#when WORLDS collide.... more at 11
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so those unused webber and wendy skins... (from wikia)
#dont starve together#dst#wx 78 dst#wendy dst#webber dst#woodrow dst#comic#dst fanart#asparagus art#when WORLDS collide.... more at 11
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What are your favorite yandere fics?
i'm going to be listing a whole bunch because i feel like people in the yandere community/fanfic community in general are just so talented!! <333 i'm still getting a grip on my writing style, so i really look up to them!
please read all content warnings before reading! also please respect everyone's rules!
sfw blogs:
by @teabutmakeitazure
devil's advocate (yan chrollo) cogency of the deluded (yan chrollo) roll a die, roll a poison (yan aventurine) pinprick on the backdrop (yan chrollo) (this fic doesn't have warnings because of spoilers, so please read with discretion!) perforate and permeate (yan illumi) closing shift (yan (demon) childe) prerogative (yan (modern) childe)
by @harmonysanreads
sumeru love hexagon au yandere ex boyfriend aventurine the persistence of memory (yan mr. reca) playing dress up with yan aventurine + sunday + dr. ratio + blade
by @brynn-lear
who drank it? (yan aventurine + dr. ratio + gallagher + more!!)
not sfw blogs (or just fics in general) listed below!
by @ddarker-dreams
hide and seek (yan scaramouche) zufriedenheit (yan johan) a dangerous game (yan childe) birthday blues (yan chrollo) when worlds collide (yan scaramouche) nexus (yan blade) (nsfw warning!) idée fixe (yan chrollo)
by @after-witch
bus stop (yan geto) (non-con warning) two birds one stone (yan gojo) (non-con warning) no appointment necessary (yan overhaul) sufferance (yan chrollo) (non-con warning) do no harm (yan overhaul)
by @uvobreakmylegs
enjoy the silence (yan (vampire) illumi) (non-con warning) digging deeper (yan (college au) nobunaga) (non-con warning) new beginnings (yan (mafia au) nobunaga) the sixth floor game (yan (demon) shalnark)
by @merakiui
kalopsia (yan xiao + zombie reader) cat's cradle (yan childe) hatefully yours (yan scaramouche) (dub-con warning) half-off love (yan scaramouche + implied yan childe) (nsfw warning) death row undertow (yan (serial killer) jade) (nsfw warning) sea glass (yan octotrio) 11:11 - sugar dew sewn anew (yan rook) eden (yan rollo) (non-con warning)
by @stickyspeckledlight
destroyed onset (yan aventurine) (non-con warning)
by @jessamine-rose
all of her yan harbinger fics honestly, but ardor of a lover (yan (vampire) pantalone) is actually my favorite!! <3
this list may be added onto in the future because there are so many amazing writers out there!
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Chasing Cars | ch 11 (jjk)
☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?
☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader
☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)
☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff
☆warnings: cursing, alcohol, minor character ghosting everyone, cheating?, explicit content: a spicy videocall, mutual masturbation?, fingering/jerking off, sex toy (vibrator)
☆word count: 8.4k
☆a/n: this one hurts, but I hope you'll still love it :') thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3
☆series masterpost
☆add yourself to the taglist here!
☆☆☆☆☆
If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol
☆☆☆☆☆
Tuesday, April 30th
You’ve been lost in thought for hours - every hour feels like a whole day, and you can’t focus on what Ria is saying right now. She went off while speaking about Seokjin, but all you’re able to do is look out the vitrine of the café where you’re sitting along with Nabi. It’s raining - you think it’s fitting now that Jungkook is gone.
He’s texted you throughout the day, more than he usually does. It’s been reassuring, yet you feel like there is finality in the world today, in the way raindrops chase each other on the glass of the vitrine like you used to chase cars around Jungkook’s head. You haven’t replied to his last text message, haven’t even opened it yet.
You don’t dare to when you’re sitting with your friends.
“Are you even listening?” Ria’s annoyed voice cuts through your thoughts, and you startle, looking at her.
“Sorry, what were you saying?”
She groans loudly, and then says, “What do you think about Seokjin?”
You widen your gaze, holding in a smile. “Why do you want to know?”
“He’s annoying, right?” she says.
“Is that why you’ve been spending all of your free time with him?” Nabi interjects, earning a glare from Ria.
“I have not.”
“You certainly have,” Nabi insists. “Both you and Y/n have been MIA to study sesh during the finals because you were with your boyfriends.”
Your heart drops to your stomach, your throat drying. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Nabi and Ria both throw you a no-bullshit look, but Ria loses it first, saying, “And I’m not dating Seokjin.”
“Where were you yesterday?” Nabi asks.
The prolonged silence is revealing, and you burst out laughing at the same time as Nabi.
“It doesn’t mean anything!” Ria says.
You pick up your smoothie, taking a long sip from it as Nabi says, “Obviously not. That’s why you have a hickey on your neck.”
You choke on your sip as Ria blushes, yet in pure Ria fashion, she wiggles her eyebrows. “What about it? At least I’m not fucking my brother’s best friend and lying about it even though everyone in the world literally knows.”
You put down your drink, gaze widening. “That was low.”
“Deserved though,” Ria insists, folding her arms on her chest.
There’s no animosity to the way she is speaking. Just amusement, and a teasing undertone that strikes a nerve now that he’s in Paris and the future of your relationship is so uncertain.
“For what?” you let out, looking towards Nabi for help. She pretends she isn’t listening, looking down at her empty latté mug, but you see on her face how she’s waiting for you to say something. “Tae wouldn’t let it happen.”
“Tae was gone for the semester,” Ria points out. “And you spent a lot of time with Jungkook, and he always drove you home and shit. We know, babes, I don’t know why you try to pretend it wasn’t happening.”
“You’re just trying to get the conversation away from you and Seokjin!”
It’s a weak comeback, but it’s all you can do.
“For real, even though I might be sleeping with Jin,” Ria says, introducing a nickname you’ve never heard her say before, “I’m not into him for more than that. But you and Jungkook…”
You feel like throwing your smoothie at her, but you choose peace and remain silent.
“So you are fucking Seokjin,” Nabi chimes in, throwing you a lifeline you immediately grasp on.
Ria shrugs. “So what if I am?” she asks. “It’s just sex.”
You think about Seokjin, about the forlorn look in his eyes whenever you’re out in public, and she flirts with other people. You highly doubt it’s just sex for him, but he’s too respectful to tell Ria, isn’t he?
“Is it though?” you say.
Ria nods forcefully. “At least to me it is. If it’s not the case for him then that sounds like his problem, not mine.”
You wince in time with Nabi, and she says, “That’s mean, Ri.”
She throws her hands up in defence. “What do you want me to say? I don’t like him like that.”
That’s fair enough. You can’t force a heart to love, like you’d realized last November with Hoseok.
No matter how much you’d tried to love him, you’d never even had butterflies with him. Maybe even then you knew that true love wasn’t to be found with Hoseok, but with Jungkook instead…
“He’s great though,” Nabi says. “He’s got a solid research grant.”
“I’m not a nerd like you guys. I don’t care about his research grant”
You snort. “You so are a nerd. You like anime.”
“Anime isn’t for nerds,” she insists. Which, you totally agree with the statement. You’ve watched a couple of them with Jungkook, and you found each and every one of them fun to watch.
But Ria doesn’t need to know that.
“Yeah yeah,” you say. “Keep telling that to yourself.”
She glares at you, but Nabi intervenes with, “Why wouldn’t you care about the grant? It’s really good for him.”
Ria shrugs, falling serious. “Because I don’t care about him like that. He’s just a good fuck.”
Ria’s always been like this. Ever since you’ve met her, she’s always been the type to sleep around, and you’ve always encouraged her for it, as it was helping her get over the fact that she was cheated on. Yet right now you feel bad for Seokjin - maybe because you know he’s into her, and you wish for her the happiness you’ve been experiencing with Jungkook.
Happiness that is now on hold, possibly never to resume.
“Fair enough,” you say, and you grab your smoothie to finish it, taking two long sips.
“What about you and Jungkook?” Ria then asks, and she smirks victoriously.
You put the empty smoothie glass away, sighing deeply. “Honestly right now there’s nothing to tell.”
“Did you fuck him?”
You purse your lips, shrugging. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because it’s so obvious!” Ria says. “Your hair sometimes smells like cologne, and you can’t tell me it’s someone other than him. You would have told us if you were seeing someone else.”
