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cool-fancier · 17 days ago

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Bitter Devotion

Karina(Yu Jimin) x Female Reader

Synopsis: When love blossoms between two women, one finds salvation while the other hides a sinister agenda. Lies unravel, hearts break, and a single betrayal threatens to destroy everything.

Word Count:2.2k

— — — — — — —

The first time you met Karina, it was as if the universe had finally decided to show you mercy. You were drowning in the suffocating world your parents had created—a world where love was measured in favors and worth was tied to success. The charity gala was one of many events you'd been forced to attend, another chance for your mother to parade you like an accessory. You'd perfected your role over the years: polite smiles, graceful nods, the right words at the right times. But inside, you felt like a hollow shell.

Karina shattered that the moment she walked into your life.

It was a fleeting interaction at first. She'd introduced herself with an easy confidence, her voice like silk against the din of polite chatter around you.

"You look like someone who's good at pretending to care about all this," she'd said, smirking as she tilted her head toward the ballroom full of polished guests. "But I can tell you don't."

You'd blinked at her, startled. It wasn't often someone saw through you so quickly.

"And you're different?" you asked, your voice teasing but cautious.

"Completely," she said without missing a beat, her eyes locking onto yours. "I'm here for the wine and maybe one interesting conversation. Looks like I just found it."

It was bold, unexpected, and utterly disarming. For the first time in years, you felt the weight on your chest lighten, if only slightly. That night, you laughed more than you had in years. Karina's humor was sharp but never cruel, her insights revealing a depth that left you wanting more.

And more you got.

— — — — —

Karina became a fixture in your life almost overnight. She texted you after the gala, her messages casual but consistent, like she'd known you for years. Lunch dates turned into late-night phone calls, and before you knew it, you were spending nearly every waking moment with her. She was warm in a way no one else had ever been. She remembered the little things—how you liked your coffee, the books you loved but never had time to read, the way you hated the rain but loved the sound of it against the windows.

When you told her about your family—how your mother's cold ambition had shaped your entire life, how your father followed her lead with quiet detachment—Karina listened without judgment. She didn't try to fix anything or offer hollow platitudes. Instead, she gave you something you'd never had before: a safe space to just be.

"I don't know how you survived growing up like that," she'd said one evening, her voice soft as you lay tangled together on the couch. "But I'm glad you did. I'm glad I found you."

Those words had stayed with you, burrowing deep into your heart. For the first time, you felt like someone saw you—not the polished version your parents had crafted, but the raw, unguarded you. Karina made you feel special in a way you didn't think was possible.

— — — — —

The proposal came a year later, under a canopy of stars. Karina had taken you on a surprise trip to a secluded cabin, the kind of place where the world seemed to fall away. You'd spent the evening by the fire, sipping wine and sharing dreams for the future. When she knelt in front of you, holding out a delicate ring, your breath caught.

"I love you," she said, her voice trembling. "More than I ever thought I could love anyone. You've given me a reason to believe in happiness, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you feel as loved as you've made me feel."

Tears blurred your vision as you nodded, barely able to get the word "yes" past the lump in your throat. That night, you felt like you'd finally found the family you'd always longed for.

— — — — —

A year into your marriage, Karina suggested a dinner with your parents. It had been a while since the four of you sat down together, and you hoped it was a sign that things were improving. Karina had been distant lately—her once-effortless affection replaced with brief, almost obligatory gestures. You told yourself it was work stress. She'd been expanding her business, taking on larger clients and more demanding projects.

The dinner started well enough. Your mother was in high spirits, no doubt pleased to have such an impressive daughter-in-law to show off. Karina played her role perfectly, charming your parents with her wit and business acumen. Even your father, typically reserved, seemed taken with her.

"So, Karina," your mother said, swirling her wine. "What's next for you? Surely someone as ambitious as you has a grand plan."

Karina smiled, the picture of grace. "Oh, always," she said lightly. "But right now, I'm focused on building something lasting. Both in business and in life."

Your mother nodded approvingly, clearly pleased with the answer. You felt a swell of pride, convinced once again that Karina was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

— — — — —

Later, as the conversation continued, Karina excused herself to use the bathroom. It wasn't unusual, but something about the way she glanced toward your father's office before leaving the table stuck with you. You brushed it off, focusing instead on your parents' rare moment of warmth.

It wasn't until much later, after dinner had ended and your parents had retired for the night, that you noticed something strange. Passing by your father's office on the way to the kitchen, you saw the light was on. Curious, you pushed the door open slightly and froze.

Karina was at the desk, rifling through papers. She looked up sharply at the sound of the door, her expression unreadable.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice low and uncertain.

She straightened, closing the drawer she'd been searching. "I was just looking for a pen," she said smoothly. "Your father mentioned needing to sign something earlier, and I thought I'd save him the trouble."

It was a plausible excuse, but something about it felt off. You wanted to ask more, but the exhaustion of the evening weighed on you, and you let it slide.

— — — — —

Unbeknownst to you, Karina had found exactly what she was looking for. Among the neatly organized files were documents that confirmed her suspicions: years ago, your mother had manipulated Karina's family out of their fortune. Karina's mother had been left destitute, forced to rebuild from nothing while your mother profited from her downfall.

Karina had spent years climbing her way to the top, meticulously crafting the perfect façade to get close to your family. And now, she had everything she needed. Bank statements, contracts, correspondences—proof of your mother's deceit. With this, she could destroy your mother's empire, just as her mother's had been destroyed.

But as she stood there, holding the evidence in her hands, a pang of something unexpected twisted in her chest. She thought of you—your smile, your laugh, the way you'd looked at her when she proposed. For the first time, she hesitated.

— — — — —

Her hesitation didn't last. A week later, your mother was arrested for fraud, her assets seized, her reputation ruined. Karina had orchestrated it all, her plan unfolding flawlessly. But her triumph was hollow. No matter how much she tried to justify her actions, she couldn't shake the image of your tear-streaked face when you learned the truth.

And you would. Because secrets like this never stayed buried for long.

— — — — —

After your mother's arrest, everything changed. Karina didn't seem triumphant or even relieved—she just seemed different. The warmth she once radiated, the way she would reach for your hand without thinking, the lingering kisses that used to make you feel cherished—all of it vanished. She became distant, like a ghost of the woman who had promised to love you forever.

At first, you tried to rationalize it. The stress of the past few weeks, the pressure of running her business—surely those things were taking a toll. But as days turned into weeks, her coldness only grew. She was no longer the Karina who brought you coffee in bed or whispered sweet nothings in the quiet hours of the night. Instead, she snapped at you over small things, ignored your attempts to connect, and retreated into her office for hours at a time.

— — — — —

One evening, after another strained dinner, you tried to confront her.

"Karina, what's going on?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and sadness. "You've been so... distant. Did I do something wrong?"

She didn't even look up from her phone. "You're imagining things," she said flatly, scrolling through emails.

"I'm not imagining it," you pressed, your chest tightening. "You barely talk to me anymore. You don't even look at me the same way."

Her eyes flicked to you, cold and unreadable. "Not everything is about you, you know. Maybe I'm just tired."

Her words hit like a slap, leaving you momentarily speechless. Tired? That was her excuse for the growing chasm between you?

"Karina, I love you," you said softly, desperately. "I just want to help. Please talk to me."

She sighed, setting her phone down with deliberate slowness. "Maybe I don't need help. Maybe you should stop trying to fix things that aren't broken."

The words were like daggers, and you felt tears prick your eyes. She had never spoken to you like this before, and the pain of her indifference was almost unbearable.

— — — — —

The weeks that followed were no better. Karina became colder, her dismissive tone and distant attitude leaving you reeling. She started staying out late without explanation, her phone glued to her hand whenever she was home. The intimacy you'd once shared was gone, replaced by a suffocating silence that made your heart ache.

One night, unable to sleep, you wandered into the kitchen to get some water. As you passed Karina's office, you heard her voice through the slightly ajar door. Curious, and more than a little desperate for answers, you paused.

"No, everything went according to plan," she was saying, her tone sharp and businesslike. "Her mother's assets were seized, and the old woman's in prison where she belongs."

Your blood turned to ice.

"She never saw it coming," Karina continued, her voice tinged with something cruel. "It was almost too easy. Playing the devoted wife was the perfect cover."

Your stomach dropped as you clung to the doorframe for support, your mind racing to make sense of what you were hearing. Playing the devoted wife? What was she talking about?

"Yes, I used her," Karina said, her voice colder than you'd ever heard. "She was just a means to an end. The perfect way to get close to her family."

Your heart shattered as the full weight of her words sank in. Every tender moment, every whispered promise—it had all been a lie. Tears streamed down your face as you stood frozen, unable to move or speak.

Karina's next words cut through you like a knife: "No, I don't regret it. Her family got what they deserved. And she... she was just collateral damage."

That was it. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, your breath hitching as a sob escaped your throat. Before you could stop yourself, you pushed the door open, your voice trembling with pain and fury.

"Tell me it's not true," you demanded, your tears falling freely. "Tell me I didn't just hear you say that."

Karina's head snapped up, her face a mask of shock and guilt. For a moment, she seemed at a loss for words, but the coldness quickly returned to her expression.

"You shouldn't eavesdrop," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

Her dismissiveness made something inside you snap. "Eavesdrop?" you repeated, your voice rising. "Karina, you used me! You lied to me, to my face! Was any of it real? Any of it at all?"

For a brief moment, you saw something flicker in her eyes—regret, sorrow, maybe even love. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the icy mask you'd come to dread.

"It doesn't matter," she said quietly. "What's done is done."

You stared at her, your chest heaving as the weight of her betrayal crushed you. "You promised me forever," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I loved you. I trusted you. And you used me like I was nothing."

Karina looked away, her jaw tightening. "You were never nothing," she said, almost too softly to hear.

But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

— — — — —

You turned and stumbled out of the room, your vision blurred by tears. Karina didn't follow you, didn't call your name. You made it to your bedroom before collapsing onto the floor, your sobs echoing in the empty space.

In the silence that followed, one thought consumed you: Was this love ever real, or had it always been a beautifully crafted lie?

And in her office, Karina sat alone, her phone still in her hand, staring at the door you'd just walked through. For the first time in her life, she felt the weight of her choices—but pride kept her rooted in place. Even if she wanted to chase after you, she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Not yet.

#aespa x reader #aespa fluff #aespa karina #aespa imagines #aespa angst #karina x fem reader #karina #yu jimin x reader #yu jimin #aespa x fem reader #aespa x you #aespa x y/n

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viennakarma · 1 year ago

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Wreck my plans (that's my man)

Part 2 of Say Something

Lewis Hamilton x Reader | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: Juggling a new life as a divorced woman, a toddler and maybe a new (old) love.

Word count: 4.5k

Tags: Female reader, new love, a kinda asshole Lewis, co-parenting relationship, smut, oral sex (f receiving), a lot of spanish pet names, not beta read

Relationships: Fernando Alonso x Reader, Ex!Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Notes: I know some of you wanted forgiveness for Lewis, and another bunch of you wanted Toto Wolff but I blindly opened the doc and these 4 thousand words just happened. If you really want an alternate ending (forgiving Lewis), drop something in my inbox and I might write a lil something for you ;)

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“Look, mama!” Luna pointed the little finger at the big poster of George Russell, “Uncle Joje!”

“Yep, that’s uncle George, my love!”

“And Dada! Dada!” She pointed to the next big poster, a big picture of Lewis wearing the team gear.

It was the first time you went back to a Grand Prix, in a little more than two years. And it was Luna’s first time ever attending. You and Lewis had a great co-parenting relationship, the world knew about Luna, but the Silverstone GP was going to be the first time she’d be seen publicly. You knew Lewis had hired the best security team just for this, and he had called you with a confident pep talk the night before.

As soon as the car stopped, you pulled Luna closer.

“Baby, stay close to mama, yes? We’re going to see Dada and Papa Anthony too, ok?”

Your daughter nodded but you knew she didn’t really understand, so you just smiled at her and opened the door. You could feel the flashes popping around the two of you, and could imagine everyone wondering what Lewis’ ex wife was doing there.

The bodyguards walked you and Luna over to the Mercedes’ hospitality. You found Lewis in the privacy of his little driver’s room.

“Dada!” Luna squealed as soon as she saw him, casual jeans and the team shirt.

You smiled, setting your little girl down so she could run to her father’s arms. Lewis smiled big, that one smile he only directed to his daughter. Lewis picked her up, kissing her face and hugging her.

“Hi, Lewis!” You greeted him with a side hug, since Luna was still in his arms.

“Hi, Y/N! Are you two ok? Was the trip here alright?” He asked, attentive.

“Yes, thank you. How is your schedule? You wanna stay with her a little?” You asked.

“Yes, I want to be with her. My dad’s at the hospitality too, he’s dying to see Luna.”

You gave him your daughter’s bag, with nappies, toys, drinks and snacks. You told him to call if needed, anything. Kissing your baby’s cheek, you left Lewis’ room to give them a little space and privacy.

Walking around aimlessly, seeing the energy flowing was kind of fun. You walked by Ferrari and greeted both drivers, who you had known back when you were married to Lewis. A good part of the grid had changed, but the few from before still recognised you and talked to you.

You were going back to Mercedes to check on Luna when you hit someone chest to chest.

“Oh, god! I’m so sorry!” You whispered.

“Y/N” he greeted you. You met the gaze of beautiful brown eyes, in an almost green kind of shade.

“Fernando! Hi!” You finally recognized the spaniard.

You had met Fernando the same night you had met Lewis, introduced by Sebastian and his wife after you created the project for their family home.

“It’s good to see you,” Fernando said, still holding your shoulder.

“You too.”

“I’m sorry about the divorce.”

“Uh, don’t worry. It’s been a while, Lewis and I are friends now.”

Fernando nodded, his eyes on your face. You stared at his eyes, trying to find something to say, to fill in the awkward silence.

“You’re just as beautiful as ever,” he whispered almost in a daze. You felt the blush creeping up your face.

“Thank you, you look handsome too,” you said, and you phone started ringing, you checked to see it was Lewis calling, “sorry, I gotta go,”

“See you around?” Fernando asked.

“Yeah, I’ll see you around, Fernando.”

You started walking away feeling butterflies in your stomach, like a silly teenager. You were walking but as you looked back, Fernando was still there staring at your distancing figure.

Fernando never forgot your pretty smile. He had met you so long ago, in a party hosted by Sebastian and his wife. Fernando had been enchanted by you, by the way your presence lit up the room, by how smart you sounded, by how clever you were. The problem was Fernando had gotten to the party late, and when he arrived, you had already met Lewis, fully entranced by the British man's charisma.

Fernando still had a silly crush on you when you were dating Lewis and he saw you around, but after you got married, he had forced himself to move on.

Now it felt like some sort of miracle, bumping into you again.

He didn’t lose any time. As he went back to the Aston Martin garage, he called someone.

It was a couple of hours later and you were by the Mercedes garage chatting with Anthony and keeping an eye on Luna who was running around with George and Lewis, greeting engineers and mechanics, enchanting everyone with her charm.

Someone wearing green came into the garage and everyone stopped, looking at the intruder from the Aston Martin team. The Aston Martin lady handed you a big bouquet of lilies and excused herself.

Every single pair of eyes were set on you and the mysterious bouquet. With your face red, you pulled the card, opening.

“Glad to see you again, hermosa. - Fernando”

You smiled, covering your face. On the back of the card was a phone number.

“Who’s that from?” Lewis asked and suddenly everyone was silent, tension rising up.

“Lewis,” you said between gritted teeth, “you’re making a scene.” Lewis seemed to realize everyone had an eye on you two, so you just turned to Anthony and said, “can you keep an eye on Luna for a couple of minutes please?”

After confirmation, you walked inside, taking your bouquet with you, and putting the number on your phone.

“Who’s it from?” Lewis followed you inside.

“It’s none of your fucking business, Lewis.”

“It is because you’re the mother of my kid.”

“Which means the only topic concerning you is our kid!” You whispered angrily.

“You’re dating, now?”

“Fuck off, Lewis!” You exclaimed, a surge of anger coming through your chest, “Don’t come at me all high and mighty now. You cheated on me, and I still let you be close to my daughter, and I still treat you with respect! I kept the secret of why our marriage ended to save your reputation and we only have a good relationship for her sake!”

You knew the words struck a nerve because his chest was heaving. You had been respectful to Lewis ever since the pregnancy because you wanted your daughter to grow up in a safe and happy environment. But that was where you drew the line.

“My life doesn’t revolve around you anymore.”

Leaving Lewis behind, you went to a room in the hospitality and managed to send a thank you text to Fernando.

You ended up accepting going on a date with Fernando after a few weeks of calling and texting. He ended up going to your place in Edinburgh for a cozy dinner, in a week Luna had gone traveling with Lewis for the summer break.

After the divorce you faced a lot of backlash from Lewis’ fans, even if they didn’t know any details, they still blamed you for breaking their idol’s heart. A few man had flirted with you here and there, but pregnant for nine months and then raising a baby after, you didn’t have the time or energy to find romance. Dealing with the aftermath of your divorce with a world superstar athlete had been something else.

So you had been living a low profile life, one that Fernando fully respected. He and you opted for cooking dinner yourselves, preparing a pasta dish with lots of pomodoro sauce and cheese.

He was easy to talk to. So openly into you, complimenting you, talking about how pretty and how interesting you are. The Spanish charm was so real and delightful, after years of feeling rejected.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked, over a glass of wine while Fernando mixed a saucepan.

“Anything.”

“Why are you interested in me?” You sounded honestly confused.

You were a divorced woman, with a toddler, still trying to figure out the relationship you had with your ex, and living under the radar after having your face plastered all over the media. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was really into you or if it was some sort of vendetta against Lewis. You knew that despite them being on good terms now, there’s history between them, and many layers of rivalry you weren’t privy to, since it happened long before they met you.

“Is this to get back at Lewis in some way? Because I’d like to manage my expectations if that’s the case.”

He understood why you would be guarded and suspicious of his intentions. Your last relationship had imploded in a way that he could only imagine left you devastated. It must look off, a known rival of your ex-husband sweeping in and showing romantic interest. But Fernando didn’t mind showing you his true intentions as long as you allowed him.

Fernando turned the stove off, and walked around the kitchen island, standing in front of you, so close he was almost between your legs.

“It has nothing to do with him because I have always been interested in you,” he whispered like a secret, seeing you confused frown, he kept talking, “remember the night we met? Lewis left early, we went to the garden, and sat down by the fountain. We shared a bottle of wine and a cigarette. Just me and you watching the sun rise.”

“Fernando…” you whispered back, remembering. Of course you knew about that, but for so long your life was entangled to Lewis, that the memory of that night was only attached to him in your brain.

But that had happened. You and Fernando had talked late into the night, chatting about life and the future, sitting barefoot on the grass, passing a wine bottle between you. Fernando didn’t flirt with you that day, he just chatted.

At the time you were so infatuated with Lewis already, that you didn’t see what was right under your nose.

“And for years after that,” Fernando gulped, looking a bit guilty, “I wondered if I had gone to the party earlier, if I had met you first, wouldn’t it be me by your side?”

“You’ve been into me all these years?” You asked, shocked.

“I have been in love all these years.”

You held his face, pulling him into you, kissing him. He was shocked at first, but as soon as it wore off, his hand slipped around your waist, pulling you flush into him. With the other hand, he cradled your head by the nape, his lips leaving your mouth, to kiss down your neck and nip at your earlobe, which had you moaning softly, melting against him.

“I’m sorry, hermosa,” he apologized, taking a step back.

You were panting softly as he stared at you, red face and lips, hair a little disheveled from his hand.

“Fernando,” you stood up, holding his hand, “come back here.”

You pulled him back, pressing your lips into his. He held you close, flush against his chest, opening his lips and deepening the kiss. You felt hot all over.

“I have dreamed about this, diosa.” He moaned into your lips.

“Can we-” you muttered between kisses, “can we skip dinner?”

You turned around to go back to the living room, hearing Fernando hearty laugh, and he immediately hugged you from behind, kissing your shoulder and neck. Finally making it to the sofa, you sat down. Fernando just knelt in front of you, pushing your dress up.

“Dessert first, sí?”

Laughing, you nodded, kicking your panties after he pushed them down your legs. Fernando bit into your thighs, and you moaned at the feel of his beard on your skin. With his head between your thighs, he mouthed you, licking a stripe into your cunt. Using a hand to open you up, he lapped your pussy like a man starved, pressing face, nose and tongue into your wetness. You had gone so long without another person, that now you were mushy under his ministrations. He still couldn’t get enough, so he put one of your legs over his shoulder, diving deeper, tongue over your clit and finger entering your cunt.

“Fuck, Nando. Too good, too good,” you gripped his hair, grinding on his face. He curled his fingers up inside you, finding your g-spot, making you shake, “I’m so close, baby. So, so close.”

He latched on to your clit, and you came hard, shaking, hips pressing into his face as you tried to come down. You were panting, breathless, as you came down from your high. Fernando stood up, sitting by your side, kissing you. You tasted yourself on his lips, and he held you.

You cupped the bulge in his pants, and he kept kissing you face gently, holding you in his arms like he wanted to never let go.

“We should take this to the bedroom,” he whispered into your ear, making goosebumps arise in your skin.

You two stumbled to the bedroom, laughing as you pulled each piece of clothing off, tossing them to the floor. You were fully naked by the time the door closed behind you in the bedroom.

You didn’t actually lay in the bed, since Fernando made you keep one foot on the floor and pushed your other leg on the mattress, leaving you open for him.

“Dios, I want to keep you in this bed for days until I have tasted all of you, cariño,” he said, running a calloused hand up and down from your back all the way to your butt, pressing his fingers over your cheeks, making you moan.

“Nando, please fuck me, just- I need you, please,” you begged, feeling the way he lined his cock to tease your entrance but not actually putting in, just coating himself with your wetness.

Then finally, he pushed inside, slowly, your walls pulling him in a perfect tight grip. The two of you cursed as you adapted to the feel of him inside, of having someone fucking you for the first time in years.

Fernando started fucking you softly, and you let him manhandle you as he pulled you back to stand up, your back against his chest, one of his hands snaking around your middle to keep him pressed to your backside and the other hand cradled your face by the jaw, forcing you to look ahead.

“Mírate, cariño (look at you, dear)” he whispered, making you face ahead, finding the full length mirror on the other side of the room, you could see perfectly, Fernando fucking you from behind, his sweaty face above your shoulder, your tits bouncing with each snap of his hips and his hands claiming your body like you were a fucking masterpiece, “you look so pretty taking my cock.”

You looked at the mirror, his hand keeping you up like a toy and he started pounding into you, and you could only moan his name as you felt the orgasm buildup, you threw your hand back, holding his head and pulling his hair and your other hand down to your clit as his thrusts became harder and slower. You felt yourself clench around him, coming hard as he whispered in your ear.

“Oh, you feel so good, hermosa. I bet it feels so good coming around my cock does it not?” He talked you through your high.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me. Please, baby.” You moaned and that did it for him, and you had him cumming with a couple of sloppy thrusts.

You two fell on the bed, breathless.

“Goddamn, Nano, you’re going to ruin my life,” You whispered.

“I’m happy to be of service,” he joked and you ended up laughing out loud, him accompanying you with a few giggles.

You two showered, and then dressed in robes, ate dinner on the living room floor, sharing the wine straight from the bottle just like the first time you met.

After talking for what felt like hours, he took you back to bed, feasting on your cunt until he pulled two more orgasms from you, and then fucking you slowly. Mouth on your nipples and a hand keeping your hips high as he fucked into you. You held onto him for dear life, fingers tangled on his soft hair and kissed him whenever he gave you the opportunity. He worshiped your body like you were the only woman to ever exist, intense eye contact and praising you every step of the way.

The next morning you woke up naked, spent and happy. You barely had the time to feel Nando’s absence in your bed when he entered the room, carrying a big tray with breakfast.

“¡Buenos días!” He greeted you with a peck and set the tray in front of you. There was coffee, juice, toast and cheese.

“Buenos días, baby” you said, lazily taking a sip of coffee, “this is nice. I’ve never been surprised with breakfast in bed before.”

“You deserve it, you took me so well last night, hermosa.” He kissed you quickly again, and you blushed because of his words.

You kept eating when he went to the opposite side of the room to take a phone call. You spoke intermediate Spanish because of work, but you didn’t pry in his conversation, instead focusing on recharging your energies.

“Duty calls?” You asked as he came back. He only nodded, which made you a little sad, “well, I was going to ask you to stay the weekend, but I understand you’re busy.”

“I’ll cancel my plans.” He shrugged.

“No, no, you don’t have to.” You said quickly, feeling guilty for messing with his schedule.

“Do you want me to spend the weekend?” He asked softly. And you just nodded, not wanting to be the cause of him getting in trouble with work. “Then I’ll spend the weekend.”

He immediately got into a phone call again, and from what you could gather, he was rescheduling his commitments for the next week.

