The room was too condensed. It felt like he was floating helplessly in a dark vacuum. “I’m sorry,” were the only words of consolation he could bring himself to say.

Everything had happened so quickly that he hadn’t had the chance to gather his thoughts. He figured Paige was probably in a worse state than him. He needed to talk to her. Make sure she was alright.

 Finding Paige was easy, all Poe had to do was follow the sound of retching and running water behind a lavatory door displaying the red ‘occupied’ sign. He waited a few minutes before delicately knocking on the door.

“Paige… you alright in there?”

She retched one more time before admitting freely, “No.”

“I know the feeling,” Poe sighed, rubbing his eyelids to try and scrape the sight of Koa’s flesh searing under the intense heat of the plasma torch. “What happened today was grim, I know… but—“

The door hissed open and Paige walked out with her mouth pried open in a stupefied look, “Grim?” she said the word like it was some foreign swear word. “Grim is seeing the aftermath of an explosion. Grim is hearing war stories shared by veterans in the mess hall. This? This is something else. This is too real to just be grim!”

Paige was angry and she was entitled to feel that way, she needed to vent. Instead of saying anything that could make matters worse, Poe opted to lean his sore muscles against the cold steel walls of the ship. His concentration focused on a section of panelling that was brazed together. The flash of Koa’s flesh curdling closed over her bloody cut bombarded his vision again and he shifted uncomfortably. His stomach turning yet again.

Paige slid to the floor, head between her knees, “It's different… isn’t it?”

He turned to her, “What is?”

“Being amongst the stars… fighting amongst the stars. Compared to being on the ground –on the front lines…”

Poe’s head fell back onto the metal wall, his hands pushing his hair and sweat away from his face. He glanced in the direction he had come from, Calista’s frame was still crumpled on the floor, visible through the semi-transparent walls of the med bay. Guilt panged at his chest, but mostly he was filled with relief and that made him angry.

“Yes,” he answered finally. “It is.”

Versengen pulled his body through the dirt with what little reserves of strength he had left. Once inside his ship, he popped his helmet off and let the cool air interact with the slick wetness on his disfigured face. He leaned against a shiny surface and saw his own morphed reflection in the polished wall. His knuckle struck the strip of panelling until it indented inward.

“Get us airborne,” he ordered the ship’s AI in charge of autopilot and the ship rumbled to life, sending vibrations through his bruised body.

His medical droid walked in from an unseen position and pulled him onto the surgical table where it started to remove his armour plate by plate. Loud gonging noises echoed out every time a piece of armour fell and his muscles were freed from the burden of hefty metal.

“Open a secure channel to the Duchess,” he spoke out to the black ship’s cramped space.

Maligma’s profile came into view as a projection came to life in front of him, “I hope you have good news.”

“They eluded me.”

“He eluded you, you mean.”

Versengen’s jaw muscle flexed of its own accord, “Yes. He eluded me.”

“Again,” Maligma’s eyes narrowed.

His nostrils curled up, “Again.”

“Make sure you don’t allow such discrepancies to occur a third time, Versengen. There won’t be a fourth. I assure you,” her threat came across as clear as day.

A man with red hair and a pale face stepped next to the Duchess’s side. He looked down at Versengen with entitlement. He wore the colours and uniform of the First Order. His arms were folded in a way that puffed his chest to make it look larger.

“You have two days,” she warned before ending their transmission.

Versengen pushed his droid aside and ripped off the rest of his armour crudely.

“Follow the beacon at a safe distance,” he barked out more orders before flooding a tank with bacta fluid. A breathing apparatus strapped to his nose and mouth while the glowing blue liquid covered his body cut by cut, bruise by bruise, burn by burn. 

As the blue liquid submerged over him, his reflection stared back at him through the glass walls of the tank. His unmarred skin taunting him with the face of another man. The face of Mokk-Toh.

 To be continued…

Tags: @carolinamalo53 @everything-intertwined

Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees

[little-wintry]

To The Stars - A Miniseries I Feel Like Posting Somewhere

Summary: In a world not too different from this one, Humanity has achieved space travel. The International World Bureau of Space now has a program where the average person (after passing a series of tests) can travel into space with the aid of a Veteran Space Traveler. Valerie Rink has, by some miracle, won the lottery and now gets the chance to see distant planets, all with the aid of Liz Conar, an exceptionally young Veteran Traveler. 