“Not that I want to stir shit but…” Nabi trails off. “She’s got a point.”
“Leave me alone,” you grumble, though you don’t see the point in hiding it anymore.
It’s not like they might say something in front of Jungkook’s friends, who would then tell Taehyung. You’re planning to tell Taehyung the second he lands and crosses the threshold of your shared apartment after all.
“You’re blushing,” Ria teases.
“Because you’re putting me on the spot!” you say, shaking your head. “Leave me alone.”
“Oh no.” Ria’s face falls, and her mouth hangs open for a few seconds as her eyes go round. “Oh no, babes.”
“What?” you let out, sounding grumpier than you feel.
No, you just feel apprehensive as her whole demeanour changes.
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
It falls like a hydrogen bomb, leaving nothing but dust behind. And you can’t answer. All you have to offer is a blink, and the sound of your heart shattering in the distance.
“Oh no,” Nabi cuts in. “Y/n, you know his reputation…”
“We’ve been together since Valentine’s Day,” you quickly say, only so that they stop before making you feel bad. You’ve gone down that road before, and you’ve long come back from it. “Or as together as we can be considering Tae.”
“Bitch you what?” Ria shrieks. “That’s insane. You were letting me go on and on about him while you were with him?”
“Wait, you’re with him like boyfriend-girlfriend?” Nabi asks before you can reply to Ria.
“I knew he wouldn’t get with you,” you say to Ria, and then you glance at Nabi. “And no, we’ve never really talked about it, or referred to it as boyfriend-girlfriend.”
“So, it’s a situationship then?” Ria asks.
Though the words pain you grandly, they ring true. Far too true for it to be comfortable. “I guess so. But… I know the feelings are reciprocated.”
You sound delusional, even to your own ears. Maybe because he’s on an entire other continent - out of sight, out of mind. But you saw his soft gaze whenever he looks at you. You were there when he kissed you by the door before leaving yesterday.
I promise I’ll come back to you and make it work, he’d whispered.
And fuck, all you want to do is believe him, believe that there’s a way you truly can make it work.
“I hope you’re right,” Nabi says, though she sounds infinitely doubtful.
You don’t blame her. They don’t truly know Jungkook - not like you do.
“Wait…” Ria repeats, though this time she continues with, “That means you were together with him when you went to New York.”
The extravagance of the luxurious condo where he’d grown up flashes before your eyes as you nod once. “Yeah.”
“Bitch!” Ria lets out. “I knew it! I can’t believe you pretended you guys were just friends then.”
Unable to stay silent anymore, you retell your relationship to your friends. You tell them everything - how it started, how it entirely changed in New York, what he’d whispered right before he’d left. You tell them everything, not mentioning the fact that Jungkook is rich, feeling like that isn’t your story to tell.
You feel lighter after. Like finally being able to tell people has taken a weight off your shoulders. You reckon, you might start flying when Taehyung knows. When you don’t have to hide it from anyone anymore - you’ll be weightless, like a cloud in the sky up above.
It’s with that in mind that you head home for dinner, Nabi having something planned with Namjoon and Ria having to head to work. You check your phone as you walk home, safely hidden underneath your red umbrella.
[4:14 pm] JK: any chance we can facetime tonight?
It’s almost an hour later, yet Jungkook’s text makes butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you smile down at your phone as you reply with,
[5:07 pm] You: i’ll be home in 10 min, you still up?
Jungkook’s answer comes almost half an hour later when you’re trying to cook some noodles the same way that he showed you - a lot spicier than what you can handle, but spicy makes you think of him, so spicy it is.
[5:33 pm] JK: i’ll call you in two
You assume he needs to find a place to hide so that your brother doesn’t hear, and you apprehensively - in a good way obviously - wait for him to call as you gauge the amount of gochujang to put in your noodles. He ends up calling five minutes later, and you immediately answer, a bright smile on your lips.
Jungkook is smiling just as brightly when he comes into view, his eyes sparkling at the sight of you. He looks a little dazed, like maybe he’s had something to drink, but he still looks just as beautiful as he always has.
Even a phone camera cannot dim Jeon Jungkook’s beauty.
His eyebrow piercing glints in the soft light on his side of the line, where he’s sitting outside. He toys at his lip piercings, glancing away from his phone for a few seconds before setting his gaze back on you.
“Hey peach,” he greets you.
Your heart is warm, gentle, when you reply, “Hey Kook.”
He notices you’re in the kitchen as you stir the noodles, and his gaze widens just a little as he says, “Are you cooking?” You flip the camera to show him your creation, and he nods approvingly. “You’re getting good at this,” he praises, and a light blush covers your cheeks.
“Only because I had the best teacher,” you say as you flip the camera back towards you.
He chuckles. “The best indeed.” There’s a pause as he glances around again, seemingly making sure that no one can hear, and then he asks, “What were you up to today?”
“I went to a café with Ria and Nabi,” you admit. Your cheeks burn even more, and you avert your gaze.
“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, immediately noticing your unease.
“I might have told them about us,” you reveal, and you worry at your bottom lip.
You think he’ll be mad, upset, but instead he laughs, a clear sound that makes your heart flutter in your chest. “You’re adorable. I can’t wait to tell my friends either.”
“As soon as you come back,” you promise. “We’ll tell Tae the second he walks into the apartment.”
Jungkook nods vehemently. “I’m not waiting a second longer,” he agrees. “And if he’s pissed, we can just run into the sunset together.”
That makes you laugh, and Jungkook watches you, his eyes sparkling with amusement and what you want to believe is love.
“He will be pissed,” you warn him. “But we’ll figure it out.”
“We will.”
You fall silent as voices are heard on the other side of the line. They’re speaking French, so you can’t really tell what they’re saying, and you wait as Jungkook watches them walking by before focusing his eyes on you again.
“Where are you?” you ask him.
“Just in a park outside of the Airbnb,” he replies. “Thought it might be better to call you while outside.”
“Good call.” You move the pot in which you’re cooking your noodles away from the heat on the stove, turning it off. “What did you do today?”
Jungkook tells you about his day as you pour your noodles in a bowl, and then sit at the table to eat. It’s too hot for the first few minutes, so you just listen as Jungkook tells you about his overnight flight, and about the struggle to find the Airbnb. He admits he napped for three hours straight when they finally got there, and that they went out for dinner after, coming home around the time he texted you earlier to Facetime.
The first bite of your noodles reveals that you might have made them a little too spicy, but under Jungkook’s watchful gaze, you make sure to eat everything, dousing the spice with the Yakult you’ve bought because Jungkook likes to mix it with soju.
“You know,” Jungkook says as you finish eating, your cheeks red with the spice. “I wish you were here with us. Seeing Sera and Jimin, and Ariane and Tae…” he trails off, offering you a sad smile. “I really wish you were here, peach.”
Your heart squeezes in your chest, and you offer him a small smile. “I really wish I was with you, too.”
A beat of silence passes, while you get lost in his gaze and he gets lost in yours. He furrows his brows a moment later, and he says, “Tae texted me to come back.”
“Oops,” you let out, and he chuckles softly.
“I don’t want to hang up though,” he says, and he pouts in that cute way of his.
“Keep me in your pocket then,” you challenge. “I’ll be mute as a rock.”
He cocks an eyebrow as he laughs. “I’ll turn off my volume just to be sure. I’ll try to hide in the bathroom or something.”
You approve of his plan, and a second later your screen goes dark as Jungkook does indeed hide you in his pocket. You move to your bedroom as you wait, and you hear noises coming from his side, though most of it is muffled by the fabric.
It takes almost ten minutes, but Jungkook pulls you out in a blindingly bright bathroom, the fan loud enough to hide your speaking.
“I’m back,” he says.
You chuckle. “Obviously.”
He narrows his gaze, and then scans your features. “You’re so pretty.”
The compliment takes you by surprise, and your cheeks turn red as you let out, “Oh.” You gulp, and then add, “Thank you.”
“And you might think I’m insane but, fuck, am I crazy for wanting you right now?”
Your blush deepens as you watch his gaze go from sparkly to lustful as he pulls on his piercings.
“Right now?” you repeat, feeling a little breathless all of a sudden.
He nods. “Yeah. I already miss how you feel when I’m balls deep inside of you.”