“Why did you do that?” You reprimanded him, but deep down you were kinda giddy because he was going to stay the weekend.

“You’re a priority, not a second thought.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing ever. “Besides, I’ll never say no to spending more time with you, cariño.”

Throughout the next six months, you and Nando kept in touch and met here and there whenever Lewis had Luna over. He officially asked you to be his girlfriend when you spent a week with him in a secluded villa close to the beach in Spain. It’s not that you didn’t want Fernando to meet Luna, but you two were still figuring out your relationship and you didn’t want to introduce them and in case he ended up not sticking around for the long run.

“Are you sure?” You asked him suddenly one night when you two were cuddling on the balcony, staring at each other and at the sky.

“Sure of what?”

“Are you sure you wanna be with me, Fernando?” You asked absentmindedly, running your palm up and down his back.

“Yes, I am sure.”

“Why, though? I come with a kid and a lot of baggage?” As you said the words, Fernando pulled your hand and kissed your palm, putting it against his cheek, looking into your eyes.

“Because I want you.”

“Even with all the complications? Even if we never find a way to go public?”

“I don’t mind if I have to spend the rest of our lives reassuring you. I’m with you because I want you, simple as that” he said with his serious voice and thick accent, as a lump stuck on your throat, “I’m not with you because of what you look like by my side or what you can do for me. I’m with you because I love you.”

Your tears fell down and Fernando caught them with his lips, kissing your cheeks and tears away. It was so good and so safe, you never wanted to leave his side.

“The rest of our lives, eh?” You giggled, “I’m not gonna lie, I like the sound of that.”

“Bueno. I like the sound of that too.”

“Gracias, Nano. Yo te amo y te deseo también. (Thank you, Nano. I love you and I desire you too)”

“Wait-” he pushed himself up, “you speak Spanish?”

“Sí, lo hablo. (Yes, I do)” You laughed out loud at his dumbfounded face, and he held your wrists up above your head.

“Todo este tiempo hablaste español? (All this time you spoke spanish?)” He clicked his tongue, “eres tan mala y te voy a castigar. (You're so bad and I'm gonna punish you)”

You squealed as he carried you back inside, tossing you on the bed.

Eventually, you made up your mind about telling Lewis. Not because he had to know, but from a standpoint that he should know for the sake of Luna. So you stopped him one day when he came to drop off Luna.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” You asked after greeting your baby, “Luna, why don’t you take your new toys inside while Mommy and Daddy chat a little?” You watched your girl run inside, “Careful! The porch is slippery!”

“What happened?” Lewis asked, putting both hands on his pockets.

“I’m seeing someone.”

Your words made his stomach drop. The dreaded day had come. Lewis had noticed how you looked happier and healthier than before, how you were wearing more makeup and pretty stylish clothes. The other day you had a mysterious tan on your body when he came to drop Luna off, way too strong tan for Scotland, anyway.

You are one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, he found it a miracle it took you so long to find someone. Maybe deep down Lewis thought you two could mend your relationship.

“Who?” Was all he said.

“Fernando.”

“Fernando?” He frowned, “who’s Fernando?”

“Alonso.” You bit your lip, waiting for an explosive reaction, but Lewis went silent, thinking.

“I can’t believe this. He’s just using you to target me, can’t you see?”

“So that’s all you see me as? An object? A ploy crafted to only be used for you or against you?” You asked, crossing your arms defensively.

“That’s not what I mean! He’s- he’s evil, you know that!” Lewis bared his teeth, getting angrier by the second.

“I don’t. That’s not how he is to me.” You shrugged.

“Do you have any idea how messy this will look when it comes out? Are you ready to face the consequences of this stupid adventure to get back at me?”

His words made you raise your walls, defensive, that sounded dangerously like a threat. You remained collected, because if Lewis wanted to go low, then you’d go lower.

“I’ll let this one slide, but it sounded dangerously close to a fucking threat,” you started, your voice so cold it sent shivers up his spine, “This had nothing to do with you. Nothing. But if this information leaks, I’ll know who did it. And if you do this to damage my image to the world or try and force my hand into leaving him, then everyone will finally know why we divorced, and how the other woman kept harassing me while I was pregnant!”

“What?” His expression dropped.

He didn’t know because you didn’t tell him, because after a few months of mockery and threats through texts, you changed your number and it stopped. You still had the screenshots though.

“Luna will always be my greatest priority, and I love my baby girl. But my life has revolved around hers ever since I was pregnant, and before that my life revolved around you,” you felt a lump in your throat, eyes watering, “can I have this one thing for me? Is it selfish wanting to be loved?”

“I do. I love you.” He said, his voice wavering too.

“No, you don’t.” You shook your head, “you loved the idea of someone living solely for you. You loved that I was there during the good and the bad, picking up the pieces when you were down and popping the champagne when you were up. You loved that I loved you.”

You looked back, where Luna was calling you from the door.

“I am with Fernando now, and as Luna’s parents, I just didn't want you to be blindsided,” you turned around but looked at him over your shoulder, “don’t go ruining my future a second time.”

He flinched before your words. You knew it would cut deep, but you were tired of that conversation and his entitlement to your life and decisions.

A few weeks later, you introduced Luna to Fernando, and to your surprise, they got along so well. Probably because he bought her a lot of presents. She liked his presence most of the times, despite feeling jealous sometimes when he hugged you or kissed your cheeks.

When you and Fernando made it to a one year anniversary, you two adopted a kitten who had been abandoned by the road. Luna fell immediately in love with the pet, which found home with you. For Christmas, Nando’s gift to Luna was to install a swing and a see-saw on the garden, which ultimately made her completely enchanted by him, asking him to play all the time whenever they were at your place at the same time.

You were sitting on his lap while Luna played with the cat, throwing toys around.

“How would you feel about a baby?” You asked him. He straightened up, searching your eyes.

“Are you pregnant?” He sounded shocked.

“Of course not, tonto! (silly)” You giggled, “I’m just- mulling over the idea, wanting your opinion, you know.”

“Yes, I want more kids if you want too,” he said honestly, his hand softly caressing the side of your hip.

“Mhm,” you nuzzled into his neck.

“Your question came with good timing, you know, I have been thinking,” he mumbled, thinking, “Do you want me to retire?”

“What? Are you insane? You love racing, it’s like- it’s in your blood! You know I do-”

“That’s not what I asked,” Fernando interrupted you, “I asked if you want me to retire? We could move in together, spend more time together, I could move here.”

“You’d drop your sunny and warm Spain for Scotland?” Your voice was laced with doubt.

“I’d drop anything for you, don’t you see?” He lowered his voice, closer to your ear, “besides, we could always go back and forth here and Spain. I’d do it if it means I get to make love to you every day, and wake up by your side every morning.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks were deep red.

“You love it.”

“That I do.”

“That sounds tempting but I could never ask you to stop racing, it’s literally your favorite thing!”

“You are my favorite thing.”

“Fernando…” you whined and he laughed.

“Ok, let’s meet in the middle, sí?” He proposed, kissing your cheek, “if you get pregnant, I drop everything. Meanwhile, we let things run their course as it is, ok?”

“That’s perfect, mi amor” You laid back on his chest, watching Luna playing.

Headcanons | Another universe…

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula one #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #Spotify

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randomshyperson · 11 months ago

Text

Five Times Carol Danvers Kisses You

Summary: The five times Carol Danvers kisses you until you two finally get together.

Warnings: Mentions but nothing explicit, a lot of fluff, mutual pining (and typical angst of trope), best friends to lovers, pre-canon-compliant (takes place before Carol is taken), kissing, happy(ish) ending. | Words: 4.836k

A/N-> As mentioned on this blog before, I absolutely love the dynamics of "Five Times Something" and after watching The Marvels I became obsessed with Carol Danvers, and here I am with something about my beloved blondie. It's short and sweet, and I didn't want to write anything too angsty but you can get hints of what's to come from the canon (Dr.Lawson being a Kree in disguise and what will happen to Carol). But the fic doesn't address this directly and ends up with a happy scene. Let's all live in denial.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

One.

“This is not a place to raise a child” was the justification your father used when he left. Funny enough, he didn't take the child, you, away from all the high-tech military weapons that he described as inadequate for a child to grow up around.

His lost, it what your mother said, an easy smile on her lips while she offered you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. She still had some grease on her jacket and a lot of dust on her hair but she looked beautiful. That was just how things were for Wendy Lawson.

And because she was the best mom anyone could ask for, or at least that was what you would perceive it with your limited references of healthy families. She was the best because she would let you sit around while she worked for the Shield, casually teaching you advanced engineering like it was the same homework you had from secondary school.

That was the only life you knew: Afternoons of trying to stay out of the way of Shield Agents and their big weapons until you were old enough to have a gun yourself.

But before that time came, some of them worried you weren't having a decent childhood. Away from guns at least.

You don't know which of the Agents suggested to Doctor Lawson the kart track, but you wish you could thank them. Your mother, as the busy cientist she always has been, was not available to be around all of the evenings you wished to spend there but she trusted your independence to use the bus after school. Besides, you had the impression that there were always Shield Agents keeping an eye on you no matter where you went.

Só for three whole years, that old place was your favorite. You would run out from the classroom with the first ring of the bell to get to the kart track as fast as you could, and for all those three years, you were also the best runner there.

Of course, it cost you some bloody noose and bruised hands. Especially with sore losers little boys who were very unpleased to be second placed by some random girl. There were also the parents, who would whisper not very lowly on how absurd it was to let an unsupervised little girl in such a violent activity.

As luck would have it, someday you were no longer the only little girl around.

The Danvers were local, and you always thought there were only three of them. The grumpy father and the loud and popular sons. But one day, the one with the warmest smile, the youngest son brought someone with him.

His little sister's name was Carol. She had her blonde hair tied down and she looked ready to punch anyone who gave her a hard time. All the Danvers kind looked the same to be fair. Blonde, strong and angry.

Unlike her brother and their free pass to do as they please, Carol was constantly reprimanded by her father. Even there, in front of the whole crowd and runners, he would scream and pinch her ear, adding to the fury that shone behind Carol's little blue eyes.

The other children would whisper just like their parents but growing up with spies and secret agents gave you this second nature to sneak in and out of places without being noticed. You weren't supposed to hear some of the adults whispering how Mr.Danvers drank more than he should or how his older son was leaving next summer for the army with a purple eye he didn't get in the training. You weren't supposed to but you did.

So the next time Carol crashed a car with one of the other runners, you messed up your perfect record to help her.

Her dad screamed again, as usual. But he left, muttering she could find her way home since she was so clever and Carol had those thick tears in her eyes that made them bluer, so you were helping her before you could give a second thought to it.

She didn't mind that you took her hand and brought her to the administration lobby. She's more interested in knowing how the hell you knew how to get there in the first place.

When you told her you grew up with spies she laughed thinking you were joking. You decided to tell her more stories in the hope it would distract her from the pain of the cuts she got in her legs from the crash.

It worked.

Carol had colorful patches on both her knees when you two sneaked out of there to the bus stop. You could take her home if she wished because you knew a lot about public transport but Carol smiled and said she could do it alone; Her dad was often not around and with soldiers brothers, she knew a lot about doing things by herself.

Yet, she appreciates the gesture and the thought. Her bus should be here in 25 minutes so you sit next to her and let your healthy knee brush her bruised one.

“My name is Carol Danvers by the way.”

You have to chuckle at her line.

“I know who you are, Danvers.” You retort with an easy smile. She looks up with curiosity. You chuckle again. “You know your name is on the scoreboard, right?”

She laughs, almost shyly. You don't know that yet but Carol is not the best at making friends. Especially girlfriends because apparently, every girl hated how not 60s girly behavior she acted on as much as any boy.

You didn't mind. If anything, it kinda made you like her more.

“You didn't have to do that back there you know?” She starts over, fingers tugging at the bandaid you put above her knee. “Lose the race to check on me.”

You shrug, eyes on the road. “No worries. There'll be other races. Besides, you're the only real competition I get there. If you're not participating, what's the fun in winning?”

Carol's cheeks grow a little hotter, but you're both too young to know it has nothing to do with the sun above your heads. You offer her a smile and she gets up to signal to the bus.

But before she leaves, she turns to you again.

It's quicker than her crash that morning, the thank you little peck on your right cheek but is as meaningful as losing a three-year Invictus status on a track race for someone.

Carol nearly flees the scene once she catches the first glimpse of surprise in your expression. You were caught off guard, that's all. But all you can do is laugh to yourself as you watch her run to her bus.

Tomorrow, when you are back here, you'll find Carol so you can share your lunch with her. Today, you would walk home with no clue why the spot she kissed was tingling.

-&-

Two.

Shield Academy is not the army.

It is, as the name suggests, an academic program for the gifted-minded. It's a place where a child who grew up surrounded by the brightest minds on the planet can get it easily.

Well, of course, there's a lot of studying and tiring exams that you wouldn't describe as easy but when taking everything into consideration, the only place a brainy - or huge nerd as Carol would call it - could end up was there.

So while you had big dark blue sweaters with the Shield logo on them, Carol had worn out public school uniforms.

But she was doing okay. In fact, if anyone asked you, even though you were the nerd one in that friendship, for you, Carol was quite brilliant. She had a quick mind and such a strong, well, everything. She was as clever as she was kind. She was passionate about anything she cared for and she was easily your favorite person.

The kart track gave space for the public library and the green plains behind Shield Academia as you two grew up. Carol would take her bike from across town and spend the whole day after school in those green yards with you. Often, she had a football with her while you had a book.

And while you tried to escape your Shield colleagues, Carol would find her spot at your side. She would watch those training agents and wish to be like them, while both of you knew she would follow her brothers to the military when the time came.

But for now, you're sixteen. And Carol has been your best friend for almost 6 years now. You're not sure if friends have anniversaries or if it's something reserved for dating, and since you're not gonna ask any of the agents around, especially not Doctor Lawson, you just assume is okay to get Carol a gift.

She had been wishing for a walkman for so long - she had three already, all broke down during some of her naughty antics, from jumping into the reservation without remembering to take them off her backpack to get into a fight with older kids who thrown her stuff just for the fun of it. So yes, she had those before and she loved music but somehow she always ended up breaking them so you thought maybe because you were the one gifting it, she would be more careful.

You were right of course, but that's hardly the point.

Carol started to act strange after the gift. Even days later, during movie night at her house, she got quiet, which is definitely not a Carol Danvers kind of attitude, so you started to wonder if the present was a good idea at all.

That of course, until Carol clarified the whole thing.

“I got you something too. For, hum, the anniversary thing.”

You pinched her ribs, the nearly shy behavior was such an odd thing to testify that was actually terrifying you. Carol has been your best friend for way too long for that or anything to be awkward between you two.

But then again, adolescence makes everything weird.

You don't open the gift very graciously. Because you were in the middle of movie night, of course, hands full of popcorn butter and Carol was being weird and suspect that you just wanted to put an end to it.

You chuckle at her worn-out team jacket there.

“So your gift to me is your jacket?” You asked with a confused frown, watching your friend struggle with her words the next moments.

“No, I mean yes. But not, just that.” She starts and it's quite the scene. Carol Danvers not being able to talk when that's all she does. “It's my favorite jacket. I… really like it.”

“Do you want it back then?” You suggest with a confused laugh but Carol shakes her head immediately, her cheeks rosy.

“God, no, that’s not…” she takes a deep breath. “I like the jacket, a lot, but not as much as I like you. So I thought, maybe if I can give you something that I really like, it will mean…”

“Oh, I get it.” You say with a smile, holding the jacket against your chest as Carol switches the weight in her foot. “Thank you, blondie. But you don't have to give me your favorite stuff to show me you like me. You don't have to give me anything at all really. Perhaps, all you have to do is say it and I'll believe you.”

Carol nods, shallowing dryly, and without missing a beat, she repeats her words from before: “I really like you.” It's nearly a whisper, and the way she struggles to hold your gaze tells you everything you need to know.

You smile, aware of the warmth spreading in your cheeks and ears.

“I really like you too, Carol.” You tell her and with no hush, you put her jacket on. The blonde in front of you takes a shaky breath once the jacket is properly around your body. You're distracted with the new outfit to take notice of the new dark shine her eyes hold. “Gotta admit it, Danvers, I could totally worm the athletic style. I mean, I look super cool don't I?”

But your question goes unanswered. Carol moves forward, her hands grab the collar of the gifted jacket and just like the first time, she kisses you quicker than you can manage to process.

Her lips are dry against yours because she's nervous. Trembling and terrified. You pull away, and Carol has her eyes closed tightly, breathing unevenly.

You take a deep breath and lick your lips to moisten them a little and the second kiss is much better.

There's this soft noise she makes when you move your mouth but the second you feel her tongue on your lower lip, there's noise around you two.

As if getting electrocuted, Carol jumps away just in time for her evidently drunk father to stumble inside the garage.

Carol is not eight anymore, but she's the only one left in that house. Her older brother taught her five different ways to break someone's noose, but Carol still shakes like the leaves if her father is around with his harsh words and angry looks.

This time, however, he takes a long glance at you both. The guilty looks, accelerated breathing, and he just laughs.

The only thing he says is a slur that makes Carol flinch. Then he turns his back and climbs the stairs to his bedroom, passing out in the hallway before he can make it through.

“Carol, I-” You try but she forces a smile and nods at the door.

“Please go.” She asks. “I have to take him to bed and you don't have to stay.”

“But-”

“Please.”

You leave. And Carol doesn't bring up that night for the next two years.

-&-

Three.

Graduation means Army. More specifically, the Air Force because of course Carol Danvers wants to fly away from everything and everyone.

“Not everyone.” She frowns when you tell her that. Then she smiles, legs brushing yours at the back of her truck. “I would love to have you up there with me.”

You chuckle, giving her shoulder a little bump with your own.

“Sorry Blondie, you know I hate planes.” You joke but the shine in her eyes is deeper now.

“What about spaceships?” She insists it.

You sigh into the night, pensive for a second.

“Well, Mom would probably love it if I ever suggest anything that involves flying.” You say, breaking into a chuckle as your hand moves to the leg you have bent in that position, which allows you to trace your fingers toward your ankle. “Of course, anything other than my secret little Pegasus.”

Carol gives a compliance smile at the mention of the secret tattoo you got on her seventeenth birthday but continues to watch you in silence.

The stars are shining bright above you two, and the parked truck gives as much privacy as one could get in that neighborhood. If you and Carol weren't girls, people would make conclusions.

Perhaps they’ll do it anyway.

“What would I even do up there, Danvers?” You ask her because Carol is so passionate about flying that you're starting to wonder if she is able to see a whole different world up there that you can't.

This time, her hand finds you before her lips. She brings her fingers to yours resting on the truck and locks them. She gets closer and closer and gives you all the time in the world to push her back.

But she's Carol, and she's beautiful and she's your best friend. Why wouldn't you want to kiss her?

There's tongue this time. Hesitant at first then curious, until finally hungry. Of course, Carol Danvers is a good kisser, this asshole.

You break apart, to complain with a husky tone that is unfair but Carol only chuckles before kissing you again. And again. Until somehow you end with your back against her truck, painting into her mouth.

And Carol is seventeen years old and she's a huge virgin like you who really wants this to change tonight. Not just that, of course, but she's still a teen and that's exactly what she chooses to say in order to make this less life-changing than it is.

Because sleeping together as a way of ending high school without the V Card has a completely different meaning than sleeping together because you really want to ruin a friendship.

You swallow at her suggestion, aware that the heat in your veins doesn't cover for the way your heart just broke inside your chest.

But you smile and tell Carol you love her, making sure it sounds platonic. Just to hurt her just as much.

It works, but she kisses you anyway.

-&-

Four.

Maria Rambeau is the most incredible person you have ever met. She's clever and fun and kindhearted. It's so easy to love her and it comes so naturally, that you can't really blame Carol.

You also have no right to be jealous, you tell yourself.

After all, Carol asked more than once for you to at least consider following her to the Air Force. You both had military families, so it made sense for her that you both ended up following the same path.

You were not entirely excluded from that, of course. But unlike Carol with her soldier training, you had medical classes. And while she and Maria learned to shoot people, you learned to heal them.

That of course until the third year, when Carol's training moved to space crafting and yours moved to biological charts. The Pegasus was not the only military project available for you, and being home was good but every time you caught a glimpse of the empty fields near the station, you remember afternoons with Carol and the lack of her ache a hell lot inside your chest.

But visiting her at the base and then at a local bar was a bittersweet occasion.

Because time went by and Carol made a new friend. A lovely and brilliant and apparently less confused woman new best friend. Maria who made her laugh and blush and was such a great company that you couldn't hate her no matter how much the jealousy burned inside your veins.

Somehow, no matter how many dove eyes Carol threw at Maria, she didn't catch them. Immune to her charm entirely. You kinda wished she would teach you that.

The last free week you had was spent visiting Carol and ending up in a bar. But Maria's night was continuing with a good-looking soldier somewheres else, so yours and Carol's would continue with cheap drinks.

It was probably common sense, not to mix alcohol with feelings but you and Carol clearly skipped that class.

You ended up pressed behind the bar's wall in a messy attempt of drunken make-out with your former best friend.

Carol tasted like beer and the army's year changed her. Even drunk, she knew her way around a woman's body now and you had to force your stupid brain to stop wondering about who she had been practicing with. Perhaps Maria was not immune to her charm as you thought she was.

Just as things were getting out of hand, that is, it was probably against some army rules to have sex behind one bar in the military area, Carol pulled away.

She looked so good like that, with messy hair and flushing cheeks, her lips swollen due to the whole thing.

But her eyes were so sad. And you couldn't push the alcohol and the lust away to have clear thoughts on that.

“We can't do this again.” She declares with a seriousness that makes you swallow hard. “I can't.”

She stumbles away and you nearly slip down the hall on your shaky legs. Carol is looking for her car keys but she will definitely fall asleep on the seat.

To be fair, you kinda wished that night would end in her car seat, just in very different scenarios.

“Why not, Danvers?” You manage to question once the anger pushes a little of the alcohol away. Carol sighs tiredly. “Why?” You almost scream and she stops in her tracks, turning to give you a hurt look.

“I can't do this again, okay?” She retorts and she's drunk but she's so hurt. You can see it in her eyes and it kills you to think it is something you have done it. “I don't have the strength in me to get over you again”.

Your world freezes for a whole second. Your mouth is bitter suddenly.

“O-over me?” You repeat her words, confusion mixing with the pain you feel growing in your chest. “When… When were you under me?”

The question is the best of what your drunk brain can come up with but it's enough for Carol to understand.

She lets out a sad chuckle. “C'mon, Lawson. How could you not know? Everyone did. Even my dad, especially my dad.” She corrects herself then, bitterly before taking a deep breath. “It's past. It doesn't matter anymore. We are no longer kids, messing around with things we don't understand. I know what am I. And I know we shouldn’t. I won't jeopardize our friendship again for someone I cannot have.”

There are tears in your eyes, and Carol has the fucking worst timing in the world because your brain simply can't catch up with the meaning of this conversation with all the booze in the way.

“Carol, what are you even saying?”

She just smiles, giving a nod to the bar.

“Let's get inside, I'll get you a cab back to your hotel.”

She doesn't let you question further and the next morning, when the hangover barely allows you to open your eyes, Carol says the worst thing you did last night was try dancing with a Statue.

-&-

Five.

Doctor Lawson has been acting strange lately. She says it's work stress when she returns your calls and ignores your advice about her retiring.

You use your mother's stress as an excuse to come home, and it seems ridiculous that you have to invent reasons to see Carol, but she gives you no choice. Things have been very strange between you in recent months.

The house is a mess, and it's the first time you've worried about the possibility of dementia.

Strange phrases, disconnected words. You think about calling the head of Shield when you put Dr. Lawson to bed after making her some hot tea, but you end up calling Carol.

Your former best friend brings her old truck into your garage.

"Hey, blondie." She hugs you first at the greeting, and you sigh with satisfaction at the contact. You almost forget the stress of the whole meeting with your mother. "It's good to see you."

"I missed you." Carol says with a smile, squeezing you tighter before letting go. "What happened? You sounded worried on the phone."

You sigh before telling her everything you saw, standing there leaning on Carol's truck in the dim light of the garage. It's her turn to sigh when you finish.

"Good thing I brought beer." She comments, getting a laugh out of you.

You don't even notice the time passing that night, but it's like being back in senior year, sitting side by side in the back of Carol's truck, forgetting the world around you for a moment.

When the case of beers is about to run out, you've said almost everything you have to say. Carol thinks she needs to add something more.

"I know the circumstances aren't the best but... I can't say I'm sad." She begins, looking straight ahead, a half-full can of beer in her hands. "With the possibility of you coming to live here again, I mean. I've kind of hated Washington since you left. And Shield too, for taking you away."

You giggle shyly at this and don't know what to say to Carol, so you just decide to hug her. But you're a bit dizzy after the third beer and miscalculate your approach. You end up too close to her face and can see almost in slow motion how the blue darkens or how Carol chokes on her breath.