**Note: I’m not sure how much more of this I will write, if I’ll post it, or what. Honestly I just had this idea a full 48 hours ago and feel the need to write it. It’s... romance? Sort of? With science-fiction grounded in actual science.**

Don’t panic, don’t freak out, don’t panic, don’t freak out-

I quickly shoved more clothes into my bag. Pack light, they said. That’s a good piece of advice until 3 months in you’re completely out of underwear and socks, and you’re next destination is still two weeks away.

I tried to remember my breathing exercises. I tried to remain calm. But every nerve in my body was screaming in terror.

I zippered my bag up, staring at it blankly.

“Attention,” A robotic female voice echoed in my room. “Units A-25 to A-39, please report to the loading dock.” 

I felt my throat close up, but I grabbed my bag anyway and started heading towards the dock, my strides surprisingly steady. Everything felt loud - oppressively so, to the point where I thought I could feel my ears ringing.

I reached the small terminal. A bored looking 50-something year-old woman glanced up. “Your card?”

Sticking out a small slip of plastic, plastered with my name and image, she scanned it, glanced lazily at the results, then handed it back. 

“Enjoy your journey,” She muttered in a monotone voice. “And remember: Human future lies in the stars.”

I continued my brisk pace, brushing past business men with earpieces and families with luggage rolling behind them. Large screens were everywhere.

“Welcome to the Utah National Space Station,” A voice blared. “Where you’re future lies in distant planets. Sign up today for-” My foot caught on a tile that stuck upwards. I almost lost my balance before I kept going. 

A second terminal - the crowd was thinning now. A giant banner ‘NST MEMBERS ONLY’. 

I passed through. I could feel my heart jump a little bit with each step.

Finally, I passed through a set of sliding doors, and into a blank white room with chairs arranged neatly around tables. Each table had a placecard, and a handful of people sitting at each.

A man dressed in neat navy blues met me with a smile. “Hello! Name, please?”

“Valerie Rink,” I said, my voice wavering more that I had hoped.

“Great! Nice to meet you, Valerie.” He used his pen and ran down a list of names on a clipboard. “Alrighty, you’re at that table right over there,” He pointed to a small table with two red-headed men and a dark haired woman. “You’re Veteran should be with you soon.”

“Excuse me,” I said. “But who is my Veteran?”

“Hm? Oh, Liz Conar. She’ll be here in 10.”

Liz Conar, Liz Conar, Liz Conar… I know her, don’t I? Or I should?

I was shoved by someone behind me and I shuffled over to my table.

The two men were engaged in a fierce argument. One had his hair cut short, with wild curls flying everywhere, and the other had it even longer, long enough to make a small ponytail.

“A gravity assist from Jupiter could get you there in less than a decade,” The long haired one said.

“Yeah,” The other said. “Only if you could time it right.”

The woman peered up from her book and noticed me, nudging the other two.

“Uh,” I croaked. “Hello…?”

The woman sat up, smiling. “G’morning. You must be Valerie, right? After all, there’s only one place left at the table.”

I nodded sheepishly.

She stuck out her hand, which I noticed was covered in charcoal smudges. “Caroline, Caroline Vellino. I’m the ship’s certified therapist.”

I turned my attention to the men. The long haired one grinned at me.

“Felix,” He said. The freckles on his cheeks were scattered and easily noticed against his pale skin. “Nice to meet you.”

“Edward,” The second one said, more subdued. “I’m his older brother.”

“Great,” I muttered. “I’ll just-” I slid the chair out and sat down, hugging my luggage to my chest as I tried to calm myself down. Caroline buried her nose back in her book - sketchbook, maybe? - as Felix and Edward stopped their argument.

“So,” Felix said, leaning forwards. “Why do you want to go to space?”

My brain paused. “Well… I don’t know, it’s always been fascinating. My mom also works with the Stations, so she wanted me to go, too.”