You roll your eyes, the redness lingering on your cheeks. “We had sex yesterday morning,” you remind him.
“Yeah, and?”
He’s insufferable. He’s insufferable and adorable and, if everything goes well, this man might be yours in a week.
It sets your nerves alight with reciprocated desire, and you bite at your lower lip. “Nothing,” you innocently say. “I’d definitely suck your dick right now though.”
His gaze hardens almost imperceptibly. “Peach.”
You smirk. “What?”
“Anything else you’d do?” he asks, and he shifts where he’s sitting.
“Mmh.” You pause, let the suspense linger. “Maybe I’d tie you up. You’re always trying to control everything, maybe you deserve to be put back into your place.”
“Shit.” You know your bold words had their effect on him when he shifts again, sucking on his piercings harder. He runs a hand through his hair, and then he says, “I’ll fuck you so hard when I come back, peach. I want to hear you screaming my name.”
“So loud Tae hears?” you tease.
He has the decency to look slightly embarrassed, yet you know him enough to know it probably just turns him on more.
“Definitely,” he says. He inhales sharply, leaning back against the wall. “I’ll fill you up until you’re dripping with my cum.”
You’ve never had sex without a condom, but you remember that first night when he’d fingered you with his cum…
You’ve always been insane for him, haven’t you?
You clench your thighs together, seeking friction, as you notice Jungkook moving to touch himself too.
“You will?” you say, breathless.
He nods, and then he curses under his breath. “Now I’m hard for you.”
“Yeah?” you let out. “Show me.”
His eyes darken even more, and he chuckles lowly. “I don’t do nudes, peach.”
It surprises you so much that you lose your arousal for a few seconds, up until Jungkook grunts.
“Well, you’ll do it for me, mmh?” you tease, a smirk adorning your lips.
“You’d like that, huh?”
You would. A lot more than you should - you’ve never been big on nudes either. But… phone sex isn’t exactly nudes, is it?
“I would,” you say after a few seconds of debating if you should or should not do it. “I want to see you, Kook.”
The nickname undoes him. Jungkook sucks on his piercings, and then he moves, his camera blurring. You know he’s taken his pants off when he comes back on screen, his eyes swirling with lust for you.
“Why don’t you show me yourself first?” he asks.
You don’t even hesitate. You’re in bed after all, and ridding yourself of your clothes only takes about thirty seconds, as Jungkook listens to the rustle of the fabric.
You grab your phone when you’re fully naked, making sure that he can’t see anything yet.
“What do you want to see?” you ask, and you only then realize that Jungkook is shirtless, and from the motion in his bicep, he’s clearly jerking off.
You turn molten, liquid lava, like you’re the magma under the tectonic plates.
“All of you,” he purrs. “I want to see all of you, peach.”
You oblige, propping your phone against a pillow as you lie against another pillow. Jungkook immediately moves his camera so that you can see how he’s stroking himself, and you let out a breathy sound as your hand slides between your legs, pressing lazy circles on your clit. Jungkook watches you hungrily, cursing under his breath.
“Fuck, I wish I could touch you right now,” he says, voice low and husky.
“I wish you could,” you echo.
He picks up his pace on his dick, wrist twisting when he’s close to the top, grip tight like you know he likes it. It’s sinfully beautiful, arousing, and your circles grow faster, quicker, desperate as you seek the pleasure only he can provide.
“Don’t be shy,” he says after a few seconds. “Use your vibrator.”
You don’t need to be told twice, and the second the toy is vibrating and buried inside you, you let out a low-clipped moan.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Jungkook says. “With your tattoo and just… fuck.”
You just answer with a moan that sounds like his name, and he curses again.
“You make me such a mess,” he says. “A fucking mess for you, peach.”
“Yeah?” you breathlessly let out.
“Fuck yeah.”
Your pussy makes squelching sounds as you push the toy in and out of yourself, the buzz a background to the lustful actions you’re partaking in. Jungkook’s camera isn’t quite angled on his dick anymore, but you don’t even care.
Not when you’re aware he’s watching you, drinking every little sound you emit as pleasure rakes through your body. The thought is far too enticing, arousing, and your walls clench around the toy.
“Shit, I’ll come so quickly,” you admit, not even embarrassed about it.
“Do it, peach,” Jungkook says. “Fucking come for me.”
You don’t need more, the crude words pushing you over the edge. You still the motions of the toy inside of you as your walls pulse and pulse, yet you keep drawing circles - slow again - as you milk your orgasm out of you. Jungkook watches it all like he’s starved for you, and when you finally pull your toy out of yourself, he’s the one that groans, “Fuck peach, I think I’ll come too.”
You don’t even have to say anything. He immediately comes, white spurts of cum shooting from his dick. The white cum covers his hand, his tattoos, and you almost want to start again, the sight so devilish yet so beautiful to you.
“Fuck,” Jungkook says, grunting as he keeps milking his climax out of himself, his pace barely slowed down.
Eventually, his dick stops twitching, and Jungkook stops, hand wrapped around the base. You eye the cum still dripping from his hand, rolling down the back of it.
It’s pornographic. Deadfully so, and you bite at your lower lip.
“That was hot,” you breathe.
“Yeah,” Jungkook breathes, and he puts his phone down, revealing the ceiling and the light fixture. “It really was.”
You assume he’s cleaning himself up, so you quickly do the same, heading to the bathroom.
Jungkook comes back into view when you’re on your way back to your room, and you feel shy under his gaze. Not embarrassed, but what just happened makes your heart skip beats and your cheeks burn, in all the right ways.
“We should do this again,” Jungkook says when you’re lying in bed once more, your vibrator cleaned and put away in your night table.
You smirk mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like that?” you tease.
He laughs, and it makes you miss him so much your heart squeezes in your chest.
He’s only been gone for a day, and you’re already going insane. You’re lucky it’s just a week - in six days he’ll be back, and hopefully you’ll never have to be apart again.
“I would,” he says, and he offers you a lopsided grin that makes you want to hold onto him, forever.
You take a deep breath around the emotion as it swells up in your chest, in your soul. The smile you offer him is warm, filled with all the feelings that your heart hosts for him, and he immediately reciprocates.
“Can’t wait for you to be back,” you admit, voice small as if you’re afraid he’ll reject you.
You know he won’t - you’re creating that universe where it makes sense for you to be together after all.
“Soon, peach,” he promises. “And then I’ll annoy your ass until you don’t like me anymore.”’
As if that would be possible.
“Good luck with that.”
He chuckles softly, and it breaks into a yawn, reminding you that, even though he’s just on the other side of the screen, he’s in an entirely different timezone, and he’s likely still jet-lagged from his overnight flight.
“Tired?” you ask.
He nods. “I’ll go to bed as soon as we hang up,” he says. “We’re visiting the Louvres tomorrow.”
Your phone vibrates in your hand as a text comes in, but you can’t read the text at the top of your screen before it disappears. You switch to your messages app, brows furrowed.
“Where did you go?” Jungkook whines.
Your heart drops to your ass as you read the text once, twice, trying to make sense of it.
[6:07 pm] Yoongi: hobi left and blocked me
A second text comes in just a few seconds later.
[6:08 pm] Yoongi: he didn’t even say goodbye
You immediately switch to your conversation with Hoseok, and you ask him what’s up, but the text remains green despite the fact that the rest of the conversation is filled with blue bubbles.
He’s blocked you too. And when you go to the group chat with all of your other friends, you notice he’s left it as well, and you’re blocked on social media too.
“Where are you?” Jungkook whines again, the pout in his voice evident.
You go back to Facetime. “I think I’ll have to go.”
He looks displeased, and he toys with his piercings, his tongue pushing into his cheek a second later. “Why?”
“Yoongi needs me,” you say. “And!” you quickly add before he can say anything. “It’s about Hobi.”
“What about Hobi?” Jungkook asks, and you hear the annoyance just as well as you see it etched on his features.
You usually find him adorable when he gets jealous, but right now you can’t even focus on that, your thoughts going to Yoongi, whose heart is likely shattering on and on at the moment.
“He left and blocked everyone,” you tell Jungkook. “So yeah, I think Yoongi’s going to need me tonight.”
Jungkook doesn’t like the explanation. It’s clear as spring water, yet he still says, “M’kay.”
“We can call again tomorrow?” you suggest, hoping that it’d reassure him.
Even though he doesn’t need reassurance - there’s no one else in your heart but him, and you hope he knows it.