"I'm sorry, I-" you begin in a hoarse voice, but she doesn't let you finish. The beer can slips out of her hand as she uses both to pull your face towards her.

It's an intense, messy, and passionate kiss. Carol swallows all the sighs that escape your lips as she presses her mouth to yours. Her tongue doesn't ask for passage. You melt against her and try your best to match her energy, suddenly feeling very dizzy, unrelated to the beer.

Her hands move from your face to your neck and down to your waist. Carol mentions pulling you onto her lap, but the balcony lights flicker on and she grunts as she pulls away.

You're still blinking spellbound at the whole thing, trying to catch your breath as she stands up, adjusting her hair.

"Fuck, I shouldn't have done that." She mutters more to herself than to you, hoarse and upset. You swallow dry. "I'm so stupid."

"Carol."

"You're so fucking stupid, Carol Danvers, I swear to God." She ignores your call, continuing to curse quietly to herself. You frown, but end up looking at the porch; your mother has woken up and looks just as lost as before and you really need to check on her.

When you get out of the truck, you touch Carol on the shoulder, and she turns around almost in despair.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I'm leaving-"

"Carol, shut up." You cut her off and don't let her say another word.

She shuts up immediately. "I really have to get back inside, and make sure my mom doesn't turn on any water or store the cat in the fridge again." You chuckle apologetically, stroking her cheek. "But I need you to understand that this isn't a mistake, an accident or a thoughtless act after a few beers. At least it isn't and it never was for me. We need to start talking to each other."

Carol nods quickly, swallowing as she looks down at your swollen lips. "Yeah, talking is good."

You smile, and hear the sound of the cat in the house and think you'd better start running. "Later, okay?"

"Later."

But your mother doesn't have dementia. She's not even allowed in a regular hospital. Shield is strangely private about everything, but you're practically coerced into signing confidentiality papers about the current state of Dr. Lawson, who seems to miraculously improve after spending an hour in a room with other agents.

Carol is the only person you can talk to about things, and she has news of her own.

"Maria is pregnant." She tells you, with a twinkle in her eye, without waiting for you to finish absorbing the news. "And she wants me to be the godmother!"

You're happy for Maria, especially perhaps because she's seeing that handsome soldier and she and Carol have nothing going on. Also, you need to tell Carol that you can go back to Washinton now that your mother is better.

"Oh, I thought..." The blonde hesitates as she hears the news, trying not to look upset by forcing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I thought you'd decided to stay."

You're having breakfast in the living room of your house, Dr. Lawson is working upstairs. You swallow the bitter feeling of hurting Carol again.

"I would, for Mom. But why would I stay in Louisiana?" It's a rhetorical question because you both know very well what would make you stay. Carol laughs sadly, looking down. You get tired of pretending. " I would stay for you. I would stay for... us."

She looks at you in silence, a conflict of emotions on her face. "Don't be ridiculous, you can't just give up your career for a friendship-"

"Carol." You cut her off seriously, and she choked on her sentence, her eyes as tearful as yours. You give her a small smile, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

She swallows dryly, and despite reaching out to take your hand, she insists; "I'm gonna need you to say it."

"God, you're such an asshole." You gasp with emotion, laughing as tears of happiness escape yours and her eyes. Carol also laughs but waits. "Okay, Danvers. You've got me. I'm completely, irrevocably in love with you. I have been for a long time, maybe since the first time I saw you. And I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

Carol almost knocks over the coffee table when she moves in to kiss you but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers fics #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel #marvel imagines

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deeranon · 2 months ago

Text

Chip and Tail | Aventurine X mer! Reader

Warnings: characters may be ooc, blood, body disfigurement(kinda?), implied killing, mention of Jade(who is a warning in and of herself), weapons,wounds, may contain grammar mistakes, use of it/it’s for living being(reader) leave if you don’t like or are uncomfortable with it, implied slavery, implied wars

Read at your own risk!

Despite use of it/it’s and they/their pronouns used for mer reader is whatever gender you wish

Mermaid, siren, and sea-daughter are seen as gender neutral terms—not gender specific in this story

The Showman swayed with the waves, creaking and groaning as foam crashed against the hull. The crew shifted restlessly, bodies tense as they shuffled around deck, waiting for even a word from within the Captain’s quarters. Never before had they stayed in one place on the ocean surface for so long, the pause casting unease within their ranks.

Gulls cried as they circled overhead, uncaring for what was going on within the heart of the ship.

“Did you shoot down an albatross or are you simply very unlucky?” Aventurine cooed as he shuffled his deck. Rings of gold and silver lined every other finger, shining haughtily underneath the sunlight as his black silk gloved hands shuffled the deck for the final round.

The captain of The Showman, a wiry and tall man with a full black beard seethed from on his plush velvet seat, face red with rage. “I ain’t unlucky. Yr’ just a cheater! Trying to trick me inta repayin’ my debt! I repaid you blithering sea-snakes ages ago!” He thundered, furiously slamming a scarred hand on the wooden table. Trinkets and pearly jewelry in the place of betting chips laid on the table trembled at the crash, falling to the floorboards miserably.

Aventurine gave no reaction to the man’s whining, smile only widening as he eyed the dark green coat his pirate opponent had obviously stolen from some unfortunate noble. “I’m afraid that’s where you are wrong. You simply think you repaid us.” Aventurine started with a casual shrug of his shoulders “Two years ago, you reached out to us—The Medusa, claiming you had enough money to rid you of your debt. A colleague of mine agreed to meet you at Sargentine’s one and only port city casino, yet when she got there…you were drunk beyond comprehension. You had gambled all of your savings away, just months before your payment was due. So close to freedom, too.” Aventurine gave the quaking captain a faux sympathetic look, tutting like a disappointed parent while dealing cards with practiced ease.

“Blasphemy! I worked my crew half to death getting all that precious cargo—I wouldn’t let it all go t’ some silly landfolk game!” He shrieked. The grip on his cards was paper white.

“You were quite drunk, I heard. Spent too much time at the brothel, perhaps?” Aventurine said with a chuckle. “But let’s get back to the point. I’m here because no matter how you spin it, you have payments to us that are overdue.” He straightened in his chair, smoothing out his perfectly pressed white silk shirt as the air grew thick with tension. “Now, you can try your hand at a game with higher stakes than your stolen jewelry and attempt to win your freedom, or I can simply evict you here and now for the murder of Cassidy White: late father of the Prince of Sargentine.”

The captain paled at Aventurine’s words, the hand of cards falling from his grasp in a shower of inked paper. His brown leather eyes widened with fear, staring down at him in shock.

Aventurine laughed heartily at the stupefied look, head thrown back from laughter as his eyes crinkled with mirth. “You think I didn’t recognize the embroidery on your fancy jacket? Cassidy White was a lover of the sea before he settled and married the current Queen of Sargentine. He had that coat custom made and wouldn’t go anywhere without it. It’s a shame you killed him on his ship, he sounded like the kind of guy I could talk with. Oh well, no crying over spilled milk I suppose.”

The captain paled even further if possible, gripping at his coat’s cuffs like a lifeline as realization dawned on him. The coat was a brilliant dark greenish-black color with blue leather cuffs and lapels patterned with golden ripples like the sea. Fancy gold trimming accompanied by a single thick rope covered the shoulder pads. Within the collar of the coat was the cursive signature of Cassidy White with the royal insignia of Sargentine emblazoned next to it. Aventurine would have had to be a complete fool to not recognize it immediately.

“Fortunately, you ended up with me: the Aventurine stoneheart to the Medusa. The Monetary Evaluation Department Underseers of Seaside Altercations if you didn’t know. I would say I’m a very generous man, so I will repeat to you your two options.” Aventurine raised a single finger “One, you win my game of Roulette and drop this sorry betting game with cards,” he raised another “Two, I kill you now and throw your entire crew into company custody for first degree murder on multiple occasions while on a ship given to you by Medusa. Taking all possessions to repay your debt. What do you say, captain?”

The boat groaned, singing with the waves as it swayed in place, the sound filling the vast room stuffed with stolen goods and currencies like music. Aventurine waited silently with a smile, one hand on the holster of his gun as the wiry man contemplated his choices.

That was the wonderful thing about the mother ocean. A man could only run the length of his ship before he could be caught. No land to hide behind, no trees or buildings to protect him. Only the vast ocean filled with more horrors than any sane man or pirate would dare to take a chance against. Trapping him with his own monsters until he touched earth.

After another moment of thinking, The Showman’s captain looked Aventurine in his glaring pink and blue eyes with steeled nerves and gave a grim nod. “One. I’ll win yer’ damn game.” He growled.

Grinning, Aventurine couldn’t help but disagree. “We’ll see about that. Fate works in mysterious ways.”

Taking his silver revolver from its holster, Aventurine loaded three bullets into the chambers before spinning the cylinder round and round until there was no possible way to know what it would shoot. “Any last words before we begin?”

The man spat at Aventurine’s face, a scowl forming on his dry lips. “Yeah. B’fore the loser dies, they reveal valuable information no one knows but themselves to the other. One less secret for you t’ take to yer grave when I shoot you where ya sit.”

“I can agree with that. But I highly doubt you’ve got a secret I think is good enough to spill on your deathbed.” The stoneheart said nonchalantly, twirling the gun in his hands with unnecessary flare before gripping it tight.

The captain, topped with the iconic pirate hat and a gnarly scar running down half of his bearded face stared at the gun as if his life depended on it. Because it did.

Aventurine never let his eyes leave the pirate, staring into the damned man’s soul for what would probably be the last time.

Bowing dramatically, one hand behind his back and the other cradling the gun, Aventurine rose and said “Got a coin we could flip? Winner shoots first.”

The ocean hissed at the pensive crew, water dark and stormy brewing. Twitching with unused power, the pirates grew antsy as time passed overhead, their leader yet to return or give them a single word of new news.

Paul, a stout man with one eye and a torn lip leaned against the heavy oak door. Ear pressed against the wood, he strained to hear anything through the door. He waited and waited for any sound, but it was dead silent on the other side.

Paul was ready to push away from the door when there was a muffled bang that echoed through the wood. A gunshot. It had to be. Paul knew that sound by heart.

Heart light, a grin broke out on his face as he turned to his crew mates. Jamming a thumb behind him, Paul mimed a gun firing with his other hand.

Hobbling away from the door, Paul snickered to himself as smiles and proud sneers broke out on everybody’s faces. Some even managed to let out chortles or snorts of sadistic laughter. The tension broke like a fickle stick to be added to the fire.

The captain of The Showman was not to be messed with. They had plundered and pillaged hundreds of ships and towns, a single man was nowhere near enough to stop him.

“Well, I’m glad that’s over.”

The crew froze, smiles shifting to frowns as they all stared in confusion at the blond man before them.

Aventurine gave a languid smile, waving a gloved hand covered in jingling bracelets and rings in greetings as he casually carried a long greenish-black coat over his shoulder.

“You’re not the captain.” Paul spat venomously, staring at the coat in Aventurine’s possession with disdain. The other crew members grumbled and hissed in agreement behind him, hands inching for their weapons.

“No, but his ship is mine now. And you lucky lot are under arrest. My sincerest apologies.” Aventurine said, unaffected by the crew drawing their swords and guns. Shoving a hand in a black pocket stitched into his pants, he withdrew a small pile of silvery blue dust.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The blond warned.

The rebellious crew froze immediately at the sight of the powder: Ground siren’s scales. A single sniff could knock a grown man out for weeks, and could even cause death and permanent paralysis in more serious cases. Aventurine had enough dust in his hand to kill the entire crew and then some.

The ocean crashed violently against the ship, as if sensing the presence of one of its lost children. Sea froth stained the floor of the vessel as it rocked back and forth violently. Aventurine adjusted his stance with ease while the seasoned crew struggled to gain their footing. The sea longed for the dust, calling for it desperately.

“Now, if you don’t want to end up with immovable limbs for the rest of your lives I suggest you stop resisting. The ocean is the perfect place to dump bodies and I’d prefer it if you didn’t make more work for me. Though if you’d like to jump now I’ll allow it, the ocean seems pretty finicky today. Maybe a nice snack will calm her.” Aventurine warned, holding the ground scales closer to the ocean and causing the ship to lurch so hard half of the crew fell onto their backs.

The few that remained standing sheathed their weapons, knowing well when they were outsmarted. Aventurine grinned, pocketing a good portion of the dust before reaching for the flare gun strapped to his right leg. With a single click, the flare sailed into the air for as long as it possibly could.

Like a cheetah suddenly leaping from the grassy savanna, a ship so large it made The Showman look miniature appeared in the distance. It fought against the crashing waves as it slowly approached, growing larger and larger the closer it came. The crew watched with slack jaws as the grandiose ship neared.

“Ah! There she is! The mighty Sigonius, my favorite ship.” Aventurine crowed, chest puffing with pride like a peacock flaunting it’s feathers. “Be thankful that you get to board the Sigonius before you are thrown in jail, ladies and gentlemen. It is a privilege indeed.”

The crew felt both annoyed and awed at Aventurine’s words. Annoyed at his flaunting, and dumbstruck that he could ever captain such a large ship. The Sigonius approached much faster than one would expect of a ship of such large size. Slowing to a stop, the gargantuan teal ship sent out a large metal bridge to connect both sea vessels together.

“Sorry, but lowly scum like yourselves aren’t allowed to see the insides of Medusa ships.” Taking his chance, Aventurine blew the dust straight into the heart of the Showman crew. One by one, they all crumpled to the deck like puppets freed of their strings.

In perfectly aligned rows, troops marched down the bridge and began casing the groaning ship. Weapons were confiscated and jewelry was gathered into crates labeled “perishables”. The workers swarmed the smaller ship like bees drawn to flowers, buzzing with activity wherever they went.

Deciding that his job was finished, Aventurine started to make his way to the bridge when the ship shook violently.

Dulled by the wood, a horrific spine crawling sound echoed from beneath the floorboards of The Showman. Workers paused to listen to the wail-like scream, stunned with shock and hit with unease as the sound continued.

Aventurine frowned, hairs standing on end and goosebumps rising along his arms. His heartbeat spiked the more the sound continued.

Suddenly it stopped, as if it had never happened in the first place.

Was that part of the secret the now deceased captain had told him about?

Turning to the nearest worker, Aventurine flashed a charming smile barbed with tebsion. “Take a team below deck and find out what made that noise, okay?”

“Yes sir.” The soldier nodded, saluting before marching off to rally a team.

With nothing left for him on the ship, Aventurine stepped foot on the Sigonius once again, heading straight for his private sleeping quarters. The ocean continued to riot against the small Showman, pummeling its sides and swaying it violently. At that rate, the ship only had a few hours until the tides capsized it. Hopefully the ship could be cleaned out before then.

As Aventurine was about to open the door to the hall, a keen shrill broke through the air and made the sailors cover their ears in pain. Quick to cover his own ringing ears, Aventurine staggered over to the railing of the ship—desperate to find out what was making the horrid noise. Even with both hands clamped tightly to the side of his head, his ears still dribbled with blood from the nauseating noise.

Searching with pain filled eyes, Aventurine scanned the waters between the ship for signs of monstrous life. Instead of finding a six headed beast or a pack of agitated Cyclas, Aventurine spotted a sizable hole torn through the wooden side of The Showman’s hull. Wood splinters drifted in the raging ocean along with thick fisherman netting twined with red string. An incredibly bad omen.

Oily black liquid stained the surface of deep blue sea, spreading out from the hole now starting to fill with sea water. The liquid dripped from the hull like wet paint, giving off such an intoxicating smell Aventurine was ready to believe that The Showman had raided a perfume store.

Holding his breath, Aventurine waited for the wail to sound out once again. Like clockwork, the piercing shriek pounded away at his ears determined to turn him deaf. Mind racing, Aventurine carded through his internal library of sea creatures at lightning speed.

Ink black liquid, enchanting smell, angry ocean, horrific screams, enough strength to bust through the hull of a Medusa ship, red string intertwined with fisherman netting: it was a mermaid. Possibly even a siren.

As if confirming his suspicion, another sorrowful scream shook the ocean and rocked even the mighty Sigonius. The netting Aventurine had thought to be simply drifting in the water now thrashed violently, the thick rope was black with the same oil colored liquid in the ocean. Furious waves crashed against both ships as the black substance continued to increase with each jerk of the hook and seal infested netting.

Blood. It was all blood.

“I want all men off The Showman immediately! There is a breach in the hull!” Aventurine roared when the scream trembled to a long whale like whine. “And get that mermaid out of the damn netting! They’ll drown us all if they don’t stop!”

Men still aboard the Showman scrambled to cross the shaking bridge while Aventurine ran for the lifeboat closest to the blood stained water. With no patience to wait for fellow sailors, he dropped the boat into the thrashing sea. It was never a good idea to stay between two large ships that could knock together and crush you at any time, but Aventurine was willing to take the risk if it meant stopping the siren from killing them all by accident.

Letting the water bring him closer to the net, Aventurine reached out and began to draw in the bloody rope as he sawed away with his hunting knife bit by bit. It tugged and jerked in his hands, threatening to send him beneath the waves multiple times, but Aventurine sat firm in the small boat.

The nets were endless as they were large, Aventurine cut as much as he could but more net seemed to replace it each time. Either this was a siren, or Aventurine was dealing with a very young and unhappy whale.

Sailors grouped in the other boats dropped into the sea around him, grabbing at the net and heaving with all their might. It was no use trying to cut the sea creature free, there was simply too much net to get through before the sea creature drowned them in a tidal wave.

They had to bring it aboard the ship.

The ocean raged endlessly, transpiring with the ravenous storm from above. Together both elements made even the Sigonius ship feel like it was capable of tipping.

To take a sea-daughter away from the water invoked the mother’s most powerful protective measures to ensure its child’s safe return.

The only way to calm the mother ocean was to return its daughter back to water. Every sailor and pirate worth their salt knew that one thing before agreeing to a life on the ocean. Himself included.

Aventurine only had one problem: there was no place to set the net swaddled mermaid on the Sigonius. Not naturally, at least.

Riffling through the previously locked drawers of the dresser planted against the wall of his sleeping quarters, Aventurine searched for his Favour. A magical sand-dollar that would build you a single non-living object if you set the evil or troublesome soul trapped inside of it free. Aventurine had come across it while strolling through the port market in a different country. A lucky find.

Since that day, he had kept the Favour tucked away for a moment like this one.

Having finally found the pitch black sand dollar, Aventurine made his way through the groaning ship to his office. A group of ten men kneeled before the mass of red twined netting covering the deck, wax muffles stuffed deep in their ears as the beast let out softer yet still ear rupturing cries. The group worked tirelessly to slice through the thick hook infested ropes, trying their best to not accidentally stab the hidden siren with their knives or dig the arsenal of hooks into its skin.

Aventurine paused, his head aching from the pain of the continuous crying. Raising his voice as loud as it could go, Aventurine yelled “Have the mer brought to my office when most of the nets are gone! I will take it from there.”

Only two men seemed to realize he had spoken over the shrill whale like noise the mer let out when a stray hook supposedly caught onto its body. They nodded, squinting at his lips but giving him two thumbs up before returning to their work. With the hope that the crew mates actually knew what Aventurine asked of them, he made his way to the office reserved for the captain of The Sigonius.

Pushing the heavy furniture around until it all stood grouped together in the middle of the room, Aventurine crushed the Favour without hesitation as the Sigonius rocked uncomfortably.

Red mist arose from the sand dollar, curling in the air like incense before it transformed into a giant angry cloud that whirled around the room. It writhed and shrieked, the horrifically deformed finned face pressing against the cloud harmonizing with the beast outside before coating the entire room in a thick scarlet mist.

Aventurine held his breath, elbow over his face as the red filling his vision deepened to a color reminiscent of dried blood.

The spirit gave a final wail from within the mist before throwing itself through the wooden walls to the ocean outside. A siren’s soul had been trapped inside, now free to drown sailors from beyond the grave of it so wished. Though Aventurine saw the trade as necessity as he stared at the object before him.

In place of the mist was a great tank that nearly reached the roof of the room, a rolling ladder made of iron connected to black railings attached along the outermost glass wall. The entire tank spanned three of the four walls, edges perfectly curved and inside wide enough for Aventurine to lay flat on his back and still not touch the walls. A kind of cement or rubber like object protected the wooden floorboards beneath, capable of protecting the room from leaks. Water a perfect blue hue filled the dull and empty tank, saving Aventurine a great deal of time.

With the addition of the tank using up a chunk of the office, Aventurine got to rearranging his desk and other equipment out of the way to the ladder before opening the door and waiting for the sailors to arrive.

It seemed like his words hadn’t been lost to the crew mates, now dragging a still entangled mermaid behind them. It’s screeching was like metal grating against clay, thrashing weakly as hooks poked through the now few layers of netting encasing it.

Aventurine nodded at the exhausted crew members. “Good. Help me get it in the tank, and then you’re free to rest.”

“Of course, captain.” One of the sailors agreed, bowing their head.

As a team, the tall and hulking sailors hoisted the mermaid, now limp from exhaustion or merely accepting its fate, into the water with a loud splash. Aventurine waved for the crew to leave from his position on the ladder, watching as the sea creature within started to squirm the moment it hit water. The ocean outside immediately started to calm, the rocking waves growing weaker by the minute.

The door closed with a satisfactory click as the last of the group left the room now colored in a blue light from the water blocking the stained glass window. The sun, now peeking out from the dying storm started to fall below the horizon.

Aventurine stared, waiting with bated breath for the creature to reveal itself. Tendrils of black blood spreading in the once pristine seawater thanks to its wounds. Except, there was no further movement. The mer did not slip out from the nets in a dramatic reveal of beauty like Aventurine thought it might. Nor did it leap out from the tank and tear his throat out in the span of a few seconds. It laid hidden within the blankets of bloody black fishnets, unmoving aside from the small rise and fall of (supposedly) its chest.

The mer had fallen asleep. Or was dying slowly from blood loss.

Either way, it would be pointless staying up to watch the (hopefully)sleeping mermaid. Aventurine had a ship to captain and a meeting to attend on land. Letting out a sigh, Aventurine left the messily arranged office locked behind him as he started a search for the night crew.

The Sigonius was now docked at a port owned by Medusa in the land of Pleyr-Tor. A merchant hub where only the wealthiest families of all species thrived. The ship was silent save for the grumbling crew as they heaved heavy boxes of food up the bridge and repaired injuries sustained by the Sigonius on their voyage.

Three days had passed since Aventurine stepped on solid land for the first time in four months. The sun was readying to descend when the captain finally returned to his ship.

Crew members watched silently as Aventurine stalked up the bridge with a lax smile, knowing full well what would happen if they disturbed him. Sailors parted like the blond was radioactive, forming a path for Aventurine to walk through all the way to the thick wooden door protecting the Captain’s office. The door opened and closed with a normal click that might as well have been a slam to the oldest members of the crew. If there were seasoned crew members left, that is. All had been lost to sea or let go to some other ship before they could ever form true bonds with their captain.

Locking the door behind him, Aventurine sank into his overly comfortable desk chair. The cedar wood table was littered with betting chips and papers for navigation and myths, debts to collect and which land to “assist” next. A single oil lamp placed in the top left corner, his only source of light on late nights. It needed replacing soon as it was having trouble lighting for the past few days. Aventurine made a note to himself to buy a better oil lamp while in Pleyr-Tor.

Hours passed in the blink of an eye as Aventurine worked away at the papers on his desk. His head ached from the constant smell of seawater, distracting him from any further work. Breathing out a sigh, Aventurine turned his chair around until it faced the large tank holding his underwater guest.

Madam Jade’s words rang in his ears, increasing the pain of his headache tenfold and causing the grip on his chair to increase.

Everything had a cost. Even freedom. No matter the race or situation. All debts must be repaid. Accidental or not.

Aventurine was not allowed to let the mermaid go.

Staring through the crystal clear glass, Aventurine watched as the sun slowly inched away from its low post in the sky. Down and down it went, painting the sky in yellows and pinks. Closing his eyes and letting himself soak in the fading sunlight until the sky turned a gentle purple, Aventurine did not catch when the once still mess of nets moved just slightly to the left.

“What should I do…” Aventurine muttered into his hand, glancing at the hidden mer within the still empty tank.

Perhaps that would soon change. If the mer lived, maybe sand and rocks of every color would brighten the dull cage. Seaweed could be taken from the ocean and planted for the slightest increase in privacy. Small fish to fill the void. Would the mermaid eat the fish? Hmm, maybe the fish could wait. Would the mer care if Aventurine added incense burners in the room to get rid of the seawater smell?

The nets, only two or four left, started to move. Aventurine snapped to attention, pushing away all his thoughts of decorating as he stood from his chair, knocking it over with a crash.

The ink black nets, large enough to easily capture Killer Whales, were jerked and pulled in every direction. Ropes started snapping one by one. Red twine floated in the water like bloody seaweed as the frayed strings broke apart.