“Cool!” Felix said. He was beginning to remind me more and more of a 3rd grader hyped up on Pixie Sticks. “I mean, I’ve always found space cool, and I’m a little sad we won’t get to see way out in deep space-”

“It would take several decades to get there,” Edward interjected.

“But I’m still excited! I can’t wait to see Jupiter, mostly. And Neptune. And Eris, that dwarf planet beyond Pluto, but I doubt we’ll get that far-”

Edward cleared his throat. “Caroline? What about you?”

“Space has always been an interest of mine,” She said, rubbing the pencil dust off of a page. “A muse, you might say. And, of course, interstellar journeys can be hard on the mind, so I thought it would be good if I tagged along.”

The intercom blared overhead. “Attention, your Space Veterans are entering. Please remain seated.”

I craned my neck, trying to see over the ocean of heads. People passed by the crowds, the Veterans. Thomas Toan, Quinn O’Malley, Lily Zhou - all the heroes of my childhood, gathered inside one room.

“Ooh,” Felix pointed. “I think that’s her.”

A woman walked out of the crowd. Liz Conar.

I had seen posters. I had seen her face plastered on billboards and TV screens and on lunchboxes and backpacks - she was an icon, and I felt embarrassed I hadn’t even recognized her soon. I had grown up seeing her face everywhere, but I had never seen her in person.

She walked like she was on clouds, like gravity didn’t even affect her. Her hair was this light, caramel brown, and she beamed at the faces around her as she walked by, just like the superstar everyone knew her as. A low-cut V-neck, a pair of dark jeans - she hardly even looked like she was trying.

Her eyes landed on our small little table and she came over, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey,” She said, leaning on the table. “Liz Conar. You probably know me. Everyone has their luggage?”

I lifted my piece off my lap, Felix and Edward showed off their backpacks, and Caroline tapped the luggage at her feet.

“Great,” She said. “Let’s get going. It’s always best to launch first.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“So,” Liz came up beside me, a good head taller. We were standing just outside of the spaceport, the clear blue sky and the endless plains of Utah stretching out beyond.

“You’re Valerie, right?” She asked.

“Mmhm.” I nodded. “Rink. You might know my mom.”

“Name rings a bell.” She turned around and leaned on the railing, with a smirk that gave me butterflies. 

Stop that, or you’ll never get through this trip. Just be normal for once.

“You seem like the type that’ll like space,” She said. “Some people just aren’t well suited for it, but I got a good feeling about you.”

I could only nod - my throat had gone dry.

There was a siren, and Liz tilted her head up. “Sounds like that’s us. Strap in, and get ready for those G-forces.”

I was not ready for those G-forces.

Lying parallel to the ground made things worse. I could almost feel myself trembling. Liz was directly to my left, a foot away, Edward and Felix were sitting behind me, and Caroline was in the far back.

Liz tapped her earpiece. “Strapping in now. Ready when you are.”

There was only the blue sky above us. This might be my last view of Earth for a long, lone time. I tried to enjoy it.

There was only a light rumbling, and suddenly we were off.

You know those carnival rides, the one where you’re in the dark room only lit by horridly bright primary-colored lights? And you spin faster and faster until you’re plastered to the walls, and when you come out you can’t tell if you’ll fall on your face or throw up?

Imagine that, times ten.

My vision started to go gray. That I counted on. My heart felt like it was going to come out of my chest, and my panicking didn’t make things better.

Remember your training, and you’ll be fine. Just don’t be an idiot you normally are.

The gravity grew greater, to the point where my vision started to dim. I was just starting to see the dark blue of space when my head rolled to one side, and I passed out.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

“Huh,” Liz tilted her head just a little bit to see Valerie unconscious.

Felix squeaked. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’ll be fine once we get to microgravity. High G-forces are a pain.” Just as she said that, her vision tunneled - a sensation she still wasn’t quite used to.

A minute or two later, the gravity lessened, and lessened, until finally Liz’s body began to float against her safety restraints. She unclicked the latch and turned back to the rest of her newfound crew.

“Welcome to microgravity,” She said. “And welcome to Earth orbit. We’ll reach the moon in  2 days or so. Feel free to make yourselves comfortable, there are small rooms behind you.” She watched as they all unbuckled themselves, awkwardly hovering in zero-gravity before finally getting the hang of how to move.