“Sure,” he says.
It’s your turn to pout. “Please?”
At that he melts, his features softening. “Well if you ask so nicely…”
That ends the conversation, and you quickly say goodbye, wishing him a good night. You take him in up until he hangs up the call, missing him the second that he’s gone.
But you know Yoongi needs you, no matter how much you wish you could stay here with Jungkook.
*****
Two hours later, you’re sitting on Yoongi’s bed, Namjoon on your left while Yoongi sits on the floor, his back against the bed. He’s drinking a beer, and you have an unopened one next to you. Condensation covers the bottle, yet you haven’t found it in you to drink yet.
Yoongi has been silent. You’d got there almost at the same time as Namjoon, and you’d been surprised to see him. Namjoon had just shrugged and said, “I’ve known him my whole life”, and that had been that.
It’s hard to cheer Yoongi up. Even harder after he told you that all Hoseok left behind was a letter of apologies. And you’ve read the letter - it broke your heart too, and you can’t even begin to imagine how Yoongi’s feeling.
In the letter, Hoseok explained why he decided to leave. You were right - he wanted to leave because of his relationship with Yoongi, seeking to flee from the reality of it, from the fact that Yoongi was his best friend, and that he felt like he’d lost that. It’s something you can understand - losing a friend is always hard, and sometimes the friendship is worth more than a relationship. At least it was to Hoseok. And though in the letter he claims that he’s enjoyed the last few months with Yoongi, his sudden absence, with no way to contact him, is proof enough that he didn’t really.
At least that’s what Yoongi’s been saying.
Namjoon was shocked when Yoongi revealed his relationship with Hoseok. Even more so as he realized that you, out of everyone, were the only one who knew. Yet he’d taken it in stride, offering to have a beer with Yoongi.
“It’s fucking bullshit,” Yoongi says for what seems to be the hundredth time.
You’d let him say it a thousand times more if that helped him feel better.
“You know what we should do?” Namjoon says from beside you.
You glance at him, before setting your gaze on the back of Yoongi’s head again.
“What?” Yoongi asks, looking over his shoulder.
“What about a rage room?”
Yoongi laughs an empty laugh. “No thank you. Though maybe it would help temporarily, I kind of just want to find a way to tell Hobi he’s a dick.”
You quickly found out that Hoseok has indeed blocked everyone from the friend group. As if cutting everyone out of his life was the only way he’d find solace in his new life. You think it’s a cowardly thing to do, and you’ve said so a couple of times already, to Yoongi’s delight.
“I don’t think that would bring you anywhere,” Namjoon carefully answers, the voice of reason itself.
You disagree, as you’ve always had more of an explosive personality, but you remain silent.
Yoongi glares at Namjoon. “It’d bring me a lot of satisfaction, thank you very much.”
Yoongi is funny. Behind all the cold exterior he has for people he doesn’t know, he’s got a funny persona you never thought was there. And you love it - he reminds you of you in some ways, and maybe that’s why you’ve gotten so close so easily.
“I personally think we should find out where he went and slash his tires,” you innocently say as you grab the beer bottle.
Namjoon narrows his gaze. “I doubt that’d be a good idea.”
“But fuck if it wouldn’t feel good,” Yoongi says, and he hands you the beer opener.
You open your beer, immediately bringing it to your lips as it foams and it threatens to spill. You drink as much of it as you can, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
“It would,” you echo. “But maybe we can resort to more peaceful options. I feel like Namjoonie here will go insane if we keep suggesting stuff like that.”
“He’s boring, isn’t he?” Yoongi says.
“Yeah, why did you invite him?”
Namjoon snorts. “You guys are aware that I’m right here?”
“Did someone say something?”
Yoongi tilts his head to the side, pursing his lips. “I’m not sure. Maybe the apartment is haunted.”
“It has to be,” you agree, nodding forcefully.
“What the fuck is wrong with you guys?” Namjoon asks, and you burst out laughing in time with Yoongi.
You’re relieved to hear him laugh. You didn’t know what to expect when you’d suggested coming over, but it’s a relief that he isn’t that much of a mess.
But then again, you have a feeling Yoongi is the kind of person to put on a mask whenever he’s with people. And maybe that’s okay - maybe tonight you’re just a distraction to keep him from spiraling out of control.
You don’t mind.
“Nothing,” Yoongi says, sighing deeply. “Besides the fact that I’ve just been ghosted by my best friend.”
You wince at the harsh reality of his words, but Yoongi shrugs it off as Namjoon says, “It’ll get better.”
Another sigh moves through Yoongi, and he nods. “I know. It’s just going to suck for a while.”
You shift, sliding from his bed down to the floor so that you can sit next to him. “And that’s okay.”
He avoids your gaze as you look at his profile, and so you glance away, your eyes sliding to his record player. The record he put on when you arrived has done playing, and you’ve been sitting in silence for fifteen minutes, but it’s a comfortable silence.
Maybe because you speak when needed, and Yoongi and Namjoon have a calm aura to them that you find you appreciate far more than you’d expect. You’re used to Ria after all, and though you love her, she’s a tornado everywhere she goes.
“How are you and Nabi?” Yoongi asks all of a sudden.
Namjoon blushes, as the quick glance towards him tells you. “You sure you want to talk about that?”
Yoongi shrugs. “It’s not because I’m miserable that everyone has to be.”
“You’re not miserable,” you gently say.
Yoongi’s side eye makes you stifle a laugh. “Let me be miserable.” There’s a pause, and Yoongi eventually pushes up from his bed, sitting straighter so that he can turn and look at Namjoon. “So?”
“We’re good,” Namjoon finally replies. “I’m trying to take things slow because of…” he trails off as he looks at you. “But yeah, we’re good.”
“That’s great,” Yoongi says, and though it doesn’t sound sarcastic at all, he adds, “Genuinely. You deserve it man.”
You don’t know a lot about Namjoon’s previous relationship. Just the girl’s name - Julia - and you can’t help the curiosity that overtakes you. But you’re not a dick. Indeed, you hold your questions in, instead saying, “If you hurt her, you’re a dead man.”
He winces, laughing lightly. “Ria told me the exact same thing.”
“Because Nabi is too precious and she needs to be protected at all cost,” you vehemently say, half-joking. You follow up with, “But seriously, please do take things slowly, and always be honest to her. She’s had this massive crush on you, and I really don’t want her to get hurt.”
“I know,” Namjoon says, and he sighs, looking down the neck of his half-empty beer bottle. “I’ve had a crush on her too so…”
“You did?”
Yoongi laughs. “He so did. He kept mentioning her for months, saying that she was just a friend.”
“I mean, technically she was,” Namjoon says, trying to defend himself.
He’s blushing furiously now - it’s climbing up his neck and covering his whole face, and you think, that right here is what Nabi deserves.
“We always knew it wasn’t just that, though,” Yoongi says. “Clearly Julia knew too.”
Namjoon’s expression falls, and he sighs deeply. “Yeah. To be fair, she’s the one that decided to end things.”
You remain silent, taking a long sip of beer to refrain from saying something stupid, something that would silence Namjoon. You hate the taste of beer though, and you scrunch up your nose in disgust as you swallow. It goes unnoticed by both men, as Yoongi says, “Honestly, Julia was a bitch.”
“She had it rough growing up,” Namjoon replies, his voice drowning in what you think might be nostalgia, or regrets. “Hopefully she’ll get better from now on.”
“Having rough circumstances growing up doesn’t give someone an excuse to be a dick though,” Yoongi flatly says, not one to mince his words after all. “But yeah, hopefully she’ll get the help she clearly needs.”
Damn. You almost feel bad for the girl, but then again you don’t know her. Maybe Yoongi’s animosity towards her is deserved, and you don’t feel like questioning it.
No, you’d rather Namjoon forget about her and focus on Nabi instead.
“Whatever,” Namjoon lets out, shrugging his shoulders. “Even though everything with Nabi is recent, I feel a lot better with her than I ever felt with Julia.”
“Not hard to beat,” Yoongi grumbles underneath his breath, which earns him a slap behind the head from Namjoon.
“Hey, I get that you’re sad but don’t be a dick,” Namjoon sternly says.
Namjoon is a natural leader. You’ve seen it before, when he’d led your team from Frosh week to success. And you’ve seen it every time he’s TA’d a class, yet right now you realize he might be a leader in his friendships as well. Indeed, Yoongi folds, apologizing right away.