Aventurine saw a faint flash of scales and a shadow of a hand slicing through rope from within. The creature, now awake and furious writhed underneath the netting. Blood matching the color of the night sky graced the dark blue water once again as hooks dug into flesh and scales. Water leapt out from the tank and onto the creaking floorboards below, staining them a dark brown.

The final rays of sunlight flickered below the window line and engulfed the room in almost total darkness. Slowly, Aventurine’s eyes adjusted to the dim setting. Blinking rapidly, Aventurine never let his gaze wander from the cloak of blood crusted fisherman netting even as his largest source of light sank beyond his vision.

There came a skin crawling trill from within the tank. It was clearer this time, the mer’s disorienting melodic voice humming with the water instead of its painful cries when above water. Goosebumps arose on his flesh in waves, hair standing on end the longer the call continued. The air, once warm and comforting was now colder than the winter ocean.

A clawed hand broke free from the nets.

Backing away on shaky feet, Aventurine turned to snatch the oil lamp from his desk while his heart started to beat louder than a drum in his ears. There was the muffled sound of nets continuing to snap and break from behind, the being writhing just beneath the surface. Water stained black fell to the floor around him, no less different than human blood when drying into wood.

Aventurine fumbled to light the lamp, pausing when there was a flash of blue light from behind. His heart went still and his mind raced, wondering if he truly had brought a killer siren onto his ship.

Face instinctually morphing into a calm smile, Aventurine turned around, lamp forgotten.

Eyes deeper than the midnight zone stared into his soul with pupils blown so wide the irises were barely visible. Fins flared with a rattling quiver as their lower body looped and coiled throughout the enclosure that almost seemed too small to fit their massive size. Lights flashed continuously along their skin and long, flowing tail. Aventurine couldn’t tell where one bioluminescent fin ended and another began in the darkness filled only by the light of the mer.

Claws sharp enough to pierce bone reached up and up and up until they touched the edge of the glass tank, unblinking eyes never leaving his form for even a moment.

Lips parting to let out a deep warble, Aventurine saw two sets of razor sharp canines peeking past their lips. The creature lifted itself up with only its arms until it reached out of the tank. Tail still curling in an endless spiral in the water as their upper half touched the wooden floorboards.

Instead of backing away for showing fear, Aventurine gave his best smile as he stepped forward, watching at their water logged hair splayed on the ground around them. “Y’know, you caused a lot of trouble for me. Sinking a ship I just finished taking over and having me loose valuable artifacts was quite rude of you. I deserve an apology, don’t you think?”

Their lips pulled back further than should be possible for a human, the flesh of their cheeks tearing in bloody strips until their rows upon rows of pointed teeth were revealed. Torn frills all along their body quivered angrily. Scales flashed in warning, a clear message to stay away or risk death. Letting out a chitter-like sound, the mermaid’s eyes narrowed as they continued to stare at Aventurine.

In the dark of night, Aventurine only had the dim glow of the mer’s scales to make out their towering figure. His mind more than happy to fill in the details he could not see.

He stepped closer, hands stuffed in his new coat pockets. Aventurine never was one to play safe. “Breaking through the hull of a ship like that must have caused some serious damage. I’m surprised you’re even standing right now. Tough cookie, aren’t you?” He said, tilting his head to the side as he willed his eyes to adjust better to the lack of light.

“You are quite the beauty, as well! What’s your secret? Let me guess…the flesh of sailors?” While laughing at his own joke, the mer continued to watch him with their hundred yard stare. The fins in place of human ears flicked at the sound of his voice, trembling softly.

“Oh it’s nothing, just an old pirate joke. You really are lucky that I was the one who came across that ship you were in and not one of the other Stonehearts. I doubt Topaz would find you cute enough to rescue.” Aventurine hummed, watching as the mer drew more of its body from the water. The sea-daughter was long—so long Aventurine couldn’t tell the length of their tail with how it had to circle around the entire tank and then some just to fit. Definitely more than a meter or two, that he was sure.

The mermaid’s clawed hand twitched as their smile widened. Tilting their own head to the side as their large eyes bored into Aventurine’s soul, a pale film covered them for a brief second as they blinked without proper eyelids. A clicking sound reminiscent of dolphins left their mouth instead of the horrific screech Aventurine was haunted by on the day he saved its life. Dagger sharp nails tapped against the bloodied and groaning wood rhythmically as the raspy clicking continued.

Aventurine paused as he listened to the mer’s clicks and taps, watching as they repeated the action over and over again. Clearly, they had yet to murder him via siren song or rip his arm off and use it as a snack to munch on after showing how easy it was to lift their own body over the glass wall like it was nothing.

What were they trying to say? Or were they saying anything at all?

“Can you even understand me?” Aventurine questioned, shifting on his feet. The mermaid, to its credit, looked thoroughly confused on it’s part. They let out a growlish “Buwerr?” And tilted their head further than should be safe for something that looked so human.

“I’ll take that as a no. A language barrier, huh? This is going to be interesting.” Aventurine muttered to himself, though he was sure the mermaid heard with how it’s fins twitched. It had good hearing.

The mer towered over Aventurine, face still broken and showing a concerning number of teeth with eyes eclipsed to a near completely black state. It was incredibly unnerving, especially since the only light was from their fluorescent fins and blinking scales. Not to mention they were covered in their own blood.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. All that dried blood can’t be comfortable, can it? We can discuss other matters later,” Aventurine said with a grin. His body easily fell into its masked routine, hiding the fear and uncertainty he felt and replacing it with confidence.

Fins flicking and scales blinking, Aventurine’s newest bet nodded. The mer shifted, jaw re-hinging and skin weaving back together over their cheeks until their face looked exactly like a human. Blinking with those filmy white eyelids, their pupils shrank and morphed into perfect replicas of human eyes—no, Aventurine’s eyes. He shivered involuntarily at the sight of eyes that mirrored his own as the mermaid changed itself to look like a deity among men for his own comfort. Or for it’s own comfort, which is more likely.

The mermaid chittered in a chipper tone, lips curling into a toothy smile. It had horrifyingly sharp teeth.

Yep, still a mermaid.

Holding out a now dainty hand the same colors as the sand, the mer waited with an expectant look. It’s tail swayed playfully in the water, sloshing seawater over the edge and onto the already soaked floor. When Aventurine did not take their hand, the mer made a tutting noise and retracted their arm back to their side. Their frills trembled and glowing scales blinked to a deep green before shifting to scarlet red, and finally a bright fuchsia.

They made a strangled animal sound, like an elk with a frog in its throat. Their lips obviously weren’t used to moving properly. They paused, scowling and fluttering their fins moodily before letting out an unidentifiable sound.

“Gr….grr..greetings.” Aventurine’s own distorted voice echoed back at him from the mermaid’s mouth. It huffed with pride, fins flicking in waves.

Ah, so it could mimic as well. How dandy.

Holding its hand out once again, the mermaid repeated the word twice over with lips un-synced from Aventurine’s copied voice.

Ah, so it wanted a handshake.

Chuckling, Aventurine said “Ah, I suppose we did skip over pleasantries,” he cleared his throat “I am Aventurine, a stoneheart of Medusa. Pleased to meet you. Use me as you wish, you can even stab me in the back if you want to—but I don’t make bets that don’t pay off.” Reaching out, Aventurine twined his fingers together with the mermaid’s. Hands palm to palm.

The mer stared down at him, gazing at their intertwined hand as their webbed ears twitched and titled, finely tuned to the pitch and exact tone of his words to break the barrier between their languages.

Shaking their held hand, the mermaid nodded with a smile.

Clicking and trilling, the mer drew words from the air to repeat a word still unintelligible to Aventurine even with the mimicry of his voice.

“Ah, the language barrier strikes again. How about I just give you a nickname instead? Just until we can find a middle ground.” Aventurine suggested with a shake of his head. His conscience weighing too heavily on his shoulders to handle a shrug.

“Yes…yes!” They sang, pulling Aventurine close to their chest as they circled around him like a boa. The mer nodded merrily, lights flaring to a rosy pink. Aventurine pulled his hand away, adjusting his glove as he pondered.

“Well, it has to be fitting—but not too odd. Since we’ll be together for quite a while it should have some kind of meaning behind it, don’t you think?” Aventurine went on as he craned his head upwards to look into the mermaid’s curious eyes. They nodded sagely, fins attentive as they licked their salty lips.

Aventurine slowly listed name after name, watching for a change in the mer’s expression. Eventually the mermaid returned to the water from pure disinterest in the names, holding him steady as they forced him to sit on the highest stair of the ladder.

The mer looked ready to drift underneath the water by the time Aventurine was starting to run out of names. Grasping at his last few ideas, Aventurine hesitantly listed the last name that came to mind. Your name.

Erupting from the water, your hands grabbed at Aventurine’s shoulders as you both fell back into the water like whales breaking from the ocean for air.

“Perfect!….YES! YES!NAME! YES, NAME!” You shrieked joyfully, tail crashing in the water as you literally lit up with glee. “MY NAME NOW! EVER!”

“Alright! Alright! That’s your name now! Glad you like it.” Aventurine sputtered, dragging his soppy wet blond hair away from his wide eyes as he floated in your tank. You circled around him in a never ending spiral, chittering and trilling with a smile so large Aventurine thought your mouth might just split open again.

Swimming to the edge, Aventurine stared into your bright eyes when you met him at the rim.

You reminded him a lot of himself when he was young. Aventurine didn’t know how much he liked that fact as he watched you twirl in the water without a care in the world.

Aventurine called your name and you paused, eyes a carbon copy of his own staring back into his soul and touching something he thought was buried the day he lost his family during the tribal wars. “…Don’t ever let Medusa tie you down, okay? This stupid organization doesn’t need to ruin any more races.”

Your fins twitched at his words, blinking to a deep blue lighting. “Stoneheart…Medusa,” You parroted with worry. “Aventurine…tie..”

“Hmm, no—forget I said anything. We can talk about all that later. If you’ve already forgotten, you are still pretty injured. So let’s focus on you getting better for now. We’ll have all the time in the world to talk later.” Aventurine huffed, patting your head with a bare hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Neither are you, is what Aventurine chose to leave unsaid.

@idkfitememate merry Christmas!! 🎁🎄 here’s your present!

@kaitsawamura made the scale divider! Thank you!!

#deer anon #🦌deer anon <3 #aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #mermaid #merfolk #mer person #siren #pirates #honkai star rail #hsr posting #reader #X reader #hsr x reader #merry christmas

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queenshelby · 2 months ago

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The Peaky Role (Part Ten)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad, Some Smut

Note: This is a little gap-filler before some more intense two parts that are coming up!

Please comment and engage!

The following day, the set buzzed with the usual energy of crew members setting up lights and adjusting sound equipment, yet a weight lingered in the air. You shuffled through the crowd, rehearsing your lines in a whisper, but they felt distant, like echoes of another world. You weren't present, neither as yourself nor as your character and the words you spoke mostly to yourself slipped away each time you opened your mouth.

You avoided looking in Cillian's direction, where he stood, joking with crew members, his laughter ringing out like music. A knot tightened in your stomach. You couldn't shake the memory of that unexpected kiss, the warmth of his lips against yours, the fleeting spark—now tinged with regret.

You had kissed your best friend's father. Your father's best friend. A man you had known for many years and a man who, for some reason, you saw differently now.

He had kissed you back before pulling away, his expression a mixture of confusion and restraint and this was it. No further words were spoken since you stormed out of his apartment, leaving a shattered silence in your wake.

"How on earth could you have kissed him?" you scolded yourself under your breath as you grabbed a coffee from the craft services table when Natasha, another actress, approached you.

"Are you okay?" she asked, tilting her head with concern.

“Just tired,” you mumbled, avoiding her gaze as you stirred your coffee. “Long night.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Cillian, who was animatedly chatting with the director across the set. She could tell that you were avoiding him and the way your shoulders sagged spoke volumes.

"Something's off, you know," Natasha pressed, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You've been on edge since you got back but, today, you seem worse,” she observed and you forced a smile, not wanting to dive into the chaos, and made up a substory.

"I broke up with my boyfriend a few days ago. It’s just a lot to process, you know?" you explained, not wanting to tell her the truth.

"Oh, shit, I am sorry. I didn't mean to pry," Natasha said, her eyes softening.

"It's fine," you insisted, swallowing the knot in your throat. "I’ll be alright."

Natasha shifted her weight, glancing nervously over at Cillian again who, in her mind, seemed oddly detached from his character today as well. She had a few scenes with him earlier in the day and, unlike other days, he was struggling to bring the same depth to his performance. Something weighed on him too and she wondered whether there was a connection between his mood and yours.

Without words, you followed her gaze to where Cillian was standing, your heart racing.

He leaned against the set’s railing, casual confidence radiating from him, but today, a flicker of tension hid behind his deep blue eyes. He caught your glance, and for a moment, time paused—a silent acknowledgment, a shared secret hanging between you.

You broke the gaze first, turning sharply to Natasha as if a physical barrier stood between you two.

"It must be weird working with your best friend's dad," Natasha then said, noticing some tension between you and him by the way you exchanged glances with one another before trying to gauge your reaction.

You clenched your coffee cup, a smile plastered onto your face but it felt false, as if it were a mask barely holding up under her scrutiny.

"It is a little bit, but I think of it more as an opportunity. Cillian is an amazing actor and learning from him is great,” you said, forcing enthusiasm into your tone and, luckily for you, Natasha left it at that.

"That's good to hear," Natasha nodded, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of scepticism, wondering if there was more to it all. "If you ever need anything, just let me know, alright?" she then said and you gave her a reluctant smile.

"Thanks. Really, I appreciate it," you replied, masking the turmoil simmering just beneath the surface and, just as Natasha was called away and you took the opportunity to glance into Cillian's direction again, he was gone.

***

The next few days were a haze of rehearsals and awkward encounters. Each time you crossed paths with Cillian on set, an unspoken tension coated the air like thick fog. You focused on your lines, your movements in the scenes, lost in the rhythm of your character's emotions, but Cillian became a distracting presence. Whenever he was nearby, you forgot your lines and stumbled over your words.

Luckily for you, however, after a few days of avoidance on set, it was time for you to fly back home to Dublin, which is where you would be spending the next seven days before finishing off a three-week shoot in Liverpool.

As the plane touched down in Dublin, little memories accompanied you like shadows. You should have felt relief to be back in your city, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds, but the weight of unresolved feelings hung heavy on your shoulders.

You had made a move on your best friend's father and every reminder of Cillian clawed at you. The brief encounter replayed in your mind like a broken record, and when Nina picked you up at the airport as agreed, her cheerful expression felt like a spotlight on your guilt.

“Hey! Missed you!” Nina exclaimed, her voice bright, yet she squinted at you, searching for something beneath the surface.

“Yeah, um, missed you too,” you replied, forcing a smile as you tucked a loose hair behind your ear.

Nina studied you, her eyes narrowing. She instantly saw through your facade but instead of questioning you about what was wrong, she gave you some space.

"Hungry?" Nina changed the subject as you strolled towards her car, breaking the tension that wrapped around you like a thick fog.

“Starving actually,” you confessed, your stomach growling at the mere mention of food.

“Perfect, because my siblings are in Cork and my mum made dinner just for us," Nina beamed as she hopped into the driver's seat, and you slid into the passenger side.

Your heart was racing as you thought about how much awful you would be feeling in front of Cillian's wife Danielle after the kiss. The left side of your mind winced at the thought whereas the right side struggled to focus on anything except the warmth of that kiss.

You knew that you couldn’t face Cillian’s wife after crossing such a line, but then again, you also knew that you had no other choice but to interact with her.

For your friendship’s sake, you had to pretend that everything was fine on set and that your life was going to carry on as normal. This was especially so since you were determined to keep the secret between you and Cillian buried. It was like a silent agreement that only you and fate understood, a pact forged in the heat of a moment you had both regretted.

***

After agreeing to join your friend and her mother for dinner, Nina navigated through the familiar streets of Dublin, the car's tires humming over the pavement as you looked out the window at the city passing by. The vibrant colours of the shops and the evening light spilling over everything created a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you.

"How was filming? Any funny stories?" Nina asked, her tone playful as she maneuverer through traffic, while noticing that your mind was somewhat absent.

"Not really. Just the usual grind," you replied, fiddling with the sleeve of your sweater.

"So, no more creepy scenes with my dad then?" Nina chuckled, raising an eyebrow, her teasing tone a window into the playful rapport shared by friends.

You laughed nervously, trying to mask the pang of embarrassment that coloured your cheeks.

"No," you told her. "In fact, I didn't see him much that week at all," you lied just before you turned your gaze toward the window again, watching the houses blur by as you focused on anything but the truth.

Eventually, Nina pulled up in front of her family home, the familiar brick facade and welcoming glow of the windows a bittersweet comfort. She turned off the engine, her fingers tapping the steering wheel, waiting for you to step out first.

You took a breath, fortifying yourself for whatever awaited you, and finally pushed the car door open before following Nina inside where Danielle was on the phone, arguing with someone in a frustrated whisper.

You stepped into the hallway, the warm light softening the edges of your worries, but the tension from earlier still lingered in the back of your mind.

“Not now Cillian. Nina just got home,” Danielle snapped into her phone, her voice rising. She glanced toward you and Nina, a momentary look of surprise flickering across her face before she regained her composure. “I’ll call you back,” she said curtly, ending the call and tucking her phone into her pocket.

“Dinner's almost ready! Hope you two are hungry,” she said, her voice softer now as she unwrapped her apron and stepped back into the kitchen.

Nina leaned against the hallway wall, her expression a mix of concern and frustration as her mother disappeared out of sight.

"They are fighting again," she then whispered to you, glancing toward the kitchen where the aroma of cooking wafted through the air, almost too sweet in contrast to the unresolved tension hanging in the room.

You nodded, unsure of how to respond, your mind racing with thoughts of Cillian. The idea of his world and yours colliding in such a confusing way felt surreal.

"What about now?" you asked nonetheless, but in a hush whisper, as Nina glanced back toward the kitchen, biting her lip.

“Not much. Just something about him being away too much I think," she sighed, her voice heavy with concern. "You know how it gets when he’s been filming. It’s like a switch flips, and it’s all work and no family for him."

A sigh escaped you, the weight of her words resonating like a distant drumbeat.

“But isn't that just the way things are in this industry?” you asked, trying to grasp the situation while wrestling with your own feelings. “I mean, he provides for your family like this and I -, " you tried to defend Cillian before being cut off.

Nina interrupted, her voice dropping further as if to shield the conversation from any prying ears. "I know, I know, but mum thinks that he just doesn't want to be at home with her anymore," she said, her brow furrowing. "I mean, of course he wants to spend time with me and my siblings, but maybe not with her. That's what she thinks anyway," Nina then explained quietly, biting her nail as she leaned against the wall, her expression staining with worry.

You felt your empathy stretch towards both Nina and Cillian, grappling with a mixture of compassion and guilt for your own part in this complex web. You faced Nina, a wave of uncertainty crashing over you.

"Maybe they have grown apart?" you suggested softly, your words hanging in the air like forgotten laundry. "I mean, he had moved out before and now he is back, but clearly it hasn’t been easy for either of them. Maybe he just needs a break."

Nina’s eyes narrowed, frustration flickering at your words. “You sound like you’re taking his side,” she said sharply, arms crossing defensively over her chest.

“I’m not! But I think relationships are complex and there are layers to it," you insisted, your heart racing as you felt the conversation spiralling. "It's not black and white. People change and maybe, you know — sometimes love gets lost. I mean, it happened to my parents, you know?” you tried to justify and Nina’s defences softened slightly at your sincerity, but her frustration lingered, evident in the way she clenched her fists.

"I know, but I just wish he’d make more of an effort when it comes to mum,” she sighed, letting her frustration drain out in a gentle exhale. “I hate seeing her like this. It’s exhausting," Nina told you and, just as you exchanged a silent understanding, the kitchen door swung open, and Danielle stepped out, wiping her hands on a dish towel, a forced smile plastered across her face.

“Dinner’s ready! Come eat before it gets cold," Danielle chimed, her cheerful tone ringing slightly hollow and, with that, you both followed her into the dining room.

Dinner was delicious and filled with the comforting aromas of roast chicken and vegetables. The mood was somewhat tense, but everyone attempted to engage in light conversation, a fragile veneer covering the underlying tensions. You took a seat across from Nina, giving her a reassuring smile that she barely returned.

Danielle placed a generous plate of roast chicken in front of you, the steam rising in curls that mingled with the aroma of herbs and spices. You served yourself a portion, the savory scent grounding you momentarily in the hustle of the room as the conversation shifted between random topics.

After dinner, Nina helped clear the table, exchanging playful jabs with her mother as they gathered the dishes. You offered to help as well but Danielle waved you off with a tired smile. "You've just come home; you need to unwind," she insisted and, after everything was done, you called an Uber to take you back to your father's apartment, conveniently located in the heart of Dublin.

***

At home, you were greeted by your father Dermont who was seated on the couch, a book spread across his knees and glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked up as you entered, a warm smile breaking through his initial focus.

“Hey ! Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence," he teased, closing the book and setting it aside.

You chuckled, the sound awkward yet comforting, grateful for the normalcy he brought to the moment. “I had to re-establish my social life, you know,” you joked, dropping your bag by the door.

“Come here,” he said, arms opening wide, inviting you into a warm embrace that felt like home. You melted into his hug, the familiarity of his warmth washing over you, momentarily pushing aside the storm brewing within.

“How was filming?” he too asked and you shrugged, folding your arms as you stepped back to gain some distance while gathering your thoughts.

“It was good. Long hours, but good,” you replied, fighting to mask the heaviness weighing on your chest.

He studied you, his brow furrowing slightly. “You sure? You look a bit... off.”

“It’s just the exhaustion,” you insisted, a reluctant smile pulling at your lips as you waved your hand dismissively. “You know how it is.”

Dermont nodded, though a flicker of doubt crossed his features. "From Cillian, yes, but from you I would have expected a bit more energy. You’re usually bouncing off the walls after a week on set," he remarked, a teasing smile forming.

“I guess the grind is getting to me a bit more this time,” you replied, forcing a light laugh while digging your nails into your palms to keep yourself grounded.

“Well, I guess we all go through phases,” your father continued, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful. “Just remember, it’s okay to lean on people when you need to though," he lectured and you nodded again to his words, the weight of your earlier decisions lingering like an unspoken truth.

"Yeah, I know dad," you replied, pulling at the hem of your sweater, feeling a bubble of guilt rise in your throat. "I think I am ready for bed now though, so lets revisit this conversation another time,” you said, your voice trailing off as you turned and headed towards your room.

“Alright, pumpkin. Have a good night,” Dermont called after you, his voice a soothing hum in the distance as you padded down the hallway.

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monimccoythings · 1 year ago

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Alastor x Daughter!Reader III (Platonic)

Yeah, this is going to take place after the end of season 1, just after Sir Pentious has ascended and the hotel has been rebuilt into a bigger better version. I just don't know how to fit Y/N in season 1.

Reminder: Alastor is in Hell for a reason.

TW: This contains a very delicate matter, like PTSD and panic attacks, even though I wanted to keep it brief because I'm not very well versed in these kind of subjects and wanted to be careful and respectful with it, I'm not entirely satisfied with how I wrote it, I researched and looked into my past experiences, but still don't think I truly adapted it as best as I would have liked. Also several mentions of cannibalism. Brief mentions of controlling behavior.

This isn't proof read so sorry for any grammar and/or vocabulary mistakes.

Part I ｜Part II｜Part III (You are here!)

tags: @anonymousewrites, @nonetheartist, @littledolly2345, @sunnyx07, @ouroborostheunholy, @mo-0-o, @sydneyyyya @lbcreations-blog

Soft jazz music enveloped the room, accompained by a strong smell of coffee and magnolias, someone was humming quietly to the music. Somehow, it reminded you of home.

You blinked groggily, trying to get the sleep away from your eyes, and leaned on your elbow. Why was the ground so soft and cushioned?

Yor eyes shot wide open when you remebered the events that led you there. The blood, the laughter, the eyes, the smile, the radio static... Your heart started beating wildly inside your ribcage, and you suddenly found yourself gasping for air. You clutched your old dress, hoping that would alleviate the growing pressure in your chest in some way.

"Well, look who's finally awake!" Alastor left the newspaper on the table and turned towards you, if his grin was supposed to be comforting it was not working. Just the fact that he was acting so casual, as if nothing had happened in the last ninety years made everything a million times worse.

"You are quite the hide and seek champion, ma petite faon. It took several years for my shadows to casually find you and then it took even longer for me to believe you actually had been sent here, ha ha!" His neck bended in an unnatural way as he laughed.

Crap. Did he always know where you were? Was this just a game of cat and mouse for him?

As if he had read your mind, his eyes adopted a more relaxed expression that did nothing to soothe your nerves. "Well, for the last ten years you gave me quite the chase, cher. Always on the move, never stopping, from one part of the ring to the other. And then there's that seven year gap." He muttered to himself that last part.