Liz turned towards Valerie, undid her harness, and started preparing a makeshift bed. If she was going to wake up in an unfamiliar place, she might as well be comfortable.

She secured Valerie to the wall of the ship, not an unusual place to take a nap. She groaned, a quiet noise like a sigh, and Liz almost had to laugh. She could still remember when she was the new kid, passing out every time they reached high g-forces.

She began to think she would enjoy being the teacher this time.

Carefully, she pulled herself towards the cockpit of the ship, put in the coordinates for the Moon, and relaxed back in her home away from home.

[subtlerain]

Chrysalis - Part I

→ Vampire!Taehyung x reader

I ♥ II ♥ III ♥ IV ♥ V ♥ VI ♥ 

Synopsis: Life has never been easy for you, and desperate times calls for desperate measures. You’re willing to do anything to save the life of your dying sister, so you make a deal with the devil himself, your new task to be a live-in companion for Kim Taehyung, the reclusive vampire who despises your world and has demons of his own. Is this vampire really as heartless and loveless as he appears, or will his life be changed by a human girl willing to show him the beautiful things in life? 

Genres: Romance, angst, fluff & lots of feelings. 

Warnings: Mentions of blood, slight gore, some depressing themes & slight sadism 

A/N: Here it is guys! I have been working on this new series for a while after so many of you loved Honey, so I am finally posting the first chapter! I have a lot planned for this series, so buckle up and prepare yourself for some Vampire!Taehyung. Please show your support and enjoy Part I!

Check my faq for questions around my posting schedule!

Tagged: let me know if you’d like to be tagged when I update so you don’t miss the next chapter!

Companion.

Companion was the key word transcribed on the email you had received, a little red ‘1’ popping into your inbox at 10:02 pm on a lonely Sunday night.

Your eyebrows had risen high on your forehead at the sight of the congratulatory email, eyes bulging at the bright screen of your laptop as you sat in the leftmost corner of your bed, your body huddled among blankets and pillows.

It had been only the day previous that you once again found yourself searching frantically for anything, anything that could earn more than what you made at the tiny little cafe on 4th street, anything that you help lessen the stress that kept you up at night.

This peculiar situation had all started when you found the posting at the very bottom of an ‘odd jobs’ forum, one that had been cast to the very depths of the already sketchy and utterly concerning requests that made your skin crawl.

It seemed normal by the heading, almost like a caregiver, friend, cleaning-lady type person, but when you opened it up, you realized why it was at the very bottom of the forum, under ‘medical experiment volunteer’ for instance. The word that would’ve turned even the most daring away, only a single word that might as well have been typed in bold, red ink.

Vampire.

But despite the uneasy feeling that crawled up your back that you assumed was a normal, human, reaction, you continued to read, noticing with interest that the request was not written by the blood-being who needed the companionship, but was rather written on behalf of him by his father.

The reason you had clicked on the apply button and attached a neat email with a resume which you wondered would even have any use, was the sentence at the bottom of the page that made your middle swell with hope.

Upon acceptance, the chosen companion will be granted any request as payment.

You clutched the acceptance email in your hands—you had printed it off just in case—and folded it neatly. You had already memorized it contents, already come to terms with what the acceptance meant, and the conditions that were contained within the email thread between you and the elder vampire.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, as the saying went.

Quite desperate actually, and quite cliché. But sometimes life handed you horrible things on rusty platters, and you had to do your best to not let that poison settle deep inside of you. Sacrifices had to be made, and you had to be okay.

Plus, the misery that seemed to follow you through you life had only made you stronger, and you much too stubborn to just give up.

There were lots of trees outside the taxi window, and you wondered how far in the countryside you really were. All you knew is that you seemed to be going up, and up meant hills and mountains.

A nice view was a hopeful promise that you let settle in the back of your mind.

“A vacation, Miss?”

You looked at the taxi driver through the rear view mirror and smiled.

“Some could call it that…” You looked back outside to the dark green conifers and hummed, “A long stay in an unfamiliar place, rather.”

He nodded in understanding, but you knew he didn’t understand.