You end up spending the evening at Yoongi’s place. Your other friends join, and though the air around Seokjin and Ria is clearly tense, you end up having a blast. Even Yoongi seems to be enjoying himself, but when you notice him increasingly silent, you suggest heading home. He offers you a thankful gaze, and you guide everyone out of the apartment.
To your surprise, Yoongi hugs you goodbye, holding you close for a few seconds longer than you’d thought he’d be comfortable with. But then again, you reckon he might need it, so you hug him tight, letting him choose when to pull away.
“Thank you for tonight,” he whispers when he does, and his eyes glint with the silver on his waterline.
You offer him what you hope is a comforting smile. “Anytime, Yoongi. Just say the word and I’ll be here for you.”
“I’ll remember.”
You smile again, and then you wish him good night, walking out of the apartment last. Yoongi keeps the door open as you all walk down the stairs, and he shuts it when you’ve all disappeared from view.
You send him a silent prayer to be gentle with himself, and you can only hope he hears it over the sound of his breaking heart.
Friday, May 3rd
You like your summer job. It’s chill, and you don’t have to start too early, so you always enjoy it. You’re an assistant at an optometry clinic, which means you do the pre-tests for the doctors, and since they don’t start before 10 am, you don’t either.
What you don’t like is that one of the optometrists finishes at seven pm, which means you also do, and finishing at seven pm on a Friday evening should be a crime. It’s no wonder you’re slightly grumpy when you finally walk outside, waving goodbye to the optometrist.
At least she’s chill. She could be an asshole, but she got the team donuts today, and she even bought you lunch when you admitted you didn’t bring anything.
You walk to your car - the one you share with Taehyung - and you pull your phone out of your purse as you do so, eyes skimming over all the texts you’ve received.
You’re going out tonight, to a bar that Yoongi chose for its relatively chill ambiance, and you’re excited for it. Yoongi’s been MIA since you all hung out at his apartment, so you hope it’ll cheer him up, and you hope it’ll also help with pushing Jungkook out of your thoughts.
Not that you mind thinking about him - sometimes you believe him to be the president of the land of your mind. But he’s been texting you less and less every day, and you haven’t facetimed yesterday despite him saying he’d try.
You’ve been trying not to make a big deal out of it, but something about it feels off somehow. You reckon you’re probably just imagining things where none are, afraid as you are of the fragility of the relationship.
But then again you’ve always trusted your gut feeling, and it’s never really failed you before.
You sigh, trying to ignore the foul taste in your mouth so that you can read the texts on your screen instead. Ria’s the one that texted you most recently, saying,
[6:46 pm] Ria: can we get ready at yours? [6:47 pm] Ria: tho my mom’s happy I moved back in for the summer, she doesn’t want me to invite people over [7:06 pm] You: sure, heading home now
You reach your car, opening the door and throwing your purse on the passenger seat. A second later you’re sliding in, and you turn the keys in the engine. The car purrs to life, and soon enough, you’re on your way home, listening to the music on the radio.
Your mood brightens slightly when you reach home and see that there’s a spot on the street right in front of your apartment. You immediately grab it, even though you suck at parallel parking and it takes you three tries, and then you’re jumping out of the car, climbing the stairs to unlock the door.
You manage to take a shower before Ria shows up, a sour look on her features. You cock an eyebrow, letting her in. She breezes past you, not saying anything, and that more than anything else tells you that something’s wrong.
“What’s up?” you say as you carefully shut the door behind her.
She sighs loudly, extravagantly. “Jin isn’t coming tonight.”
You widen your gaze. “Oh?”
“He said he’s tired from work,” Ria says, and she folds her arms on his chest. “He sucks.”
You snort. “Why are you so worked up?”
“Because I know he’s lying!” She takes off her leather jacket, putting it away in the closet, and then she kicks off her shoes to strut into the kitchen. “Can I grab a glass of water?”
“Sure,” you say as you follow behind her. “Why do you think he’s lying?”
“He’s going on a date and doesn’t want to come to the bar after,” she admits, and the frown on her face tells you everything there is to know.
She is jealous, but she’ll never dare admit it. She’s way too proud for that, and though sometimes you know it protects her, you feel like it can be her demise all the same.
“Oof,” you only let out.
“Right?” She chugs the glass of water, putting it away in the sink. She leans back against the counter, folding her arms on her chest. “He’s just got out of a relationship, why would he get in another one?”
“I mean…” you trail off, shrugging. “Isn’t that what Namjoon did with Nabi?”
“That’s not the same,” Ria insists, shaking her head.
It is, as a matter of fact, the same, but you refrain from saying so.
“He doesn’t even know the girl, she’s a blind date that his colleague is forcing him to go on,” Ria adds. “Why would he want to go?”
“Well…” you let out. “Maybe he just wants to throw himself out there again.”
Ria doesn’t like you saying that, and she offers you a scalding look that makes you snort again.
“You’re so mad,” you tease her.
“I’m not!”
“Do you like him?”
She makes a disgusted face, shaking her head. “No, of course not.”
“Then why does it matter if he’s going on a date?”
The answering silence is telling enough, and Ria clenches her jaw once, before pouring herself another glass of water. “I hate when you make sense.”
“Love you too,” you answer, and you walk to her as she’s got her back turned to you. You hug her from behind, saying, “We’ll have fun tonight, I promise.”
And you don’t know who you’re trying to convince. You or Ria. Because the dreadful feeling that sits in the pit of your stomach only intensifies as you get ready, putting your makeup on in the bathroom while Ria curls her hair with your curling iron.
You’re almost done, about to put your setting powder on when the music stops, and the unmistakable sound of the Facetime ringing fills the room. Your heart jumps to your throat, and you quickly put your brush down, grabbing your phone.
“Damn, who’s calling you?” Ria teases your reaction.
You frown as you see Taehyung’s picture from your contacts - you’d expected Jungkook.
You pick up, and it takes a few seconds before it connects. Taehyung’s smiling face comes into view, and it takes you half a heartbeat to figure out he’s drunk.
Jimin is laughing in the background, and you hear Sera scolding him, though all you can see is Taehyung, and you think the shoulder beside him might belong to Ariane.
“Sis,” Taehyung greets you. “Not ignoring me anymore?”
“Hello!” Ariane says, and she comes into view, resting her head on Taehyung’s shoulder.
“Hi?” you answer, and Ria chimes in with a far more enthusiastic “Hello!”
“Y/n!” Jimin says in the background.
Taehyung turns his phone just enough for you to see Jimin, who’s waving like a madman.
They’re all drunk. That much is clear. What’s clearer is the absence of a certain Jeon Jungkook in the group, and you can’t help but wonder what he’s up to.
He hasn’t texted you since this morning after all.
“What’s up?” you ask.
“Just thought I’d check in with you,” Taehyung says, his speech slurred. “Anything fun planned tonight?”
“Going out with some friends,” you answer. “Nothing extravagant. What are you guys up to? Isn’t it crazy late in Paris?”
Taehyung frowns, focusing on something. “Just two am, not too bad.”
Right.
“What are you doing?” you ask, and you sit on the closed toilet, glancing once at Ria who seems fully focused on doing her hair.
“We’re just chilling while Jungkook finishes up with Gaby,” Taehyung says. “They fucking stole the bedroom.”
Ria’s head snaps towards you, as time slows and slows and slows, coming to a halt long enough for you to say, “What?”
“Yeah, you’ll never imagine,” Taehyung says. “Ari’s best friend here is JK’s ex from high school. She’s French but she grew up in New York.”
Chronology is interrupted - you think there might be a hiccup in the line of time. But then it starts again, far too quickly, and your blood fills with adrenaline, your heart picking up in your chest.
“Who?” you let out, sounding infinitely stupid.
But then again, maybe you’ve been a fool all along, since that very first kiss he’d claimed to be a fake Valentine’s Day kiss.
“Gaby,” Taehyung repeats. “Gabrielle. She’s pretty chill.”
Your heart aches in your chest. It burns like someone threw acid on it, and you feel it shrivel behind your ribs, slowly turning to dust.
“Oh.”
“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks, and you wonder if you imagine the knowing look that passes on his face.
“Nothing,” you quickly reply, but you can’t breathe anymore.
It’s like there’s no more oxygen in the room, and you’re choking on the nitrogen, your mind spinning.