You still felt on the verge of a panic attack. Your body couldn't and wouldn't stop shaking, and felt like reality was blurring around you. Everything was happening too fast, it brought you back to that night decades ago when you found that your beloved father had actually been a serial killer. It almost felt like it was mere minutes ago.

Alastor knew of your discomfort, your fear. He could see it as clear as a day, he could almost taste it. He had always enjoyed tasting the fear on his victims, but yours only left an aftertaste of bitterness in his mouth. It was rotten, putrid and nauseating. Maybe because it was the only fear he should never had a taste of. Watching you like this also brought him back to the night he lost you.

As he held your unmoving body in his arms, for a couple of seconds his brain stopped functioning, unable to accept what had just happened. The pain he felt was just like someone had ripped his chest open and pulled out his still beating heart, only to crush it, leaving an empty and cold hole in its place.

He had taken you to your room and laid you in the bed, tucking you in. You looked so peaceful, if your face and clothes weren't stained with blood he would have believed you were sleeping. But you would never wake up again.

The next couple of days passed in a blur, tracking down the man who had dared to do this to you and then run away, and giving him his fair punishment. And as he dragged his mutilated body through the forest... Well... the rest is history.

"Anyways! All's well that ends well! Now I found you, and you won't need to worry anymore!" His chirpy radio filtered voice portrayed some genuine happiness that didn't reach you. The bond and trust that used to tie you two together, had been damaged beyond repair. And Alastor knew. That didn't mean he was going to give up, though.

Before he had the chance to make things even more awkward between you two, the door bursted open, revealing several people behind it.

"Oh, you're awake, that's so great! We were all sooo worried since Al suddenly brought you here, and you seemed passed out, we didn't know if you were alive or-" The blonde haired demon kept rambling, but you barely listened to her, way too much in shock. Behind her, there was a bunch of demons: a winged cat who would be rather doing anything else than be there, a tiny cyclops with a psychotic and perky smile; a spider demon who, if anything, looked confused; a taller cyclops demon girl who found the dirt in her nails to be way more interesting than you, and some kind of moth demon girl? You wondered if they all were going to participate in your slaughter or were just going to watch.

"-aaaand who were you again?" The blonde demon asked with an awkward smile.

"I'm very glad you're asking! Because this is no other than my beloved little girl!" Alastor opened his arms widely in a dramatic form of presentation as the sound effect of a studio crowd cheering mixed with his voice.

"Wha- hold the fuck up? Your daughter??? Didn't you sing to Luci-?"

One glare full of murderous intention and loud static was enough for the spider demon to shut up.

"Now, now, how about we let the newest addition to our merry little band have a well deserved rest." Your dad not so gently pushed the uninvited guests back towards the door.

"Addition? Is she our new guest?" The moth-like demon girl asked.

Alastor's face darkened and loud static filled the room. "A҉b҉s҉o҉l҉u҉t҉e҉l҉y҉ ҉n҉o҉t҉.҉". He swapped back to his more charming persona. "She'll be joining our facility as an assistant!" His tone admitted no further questioning, and, quite reluctantly, the staff and guests left the room.

So that's the story about how you ended working in the Hazbin Hotel.

Your work was mainly small chores or helping others. Nifty needed help to clean the rooms? You were there. Someone needed you to take cover at the reception? On it. Whatever tiny task someone needed help with, you had to do it.

You were not allowed to leave the hotel. Alastor made sure of that. Wherever you went, he made sure some of his shadows followed if he was not around, just to keep you controlled; although he'd rather call it, 'lovingly checking on his little baby'. It really was not needed, even if you didn't trust nobody there and your guard was still up, where else would you go? It was literal hell outside.

Years of hiding and living in constant fear of death or something worse had left you extremely mistrustful and fearful of people. There were times were you believed this was all a ruse to lure you into a false sense of security and then hit you were it hurt most.

It's not like you didn't believe in Charlie's dream, it was just you couldn't believe it could be possible, your father had very sincerely stated that he was just sponsoring it because he loved watching doomed souls struggle to achieve something meaningful and then fail spectacularly. Of course he did.

So, at least you had a roof over your head, enough food to eat, and a no-killing rule inside the hotel. Things could be worse.

Yet, there was still something inside you, something that you so desperately tried to let go but were unable to, as it had rooted itself deeply inside your mind and heart.

It started with small things, maybe a loud sound, maybe a bit of blood, it didn't matter because you could already feel yourself breathing heavily and sweating. It was like the entire world vanished around you. You couldn't breath, you couldn't think, your mind was on edge and your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. You were completely paralized with fear, your hands shaking furiously, making you drop whatever you were holding.

These episodes started becoming more and more frequent, the more you tried to fight against them, the stronger they became. Whenever Charlie, Vaggie or any guest tried to ask you about them you always tried to brush them off, not wanting them to see it as a weak spot to exploit.

After several episodes and you refusing to open yourself, Alastor had enough of watching you suffer and decided to take matters into his own hands. So, he took you to Rosie.

If you expected something out of a place called 'Cannibal Town' it certainly wasn't that. It looked so... normal, like any other town you would have found back in your time. Well, if you ignored the people eating an entire corspe on the street. Your father gently moved your face to face front, because apparently it was rude to stare.

Oh Rosie immediately adored you. 100% godmother material. That southern belle couldn't wait to pamper you and dress you up in all kinds of fancy clothes.

Talking to Rosie was surprisingly, easy, if you looked over her cannibalistic tendencies. She kindly offered you some fresh fingers, but quickly backed up when she saw you turning green, jokingly saying "Ah, teenagers and their diets."

Sessions with Rosie always left you crying and drained but in a positive way, you felt like a huge load had been lifted off your shoulders. It may be a long road ahead but it was a great start.

Talking to Vaggie also helped. Turns out being a former exterminator had left not only physical but psychological scars on her. The first months after she had been left to die in hell had also been very struggling for her. She helped you with breathing exercises, held your hands when they started shaking, and even was willing to teach you some self defence. Which your dad opposed to.

Charlie was... Charlie, always positive and upbribing but also respecting your boundaries, you were almost starting to belive she was being genuine.

There was another member of the staff who had not been present when you were first brought there and you had yet to meet. The King of Hell himself, Lucifer. Just knowing he could be there send shivers down your spine, wondering what kind of diabolical entity could he be. When you first saw that 4' overly excited manchild, at first you thought it was a joke.

Lucifer took a liking to you pretty easily, much to the annoyance of Alastor. He was curious about how someone as innocent and young as you could have ended in a place like that and vowed to protect you if someone ever gave you trouble. Your dad is seething. "Here, take this." And he just gives you a toy duck who backflips and makes the cutest rubber ducky noise. You loved it. Your dad is about to break the no-killing rule.

Alastor tried to win back your trust and love, even if he knew it was going to be a long and arduous task. He didn't care. He just got you back he was never letting you go.

He may not believe entirely in Charlie's dream, but he knew that if it was possible the one who had more chances to go straight to Heaven would be you. And he was not having that.

Alastor briefly considered making a deal to own your soul, just to ensure your safety and his control.

Up to this day he still doesn't know how you ended down there, and can't wait for the day when you will trust him enough to tell him.

He will respect your boundaries begrudgingly, he is your dad, he knows best. Will play nice and let you take your time with things. He will quietly show support for your emotional progress and make light physical contact, just enough to be supportive and not freak you out.

He cooks for you, and only you. The old homemade grandma's recipes he used to make back in your living times. At first, you didn't trust it, thinking he could have poisoned it. But the second you tasted his Jambalaya you felt like crying. Not only because after ninety years barely eating you were famished, but because for a couple of seconds, something there in the taste and smell had brought you back to simpler times. (like the Ratatouille guy)

Alastor truly desires to hear you call him 'Dad' again, you had yet to do so. Yes, you recognise him as your father, but after everything it just pains you to address him as such. It's like your dad and Alastor were two separate people. The loving father vs the serial killer, the guardian vs the Radio Demon.

He really loves you very much and it's been hard on him to keep that much distance from his little fawn. So he takes out his frustration on others, don't turn the radio on when he tells you not to.

And with time, his efforts were rewarded. Somewhat. You seemed to have gotten a bit more comfortably around him, at least you didn't flinch or recoil anytime he approached you. But you couldn't forget, you couldn't overlook the fact that he was a murderer and a cannibal and still doubted if anything you two had lived together had been truly genuine.

Honestly, it offended him that you would even think that way. Wasn't he there for you, always? Didn't he protect you from the darkness of the outside world during your living times? Wasn't he, as a father, devoted enough to his fawn?

But of course, actions spoke louder than words, and his actions had left too many cracks in your trust. But he will keep trying to win you back. Alastor's very patient demon, he has all the time in the world.

Y̸̗͉̺̱͂̕o̸̧̯̞̟̰̪̗̱̳̱̎̈̿̄̄͛̅͝͝û̴̦͔̹͈̣̥̾͛͑͗͋̅̏̂̚ͅ ̷̭͋̈͛̽͒̅̀̈́́̚ă̷̢̢̖̦͕̞͚͔̻̳̅̇̃͌̿͐̄̃̕r̵̨̢̺̦͇͚̙̈́̅̽́̊͠ę̶̺̖͋̐͐͌͘͠͝ ̶̖̲͎̜̮͚͉̰̒n̵̢͕̝͖̗̜̣̾̾̇̾̅̽͊͘o̴̒̈̎̿̇́̔��̨̼̺̠̱̦̘t̴͙͇̼̱̻̦̦͔̖͙̍͌ ̸̩̂́̎͒͘g̶͔͚̰̺͔͉͓͍͔̈́̽̈́͋͘͜o̵̹͔̫͚̼͚͒͑į̷̧̫͔̹͉̰̘̮̍͋͒̈n̸̢͕̙̙̞͔̓͐̓ͅg̵͖͇̜͚̗͙̤̫̱̝̉̂́̚ ̴̪̂͑̓̊͛a̷̖̞͊̄̈́͑͋̈́̄͘n̶̻̟̙̝̪̩͂̋͗ẏ̸̨̛̱̱͇̱͖̤͕̥͛́̍̂͛̕͠w̸̛̖͎̫̑h̵͔̝̣̀ẹ̵̝͍̳̟͚̪̍̒͋̒̀̊̏r̷̨͉͉̒̑̉̒̄̎̓̎͜͝͠ȅ̸̩͇̳.��̠̪̖̍͂͠.

#alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #tw: ptsd #tw: trauma #tw: cannibalism #tw: controlling behavior

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verstappenf1lecccc · 1 month ago

Note

Hey p here!! 👋🏻👋🏻 Merry Christmas (belated😅) and Happy New Year!!!! Miss you. I'm gonna quit my rambling now🤭

Could you do Toto Wolff with wife reader with their son, Jack celebrating Christmas together. Busying themselves during the winter break after all year of hard working and traveling around. Finding presents for each other, spending time with families and friends. Just fun stuff. Suggestive, fluff. Ask me anything you want to. Up to you. Thanks!!! :))

With prompts : "Don't act like you don't like it." & "You'd make a cute elf."

Here's a link to the pics of this story based. They're so cute!! 🥺 https://www.tumblr.com/f1archives/771048027944337408/toto-susie-wolff-at-christmas-via-susies?source=share

Credit to @f1archives

Love you❤️❤️

hii p heheh missed ya loads!! hope you like this

Last Christmas I Gave You My Heart

The Wolff family home is bathed in the soft, golden glow of Christmas lights. Outside, a blanket of snow covers the ground, and the air is crisp, filled with the scent of pine and wood smoke from the fireplace. Inside, the warmth of the fire flickers and crackles, the room a cozy sanctuary from the cold. The Christmas tree sparkles with twinkling lights, carefully hung ornaments, and a star perched proudly at the top.

You, Toto, and little Jack are fully immersed in the Christmas spirit. Jack, brimming with excitement, runs through the house, eagerly pulling you and Toto into the holiday fun.

“Mom, Dad! Can we decorate the tree now?” Jack’s voice rings out from the living room, his little hands clasped together in excitement. His eyes gleam with the energy only a child at Christmas can have.

Toto chuckles as he scoops Jack up into his arms, his strong arms cradling him with ease. “Of course, we can’t leave the tree looking bare now, can we?” he teases, his eyes twinkling with playful mischief.

You watch them with a smile, your heart swelling as you see Toto—always so serious in his professional life—become a playful, doting father. You know how hard he works, how many miles he travels, but moments like these, when he’s home with his family, are what ground him.

“I’m going to make this tree the best one ever!” Jack exclaims, his little voice full of determination as he runs to the ornaments. You and Toto follow behind him, laughing at his boundless enthusiasm.

As you move toward the tree, Toto walks up beside you, his arm casually brushing against yours. “I love how excited he gets for Christmas,” he murmurs softly, his voice low and full of affection. “And I love sharing this with you.”

You glance up at him, your heart fluttering slightly. “I love it too. It’s perfect,” you reply, your voice sincere.

Toto leans in just a little closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “You’re the perfect part of my Christmas.” His breath is warm against your skin, and you can’t help but feel the pull of his closeness. You try to concentrate on the ornaments, but his words linger in your mind, sending a flutter through your chest.

You reach for a delicate glass ornament, but before you can place it on the tree, Toto’s hand gently wraps around your wrist. His touch is gentle but firm, and you can’t help but shiver at the way his fingers brush against your skin. His voice drops to a low, teasing tone. “You’d make a beautiful elf, you know,” he murmurs, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’d love to see you all dressed up with a little outfit, all wrapped in ribbons and bows.”

You raise an eyebrow, your lips curling into a playful smile. “Oh? You think I could pull that off?” you ask, teasing him right back. “And what would you do with your elf once you caught her?”

Toto chuckles, the sound low and rich, sending a pleasant warmth through you. “I’d spoil her,” he replies with a wink, his hand sliding to your lower back, pulling you in just a little closer.

“Give her everything she wants.”

You lean in, just enough to make his heart race, but before either of you can take the teasing further, Jack calls out, “Mom! Dad! The star! The star! We need to put it on top!”

You both break into laughter, but Toto’s hand stays on your back, a quiet, intimate connection between you as you both move to place the star at the top of the tree. The soft click of the ornament in place feels like the perfect conclusion to the decorating. But the moment isn’t over. Toto leans in once more, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers with a playful grin, “Just wait, I’m not done with you yet.”

You glance at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. “I don’t think Santa’s going to approve of your behavior, Troger”.

He laughs softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Santa can mind his business,” he says with a wink, his voice laced with playful heat. “I’ve been very good this year… as long as you’ve been good, too.”

You smile up at him, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jawline. “I’ve been good,” you tease, stepping closer to him until the distance between you is almost nonexistent. The warmth of his body radiates against yours, and you feel the gentle hum of affection between you both.

Before anything else can happen, Jack bounds back into the room, interrupting your moment. “Mom! Dad! It’s cookie time!” he exclaims, eyes wide with excitement as he drags a tray of freshly baked cookies into the room.

Toto chuckles, his hand on your back once more as he watches Jack’s enthusiasm. “Looks like we’re going to need all the energy we can get if we’re going to finish celebrating this Christmas,” he says, his voice playful, as he helps Jack set the cookies down on the table.

You grin, slipping your hand into Toto’s as the three of you enjoy the sweet treats together. You feel the warmth of the moment, the closeness, and the joy of spending time as a family. The love you share is palpable, a soft, steady rhythm that feels like everything you’ve ever wanted.

The night continues to wind down in the Wolff household, the soft glow of the Christmas tree illuminating the room as the fire crackles in the hearth. The house is quiet now, the only sound the occasional snap from the flames and the soft hum of the holiday music playing in the background.

Toto’s hand is gently resting on your shoulder, his thumb brushing small, soothing circles across your skin as you sit together on the couch. You’re tucked close into his side, your head resting on his chest, the steady beat of his heart comforting and steady. Every now and then, you glance up at him, catching the soft, affectionate look in his eyes as he watches you, his gaze warm and full of love.

The night feels perfect. Jack’s already asleep in his room, his soft breaths barely audible from the hallway. The house feels peaceful, calm—filled with the kind of love that can only come from the warmth of family. This year had been a whirlwind, but in moments like these, surrounded by the people who mean everything to you, all the chaos of the outside world fades away.

Toto leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle kiss. “I meant what I said,” he murmurs softly. “This… this Christmas with you and Jack… it’s everything I could have ever hoped for.”

You smile up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I feel the same way,” you reply quietly. “This is exactly where I want to be.”

Toto’s eyes soften, his hand lifting to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek. His gaze moves from your eyes to your lips, and there’s an undeniable pull between you both. The warmth of the room, the quiet intimacy, it all builds up to this moment.

“You make my world better,” he whispers, his voice low and husky. “You and Jack… you both make everything worth it.”

You close your eyes for a moment, the depth of his words sinking in, before opening them again to meet his gaze. “And you make everything feel safe,” you respond softly. “Even on the hardest days.”

Toto leans in, his lips brushing gently against yours in a tender kiss that speaks of everything you’ve shared and all the moments still to come. The kiss is slow and lingering, sweet with the promise of many more quiet nights like this, full of love and shared dreams. When you pull away, both of you are smiling softly, the connection between you deepening with each passing second.

“Do you know what else I love about Christmas?” Toto asks, his voice playful but sincere.

You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips. “What’s that?”

He leans closer, his lips hovering near your ear as he whispers, “The way you make everything feel like magic.” His breath is warm against your skin, sending a soft shiver through you. “You have this way of turning ordinary moments into something special.”

You chuckle softly, your fingers tracing his jawline. “I think you’re the one who makes everything magical,” you reply, your voice full of affection. “You and your teasing.”

Toto grins, his hand sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer as he gives you that charming smile you’ve always loved. “Well, I’ll keep teasing you then, if it means I get to see that beautiful smile on your face,” he says, his voice low and filled with adoration.

You can’t help but laugh, your hand resting on his chest. “You’ve certainly got your work cut out for you, Mr. Wolff,” you tease, though the affection in your voice makes it clear you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the presence of each other. The fire crackles, and the Christmas tree sparkles in the background, casting soft reflections on the walls.

Eventually, you rise from the couch, holding your hand out to Toto. “Come on,” you say softly,

“Let’s go check on Jack. Make sure he’s really asleep.”

Toto chuckles, standing up and taking your hand. As you both walk down the hallway to Jack’s room, the peace of the night wraps around you both like a blanket. The soft glow from the hallway light spills into Jack’s room, where you both peer inside to find him tucked in tight, his little hands clutching his favorite teddy bear.

You smile down at him, feeling a sense of deep gratitude and contentment wash over you. “He’s perfect,” you whisper, your heart full as you watch him sleep.

Toto stands behind you, his hand resting on your shoulder. “So are you,” he says softly, his voice filled with warmth. “You make everything feel perfect.”

You turn around to face him, your eyes meeting his once more. In that moment, with the quiet hum of the world around you, you know that this is exactly where you’re meant to be—surrounded by love, laughter, and the warmth of family.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Merry Christmas, Toto,” you whisper against his mouth, the words full of meaning and affection.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he replies, his voice tender as his arms wrap around you once more, pulling you close.

As you stand there, in his arms, you feel everything—how much you’ve both given to each other, the life you’ve built together, and the future still to come. The world outside may be cold, but inside, there’s nothing but warmth, love, and the soft promise of many more Christmases spent like this—together, with your little family.

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benijbol · 6 months ago

Text

ꔫ Melancholy

A/N; My mind is an OSHA violation,,, genuinely dk if i wanna continuously post my writing on here or just goof around el oh el ,,,

Summary; Your father betroths you to some old lousy lord and Davos helps take your mind off of it . Davos Blackwood x Fem!reader.

Warnings; 18+ smutty. choking?

3630 words.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The sun hangs heavy in the sky, beating down with an unforgiving heat that’s almost unbearable. The air is thick and stifling, the kind that clings to your skin and makes every breath feel like a struggle. The meadow stretches out in front of you, a sea of wildflowers in full bloom—pale blues, deep purples, vivid reds, and soft yellows. You wander through them, one hand trailing lazily over the tops of the tall grasses, the other clutching a single wilted daisy that you had picked without thinking.

The news of your betrothal still echoes in your head, like a bell that won’t stop ringing. Some lord whose name you barely remember. Old, balding, with the kind of belly that speaks of too much wine and too little work. You can’t quite picture his face, but you can picture your father’s, stern and unyielding. “It’s a good match,” he had said, as if that would somehow make you forget the man is twice your age and rumored to have a temper as fierce as a summer storm.

Your stomach twists at the thought of him. Lord Selwyn or Ser Sefton, was it? You don’t even care to recall his name. You were always told your duty would come someday, that your family’s honor and the weight of your name would eventually fall upon your shoulders. You just never thought it would be this soon or this… distasteful.

The sun catches in your hair, and you brush a few damp strands away from your forehead. The humidity is unforgiving, clinging to your skin like a second, stifling layer. Your dress, made of light cotton, sticks to your back, and you curse under your breath as another bead of sweat trails down between your shoulder blades. You feel the sting of it, itching, irritating, but you make no move to brush it away.

You pause at the edge of a small stream that winds its way through the meadow. The water is clear, trickling softly over smooth stones, and for a moment, you think about plunging your hands into it, just to feel something cool against your skin. But then you hear footsteps—clumsy and unmistakable—and you know who it is before you even turn around.

“Davos,” you say, not bothering to mask the irritation in your voice. You don’t even look at him. Instead, you focus on the flowers, on the soft rustle of the wind through the tall grass.

He’s been following you since you left the hall, and while you’re not surprised—he’s always been a persistent shadow—it’s not a comfort today. Today, you’d rather be alone with your thoughts, even if they are bitter.

“Figured I’d find you here,” Davos replies, a bit too cheerfully for your liking. There’s a rustle of leaves and a grunt as he climbs over the low stone wall that separates the meadow from the woods beyond. He’s trying to sound casual, but there’s an awkwardness to his tone, a hesitation that you haven’t heard before.

“What gave it away?” you mutter. “Was it the fact that this is the only place I go when I’m trying to be left alone?”

He chuckles, a little breathless, as if the walk has winded him. “That, and the fact that you’ve been glaring at anyone who comes near you since the news of your betrothal.”

You whip around to face him then, the wilting daisy crumpling in your grip. He looks exactly as you expect: messy dark hair that curls slightly in the heat, his tunic sticking to his chest in a most unflattering way. There’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek, and his expression is somewhere between sheepish and amused.

“If you came here to mock me, you can go back to wherever it is you skulk about these days,” you say, voice sharper than you intend.

Davos blinks, taken aback, but he doesn’t leave. He never does. “I’m not here to mock you,” he says, a bit more seriously now. “I’m here to… I don’t know. Keep you company, I suppose. Seemed like you could use it.”

“I don’t need company,” you snap. “Least of all from you.”

His smile falters, and for a moment, you almost feel guilty. Almost. But then he shrugs, trying to play it off. “Well, you’ve got me anyway,” he says, plopping down on a patch of grass beside you.

You sigh, exasperated, and turn back to the stream. The silence stretches between you, thick and uncomfortable, like the humid air around you. You can feel him watching you, feel his gaze lingering on your profile, and it makes your skin prickle with annoyance.

“Do you even know who he is?” he asks finally, breaking the silence. “This lord they’ve promised you to?”

“An old fool with a red nose and yellowed teeth. My father would trade me to the highest bidder if he thought it would earn him favor at court.”

Davos's face twists in an expression of distaste. “He’s an ass, then.”

“An ass, yes,” you agree, “but an ass with land and men. Apparently, that’s what matters most.”

There’s a bitterness in your voice that you don’t bother to hide. You bend down to pick another flower—a bluebell this time—twisting its stem between your fingers until it snaps. Davos watches you, his eyes flickering over your face, searching for something in your expression.

“You could run away,” he suggests, only half-joking. “Steal a horse and ride to the edge of the world. I’d go with you, if you asked.”

You snort, shaking your head. “And where would we go? To the Riverlands, where your father would have us both dragged back in chains?”

“Could be an adventure,” he replies with a grin, his teeth bright against the dirt on his face. “We could join a mercenary band. Or a pirate crew. You’ve always looked good in leather, after all.”

You roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. “Leather would be too hot in this weather,” you quip back. “I’d rather not die of heatstroke before I get to taste freedom.”

Davos chuckles, and the sound is warm, familiar. It eases the tension in your shoulders a little, though you’d never admit it. He shifts closer, just a fraction, his knee brushing against yours. The touch is fleeting, but it’s enough to make you acutely aware of how close he’s sitting. How close he always sits, now that you think about it.

“Maybe you just need to cool off,” he says, his tone light but his eyes watching you carefully. “The stream’s right there.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you suggesting I dunk my head in the water?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” he replies with a smirk. “Might knock some sense into you, too.”

You swat at him, half-heartedly, and he catches your wrist with surprising ease. His grip is firm but not rough, his thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist where your pulse is fluttering a bit too quickly. You glare at him, but he doesn’t let go. In fact, he holds on a little tighter, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity you’re not quite used to from him.