It was laughable how much he didn’t understand, but you weren’t about to spill your story onto the middle-aged driver, at risk that he may three-point-turn and speed back down the long winding hill in fear of your safety, and his.

You played with the hem of your dress, fingering the light blue material. You weren’t sure what to wear for your first meeting, in fact, you weren’t sure what to even pack.

“You will stay for as long as he needs you, or whenever he meets my expectations. All expenses will be paid to meet your needs, along with your request.”

All expenses paid seemed like some kind of resort, but you felt no need to suddenly live lavishly, even in the estate you were being sent to live in.

You were simple and plain, owning a few nice pieces that you had worn to countless job interviews, paired with old silver jewelry from your mother.

Your eyes swept back outside to the endless line of trees and you rested your head against the window.You wondered what kinds of things would await you at the Kim Mansion.

You closed your eyes.

Well of course, other than the young, lonesome vampire.

***

The taxi stopped at 7:32 pm, and you opened your eyes at the lack of motion, blinking sleep from your eyes to see the driver once again looking at you through the rearview mirror expectantly.

Your eyes flicked to the metre.

Expensive.

You were very, very far away from your grungy apartment.

You blinked outside the window for a second, brows furrowing. Large, thick trees only looked back at you, “Are you sure this—“

“There’s a number right there. One-oh-three Fern Ridge.” The taxi driver explained, and you could see the weariness from the long drive in his own features.  

“Need help with your bags?”

You shook your head no before sliding him a few crumpled bills and wishing him a good evening as you clicked open the door.

And then he drove away, and you were left in front of a row of trees with your leather backpack slung over your shoulder, and your heavy case in your hand.

“One-oh-three Fern Ridge.” You spoke aloud to the trees.

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting a glossy sheen on you, but the trees remained dark and sullen.

Nodding your head in an attempt at confidence, you took a step forward, eyes peering through the trees at a very over-grown gate.

You felt a pang of annoyance. Surely he would’ve had some sense to make sure you had a clear path to get to his home before your arrival.

But then again, it was his father who made the request, not him.

You proceeded through the walkway of trees to the gate, and after much pushing on the thick, black bars, it opened with a rusty squeak, and you jumped as a flock of birds leapt from their resting place in the trees at the disruptive noise.

You started through the second layer of trees that met you on the other side, and you were sure you smelled of pine and sap from your efforts to somehow escape the foliage that was much too thick for any garden.

And then you broke through, and you halted your movements at the sheer hugeness of the property you found yourself on.

The tree line had abruptly ended, but swept a large rectangle around the grounds in a protective hedge.

And in the centre was the largest house—if you could even call it that—that you had ever seen. It was victorian—as you would expect from a hundred-and-something year old vampire—with over hanging roofs and dark exterior, large windows that seemed to do nothing to bring the last beams of descending sunlight light into the home.

“You will be his companion. He’s lazy and young, and has no idea how to care for himself, let alone become the heir of my company. He’s been living alone in isolation for far too long, wallowing in his own self-pity and hatred. But his time is running out. Too much solidarity will kill a vampire you know, and we wouldn’t want that to happen.”

His father’s words echoed in your head, reminding you of your purpose once you set foot on the property.

You walked forwards, shoes tapping on the cracked cobblestone as you weaved through over-grown bushes and hedges, wilted flowers and stone statues with thick green moss and cracks chiseled deep into them.

You bristled because even the door was grand and intimidating, and you hesitated before reaching for the large brass knocker and dropping it to the faded door in two simple knocks.

Upon closer inspection, most of the metal that decorated the exterior of the estate was rusty and old, and you wondered when the last time was that someone entered the house.

Or exited.

You waited a moment, adjusting your knapsack on your shoulders.

No response.

Only the soft evening breeze and dipping sun reminded you that you were still on planet earth, not some dark, quiet world full of sticky green moss and rusted metal on the top of some goddamn mountain somewhere.

You were at a loss of what to do for a moment, wondering if turning and running away would be a better option, until a mix of determination and the knowledge of the contract you had signed electronically made you stay planted firmly in your spot on the front porch.

You were living here now, and you had an email to prove it. You had a new task at hand.