Taehyung gets up, and then everything is truly spinning. You think you hear Sera saying something that sounds like ‘Come on’, but then again you might be deaf.
All you hear is that sentence Taehyung said - We’re just chilling while Jungkook finishes up with Gaby.
When you were younger, you’d always believed your heart to be invincible. You’d felt invincible, like maybe you were meant to conquer all mountains.
Tonight, you realize you’ve never been invincible - you just never cared enough about anything to thoroughly break, your heart shred beyond recognition.
Taehyung is walking somewhere. He laughs on the way, and Jimin is close behind, as you can see his head peeking over your brother’s shoulder.
“Don’t open the door,” Jimin says.
Taehyung snorts, and it’s like he forgot you’re right there. Or maybe he’s enjoying this.
Maybe he’s known about Jungkook all along, and this is his own twisted way to kill the relationship before it really starts.
Your reckon, you deserve it. For all the lies, for the truth hidden, you deserve it. But then again, isn’t Jungkook the true responsible of the neverending breaking in your chest? Because it’s breaking - like a glass dropped, your heart is shattering.
Perhaps chasing cars around Jungkook’s head was only ever leading to an inevitable crash.
“Jungkook,” Taehyung singsongs, and then you hear a door being opened, and the camera flips.
You don’t even know why you’re still looking. You know exactly what’s going to be under your eyes - what is under your eyes - but you can’t stop watching. Can’t really see it either, blurry as it is behind the tears pooling in your gaze.
I promise I’ll come back to you and make it work
He was never going to come back, wasn’t he? He was bound to be left in the past - you should have known when you’d kissed him by the door. Should have known to take the time to commit his features to memory.
Your vision clears, and the scene comes in focus. He’s dressed. He’s fully clothed, and so is she - you don’t even know if it’s a relief. Because they’re clearly kissing, and you think maybe he’s ripped your heart from your chest.
He was lying to you. He was lying to you through it all, wasn’t he? You should have listened to everyone, should have run while you still could.
You’re crying. You only realize you’re crying when Ria steals your phone from your hands, quickly hanging up the call.
“Y/n,” she gently says, and she kneels in front of you, wiping the tears on your cheeks. “Y/n.”
“Holy shit,” is all you’re able to say before you break into sobs, shaking from the ferocity of the heartbreak.
Your heart, now shards of glass, pricks your skin, pricks your soul. Everything hurts - you burn and drown, you freeze and blaze. You can’t breathe around the sobs, choking on them as they rock through you, yet you can’t stop them.
And as you break, you see him on Valentine’s Day. You see his sparkling eyes, his gentle gaze. See his lips right before he’d kissed you, so gentle like he’d been afraid to break you. You see him in New York, see him as he’d fucked you like you were in the clouds. You see him every day since then - you’d been so convinced of the reciprocity of the feelings that you’d forgotten who you were dealing with.
You think perhaps you’d truly just been the little sister, a fantasy he had to check on his bullet list of things to do in his life. And perhaps he’d been afraid of breaking you, of the inevitable consequences on him.
“He fucking lied to me,” is the first thing you manage to say through the breaking.
Ria pulls you in, and you fall on the floor, where she holds you as you cry.
“He fucking lied.”
She strokes your hair. “I’m sorry.”
And it hits you then - Jungkook never really said he had feelings for you. It’d just been an act - the grandest act of his life, perhaps. And you’d been foolish enough to fall, to fall and fall and think he’d catch you. You’d thought you were diving in sweet waters, yet tonight you crash on concrete, the Earth’s gravity destroying you until you’re just a memory, meant to be carried away on a wind of heartbreak.
Ria stays with you until you fall asleep in your bed, your makeup ruined by your tears.
Your heart ruined by Jeon Jungkook.
Prev | Chapter 11.5 | Next
☆☆☆☆☆
.................. i am deeply sorry. please don't hate me for this one, and feel free to scream at me too :') (i promise everything will make sense one day)
All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.
#chasing cars ch 11#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook fic#jungkook#jjk smut#jjk angst#jjk fluff#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk fic#jjk#jeon jungkook#btswritersclub#chasing cars#chasing cars series
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paola // 20 // she ! her // spanish // aries MAIN MASTERLIST !!!
X MEN BOT LIST : (my proudest works 🫧)
og logan howlett [1,]NOTHING TO COME BACK TO -logan has the bad habit of disappearing for months to go on his solo missions. however, this time it seems like he almost had nothing to come back to. [tw : attempt]. [platonic!]. [2,]HIS CUB -logan presumed of having his 'animal instincts' under control, but all that big talk flies out of the window when some stupid guards try to harm his cubyou. [platonic!]. [3,]LIKE A CRYING BABY -everyone knows logan is not good with kids. But when you, the sweet thing that wasn't aware he regenerated, started bawling your eyes out for him, he realized he had a soft spot. [platonic!]. [4,]LIKE A WILD ANIMAL -when logan realized you had the same mutation as him, he pushed you away to ensure you wouldn't turn out like him. At the end, you ended up just like him just because he left when he was needed the most. Who's the dangerous weapon now, huh, Logan? [younger!reader / not strictly platonic] [5,]BAD TIME TO COME AROUND -logan just wants peace and quiet while his body recovers from a mission, but you're hurt too and just want to spend a bit of time with your fave old man. [platonic!]. [6,]GLITTERY LOVE 🫧-logan is a bitter old man, and you're a ray of sunshine. charles is totally aware of this and that's why he forced him to spend time with you as therapy for his burdened mind. [platonic! / sunshine!reader]. [7,]TEST TUBE BABY 🫧-both logan's and wade's DNA has gotten mixed up to create a brand new weapon x, you. Lucky you, one of your 'fathers' found you and now logan's stuck with cooparenting you. [platonic! / kinda daughter!reader]. [8,]CAN'T STOP LOOKING AT HER T-T-T-T-FACE 🫧-even as gruff as he is, logan is still just a man, and having a coworker with such nice titties is sure as hell distracting. [9,]MATING SEASSON KINDA STUFF -logan hates his animalistic instincts for putting him through this strange rut, but he definetely doesn't hate that you're the one taking care of him. [10,]FLYING PROBLEMS -logan and flying don't get on too well, and you're seated next to a far more grumpy and stressed than usual Wolverine when turbulences hit. [11,]LIKE STRAY CATS -a weapon-x war veteran and a child-supersoldier experiment. can they get along? [platonic!]. [12,]JUST. ONE. NORMAL. NIGHT -there hasn't been a calm night, a normal night, in your life ever since you joined the x-men. with a knock upon your door, you prepare yourself to another announcement for an emergency mission, only to be met by a restless logan that can't sleep. [13,]LITTLE TROUBLEMAKER -logan is always walking around with a cigar in his mouth and faking to be annoyed by everything. what will happen when he catches the certified comic relief troublemaker of the school running around past curfew? [platonic!].
+[14,]DADDY'S FARMHAND 🫧-cowboy!au. your father has hired someone to help him out in the farm and, of fucking course, it had to be this hot man that seems to take joy in the way your eyes wander whenever he's around.
[15,]KITTY CAT, KITTY CAT RUN 🫧-logan just woke up in a strange white room full of medical supplies, the last thing he remembers is getting attacked by some guys that were trying to bring him back to the lab. Believing he is back to be experimented on, he flees the scene, only to bump into somethingsomeone soft. And he doesn't even know what happened, but just at the scent of the mutant he collided into, his claws retracted instinctively and he felt a "mhrp"ing sound building at the back of his throath like the sound kitty cats make when they see something they like [16,]IRON DEFICIENCY PRINCESS 🫧-logan thought that being a part of the X-Men meant just going on missions whenever required, but it turns out that he's stuck playing the tired and concerned father figure of the girl with the lowest iron in the whole damn world. That and the fact he has to visit the infirmary at least twice a week to make sure you ain't dying after fainting while going up the stairs.
old man logan
[1,]ACHING BONES AND WARM HANDS 🫧-he's getting old and his bones are aching, but you're young and your mutation makes you run warmer, so.. how about you help your old man out, bub? [2,]OLD MAN WITH ANGER ISSUES -everyone has a different way of dealing with grief. while you're one to drown in it, logan burns with it, irremediably burning everyone in a close range due to his own anger. [platonic!].