“What?” you snap, more to break the moment than anything else.

Davos' smile fades, replaced by something more serious, more uncertain. “Nothing,” he says softly. “Just… you don’t have to go through with it, you know. Not if you don’t want to.”

You pull your hand away, feeling a sudden wave of frustration. “And what choice do I have, Davos?” you demand. “Run off with you to join the pirates? How noble. How honorable.”

“Maybe honor isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he mutters.

You scoff. “And maybe you’re just a fool.”

Davos looks like he wants to argue, but then he shrugs, a resigned sort of smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe I am. But I’d rather be a fool than see you miserable.”

There’s a pause, a heartbeat of silence that stretches on too long. You don’t know what to say to that, so you say nothing, turning your attention back to the flowers at your feet. But then, you feel his hand on your shoulder, tentative and awkward.

“What are you—”

Before you can finish, he’s leaning in, his lips brushing against your ear. “I mean it,” he murmurs, his voice low. “You could have more than this. More than him.”

Your breath catches, and you don’t know whether it’s the heat or his words that make your skin feel like it’s on fire. You twist your head to look at him, and there’s something in his eyes—something you haven’t seen before. Or maybe you have, and you’ve just been too blind to notice.

“Davos,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“You’ve always been too good for them,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Too good for any of them.”

You laugh, but it’s shaky. “And what about you, Davos Blackwood? Are you saying you’re good enough?”

He doesn’t answer, but his gaze is steady, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your neck, thumb brushing the line

of your jaw. There’s a reckless determination in his eyes now, something bold and unrestrained, and it sends a shiver down your spine despite the oppressive heat.

“You could find out,” he suggests, and there’s a hint of a challenge in his voice.

Before you can stop yourself, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his with more force than you intend. He makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat but doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hands come up to cradle your face, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss.

It’s awkward at first, all teeth and misaligned mouths, but then he tilts his head just right, and your lips slot together more easily. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing tender. It’s heated, desperate, like you’re both trying to prove something. You taste salt and sweat on his skin, feel the press of his chest against yours, the heat of his body radiating through the thin fabric of your dress.

He pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, his voice rough. “Tell me to stop if you want me to.”

You don’t.

Your hands find his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin through the damp fabric of his tunic. You can feel his breath, hot against your cheek, hear the unsteady rhythm of his heart beneath your palms. “Don’t stop,” you whisper, surprising yourself with how much you mean it.

He grins, and it’s a little wicked, a little wild. “You always did like playing with fire,” he says.

“Shut up, Davos,” you reply, but there’s no venom in it. Only want.

His hands move down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he pushes you back against the rough bark of a nearby tree. The sudden contact makes you gasp, but he covers your mouth with his again, swallowing the sound. His lips move against yours with a new urgency, a kind of raw hunger that sends heat pooling in your belly.

When he finally pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his forehead resting against yours. “Is this madness?” he asks, his voice low and hoarse.

“Probably,” you reply, breathless, and he laughs softly.

His fingers find the hem of your dress, skimming up along your thigh, and you shiver despite the warmth of the day. “Then let’s be mad together,” he whispers, and there’s something fierce and determined in his tone that makes your heart race.

He leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Tell me,” he murmurs, voice dark, “tell me what you want.”

Your voice catches in your throat. “I—”

He cuts you off, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple through the thin fabric. “Tell me,” he insists, a little more forcefully now.

“Touch me,” you breathe, and he obliges, his hand slipping lower, beneath the hem of your dress.

He watches you closely, his expression intense, waiting for the slightest sign of hesitation. But there is none. You feel his fingers brush against the dampness between your legs, and your breath hitches, a low moan escaping your lips.

“Good girl,” he whispers, and there’s something darkly triumphant in his voice. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and the heat between your legs only grows more insistent. You feel the roughness of his palm against your inner thigh, his fingers deft and exploratory as they tease along the edges of your smallclothes. You should be embarrassed—should feel some kind of shame at how wet you are, how much you want this—but you don’t. Not with him.

His eyes never leave yours, even as his fingers dip beneath the fabric, brushing over your slick folds with a lightness that makes your breath hitch. He grins at the sound, his mouth hovering just inches from yours, and there’s something wicked in the curve of his lips.

“Sensitive today, aren’t we?” he murmurs, a teasing lilt in his tone. You shoot him a glare, but it lacks any real venom. Your body betrays you, arching into his touch, wanting more, needing more.

“Don’t play with me, Davos,” you warn, though your voice comes out breathier than you’d intended.

He chuckles, low and dark. “Oh, I think you like being played with,” he counters, his fingers slipping between your folds, finding the spot that makes you gasp and clench around nothing. “Like a fine-tuned lute… I just have to find the right strings to pluck.”

You bite your lip to stifle the moan that threatens to escape, but Davos seems to notice, his eyes lighting up with amusement. His thumb circles slowly, deliberately, around that sensitive bundle of nerves, not quite touching it, just enough to tease. You can feel your breath quicken, your skin flushed, heart racing like a wild thing.

“Davos,” you growl, and he laughs again, that soft, husky sound that sends heat pooling low in your belly.

“What? You want more?” he asks, voice mockingly innocent. His fingers press deeper, stroking, exploring, and you can’t help the small sound that slips past your lips.

“Say it,” he demands softly. “I want to hear you ask for it.”

You glare up at him, trying to muster some shred of defiance, but it’s hard to think with his hand between your thighs, with the rough pad of his thumb brushing over your sensitive clit, making your head swim with sensation. The heat is unbearable, the humid air wrapping around you like a shroud, but all you can feel is him—his breath on your skin, his fingers inside you, coaxing, teasing, filling.

“Please,” you finally whisper, hating how desperate you sound, but unable to care. “Please, Davos.”

“Please, what?” he presses, his grin widening as if he’s enjoying this far too much. “You have to be specific, my lady. I’m not a mind reader.”

You swallow hard, the words catching in your throat. You’ve never been good at asking for what you want, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, something dark and intense and… hungry. It makes you feel bold. Reckless.

“I want you to fuck me,” you breathe, barely recognizing your own voice. “Now.”

For a heartbeat, he freezes, as if he can’t quite believe what you’ve said. Then a slow, wicked smile spreads across his face, and he leans in close, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “As you wish,” he whispers, his voice a low, dangerous rasp that sends shivers down your spine.

In one swift motion, he pushes your dress up over your hips, his hands firm and demanding. You feel the cool breeze against your bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressing against yours. He steps back, just enough to fumble with the laces of his trousers, his eyes never leaving yours.

There’s a hunger in his gaze now, a wild, reckless glint that makes your pulse quicken. You want to say something, anything, but words fail you. All you can do is watch as he frees himself from the confines of his clothing, his cock hard and thick in his hand.

He looks at you, almost as if seeking permission, and you nod, a small, jerky motion. His grin returns, sharp and wolfish, and he steps forward again, pressing you back against the rough bark of the tree. His hands grip your thighs, lifting you with surprising ease, and you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling the head of his cock brush against your entrance.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice rough, and there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes, something almost… vulnerable.

You nod again, and he doesn’t wait for further confirmation. He pushes into you with one smooth, powerful thrust, and you can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips at the sudden, overwhelming fullness. He stills for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and ragged.

“Gods,” he groans, his hands tightening on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh. “You feel… perfect.”

You can’t respond. All you can do is cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he starts to move, slow at first, then faster, each thrust deep and sure and deliberate. The rough bark of the tree scratches against your back, but you barely feel it over the intensity of the sensations coursing through your body.

His mouth finds your neck, teeth grazing over your skin, and you shiver at the sharp sting of it, a delicious contrast to the heat of his tongue as he soothes the bite. His hands are everywhere—gripping, squeezing, exploring. One hand slides up to your throat, his fingers wrapping around it with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch.

“Look at you,” he mutters against your skin, his voice a low, husky growl. “So needy. So desperate for me.”

You should be offended, should slap him for his insolence, but instead, his words only make you moan, make your hips buck against his, wanting more, needing more. He chuckles, dark and amused.

“You like that, don’t you?” he murmurs. “You like it when I talk to you like this.”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan that threatens to spill from your lips, but he’s relentless. His hand tightens around your throat, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you gasp, to make your blood sing with the thrill of it.

“Say it,” he commands. “Tell me you like it.”

Your voice comes out in a ragged whisper, barely more than a breath. “I… I like it.”

His grin widens, and he leans in to press a rough, hungry kiss to your mouth, swallowing your gasp as he thrusts deeper, harder, making you cry out against his lips. His hand moves from your throat, sliding down to where your bodies are joined, his fingers finding your clit with practiced ease.

“Good girl,” he breathes, his voice low and husky, and the praise sends a rush of heat through you, pooling between your legs. “Come for me. I want to feel you come.”

You don’t know if it’s his words or his touch or the sheer intensity of it all, but you feel the coil tightening in your belly, winding tighter and tighter until it snaps, a wave of pleasure crashing over you so intensely you see stars. You cry out, your body shuddering around him, and he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic, more desperate.

“Fuck,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips so tightly it almost hurts. “Fuck, you feel so—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, his words dissolving into a low, guttural moan as he comes, his hips jerking against yours, his breath hot and ragged against your ear. You feel him spill inside you, warm and wet, and for a moment, the world seems to blur around the edges, the only thing that matters the feeling of him, the weight of him, the heat of him.

For a long moment, there’s only the sound of your heavy breathing, the pounding of your heart in your ears. Then, slowly, reality begins to seep back in. The heat of the sun on your skin, the sticky humidity of the air, the rough bark of the tree at your back. You feel Davos’s breath against your cheek, hot and uneven, and you realize he’s still holding you, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if he’s afraid to let go.

Finally, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and uncertainty. “Are you alright?” he asks, and there’s a note of genuine concern in his voice.

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. “I… yes. I’m alright.”

He studies you for a moment longer, then nods, his grip on you loosening slightly. “Good,” he murmurs, and you can see the relief in his eyes.

You both stay there for a moment longer, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around you slowly coming back into focus. You know you should say something, but the words elude you, tangled somewhere in your throat.

Davos seems to sense your hesitation because he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You know,” he says, his voice light, teasing, “if you wanted to distract yourself from this betrothal nonsense, you could have just asked.”

You snort, rolling your eyes, but there’s a warmth in your chest that you can’t quite deny. “Next time, I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply dryly.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

I feel like i should be making a taglist of some sorts idk UHM,, if ur up for itttt... im so awkward sorry

#blackwoodposting #house of the dragon #hotd #davos blackwood #davos blackwood x reader #hotd x reader #blackwood #smut

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spiritedstars · 7 days ago

Text

Spirit Meets the Bones XXXVI

Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama Warnings: physical abuse/triggering language. Author’s Note: Thank you for reading <3

thank you @riorsonxaden for always being my beta <3

tagging: @climb-the-mountian / @vanserrass / @positivewitch / @animezinglife / @zenkindoflove / @rosewood-cafe / @clockwork-ashes / @carnythian / @secret-third-thing / @runningwiththeoceans / @that-golden-lyre / @thedarkinmansfield / @readychilledwine / @goldenmagnolias / @mali22 / @readthelastpaage / @maidr-00 / @electromagnetic-waves / @eastofatlanta / @moobell55 / @bibliophiliaxvignette / @devilsfoodcake22 / @weesablackbeak / @ladywhilemia / @alohaangels / @feysandfeels / @corcracrow / @dawneternal / @gracie-rosee / @mage-neve / @illyrianvalkyrie / @saint-stella / @carolynmezzosoprano / @rainbowsnowflake / @queenoftheworld1998 / @wolvesnravens / @lalaluch /

Find it all here.

Iris tried to focus on her steps as she walked away from the one person who mattered more than anyone else. Tried to keep breathing, knowing anything could happen to him.

She could sense Eris’s every emotion trickling through the bond as she stepped out of the ballroom and walked quickly down the hall. His panic became hers and as she ran a finger against her necklace in comfort, Iris knew better than to look back. If she did, she wouldn’t resist running back to him and he needed her away for his own sanity.

With every step she moved away from him, her mess of a heart thumped how wrong it felt. She loved him. She loved him and should’ve told him anyway. She should’ve stayed —

Iris also realized she should’ve been paying attention when she collided with the one person she wanted to avoid.

“Iris.”

She straightened at the voice of the High Lord and a strong sense of foreboding coiled in her stomach as she took a step back.

Iris gave him a polite bow of her head. “High Lord.”

Beron tilted his head, giving her a sly leer that instantly put her on edge. “You usually say it differently, no?”

She worked not to let her expression shift from a pleasant smile and swallowed, bowing her head again, “How can I help you, my High Lord?”

“Better,” he said and took a closer step to her, his eyes tracing her body in a way he hadn’t openly done so before. He watched her with an almost morbid curiosity and it made Iris tense further. “Have you been enjoying yourself this evening?”

Iris’s jaw clenched but she kept her gaze even. “Yes, of course. It’s been a splendid night,” she answered. “Where is –”

“You’re doing better than I expected. I admit…I underestimated your capabilities.” Beron continued, ignoring her response as his gaze burned into her skin. “I am pleased to see that you can be taught whatever is necessary.”

She couldn’t stop the slow blink at his words and the tone he said them, alarm bells ringing in her ears. Silence stretched between them and Iris knew by the way the corner of his mouth lifted, Beron could hear the rapid beating of her heart. His gaze shifted to her chest as if he could see right through her and suddenly, her mind took her back to the fight she had with Eris many moons ago about his father – about the High Lord’s particular interest in females. Eris didn’t believe his father would cross that one line to force himself on the females he wanted but…with the way the High Lord was looking at her now, Iris wasn’t as confident. Hating the way his gaze made her feel so dirty, she casually lifted a hand to rest it over the slight dip in the front of her dress, cold dread slinking down her spine.

“I’m…relieved to know it was to your standard,” she said carefully. “But where is –”

The High Lord took another step towards her and Iris couldn’t stop her eyes from widening as he infringed on her personal space. She noticed too late how quiet the hallway was – how alone they were. How Oren, who was meant to be waiting for her, was nowhere in sight. “Where are you off to, without your husband?”

Cautiously, Iris backed another step with a tight smile. “I wanted to refresh before we continued with the dancing,” she said. “Where’s Mother?”

Beron’s face darkened and his demand was nearly a growl, “Stop calling her that. Do not concern yourself with her.”

She blinked, her brows furrowing slightly and her free hand tightened in the folds of her dress. “As you wish…may I be on my way now?”

Instead of answering, the High Lord took another step closer, backing Iris against the wall and her eyes quickly darted to the empty hall they stood in again. Why was it so empty? And so quiet? Where the hell were all the people?

“My lord –”

“My eldest son had always been my favorite of the children I sired. The most reliable. The one who followed orders.” he began. “Yet, since you appeared, he has challenged me more and more as the days go on. He’s become quite a nuisance.” Beron’s mouth curled in distaste as he watched her. “Every single one of them has become a nuisance but Eris…he has disappointed me the most. And I do believe it is all because of you.”

Iris flushed and beneath the prickling anxiety at being cornered like this, anger pulsed under her skin. “I’m afraid I don’t follow, High Lord.”

Beron snorted. “Do not pretend to misunderstand what I mean, Iris.”

They said nothing for a moment and Iris knew she had to tread carefully. Eris had suspected his father might be aware of something but she didn’t want to be the one to jeopardize anything else.

“I think you are giving me too much credit, my lord.” she finally said. “Eris is a male of his own mind and has always…admired you. Strived to please you.”

His brow ticked up at her words and Iris had to swallow as he leaned in closer to her. “And you, Iris? Do you strive to please me?”

Revulsion clogged her throat at the quiet, sinister tone he used and his choice of words. Iris knew he always toed this line with her, doing anything to piss Eris off. But this time…it felt different, more dangerous.

This time, Iris wasn’t sure the High Lord wouldn’t act.

“I –”

“You and I haven’t gotten to know each other very well. I think that will be changing soon,” he said and Iris felt her stomach drop as he watched her with cruel amusement. “My son will not like it but I’ve let him slide without a more lasting punishment and he seems to be pushing his limit today. You will fit exactly what I have in mind for him.”

Her face flushed deeply and Iris could do nothing to stop the disgust in her expression, that rage simmering beneath her skin. Did she dare pull out her dagger? Would she be fast enough? “W-what are you —”

Beron chuckled and Iris flinched back when he raised a hand to grip her face tightly. “In all honesty, you weren’t of any interest to me before,” he said, his voice as soft as a lover and Iris tried not to gag at how close his mouth was to hers. “My son and I had an understanding about you but the way he keeps you from me and hides you away…piqued my interest. I think it’ll be a very fitting punishment indeed for him to watch as I teach you all the things that do please me. He can watch you break until it shatters him.” That cruel amusement returned as he added, “And then I will slit his throat.”

The world slid out from beneath her feet and rage like none other scorched her skin. “How dare you –”

His grip tightened painfully on her chin and she hated the smile he gave her at the whimper that slipped from her lips. “You are aware your father offered you to me first, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone sharpening. “Your circumstances and level of comfort are rapidly changing and given how the rest of this evening will unfold, I suggest you watch your tone. Your husband will no longer be your shield.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” she breathed and a twisted smile curled on the High Lord’s face.

“Do you think I’m unaware that my sons are trying to stage a coup? That my wife is a part of it?” he said, his voice low and Iris felt her lungs collapse. “They planned and planned and it will all collapse on their heads.”

Iris worked her throat, panic slowly unfurling in her chest as she thought about her next steps. This couldn’t be happening. “I don’t think –”

She yelped as the High Lord gripped her by the throat and slammed her body into the wall. “Do not even think to lie to me.” he hissed. “I know they will try to humiliate me tonight but I’ll be damned if I let them after everything I’ve done to get here.” His hold tightened and Iris wheezed as her nails dug into his hand. “You will get your share of the punishment as well but I promised your father he would get his turn first.”

Her father. Of course, that fucker was in on it. He must’ve come to them earlier on purpose, to rile her and Eris before disappearing.

What if she pulled her dagger out now? Would she be able to gut him and run to find Eris? Her free hand twitched in the folds of her dress for the hidden pocket but the High Lord grabbed her wrist and pinned her arm to the wall, pressing his body against her.

Iris couldn’t breathe and she wondered if Eris could sense her panic – her fear. It was the last thing she wanted. She didn’t want Eris anywhere near his father right now and she tried to move but all it did was push her body against Beron’s even further. He smiled at her in a way that said he liked it too much.

“You must have lost your mind. Let go of me.” she hissed, clawing at his hands but Beron only smirked, tightening his grip even further.

“Do not give me orders, girl. Once I’m finished cleaning out the traitors, you will have the honor of being the first trained in the new ways,” he promised darkly. “I certainly don’t need four sons and can always find a new wife.” Much to her dismay, Beron leaned close to her ear and breathed, “I do have plans to keep you in the family, Iris. You and I can play then whichever of my sons survives…I’ll let him play with you too.” She froze, her breath stuttering as the High Lord pulled back and Iris looked at him with wide eyes, overcome with horror. “And do not worry, I’ll kill Eris after he has the privilege of watching his mate be used.”

Iris’s head emptied and she felt her body go slack against him. He knew. The bastard knew about their bond and Eris had been right – his father was going to make everything so much worse.

She stared at him in repulsion and disbelief and so much anger boiled in her blood that she began to shake. How long would males like her father and Beron think to use her like bait? To keep finding ways to hurt her husband, the only male she’d ever loved? “You are a deranged bastard.” she seethed. “How dare you say these kinds of things? How dare you spit on something so sacred and try to twist it?”

Beron’s smile was one of her worst nightmares. “Soon enough, I will spit wherever I’d like.” he nearly purred and Iris fought back the urge to gag. “This isn’t the first time I’ve ruined someone’s mate. I will certainly enjoy ruining you as well.”

“You’re a fucken pig. Let - me - go.” Iris hissed and thrashed in his arms. “Eris will –” But Beron’s face darkened at the mention of his son, squeezing her throat tighter.

And fight as she might, he was a High Lord — a vile, vicious High Lord that abused his powers in the worst ways and he would not let Iris break out of his grasp unless he allowed it.

He observed her for a moment, his mouth curling. “I do like your fighting spirit. We’ll see how long it’ll last when I’m done with you.” he mused then shoved her to the side hard enough, Iris stumbled and fell as she finally took a deep breath. “I plan to see how fast you can run, little gazelle.”

Iris blinked in shock, trying to breathe as she watched him casually making his way back to the ballroom – as if he hadn’t just stated his despicable plans to ruin everyone’s lives. Eris and his brothers had plans in place but the High Lord seemed to be ten steps ahead. How did he know? Who had betrayed them?

Iris rubbed her raw neck, noticing too late that her necklace had broken, and pulled her hand back, cradling it sadly. She tried not to take it as a bad omen as she shakily stood, torn in her next decision.

She would not think about the High Lord’s threats, shuddering through the ghost of his touch and gazing around the empty hall again. It was empty for a reason and she struggled to understand why Beron had let her go.

Did she run back and warn Eris? Would it be walking right into Beron’s trap and making it all worse?

Iris steeled herself, tucking the necklace into the pocket of her dress with shaky hands and finally pulling out her dagger. She would go back to Eris but not without some kind of support – Iris would be a help and not a hindrance. She would find Oren and hopefully, her mother-in-law. As upset as her husband might be that Iris was still here, she’d be damned if she left him now.

Tightening her grip on her dagger, Iris carefully continued down the hall, wary of every sound she made. The emptiness of it was deliberate and as she took a few more steps, she felt her healer magic almost tugging her along. Iris did all she could not to run – not to draw attention to herself because the lack of people in this hall was not a good thing. She walked as casually as she could until Iris turned the hall and her body lurched as she came to a stop, her heart leaping into her throat.

“And where do you think you’re running off to, daughter?”

Iris swallowed and her grip tightened even further on her dagger, observing as her father stood in the hall, alone. As if he’d been waiting for her. “What are you doing here?” she asked as calmly as she could.

His smile made every inch of her tense. Running into the High Lord and then finding the male she hated most waiting for her was not a coincidence.

In trying to avoid Beron’s trap of going back to Eris, Iris had walked right into another and it suddenly made sense why the High Lord had let her walk away.

“I’m here to escort you to your next stop.” her father said with that awful smile and Iris steeled herself.

“My next stop is to my husband.”

“Why, that’s exactly where I want to take you as well.” Aron said and took a step towards her. Iris took a step back.

“I will not go anywhere with you. Move aside and let me pass.” she demanded and he raised a brow.

“Given your little stunt in the ballroom and standing here without your husband, I wouldn’t think you’d be brave enough to keep up with that attitude.”

She felt anger flare in her bones and couldn’t help scoffing at her father. “When we shooed you away like the dog you are?” she mocked and his expression flattened. “I’m not sure why you get offended. You are the High Lord’s lapdog through and through, aren’t you? Willing to do anything and everything he requests of you?”

“Shut your mouth, you ungrateful bitch.” Aron seethed and Iris couldn’t help the small sense of triumph at riling him up, even as they stepped around each other, knowing his hands could harm her. “The High Lord and I have a mutually beneficial relationship that you and your stupid husband threaten to ruin.”

“Ah, yes. The relationship with you on your knees for the High Lord doing all his dirty work and he allows you to reign free?” she dared to say.

Aron's eyes narrowed and seethed, “And what do you dare mean by that?"

And Iris knew should've stayed quiet. She should’ve listened to the part of her screaming to get away from him as soon and as fast as she could – the survival instinct that had stayed with her over the years of dealing with his fists.

The other part of her, the one now thumping through her veins, was raging at her to keep going. She was a princess of this court. The mate and wife of the next High Lord come hell or high water and her husband was the reason she could stand her ground and know she was worth the fight. She had a right to fight for herself and not let this sorry excuse of a father keep diminishing her like this. So Iris channeled every ounce of arrogance she could muster and smirked, speaking in a tone of such uninterested boredom that she was slightly disappointed Eris wasn’t here to witness it, “Eris and I have often wondered if you get better rewards the better you suck his father's cock. I doubt we’re the only ones.”

“How dare you!”

Her father didn’t give her another chance to say anything else and Iris knew she was playing with fire taunting him but she’d spent her whole life dealing with him and his anger. She was sick of him and his jabs and his entire existence. She would fight fire with fire and consequences be damned.

Aron lunged at his daughter and Iris barely dodged his grip, slicing her dagger up as she went.

“You dare try to hurt me?” he seethed as he moved against her.

“I will hurt anyone who tries to hurt me and you’ve been at the top of my list for years, you piece of shit.” She snapped and took a step back, her eyes darting around the hall for anything that may help her. Anything to stop him as he followed her, trying to corner her while she dodged him.