Breathing out you pushed open the door easily, and it creaked much like the gate, except it echoed in the empty foyer.

The first smell was dust, musky and thick, and the second was copper. It was to be expected, you thought grimly.

“Hello?” You ventured, still standing on the front step. Your voice was hoarse and quiet, so you cleared your throat and started again, taking one step inside.

You closed the door behind you softly, and the room was coated in darkness except for a candle lit chandelier that was sparkling in the dimness of the room.

“Hello? Mr. Kim?”

You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment, nearly laughing at how absurd the situation was. It was out of desperation that you were here, it was out of hopelessness and sacrifice that you were standing alone in a mansion on a mountain in the middle of nowhere. Your only task now was to be a companion to a lonesome vampire, who hadn’t yet made an appearance in his own home.

The folly of the circumstances didn’t dissuade you, and you walked out of the foyer and onto the next room, knuckles white from gripping the straps of your bag so tightly.

It was colder, somehow, despite the fact that you had only moved a few feet, and you instantly felt uneasy again. Now it was a more intense feeling, a more real feeling that there was something seriously wrong, something unearthly, preternatural even.

It was utterly frightening, and you felt like a child again, scared there was a monster in your closet.

And then a shiver ascended from your toes and up your spine and to the tips of your fingers as a low, gravelly voice cracked the brisk air around you.

“Ah, I thought I smelled human girl.”

You yelped, and dropped your case from your hand, bringing your arms up in some defensive position as you whipped your head around to find the source of the voice.

Except, the presence seemed to be all around you. On your right and left and above your head and below your feet. It was harsh and cold, and you could feel it right in your centre, a deep, low, blackness that was eating you from the inside out.

You were so cold, and all of your hair was standing on end, your natural fight or flight instincts kicking in.

And then the feeling subsided slightly, and you let out a shaky breath to remind yourself that in fact, you were still alive, despite feeling as if you had just made contact with death itself.

When you had regained some sense of, yes, I’m alive and haven’t been eaten, you noticed a presence, a more physical presence, and your eyes landed a deep red velvet couch on the right side of the room.

Except it wasn’t the couch that made you suck in a breath, it was the deep, lifeless eyes that were looking at you as if you were a being less significant than an ant. You felt more frightened than ever.

Mr. Kim.

Suddenly you could breathe again, and you wondered what kind of spell he had put on you to make your insides feel so empty and cold, what kind of darkness he held inside to nearly take over your entire body.

How simply inviting.

He turned his head away from you for a moment, and you stared openly.

You had never seen a vampire before, nor been this close to one in person, as far as you knew. You knew they existed, everyone did in fact. Humans and vampires coexisted, and most blood-beings adapted to the human world, the killing sprees that happened in the deep past scarce as they integrated with humans.

They integrated so well it nearly impossible to tell who was a vampire in a room and who was not.

But, some vampires had rejected human society and had chosen to live by themselves, far away.

Mr Kim, evidently, was one of those lonesome creatures.

It was true when they said vampires possessed a special kind of beauty. Elegant and smooth was the way they moved, from how they sat and walked and talked. They had the ability to speak softly yet harshly, words biting but ever so intriguing.

They could whisper music in your ears, and stab a dagger through your heart at the same time.

The vampire before you had turned away, as if letting you stare at him for a moment, and you took the opportunity to gaze over each feature.

You were going to be living with this creature, after all.

He was long limbed, dressed in a simple dark dress-coat, the colour something like a deep violet. Underneath could be rather ordinary on a human man—slacks and a blouse—but on him it was alluring, sensual, the way he stretched out on the couch was somehow provocative but natural, as if that was how he always simply laid on a couch.

His skin was smooth and milky, as you would expect, not a mark or freckle along the shape of his exposed neck or clavicle. He was an unmarked blank canvas without a beating heart or a trace of blood in his veins.

Eyes gliding to his face, you were met with a sharp, straight jawline cut across his profile, and the almost soft bump of his nose was an unexpected contrast to the sharp lines of his profile.