worst wolverine
[1,]A JOKE TO HIM -when someone who isn't your wolverine discovers a you that isn't his you, thinks can go downhill very fast. especially when you've seemed to fail at everything his version of you had accomplished without a sweat. [platonic!]. [2,]WADE LIKES HIS MERCH 🫧-when, after the 'worst' version of logan moved into your appartment, you wake up in pyjamas you certainly didn't go to sleep with, you're forced to get out of your room with 'wolverine's babygirl' written on your ass. [3,]MOMMYPOOL -after falling into the void, logan discovers that maybe not all deadpool's are that bad. not when he's got the hottest one paying attention to him. [4,]THAT TIME OF THE MONTH -just logan realizing how much wade babies you when you're in that time of the month. +wade wilson [platonic!]. [5,]"I CALL DIBS ON THE KID!" -it seems that, while trapped between grumpy logan and yapper deadpool, you're not going to get any sleep at all during this flight.. +wade wilson [platonic!] [6,]"SORRY, MOMMY?" + "WADE STFU" -since sending wade and logan alone and togheter to a mission is the recipe for murder, they decided to send you to make sure they got the mission done instead of fighting all the time. +wade wilson [7,]GOD'S BEST JOKES -bascially the scene of the angry speech in the car, but instead of yelling at wade he's yelling at you (angst-oriented). [8,]GIRL INTERRUPTED SYNDROME -wade had rambled to logan about everything in his life, so logan is damn near confused as heck as to what the fuck is wade doing bringing inside a girl that looked pulled right out of the 'girl, interrupted' movie. [platonic!] [9,]DRUNKEN RUTS -logan can't remember going into a rut ever since his young days as a womanizer, trauma response he guessed. However now that he is in a safe place and surrounded by trusted people, he finds his first rut in decades hitting him like a train. what a sweet torture is to have you by his side through it.
wade wilson (earth-10005).
[1,]ROOKIE WITH A MOUTH -out of the whole X-Team, wade wilson seems to be the one that talks the most. a yapper, rambler, however you want to call it, he runs his mouth day and night. yet, there seems to be only one thing that shuts him up: you. [2,] ELEVATOR PROBLEMS 🫧-basically the elevator scene from xmen wolverine: origins, except instead of being stuck during a mission the whole team is stuck after one. You just all want to take a shower and crash on your bed, but you can still feel Wade oogling you while he runs his mouth. [3,] GUESS 🫧-nothing could've prepared you and the rest of your team for the wild ride Wade and his big mouth were going to throw you in. Seems like the rookie has been daydreaming about the colour of your panties when you catch him staring. [4,] CLOSER -Wade has a big problem with keeping it in his pants whenever he sees you fighting, maybe it's because you let him give you a ride into poundtown anytime he asks (just for the sake of shuting him up). But the way you've just squashed a dude's neck with your thighs has him wanting to fuck you like an animal. [4,] BRAT 🫧-if something is clear about the young mercenary in your team is that he is a brat. what will happen when William pairs you up with him and he starts messing up your plan just to get your attention?
[1,]HANLDE HIM 🫧-after weapon xi, probably the most dangerous experiment in the base, kills his handler. Your boss decides it's you who'll handle him. [2,]NOT JUST A WEAPON 🫧-after logan joined the school, he managed to convince charles of sending an 'expedition team' to the Project X base he escaped from. However, he is met by an old friend that was supposed to be dead and rotting, and that now is stuck to your side like the clingy merc he remembered him to be only.. less chatty.
wade wilson
[1,]SCAR FOR A SCAR -wade seems completely adamant on not showing you his face, while most of the people at the X-Mannor (colossus, negasonic, yukio, and even logan) have seen his face he refuses to let you see it. so, when you're now the one with nasty scars that you won't show him, he pulls an offer to the table "scar for a scar, eh, pumpkin?" [platonic!] [2,]PUSHED TO THE LIMITS (WOLVERINE #22) -after seeing with your own eyes the way wolverine dismembered deadpool to only half-chest and an arm, you the teen-age apprentice of deadpool, spend the whole next night watching him regenerate out of sheer anxiety. [platonic!] [3,]"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE KID SAW IT?!?" -deadpool 2. after waking up on the X-Mansion couch with colossus towering over him, wade finds out the one to ditch on him about blowing himself to pieces had been you. And now you're as traumatized by the stunt he pulled as to not want to leave your room. well, sucks. [platonic!] [4,]THAT TIME OF THE MONTH -just logan realizing how much wade babies you when you're in that time of the month. +logan howlett [platonic!]. [5,]"I CALL DIBS ON THE KID!" -it seems that, while trapped between grumpy logan and yapper deadpool, you're not going to get any sleep at all during this flight.. +logan howlett [platonic!] [6,]"SORRY, MOMMY?" + "WADE STFU" -since sending wade and logan alone and togheter to a mission is the recipe for murder, they decided to send you to make sure they got the mission done instead of fighting all the time. +logan howlett
+[7,]A SURPRISE VISIT -marvel future avengers oriented. after getting attached to you since you'd always open the door of the tower for him so he didn't have to break a sweat in avoiding the security system, deadpool comes to ring the door once again only to be met with iron man instead of you. [tw: attempt] [platonic!]
#masterlist#bot masterlist#character ai bot#character ai bots#chai bots#chai bots masterlist#deadpool#deadpool x reader#deadpool x fem reader#deadpool bot#deadpool chai bot#deadpool character ai bot#deadpool chai bots#deadpool bots#wolverine#wolverine x reader#wolverine x fem reader#wolverine smut#deadpool smut#wolverine bot#wolverine bots#wolverine chai bot#wolverine character ai bot#wolverine chai bots#wolverine character ai bots#logan howlett#logan james howlett#james logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan james howlett x reader
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Hello^^ I would like to request a fic about 80s slash x reader? Where he is a bit older and he meets a girl who is inexperienced and new to the dating life but finds her sweet, kind and a bit talkative than he is - A nice contrast to his introvert personality
They like meet at a restaurant no body really goes to and it’s perfect because slash just started his career as a guitarist for Guns N’ Roses and so they were starting to get popular. With some smut and fluff involved^^ 🤭
The rest is up to you^^
Hiiii sorry for this being late but I just finished it!! enjoy 💋💋💋
(just edited the grammar)
Young Love
words: 1,340
Warnings: *smut* *fluff* *dirty talk* *cum eating* *cum play* *finger sucking* *p in v*
It was 1987 and you were wandering the streets at 11 pm, searching for a place to sit and unwind after a disagreement with a friend. Only 18 at the time and in a small town, you stumbled upon an unfamiliar restaurant that was open and seemed perfect for relaxation. Upon entering, you accidentally collided with a mysterious man. His curly hair was concealed beneath a hat, his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, and he was garbed in a leather jacket over a crisp white shirt and matching leather pants.
“What would he want from me?” you ask yourself.
He sits in front of you, and you tense up at first. He asks for your name.
“Hi, what is your name?” he asks in a soft and tender tone.
After hearing his voice, he doesn't seem as scary. His sweet and soft voice is nothing like what you expected – not deep at all.
“Hi, I am Y/N. "What is your name?” you ask
“My name is Slash. Y/N that's such a gorgeous name” he replies to your question.
“Well hi, Slash”. You say as you blush after he compliments your name.
“Slash, can I ask why you came over to me?” You ask.
“I came over because you caught my eye Y/N,” he says.
You start to blush when he says that because you have never been approached by anyone like that before. You have a feeling in your heart and it starts to beat. You feel like you're falling in love.
“My god he is handsome and sweet. I know I just met him but this won't hurt, right? You think to yourself.
“Hey, I don't mean this question to be rude. I just want to know how old you were?” He asks you out of curiosity.
“I am 18. How old are you Slash? You ask.
“I am 24” he responds to your question.
Slash finds you fascinating ever since he laid eyes on you after bumping into him by accident. You start to find yourself comfortable around him even though you just met him. You start to ask him questions about himself. He is so sweet, kind, and respectful of you.
"What state are you from?" you ask as your eyes meet his. You are more open and more talkative. He likes that the most about you.
“I am from England but I was raised in California” Slash reciprocates that question to you.
“I am from Florida, born and raised.”
“I never would have guessed. You were from Florida. I have never met anyone from there. What is it like down there?”
“Well, it's interesting. It's quite an experience." You let out a little chuckle.
“What is your favorite place?" he asks you.