The hall was dimly lit, and that eerie silence of being alone with him had the shadows playing tricks on her senses as Iris continued to evade her father's advances. The bastard seemed to know her every move and each time she moved one way, he followed her with a snarl. She knew she couldn't quite match his physical strength; Iris had been on the receiving end of his blows for years and that small fear would always linger. But she had to remind herself that she was stronger now. Even if she couldn’t win, she sure as fuck could injure and this fueled her determination.

As Aron lunged once more, his sword now in hand, Iris quickly sidestepped him, her dagger slashing through the air and the metallic clash echoed in the hall as her blade met his. The sound vibrated through the room as father and daughter glared at each other.

“You dance this little number with me and yet, you couldn’t overpower me if you tried, could you?” Aron cooed mockingly and Iris’s jaw clenched as she shoved away from him and a gleam of silver caught her eyes from a nearby table. Backing away slowly, letting her father assume she was retreating, Iris darted towards it, quickly grabbing one of the lofty candlestick holders adorning the hall. The cold metal of the sturdy base felt reassuring in her hand as she held it, facing her father.

“This was always your problem, Aron.” she mocked and her father’s eyes flashed. “You always underestimated me.”

Aron's face twisted with rage, and as he charged at her again, Iris was waiting. She feigned with her dagger and instead swung the candlestick holder with all her might, aiming for his head with a cry of rage, slamming into him as hard as she could. The impact sent him stumbling and she took advantage of his surprise to slam it into him again and watched with gruesome pleasure as her father crumbled to the floor.

The weapon she’d brandished slipped to the floor with a loud clang and Iris allowed herself a moment of deep breaths, her hands shaking. She had knocked him out. She’d won. This round at least.

The joy was brief as Iris remembered what she was originally supposed to be looking for and quickly hid her dagger once more. She glanced down at her father with distaste, grabbing his discarded sword and throat bobbing, Iris focused back on finding her family. She had no doubt her father would be coming after her with a vengeance once he awoke.

Carefully glancing around the corner once more, ensuring she was alone and her father didn’t have anyone else waiting for her, she sprinted towards the guest wing that was rarely used, the only space she could think Beron had walked from. The buzz of her healing magic returned, almost urging her on and Iris focused on swallowing her panic, needing to keep a leveled head.

They had a plan. She would find Oren then find Eris and they would be fine.

Lady Enya had to be fine. She had to be okay. She was finally leaving. Lucien was waiting – Her mate was waiting.

And Eris…she would be by his side however the rest of this night goes.

She skidded to a stop in front of the room, trying to control her heavy breathing as she glanced around the wing to find it deserted, the door to the main room closed. Her magic tingled at her fingertips and Iris knew this was the right place. Quickly, she knocked. “Lady Enya?”

A heartbeat passed and she knocked again, her tone sharpening. “Lady Enya?”

Nothing.

She heard nothing.

Did that mean – had Beron –

Her grip tightened on her blade but Iris made herself take another deep breath and as she raised her hand once more to knock, she heard a pitiful groan.

One of pain.

Iris yanked at the door handle and groaned to find it locked. With a grunt, she threw herself against the door with everything she had once, twice, and by the third shove, her shoulders were aching and her hair had started to become disheveled, there was a small crack in the door. Mustering whatever was left of her energy, she threw herself against the door a final time and it finally burst open. Panting, her gaze swept the room until it fell on a body – three bodies and she nearly keeled over – Lady Enya, Emil, and Oren were bleeding out before her.

Iris’s hands began to shake as she took note of each person and as if in a trance, slowly let the sword slip from her hands. Lady Enya lay face first on the floor, Emil on the ground with a chair toppled over him, and Oren slumped against the wall.

Eris had told her what his father was capable of if provoked but it didn’t stop her from trembling at the sight of the broken furniture and speckles of scattered blood.

“Oh gods.”

Quickly closing the door behind her, Iris rushed over and turned her mother-in-law, blanching at the paleness of her face. Her cheeks were marred with bruises, a cut to her lip and Iris made herself take a breath then another at the sight of the Lady of Autumn’s golden dress now stained with blood.

The chaos had begun and the High Lord certainly knew where to hit.

“Mother? Mother, can you hear me?” she called, trying to keep the frantic panic she felt at bay as her hand hovered over Lady Enya’s body, assessing her as carefully as she could. The High Lord seemed to have used his fists more deliberately with his wife, as if wanting to make sure his touch would haunt her forever and Iris bit her lip hard, sensing the amount of bruises across her mother-in-law’s body. A line of blood sat across her throat as if the High Lord had debated whether to slit it or not and Iris’s hands moved shakily, letting her healing magic find the hurt.

Why hadn’t her body started healing itself yet? What had the High Lord done?

“Please answer me. Please don’t be –”

“Iris.”

Her head snapped to the corner to where Emil struggled and her brother-in-law groaned lowly as he attempted to move. “Emil!” she said and froze for a heartbeat as her gaze flickered between the three bodies. If Lady Enya wasn’t healing, did that mean Emil and Oren hadn’t either? Grimacing, she focused back on her mother-in-law. “What the hell happened? Are you able to get up?”

“My father. He knows.” Emil wheezed and Iris watched him shove the chair off him with a shaky hand. “The fucker knows. Trapped us in here.”

“W-why is there so much blood? ” she asked, carefully shifting Lady Enya’s head to continue checking for injuries. “Why isn’t your mother’s body healing itself? Can you heal yours?”

“No. F-faebane in the drinks he forced on us,” he said with a wince. “My magic is snuffed out.”

“Try not to move, please!” Iris called out and glanced down at Lady Enya with a small sense of relief at the little bit of color returning in her cheeks. “Let me help you first. If you’re already hurt, movement will make it worse.”

With a final assessing hand over Lady Enya, Iris quickly shifted over to Emil, assisting him in sitting up and her brother-in-law hissed when she exposed the nasty wound to his gut. His face was no better than his mother’s and Iris winced at the way his arm was twisted. “The fucker saw me following him and Mother. I tried to make it seem like I wanted to walk her back to the dance but when Oren showed up, he must’ve known something was happening and called us in here,” he explained quickly, panting slightly as Iris carefully touched him. “He wanted to toast the evening and before we could stop him, he forced the drinks on us.”

“What kind of weapon did he use?” Iris asked, moving her hands to scan Emil for further injuries and healing as she went along. “He must’ve –”

“His fists. His magic.” Emil said and moaned painfully as Iris set his arm back in place and healed the wound to his abdomen. “Then his sword. Oren got the brunt of it trying to protect my mother. H-help him, please –”

“I will, I will.” she managed and blew out a breath, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. “Eris – he’s – your father is aware of everything.” Iris helped him shift against the wall, handing him his discarded daggers. “He cornered me in the hallway and I think he has something up his sleeve. It’s going to get ugly.”

“It absolutely will get ugly. He thinks he has one up on us because he knows we’re planning to overthrow him.” Emil seethed, grunting as he adjusted himself, carefully strapping his two daggers to his sides. “But he doesn’t know to what extent.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” she said quietly and Emil put a hand over hers, forcing her to pause but she gave him a tight smile and patted his hand. “I think he knows more than you think he does.”

“What makes you say that?” Emil asked, his eyes narrowing and Iris shrugged helplessly.

“He threatened me with all his ideas for the future out there. Whatever it is, you all must figure out a way around it.” Iris said then backed away from him; she had healed him as best as she could. Swallowing, she met his gaze, her eyes pleading. “Please don’t let Eris deal with it alone, Emil. I know your magic hasn’t returned yet but –”

“You’d be a fool to only rely on your magic in this court.” he rasped and nodded. “I’ll be fine. We’ll get back to him.”

Iris nodded and blinked back the well of tears that surfaced. There was no time for this – no time to dwell on things she couldn’t control. If they couldn’t heal themselves, Iris would gladly do it for them, helping in the only way she knew how. She quickly made her way to Oren and Iris couldn’t help but hiss as she ran her hands over him to find multiple fractures and wounds.

Eris’s friend and one of his most loyal soldiers was bloodied and bruised, left for dead trying to protect their family. Anger boiled beneath her skin at the injustice of it all.

The High Lord had been pissed.

Iris let her magic work, panting slightly at the exertion of so much of her magic all at once. She looked over as Emil slowly began to stand, his hands trembling slightly. “You lost blood, you need to let yourself rest a little longer,” Iris ordered.

“There’s no fucken time for that,” Emil said and breathed deeply, bracing a hand against the wall. “Time will cost us and he’s too prepared. I need to find out how. I need –”

The Lady of Autumn made a small noise and both Iris and Emil glanced over to find her shifting slightly. “Lady Enya?”

Without a word, Emil approached his mother and Iris bit her lip, watching him stumble slightly as he walked. Even with her help, the faebane slowed their healing and they needed more time.

“Emil.” his mother breathed, reaching out a trembling hand as her son assisted her to sit up. “What happened? Where –” Lady Enya’s gaze found Iris, widening, and Iris was grateful to see the bruises on her face had somewhat lessened. “Iris! What are you doing here?”

“I came to find Oren and ended up finding you all together,” she explained, focusing back on Oren’s wounds. “Are you feeling alright? I’m healing everyone as best as possible but I’m a little nervous that –”

“I feel better, thank you.” Lady Enya reassured quickly as alarm crossed her expression and Iris’s brows furrowed, her gaze torn between Enya and Oren. The Lady of Autumn exchanged a look with Emil before her eyes returned to Iris. “You need to leave. Now.”

Iris blinked, her hands flattering for a moment before she resumed healing. “What?”

“Beron —” Enya grunted as Emil helped her stand. “He left us nearly dead on purpose. But you – you – he’s going to use you to ruin Eris. You need to leave.”

“But –”

“Now, Iris. Before he sends someone to –”

“He already had my father waiting for me and I managed to get away. I’m not leaving.”

“Iris –” Emil began but she cut him a glare. “You know he has plans –” “I’m not leaving.” she snapped. “Everything is already going to hell and if your father is going to hurt my husband – my mate, then I am going to be here and help in any way that I can.”

Emil’s whole body seemed to lurch as he froze. “Your what?” he asked as Enya’s expression shuttered.

“You heard me.” Iris breathed and her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest. She would not deny him. Not now. Not here. And Eris may have been terrified for people to know about their bond but with things escalating so quickly, how could she worry about anything else?

“I am aware that I promised Eris that I would get out but things have changed and I refuse to leave him now. You think if I tried to run, your father wouldn’t find me so he could keep hurting Eris?” Iris met his gaze and then turned to her mother-in-law, her eyes burning. “He’s the first thing that’s ever been mine. The best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’ve waited my whole life to have what I have with him.” Her lip quivered slightly as she glanced down at Oren whose breathing had finally evened then she turned back at them. “This is my fight too and should this end in fire, I will burn with him.”

“Iris…” Enya began and her mother-in-law’s lips trembled but Emil watched her with a look of calculated interest that Iris could’ve sworn had a flicker of pride in it.

Deeming Oren healed enough, Iris carefully stood, glancing down at her stained hands, and fisted them slowly before she faced them once more. “I am not leaving him. He is mine and I am his and whatever may come…we will face it together,” she said and rolled her shoulders back, her tone offering no room for argument. “I hope I have made myself clear.”

It was silent for a moment and Iris’s shoulders tensed, wondering if they’d argue with her or force her to leave — if it was the smartest thing to do but then both Emil and Lady Enya nodded.

“Then I hope my brother trained you well, sister,” Emil said solemnly and her shoulders dropped. “It’s going to be a hard fight.”

“Then a hard fight it is,” she answered and felt nothing but grim determination. “Now tell me, how much of the faebane was in the drink? Do you think the effects will last long?”

“I have an antidote on me. So should you, Mother.” Emil said and ran a hand over his clothing until he found the small vial that somehow hadn’t shattered in the beating he’d gotten then turned to his mother. “We should’ve taken it sooner. I miscalculated and now it’ll cost us –”

“I don’t have it.” Lady Enya said and her face was grave. “He took it from me and crushed it right before you came in.” Her shaking hands fisted in her dress. “He took it and crushed it like he crushed everything else in my life.”

Iris’s throat tightened as Emil’s expression shuttered before thrusting a hand out to his mother. “Then take mine. I’ll be fine to fight until my magic returns.”

“No, Emil, you must –”

“I have an additional one.” Iris cut in, her hand sliding into the hidden pocket of her dress and quickly handing it to her mother-in-law. “You need it more than I do. I will take no argument on this either.”

Lady Enya’s shoulders dropped and Iris hated to see her lip quivering as she slowly closed her hand around the vial and huffed out a weak laugh. “Iris, I –”

The door that Iris had deliberately closed behind her swung open and they all tensed. Emil immediately slid in front of his mother, hiding the antidote and Iris froze when she saw who was standing there.

“You truly thought you could get away from me, daughter.”

Aron stood in the doorway, a smugness mixed with anger in his expression, and was now flanked by three sentries who bore no mark of the Vanserra brothers.

“Do you not know when to give up?” Iris asked in exasperation, her hand immediately sliding to her hidden dagger once more. “How many more times must I humiliate you for you to be gone?”

Her father snorted and the sound had her stomach coiling as that familiar anxiety flared again, not daring to take her eyes off him as she shifted closer to Emil and Lady Enya. He was angrier now and Iris had dared to hurt him. His revenge was coming sooner than she had predicted and she couldn’t help glancing at the bruise still prominent on his temple.

“We’ll see who shall be humiliating who, you stupid bitch,” Aron sneered quietly, his mouth curled in distaste. Iris flushed angrily to be demeaned like this in front of her family but it was that quiet threat in his tone that put her on edge again. Her father’s eyes narrowed as if he could sense her hate, sense her raging heart but he jerked his chin to his soldiers and they began walking towards Iris.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Emil snapped and stepped forward but Aron only gave the prince a cursory glance as Iris backed a step, then another with her father’s soldiers still approaching her.

“You’re still alive?” her father merely said, unbothered by the prince’s reaction. “Your father will be disappointed.”

Emil drew his two blades, a rage she hadn’t seen before cut through the usual calm demeanor he presented, and an invisible barrier went up between them and her father’s soldiers. “You all take one more step toward her and I will cut you where you stand,” he said, his tone lethally calm.

Aron scowled and Iris clenched her jaw, her fingers tight around the hilt of the hidden dagger, the air in the room thick with tension as Aron glanced at them with a tilt of his head. “Now, now, prince. This doesn’t concern you. I’m here for my daughter and nothing else.” he said and gestured with a hand. “Should you and your mother choose to flee, I will grant you a headstart before informing your father that you still draw breath.”

“You dare stand before the Lady and prince of this court and behave this way?” Lady Enya said, her expression filled with cool disdain as she stepped towards him and the lord had the nerve to lift a brow, glancing over her.

“As far as I’m aware, you won’t be the lady of this court for much longer,” Aron replied then added with a small, mocking smile. “Per your husband’s support, I do dare. My lady.”

Emil let a breath pass then another, the room beginning to heat as he scoffed in disbelief. “My brother was right. You certainly are too bold for your own good.” he spat and without warning, threw a blade, landing it in the throat of the soldier on the right with a thud. “Stand down or the next step you take will be the last.”

Aron grimaced at the fallen soldier to his side then glanced at Emil. “That was uncalled for.” he tsked. “Are you sure you want to behave like this, prince? Don’t you know what your father has in store for you?”

“And what do you know about my father’s plans?” Emil asked, taking a step forward.

Aron smiled in a way that triggered every terrible memory Iris had of him. Every bruise, every hurt he had given her always started with that smile and her grip tightened on the hilt of her dagger. “I am your father’s hand. I will execute them as he wishes,” he said. “My daughter is the final piece of the punishment he plans to unleash on you all but do you know who else will be part of it?”

Emil’s eyes narrowed as Iris shifted a step over, her eyes on her father. “Considering you seem to love the sound of your own voice, I assume you’ll be telling me.”

Her father chuckled and it made Iris’s skin crawl. “I do believe you know her quite well,” Aron said and Iris watched Emil’s body tighten, her gaze caught between him and her father. “She’s a pretty thing. Gave her quite the fright when we yanked her from her hiding place.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“No sense in denying your lover, Emil. It’s Cosette, isn't it?” Aron said, making a show of consulting his lapdogs behind him and Emil seemed to stop breathing. “You can imagine how fun it was to watch her succumb to her fear as she was blindfolded. Especially when we popped out that little earpiece and she could no longer hear clearly what was going on.” Aron gave a nasty laugh and Iris felt her stomach drop, watching as color leached from Emil’s face and his hands started shaking. “It was delightful.”

“You can’t be serious.” Iris breathed and Aron spared her a look of disdain before his eyes went back to Emil.

“Henry Adler’s daughter is a bold move for you, boy. Your father will relish in breaking you with her in company.”

“Tell me where she is right now you fucken piece of shit.” Emil snarled and Aron tsked again.

“I would watch that tone,” Aron said and wagged a finger. “Your father gave me free rein to do what I must and we barely touched her. It would be a shame for you to bring her further harm should you continue to be disrespectful.” her father said and Iris felt bile rise in her throat.

Cosette was supposed to be long gone alongside Theo. If they had Cosette, did that mean they had him too? How long had they had her for? How had they gotten their hands on her? Eris had said the signal had been clear this morning. Her eyes met Lady Enya’s and they seemed to share the same thought: how had this happened?

“Stop this at once.” Lady Enya demanded. “Do not bring an innocent girl into this.”

“She’s the daughter of a traitor and the lover of one. None of you are innocent.” Aron crooned. “And I will do as the High Lord has requested of me whether you wish to see it or not. Maybe if you give up her father, we’ll do a trade.”

“Tell me where she is right now.”

Aron only snorted. “And what would be the fun in that?”

Without warning, Aron and his remaining soldiers lunged forward and chaos erupted in the room. Iris swiftly moved, her training kicking in as she dodged her father’s grip. She couldn’t believe he was challenging Emil and Lady Enya so openly. Had they all lost their minds? Had the High Lord really allowed him such leeway? Then again, he had left part of his family to bleed out in this very room and if had his hands on two of them, what’s to stop him from killing their significant others as well? What of Helene and the baby?

“Stop this madness, you fool.” Iris demanded. “The High Lord is –.”

Aron didn’t even spare Emil and Enya a glance as they took on his sentries, continuing towards her. The bastard wasn’t even using a weapon. “Worry less about the High Lord and more about how your husband will be paying for his crimes.”

Iris faltered for a moment. “My husband committed no crimes.”

“No?” he said with a smile full of malice. “Treason isn’t a crime to you?”

“Save me your bullshit.” Iris snarled. “The only criminal here is you and I am so sick of your shit.”

“When you’re with the High Lord, nothing you do is a crime,” Aron said with a chuckle then lunged forward to grab her but Iris dodged, her fist flying out and connecting to her father’s cheek.

He blinked back in surprise and almost absently touched his face. “That is the second time you have laid hands on me.”

“And I will do it again if you even think about touching me.” she promised.

Her father watched her and Iris hated to see the curiosity in his gaze. “So it seems you have truly learned to fight.” Aron mused and the mocking tone grated on every nerve in Iris’s body as she moved.

“My husband taught me well.” she snapped and her blade sliced up as Aron reached a hand for her. Her father hissed and the scent of fresh blood filled the air as Aron glanced down at his bleeding hand and then back at his daughter. Iris swallowed, her heart in her throat as rage clouded his expression but she stood her ground. “He gave me everything you tried to deny me of.”

“Then it’s a shame you’ll end up being his downfall, won’t it?” Her father hissed and lunged forward, slamming her into the wall. Iris yelped but refused to go down without clawing at him, anger and fear fueling her every move. She sliced her dagger again, meeting flesh when her father backhanded her and she grunted, trying to step out of his reach again. But Aron was angrier than she’d ever seen him before and when she tried to move out of his reach, he shoved her back against the wall, his elbow digging into her throat. “I’ve had just about enough of you.”

“Then get the hell out of my way.” Iris snarled but her father ignored her and instead, yelled over his shoulder, “Now.”

Iris’s gaze quickly shot to Emil and Layd Enya still fighting but the look cost her. Her father now had a small vial in his hand and with a nasty smile that had her hackles rising, Aron crushed it in his hand. “Say goodnight, daughter.”

“Wait –” she gasped but her father only smirked then blew the powder in his hand into her face and a wave of nausea washed over Iris, blind panic unfurling in her chest as the last thing she saw was her father’s smug face before it all went to black.

——

He had made a mistake.

As Eris watched the people enjoying the ball around them, he knew sending Iris away before his father returned was a mistake. He didn’t know where the High Lord was, Emil and his mother were missing and with Emil missing, he didn’t know if Mikel was in place to take his mother away.

The longer he stood there, the more quickly his lungs were shrinking, and if Eris didn’t force himself to breathe, he’d likely have a stroke on the spot. Everything in his body was shriveling at the sense of wrongness surrounding him, and doubt began to fester in his mind in earnest.

Something was wrong.

Had they been stupid enough to think they could take his father on? Should they have gone about this differently? Could they have tolerated him a little more and snuck their mother out on a different day?

Too many variables were out of his control now and the one person who had ever settled him was gone and still, Eris regretted not sending her away sooner.

His fists clenched behind his back and when Izak and Finn casually slid up next to him, Eris already knew it would get worse. He quickly shielded them from listening ears.

“We’ve lost communication with some of the soldiers on the outside,” Izak muttered, running a hand over his beard. “And there seem to be more sentries we don’t know in the room.”

“Mikel hasn’t checked in again and I’m starting to get fucken antsy,” Finn added and Eris’s gaze sharpened on his brothers.

“What do you mean he hasn’t checked in?” Eris said. “You haven’t heard from him about the others?”

“I heard from Lucien.” Izak confirmed with a frown. “Helene is fine.”

“Nothing about Theo? Or even Cosette?” Finn asked. “Where the fuck is Emil?”

Eris scowled then rolled his shoulders back, feeling every inch of him tense. “I need to find Father. You two figure out what’s going on and try to stay together. I don’t trust a single person in this room.”

“We’ll go with you,” Izak said but Eris shook his head.

“You both can’t follow me. People will notice.”

“Where’s Iris?” Finn asked and Eris felt the question snatch his breath.

“I sent her to find Oren and get out before whatever is about to happen does.”

Finn and Izak shared a glance that had Eris tense further.

“I was going to tell you that Oren’s been too quiet for a while. I – I can’t get a hold of him.” Finn said tightly and Eris felt his stomach drop.

“What.” he snapped.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything –” Izak quickly said but Eris’s glare shut his brother right up.

“You know it means something.” He hissed. “You haven’t heard from Mikel and now Oren is missing. I sent her — if he’s not — and your father is still –”

Eris made himself take a deep breath and fisted his shaking hands tighter. “Do as I told you. I need to find your fucken father and find out where my wife is.”

“Let me find Iris and make sure she’s alright. Maybe that’ll lead me to Mikel as well. You and Izak focus on Father.” Finn said and Eris met his brother’s gaze.

“Finn.”

“She’ll be alright, Eris. You trained her to handle herself, didn’t you?”

“You know Father is a different kind of beast and I –”

The words died in his throat as his father casually strolled into the room and all the air in the room was sucked out as he made his way over to them. Slowly, as if deliberately giving them time to note each step.

Eris swallowed once then nodded to his brothers. “Get out. Get out now.”

“And leave you here?” Izak demanded quietly.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure being here with him alone is wise?” Finn asked. “Eris, if he’s already –”

“Whatever the damage is, it’s already done. Find the others,” he said and spared them both a glance. “Go. Now. Before he gets closer.”

A heartbeat of silence passed and the grim determination he found on their faces matched his own. His younger brothers. How different would their relationship have been had they grown up anywhere but here? With any other father? Who could have they become? What kind of lives would they lead instead of this?

The question that plagued him all his life rose to the surface as he turned to watch his father again: what would it feel like to finally take a breath without worrying about his father’s hand choking it out of him?

The three of them said nothing and Eris only nodded once before the two of them scattered.

He kept his eyes on his father as he walked toward him, his brothers steering clear of the High Lord. Even as his Father addressed his guests as he passed them, his eyes never left his eldest son and every inch of Eris tightened, winding up for battle. Whatever his Father thought was happening, Eris knew deep in his bones that he would be taking the brunt of it all.

His heart was a ticking time bomb and Eris had a feeling it would explode any minute with each step his father took toward him.

Time seemed to slow as father and son met, standing before one another. The music was drowned out and the glittering lights did nothing to stop the darkness that sank into Eris as he stared at his father.

Even as they stood in a room full of people, Eris heard and saw nothing else but the male in front of him. The one person who had ruined his life and those he cared about in every way possible.

“You seem to be waiting for me, son.”

The High Lord’s tone was conversational, almost light and Eris clasped his hands behind him, matching his father’s tone. “Your absence was noted, Father. I was coming to find you,” he said.

The High Lord gave him a faint smile. “Did you miss me, son?”

Eris’s smile was thin as his thumb tapped against his hand. “Always.” he lied. “I see Mother isn’t with you.”

Beron shrugged an elegant shoulder, the corner of his mouth curling up. “She’s decided to take a break from the evening. She doesn’t seem to be feeling well.”