His eyes were closed, but you remembered the harshness of them, dark as night and shaped like perfect almonds, hidden behind a set of long, charcoal lashes. His hair was dark and wavy, curling around his ears and nape, and brushing his forehead in layers of silky chocolate and midnight.

Last were his lips, full and crimson, so red in fact, that you thought for a moment he was wearing lipstick.

You realized quickly enough that they were stained, tainted with a dark red blood.

It was almost as if he knew you were done looking, and his eyes opened, slowly.

“Now that you’re done ogling, I’m curious as to why you’re in my house.” He said simply, voice velvety.

You swallowed, disregarding his comment despite the flush rising underneath your collar. “Y-your father sent me, upon the request for a companion on your behalf.”

His lips curled into a smirk, but utter surprise was laced in his features, “You?”

You breathed out, and kept your eyes trained on him, “I-I’m sorry if I’m not what you expected.”

Then suddenly, his face was turned to yours, and he propped himself up on his arm, “I do not care who he sent. I’m just appalled that he has gotten so desperate that he actually made the request.” He sighed, eyes sparkling, “The bastard practically begged me to agree to whatever useless scheme he came up with.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but you didn’t know how to respond. His hard gaze was very uncomfortable. It was as if he was dissecting every piece of you with just his eyes, stripping away your clothes and skin and bone until there was nothing left.

He sat up fully, and his eyes darkened, casting another wave of coldness through your body.

“But now I’m curious about you, my dear. I didn’t think anyone would actually be stupid enough to apply for this job.” He tilted his head, dark locks brushing over his sharp eyebrows, “What are you getting in return for staying here with me?” He stood up, and you fought the urge to run away, to get the hell out of this place and as far away from this man as possible.

But it seemed your feet were glued to the floor, anyway.

He started to walk towards you, slinking along the wooden floor, eyes trained on your form, “Why would a weak little girl like you agree to stay in an old, creepy mansion with a vampire?”

You were frozen, and you were sure he could see the way your hands were trembling.

He stopped just a few feet away, “The fact that you haven’t run screaming yet is intriguing.” His eyes burned into yours, “So I wonder, how desperate are you?”

You breathed out, “I-I’m—“

He narrowed his eyes, “Don’t tell me you’re some criminal on the run searching for refuge. You look much too innocent for that, my dear.”

You bristled.

His voice dropped, “Tell me. Tell me what you are getting in return to stay with me.”

You closed your eyes, “Medical care for my sister.”

The vampire did not expect that. No, he did not expect that at all.

His lips moved into a smirk, “A little sister I bet, hm? A sweet little girl whose life is being taken much too early, a life you wish to save, so, so desperately.”

You looked down at the ground. Anger bubbling in you at his mocking tone, which had poison twisted in it, “She’s sick, and her treatment is very expensive. I will do whatever it takes to save her.”

He laughed, but it was nothing but unkind, “How valiant of you! I’m sure she’s so excited that you’ve decided to come here and stay with me.”

You started to panic, “S-she doesn’t know that I’m here.”

The vampire smiled, eyes bright in the most horrifying way. “Oh? Oh no.” He walked around you in slow, measured steps, “I’m guessing my father made staying with me sound pretty easy, hm? Companion. That word makes me sick. The human world has made my father weaker.”

You breathed out, gathering the little courage you had left, “He’s worried about your isolation from the world. He says you resent him, he just wants to prepare you for—”

Suddenly he laughed, almost manically, clutching his chest, “You dumb, stupid girl.” He glanced back at you, eyes tinged red, “My father doesn’t care about me, he never has, and never will. I’ll be the heir whether I’m prepared or not.” He clucked his tongue, “And the idea of getting some human girl to magically pull me into the world I despise is laughable.”

He moved closer, leaning forwards so his face met yours, “You’ve made a mistake coming here, even if he does give you medicine for your sister. You’re about as useless to me as a dull knife, and as breakable as glass.” Your breath hitched as he moved closer, closer, lips pressed to your ear.

“You’ve sold your soul to me and become nothing but a bag of blood.”

And with that, he turned away and slinked into his house, leaving you alone.

And just like that, doubt began to pool in your skull, and you felt numb once again. So you sank to the floor and cried silently, desperately, his words echoing again and again in your head.

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