Eris’s eyes narrowed, his heart thundering in his chest. “Oh?” he asked carefully. “She seemed fine earlier. Where is she now?”

His father didn’t answer right away and instead, let silence dance between them. The High Lord said nothing and Eris felt his slowly magic start to thump in his veins again. Loudly. Enough that even the dagger at his side seemed heavier. He wondered if his father could sense it as he watched him.

“You seem to be implying that I am lying to you,” Beron said in that same conversational tone and Eris made himself take a small breath through his nose.

“Of course not. I am merely surprised at how quickly she seems to have fallen ill,” he replied. “I will go check on her. Bring a healer to examine her as well.”

Beron hummed and the disapproval in it made Eris stiffen. “Your concern for your mother isn’t necessary, son.” the High Lord said and gave him a smile that didn’t reach his cold, dead eyes. “She will be fine. I need you here, dazzling the guests.” Eris’s brows flattened and before he could object, his father turned away and demanded, “Walk with me.”

The tension in the air thickened as Eris hesitated a beat and then followed his father, the echoes of their footsteps drowned out by the thrumming beat of his heart. The continued casualness in his father’s demeanor grated on Eris and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking towards the beginning of what felt like the final act.

As they moved through the splendor of the ballroom, Eris scanned the faces of the guests, both relieved and anxious that he saw no signs of his brothers. The uneasiness continued to grip his chest, thoughts of his mother and Iris making it difficult to focus on anything else. The laughter and music felt insulting as the weight of impending doom hung heavy around his neck.

He followed his father until the High Lord reached his throne and took a seat, leaving Eris standing before him. Beron gestured for him to move closer and Eris took the two steps up the dais until he was facing his father. Beron said nothing, merely snapping his fingers for a server to bring him a drink and a muscle feathered in Eris’s jaw at the deliberate waste of time, praying to whatever gods were listening that he didn't shove the whole glass down his father’s throat.

As if reading his thoughts, Beron’s mouth curled and he finally broke the silence, his voice low, ominous. “You've always been intelligent, Eris. It's a trait that I had hoped would serve you well, but it seems to be backfiring on you lately. Causing more trouble than it's worth.”

Eris shot his father a sharp glance, his jaw clenching again. "And what trouble might that be, Father?”

Beron chuckled darkly, and the sound sent shivers down Eris's spine, tension lining every muscle as he stood there. But the High Lord only sat back on his throne, his finger tapping on the flute of champagne observing his son and for once, Eris let his anger flare.

“Are we really going to play these games right now?” he said flatly.

“Interesting you should say that, son,” Beron said lightly. “Considering you’re the one who is playing a very, very dangerous game.”

Eris straightened, his fists clenching behind his back. He let a beat of silence pass, slowly breathing through his nose again before he spoke. “Am I?”

Beron hummed, his gaze burning into Eris, his eyes calculating his son’s every breath. “I understand you’re used to insulting my intelligence given how much control I’ve given you over our court.” he mused then made a discontent noise. “One could even say it was my fault that I let you be so unchecked. That I…trusted you.”

Eris's stomach churned at the tone in his father's voice. He tried to maintain his composure; he usually relied on his father avoiding a public spectacle but given the circumstances, Eris wasn’t sure it would stop the High Lord this time. The knot of anxiety tightened in his throat and he cleared it before he continued. “Father, I would never –”

“Do not look me in the face and lie to me, boy.” Beron threatened softly.

The High Lord’s gaze raked over Eris with that signature distaste and every fiber of his being was on high alert. With his father, that could mean anything. Eris was a busy male, he had been up to many things but didn’t dare let any emotion other than feigned confusion slip through.

“And what exactly am I lying about, High Lord?”

“High Lord.” he spat and Eris bristled. “You mock the title with your deceit.”

Squaring his shoulders, Eris forced himself to maintain a sense of calm, refusing to let his father get under his skin. “I’m sorry to hear that even tonight, I have managed to disappoint you, Father.”

Beron spared Eris a glance before looking back at the guests. “We’ll see how sorry you’ll be as the night goes on, son.” the High Lord managed and Eris’s confusion wasn’t feigned this time, trying as he might to keep the beat of his heart steady.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and said, “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

His father chuckled and the sound sent a shiver down Eris’s spine. “There are many things I wish to tell you but it will have to wait for the show later.”

A beat of silence. “What show? We have nothing planned.”

“You don’t have anything planned,” Beron said and it was the predatory gleam in his father’s eyes that made the thumping in Eris’s chest quicken. “I most certainly do.”

Eris struggled to maintain a facade of calm as a storm of prickling anxiety and rage boiled beneath his skin. He almost wished his father would outright say whatever it was he was up to and let the cards fall where they may so Eris could rework his plans.

Steeling himself, he decided he would find his mother first and ensure Iris had made it out. He was too tense to tell if the thread that tugged on his ribcage was because of him or because of Iris but either way, he didn’t want to wait too long to find out.

Eris needed to get away from his father.

“Well.” he finally forced himself to say. “I will…entertain our guests until your show begins. Send a healer to mother and –”

“No. I don’t think you will.” Beron said with a hum and before Eris could brace himself, his father’s magic locked on his body, holding him in place.

He couldn’t move. His body wouldn’t budge.

Panic unfurled in his chest as he glanced at his father who was eyeing the room again, with no care in the world. “Father.” Eris hissed. “What is the meaning of this?”

The High Lord glanced at his son. “You don’t need to go anywhere just yet. I like having you by my side.”

“But I –”

“Did I tell you?” His father asked with a small smile. “I saw your pretty wife in the hallway. She too, was looking for your mother.” Beron’s tone was nonchalant. “We had a lovely chat.”

Eris didn’t get a chance to even appear confused when the High Lord seemed to drop the glamour around himself and he felt the world tilt as Iris’s scent washed over him.

Eris took a breath. Then another.

He felt his soul leave his body at the smile his father gave him. A smile that meant more than it should. For Eris knew his scent mingled with hers and with an ironclad shield settling around them, his father knew Eris would not receive this news well.

“What did you do.” he breathed and fear like he’d never ever felt before spiked in his heart. He fisted his shaking hands and tried to move, demanding again, “What did you do?”

“Do not take that tone with me.” his father said quietly, observing him.

“Then answer my question.” Eris hissed. “Did you touch her? Did you hurt her?”

Beron’s chuckle was sinister and every morsel in Eris’s body filled with rage. “I only touched her a little bit but…perhaps that will change later tonight.”

“Father.” he snarled and Eris knew it was only because of his father’s shield that the whole room hadn’t heard him. “Do not toy with me.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Beron said with a small smile. “But your wife? I shall certainly enjoy toying with her.”

Eris felt the world slide from beneath his feet as his father’s gaze remained on him and Eris tried his everything not to let his expression shift – not to give the fucker any satisfaction but his lungs had lost air and he wasn’t sure how to –

A choked noise slipped from his throat and Eris hadn’t been imagining it – his father’s magic was choking him.

“You seem so worried about her.” The High Lord mused. “I haven’t done anything to her yet.” His father’s gaze bore into him. “With your scent all over her, I’ll need to wait a little while before I have my fun.”

“Father.” Eris choked but the High Lord merely tsked, his expression almost bored. And Eris realized at that moment just how well and truly fucked he was. If his father was hinting at his mating bond with Iris, he had to know about other things. His eyes sought out the blur of people for his brothers but he had sent them out of the room and Eris was forced to stand there – forced to remain locked like this in his father’s hold, glamoured so that no one would see anything unusual happening. No one would be looking at him.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me, son?” the High Lord asked, tilting his head as Eris struggled. “This is your chance to do so before things get exceedingly worse for you.”

Eris’s throat bobbed. How big of a spectacle would his father make this? He could break out of this but too many people were missing. Too many fucken variables he didn’t control. Could he unleash himself without setting the whole room on fire? Without harming everyone else?

Did it really matter as long as he took his father out? Would it be justified if, at least, the High Lord was extinguished?

But no. He was not his father. He would not harm for the sake of harming.

He let his expression neutralize and slowly calmed his raging heart. He wasn’t sure about his mother but if Beron let Iris walk away maybe it would be fine.

His brothers were on the prowl. He would give them a little more time – just enough that when he exploded, Eris would know they would be alright.

So he met his father’s gaze and said as conversationally as possible, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Beron let a moment of silence pass then sighed. “I’m disappointed by that answer.”

The High Lord’s magic tightened around Eris’s throat and he made a wheezing sound as his father forced him to take a step forward, forcing him to kneel before him.

Beron’s hand reached out and if Eris could have, he would’ve flinched back as the High Lord’s hand brushed his son’s face. Had anyone been watching them, the gesture would’ve been loving but his father’s hand was anything but as he gripped his chin and forced him to look up at him.

“Remember that I gave you a choice.” the High Lord said, his voice full of violent promise. “I gave you the chance to confess and you decided to continue lying to me.”

“I have nothing to confess,” Eris said, his tone strained and his father’s grip tightened painfully.

The High Lord shoved him back with a snort. “Then do not complain when it all comes crashing down on your head,” he warned and raised his glass. “I hope you and your brothers enjoy the consequences of your actions.”

And every lick of fear he had ever doused – every prickle of anxiety he had fought off in the last few weeks crashed over him and Eris was helpless to do anything but wait for whatever hell his father was about to unleash.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris x oc #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar fanfiction #gfics #smtb chapters #buckle up kids you're going to hate beron even MORE #previously: lucienarcheron

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aryxchse · 4 months ago

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the prince and the princess. / jason grace x daughter of hera! reader dating headcanons!

a / n : i can't stop thinking abt him lately, sorry folks! and yes, since i am a sucker for 'history repeats itself' troupe, i am writing daughter of hera fic AGAIN. proud and hot 🎀

warnings : cursing, pure love, jason being a little cocky because i know rick didn't gave him enough credit

- can we agree that hera is so happy?

- her champion and daughter being together?? dream coming true

- and she knows jason will treat you good, unlike his father did to her

- so you guys already have her approval and we don't care about zeus / jupiter in this household

- back to you cutesies

- jason is so husband material

- like you're so much like your mother, but he isn't like his father

- for example ;;

- you'd be angry about something—anything really, and jason would calmly continue to read his book, murmuring 'it's okay sweetie' or 'yes, you're right. you're always right baby' once in a while to make sure you know he's listening

- most of the children of hera suffers from jealousy, so if your fatal flaw is jealousy, he'd do this 10 times more

- but he's not bored, he thinks this is an ideal relationship because you never act toxic towards him

- just sometimes a little bit more jealous but that's okay, jason loves it

- you guys are the prince and princess, like the name of this fic

- you two visit olympus more than any demigod seriously

- you having therapy sessions with your mother while jason gets angry at zeus for making hera sad again

- you do couple therapy for them fr

- back to jason being a husband

- i don't know how, but he makes heart shaped thunders in camp when he's out on a quest

- call it connection and him being powerful, but it's just so romantic

- like whenever a heart shaped thunder appears, the campers are like 'yup, that's jason missing y/n right there'

- you guys already have promise rings

- mother and father of the camp

- like, literally

- you're so good with kids, such a mother material (wow what a suprise), and he's such a father bro

- he's so good and gentle with kids?? it makes you wanna cry and throw up from love

- your favorite flowers on your door every sunday

- and he gaves it as one, for you to collect them and make a bouquet yourself

- he already made a deal with the hecate or demeter or persephone kids for the flowers to never die

- power couple by the way but i don't think i have to mention this

- i imagine children of hera being the opposite of the children of the nyx, like owning the sky and heavens, but they're powerful as much

- not more powerful, read carefuly.

- and yeah, owning the sky together? what a couple can do more than that

- flying dates whenever you feel stressed

- visiting the old temples

- constantly hearing the 'hera and zeus' jokes

- literally being an old married couple

- my boy jason loving teasing you while you're angry

- what can i say? you got your temper from your mother and he got his sarcastic behavior from his father

- natural leaders

- you being jason's mastermind

- you're the mastermind of all the big three's children atp

- him gifting you little things from your element

- like one time he gifted you a hair clip that was the shape of an peacock feather

- and you're constantly wearing lightning earrings

- matching jewelry but it's like.. a royalty level you know what im saying?

- like it's not some bracelet which made from the beads or string

- i'm talking about real silver or gold here

- and it's so minimalistic that it looks so good

- you guys are the most chill couple camp has ever seen

- like those couples on tv that ates their five minutes screen time

- wiping his glasses for him, even when he doesn't notice it's dirty

- he casually greets you by giving you a knight greeting, on his one knee, hand on his chest

- properly, like the queen you are

- zeus take notes fr

- long story short, you guys are too iconic but i guess i don't have to say that

#this been in my drafts for almost a fucking year guys #this is me writing for mha lmao #i read it again and LOVED IT #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson series #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson imagine #jason grace imagine #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x you #jason grace headcanon #jason grace pjo #jason grace

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adult-kinda · 6 months ago

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First Impressions Matter

Warnings: fluff, college student Jay, profanity, Jay is just so boyfriend coded I cried writing this

In which Jay does everything in his power to make sure that meeting your family goes well…

“Are you sure you wanna do that?” You asked at lunch.

Jay nodded casually. “I don’t see what the issue is. It’s about time, don’t you think so?”

The topic at hand? Him meeting your family. Jay is an amazing guy and as far as you can tell there are no flaws. But your family is very strict about who you date and they can be very pushy people at times. Your younger siblings are the worst about it, always asking about who Jay is. But for Jay he thought after hitting the four month mark he was more than ready to meet the family.

“I don’t know, Jay. They can be a lot and my dad is very protective.” You said hesitantly.

Jay grabbed your hand gently which caused you to look up at him.

“Hey I’m not gonna push this if you don’t want me to. I just think it would be good for them to know who I am sooner rather than later.” He said honestly.

Jay’s words gave you a sense of comfort that your last relationship couldn’t provide. That’s also why you were scared to have Jay come over. The last guy did not work out too well having showed up too casually in sweats and no full sentences. But Jay was different; he was perfect. He could manage your family’s high demands.

“Okay.” You said.

Jay’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay like I can meet them?”

You nodded smiling at his excitement.

“I’ll ask my mom when she would like to do this.”

Saturday arrived and you were pacing in your room. Thursday evening after school you asked your family if they would like to meet Jay and that was all it took. Your siblings cleaned around the house, your mother purchased the best meats at the store, and your dad shined his pistol. Now the day had come and you were panicking.

Jay texted you throughout the day words of encouragement and when he was leaving to ease your anxiety. It worked but as it got closer to 6:30 you got more and more nervous. You made sure to where your best outfit to make a good impression on Jay in the event that your family failed to.

Your phone buzzed and it was Jay.

The next thing you heard was the doorbell ring. You ran downstairs to try and beat your family but they were already there ready to answer. Your younger brother was the one to open the door.

“Who are you?” He asked with a frown.

Jay smiled politely. “Hi I’m here for Y/N’s family! I’m assuming you’re Baekhyun?”

Your little brother gasped with wide eyes.

“You know me?” He asked with shock.

Jay crouched down to his 10 year old figure.

“I do! In fact I know you so well I got you this game you’ve been wanting.” He says as he pulled a video game out of the gift bag he carried.

Baekhyun happily took the gift and laughed.

“Noona your boyfriend is Santa! I like him!”

You chuckled and watched as Jay stood up properly to meet your father.

“Hello Mr. Jung! I am Park Jeonseong but you may know me as my English name Jay. It is wonderful to meet you sir.” He said as he bowed.

Your father raised an eyebrow and took his hand to shake it.

“Well hello Jay! Welcome to our home.” He said with surprise. This was definitely a 360 from the last guy you tried to bring.

Jay took out a box from the bag and presented it to your father.

“Your daughter mentioned that you enjoy watching American basketball, specifically the Los Angeles Lakers. I hope you don’t mind but I was able to find a limited edition pen for you. I hope you enjoy it sir.” Jay presented the box which had your dad’s name engraved on it too.

The older man was very impressed. Clearly Jay put a lot of thought into his first impression and he was doing a damn good job.

“Why thank you Jay! This will go right on my desk! Please take off your shoes and come in!”

With that Jay slipped off his nice dress shoes and stepped into the guest slippers you laid out for him.

“So this is the most handsome Jay my daughter speaks of!” Your mom said excitedly.

Jay chuckled and bowed to her. “Hello Mrs. Jung! I have heard many great things about you and your cooking so I am very excited to meet you!”

Your mom opened her arms for a hug.

“Ah come here you! And just call me mom!”

Jay gladly took her hug invitation with a smile. When he pulled away he took a set of neatly folded aprons out of the bag.

“My mother helped me pick these out for you, I hope you enjoy wearing them.”

Your mom just about lost it. Did he really get a gift for each family member? Now that was how to make an entrance.

“Oh my stars let me put this on right now! Thank you so much Jay!”

He nodded and shifted his attention to your 14 year old sister who was gawking at the man in front of you guys.

Jay looked up at you briefly with a raised brow.

“And I’m going to assume that you’re Minji?” He asked.

She nodded with heart eyes. Honestly you couldn’t fault her, Jay was a handsome man.

“I’m also single.” She said.

Jay chuckled. “Well I’m not but I heard something about you wanting to marry Jungkook so…” he pulled out the BTS seven album. Minji gasped and almost cried. She had been saving up for that album!

“Oh my gosh you didn’t!”

“Oh I did!”

“Oh my gosh sis you literally have to keep him! Aaaahhhhh!” Minji practically screamed.

She happily took the album and went to unbox it on the couch.

Jay finally took a proper look at you and smiled with a blush.

“Well hello Miss Y/N!” He said jokingly.

You giggled at his politeness and went in to kiss him before he backed you off.

“Out of respect for your dad I’ll kiss your hand.” He said before he planted a kiss to the back of your hand.

You blushed at his actions. He was definitely making an impression.

“I’m surprised you remembered those details over the months!” You commented.

Jay shrugged. “Well I’ve been taking notes. Enough notes to remember your bouquet of eucalyptus, white roses, and baby’s breath.”

Your smile beamed and Jay felt like he was on top of the world. Making you happy felt like his new purpose in life. He would do anything to make you smile.

“Thank you so much, baby!” You said happily.

He followed you to the kitchen to put the arrangement in a proper vase.

“Sweetie why don’t you take Jay to your room, if it’s clean.” Your mom suggested.

You groaned at her last words. “Mom of course it’s clean!”

“Not always!”

You quickly took Jay upstairs to your room and just as you were about to close the door your dad shouted from downstairs.

“Open door policy tonight!”

You groaned annoyed with his words. Jay took a seat on your bed and looked around. The room was about what he expected from you; mostly organized, pastels, it was just you.

He looked up at you with a smirk. “Nice room you got here.”

You rolled your eyes and sat on his lap. “Better than yours.” You said referring to the many times you’ve been at his house.

“Hey I changed the bed sheets to white because of you so you’re welcome!”

You chuckled and leaned into him.

“So far so good huh?” He asked.

You nodded in his chest. “Better than I anticipated. And definitely way better than last time.”

Jay nodded and lifted your chin.

“Well now that we’re in your room…”

You looked at him mischievously.

“Yes…”

“I think I can finally kiss you without repercussions.” Jay said.

You chuckled and leaned in to meet his lips. He was pleasantly surprised by the new strawberry chapstick you wore specifically for tonight. He liked it a lot. Probably too much because there was a sudden knock followed by an ew! at your door.

“Sis mom said to tell you the food is ready! So disgusting.” Baekhyun said before heading downstairs.

Jay chuckled as you groaned annoyed with his behavior.

“I thought it was gonna be one kiss, it’s been like five minutes!” You complained.

Jay skidded you off of him and straightened himself up.

“I’ll make time for that later princess. Now let’s go eat!”

“Wow! The food was absolutely amazing Mrs. Jung!” Jay commented with a stuffed belly.

Your mom waved him off. “Oh please call me mom! And it doesn’t take much, just a little bit of love!”

You smiled happily. So far everything had gone right. The food was amazing, when your siblings tried things Jay went along with it, even your dad was impressed!

“So Jay, tell me about yourself.” Your dad requested.

Jay took a sip of water to prep himself. “Well sir, I am a full time student at the same university as your daughter and I work part time with my father. He has a company based in Seattle Washington in America so he travels quite a bit for work. I am studying business and plan to inherit the company and expand it here in Korea. I also play rugby for the university. I am fluent in English and am currently studying Japanese. Is there anything else that you would like to know about me sir?”

So far your dad was further impressed. He seemed to check most of the boxes but he still had one big question.

“Yeah, why my daughter?”

“Honey! I’m so sorry about him!” Your mother apologized.

You even gave your dad a look.

“No no it’s okay. Sir I think that’s a good question but the better question is why not your daughter? She is one of the most kind, caring, smart, beautiful individuals I know. She can adapt any role anyone needs her to be. When I need to talk she listens, when I need advice she gives it, when I need rest she lets me, and when I need attention she offers it. She is the first person everyone trusts. I have never met someone I could just look at and know I want to marry that person as soon as I can but she has that impact on me. This is a lovely family here and you all are amazing people. I know that I want to build what you have built sir and I want to build it with Y/N.”

The room went silent. You could almost hear a pin drop. You were in a bit of shock. No one had ever declared their love for you in that way.

“That shit was cute as fuck!” Your sister said with a quiet sob.

You hit her arm for ruining the moment.

“Minji watch the language!” Your mother said with a proud smile.

Your father unexpectedly stood up and walked over to Jay causing him to do the same. His face showed no emotion as Jay tried to hold his composure.

Then your father stuck his hand out and pulled Jay in for a hug.

“Welcome to the family, son.” He said with a newfound smile.

You smiled with tears pricking your eyes. Jay made sure you had no reason to regret your decision. He saw you and gave you a cheesy wink. All you could do was smile.

“Well that was wonderful Jay! And if everyone is finished I will get started on dishes.” Your mom said.

You quickly jumped up to help her, another thing Jay loved about you.

“Hyung do you play video games?” Baekhyun asked.

Jay smirked coolly. “Are you kidding? I’m a god at Call of Duty man!”

Before Baekhyun could drag him off your dad motioned him toward his study. You looked over with concern.

“What’s he doing, mom?”

Your mom shrugged as she ran hot water. “Who knows, it’s your father after all.”

Jay had no concern as he entered the study until he saw the pistol laying on the desk.

“Relax, son. I’m not gonna kill you it’s just for intimidation purposes.”

Jay relaxed in the chair and looked at your father with the most respect he could muster.

“Now my Y/N is my first born and I do not mess around when it comes to my children. I trust you but if she ever comes home hurt I will hunt you down, CEO or not.”

“I understand sir. I will do my best to keep her happy.” Jay responded.

Your dad nodded. “Good. She’s a great daughter but she can be stubborn like her mom. You gotta have a lot of patience with her. She’s also nervous about relationships. You’re probably aware of the last guy, he showed up in sweats so dress pants and a sweater is a nice change of pace.”

Jay chuckled at your dad’s words. “Yes sir she was actually concerned about me meeting everyone because of the last experience.”

“And she proceeded to stay with him for another 8 months or so? He was horrible. Now I don’t expect to see that behavior from you young man. I’m trusting you with her.”

After a while they finally came out of the study. Your mom watched how you looked at Jay with a smile.

“Go be with him!” She instructed.

You nodded and dried your hands to be with your man.

“So?”

“Everything is perfect, my dear!” He said calming.

You gave him the warmest hug. Jay would always cure your anxieties, that you could count on.

“Ice cream?” You asked muffled my his shirt.

He looked down at you with a raised brow.

“Ya’know, to celebrate!” You added.

Jay smiled and planted a kiss on your lips. “Grab your shoes, I’ll negotiate with the parents.”

You rushed upstairs only to find notes on your bed from your siblings.

Y/N he’s a good guy! He got me COD! I like him. Can we keep him?

Big sis thank you for showing me what love is supposed to look like. I need to find a guy as amazing as Jay.

You smiled and slid on a pair of shoes. As you got back downstairs your younger siblings were pestering Jay.

“Hyung I want ice cream too!”

“You can introduce me to your friends!”

“Okay that’s enough you two! Baekhyun I think it’s time your sister and I to enjoy our time together, yeah? And Minji you are 14 you have plenty of time to find a boyfriend who is your age!” Jay said

You quickly jumped in to save the day. “Ready?”

Jay smiled and nodded. “They gave me the okay so let’s go!”

The moment you both got in the car you let out a breath you didn’t know you guys had been holding.

“Did you mean everything you said at the table?” You asked.

Jay looked over at you and smirked. “Every last word. I’m gonna marry you and have a life with you. I mean that.”

That’s all it took for you to reach over a kiss your man. You accepted all of his love, his passion, you took all that he gave you. It broke Jay to pull away.

“Okay let’s head out of here before we start something we can’t finish!”

And with that he drove away to Baskin Robbin’s making sure to have you home by 12:00. Jay assured you that he understood how important first impressions were and we was going to make sure he made a good one every time.

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