“I like Disney World,” you say in a joking manner
"No, I love Daytona Beach. It's great down there. There are a lot of good waves down there and a lot of good food and a lot of things to do.”
“I've been there once,” Slash says.
“Oh yeah, how was the experience?" you ask him as you are very interested in what Slash has to say.
“It was great!” He replied to your question
You feel yourself melting for him even though you just met him.
He feels himself falling in love with you. Your aura, the way you talk, the amount you talk. He likes that you like to talk and you are not shy about it. He likes you because your personality is a contrast to the way his personality is introverted, shy, reserved, and introspective. He also finds you very sweet and very kind. He loves everything about you.
“Hey Y/N are you going to order anything?” Slash asks you.
“No, I am not going to,” you say.
“You wanna come over to my place? We could have a nice quiet night if you wanted?"
“Sure,” you say
Slash offers you his hand and you comfortingly take it as he walks you to his car.No one recognizes Slash not even you. You sit down in his car and he drives you to a small building that looks like an apartment building. Slash pulls his apartment keys out and he takes your hands as you guys walk down the stairs. He unlocks the apartment door and you notice his guitar on the side of the small vanity he has by the door. He removes his jacket, his hat, and his sunglasses and puts them on the vanity table. You excitedly enter his apartment hoping something will happen tonight. Slash pulls out two VCR’s and he hands them to you.
“You can pick whatever movie you want to watch and we will watch it together."
Slash has you pick between The Lost Boys and Jaws: The Revenge. The movie you decide to watch is Jaws: The Revenge. Mid the movie Slash gently puts his hand on the thigh that your dress is covering and he tenderly squeezes it. You bite your lower lip because it's turning you on.
Slash quickly pauses the movie and he pulls you to sit on his lap. As your hand rubs his covered cock, you kiss his soft pink lips. You know he enjoys it because he does not remove your hand. He quickly takes your dress off when you are not wearing a bra. He takes his sweet time. He squeezes your big melons and gives each of them a tender kiss. He sees your white panties and how soaked they are.
“Your pussy is so wet for my cock, darling. I like that, I like that a lot."
He admires your delicate body. He starts to touch your clit with his two cold fingers which makes you more wet.
“Slash” you quietly moan. You place your gentle and soft hands on his shoulders
He briskly lays you down on the couch. He starts to nip at your collarbone. You start to moan lightly.
“Slash” you softly moan.
He takes off his black leather pants and his clean white shirt. He gets on top of you while he is naked. You could feel his erection on your belly. He places his swollen-up cock at your entrance and he slowly starts to thrust inside your wet pussy.
“Oh Slash” you let out a soft moan.
He thrusts into your wet pussy faster and faster each time he hits your soft spot over and over again. You wrap your legs around him tighter, trying to pull him even further into you as you cry out in pleasure. His thrusts become more intense and your body quivers in ecstasy. You both climax together, your body shaking in pleasure as you both fall into a heap on the floor.
“Oh Slash fuck me baby” you moan
“You feel so good my girl” he grunts.
He holds on to your hips and forces his cock inside your needy pussy. You feel that you need to pee.
“Slash I need to pee” you moan
“You sure Y/N? I think that is the feeling of you needing to cum” Slash grunts.
“Cum on my dick Y/N”
You start to get teary-eyed and your legs start to shake.
“Oh fuck” you moan
“I think it's happening” you moan
“I know, I know my sweet thing, cum for me, and I'll cum for you baby” Slash grunts.
Your pussy tightens around Slash's hard dick.
“Your walls are so tight Y/N” Slash grunts.
You finally release the sweet juice that Slash was waiting for. Slash releases his wet load into your womb and none of it goes to waste. Both of your guys' cum is leaking down your thighs
"That's going to get cleaned up!" Slash says in a neutral tone.
He licks both of your guys' cum clean from your thighs.
“It's so sweet, Y/N. You taste so good,” he says seductively as he puts some on his fingers.
“Suck it clean Y/N,” he says in a commanding tone.
"Can you taste both me and you?" Slash asks.
#rock n roll#80s rock#rock#guns n roses#gnr#slash guns n roses#slash fanfiction#slash gnr#slash#gnr fanfiction#slash smut#slash x reader#guns n' roses#guns and roses#guns n'roses#guns n roses x reader#guns n roses smut#guns n roses x fluff#slash fluff#rpf x reader#slash fic#gnr smut#gnr x reader#gnr fic#guns n’ roses x reader#slash guns n’ roses#80s rockstars#rocknroll#rockstars
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The Fall from the Heavens (11)
[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]
[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, violence, swearing, descriptions of wounds, physical and verbal aggression ]
[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]
The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
_____
After what had happened, after what he had found out, he ordered his most necessary things to be moved to her chamber. Seeing the look on his face and his fury, his mother dared not say a word on the matter, sensing that he already knew what she had done with his grandfather's blessing.
She had forced his betrothed to drink moon tea without his knowledge, without his consent, knowing that he would never allow it to happen, that if it turned out she was expecting his child he would marry her immediately without asking their opinion.
He thought with regret and remorse consuming his soul and heart that he should have done it right away, but now it was too late.
His moment of hesitation had cost him everything.
For the first two days, the only thing that came out of his niece's mouth was a quiet babble; she was still asleep, and when she woke up, his sister fed her with warm soup.
Helaena was the only person besides the maester and himself that he allowed to be in her chamber.
His mother, grandfather and Cole were not allowed in by his decision – he had vowed to them that if they crossed the threshold of her quarters, neither he nor Vhagar would aid them with their participation in the war they had unleashed at their own request.
As it turned out, his threat worked.
He realised that he was indeed a rider of the greatest dragon living in the world and could use that as a negotiating card, that they needed him and the alliance he could provide for them.
Storm's End.
He only left her alone when he needed to deal with something urgent, always asking Helaena to stay by her side then.
He trusted no one but her.
To his surprise, his brother-king showed a surprising understanding and a kind of compassion he had not expected from him.
He did not mock or joke about the situation during the meetings of the Small Council, and asked if her health was improving, personally giving his permission for him to be able to stay with her day and night even though he was not her husband, against the wishes of their grandfather.
The power they had was turning against him and Otto felt this, his daughter was also no longer so willing to listen to him seeing what tragedy the decisions he was putting into her head had led to.
She had completely broken down after the day following his niece's attempt to take her own life, because word from Dragonstone reached them that Rheanyra had lost her child.
In him his mother tried to find understanding and words of comfort, but he did not speak to her or look at her, unable to forgive her for her betrayal.
He had hoped that as a woman she would show more sensitivity, more caution.
His niece lived as if half asleep, waking and falling back into a dream, not understanding who she was or what was happening to her.
As night fell he would pull off his tunic and boots, staying in just his chemise and breeches, lying down behind her back, embracing her, entwining their fingers, sinking his face into her fragrant hair, inhaling her addictive scent.
She purred then sweetly, involuntarily recognising him, her head tilting back, letting him place soft, warm, wet kisses on her long neck, his large hands tentatively trailing over her body covered only by her thin nightgown, trying to draw on the time he had left until it reached her what had really happened.
His cock throbbed hard in his breeches as she whispered his name, pressing against her buttocks; he sighed quietly then, rubbing against her but not bringing himself to fulfilment, punishing himself in this way, recognising that he did not deserve relief.
He wanted to burn with her.
After three days he was awakened by her quiet hiss; he flinched and opened his eyes, sensing that she was trying to get up. She stared at her wrists wrapped in a fresh bandages before looking at him and he already knew.
Her lips pressed together, her brow arched in pain and disbelief, her eyes glazed over with tears of helplessness, anger and disappointment, her body began to twitch.
"− my love? −" He whispered, but she turned away from him, laying back on the bed and wept. He put his arm around her waist and kissed her neck, feeling the squeeze in his throat, breathing erratically, tears of shame in the corners of his eyes.
"− I didn't know − I swear I didn't know about moon tea −" He muttered, but he knew it was for nothing.
She didn't speak to him then or for the next few days, not even bestowing a single glance on him.
He thought with a sneer that the roles were reversed, that now it was he who begged in his thoughts for her attention, for her forgiveness, and he wondered if she would follow in his footsteps and not speak to him for the next eight years.
He sat in the evenings in a chair by the fireplace, gazing at her silhouette lying on her bed, a book in her hand, her wrists no longer bandaged, her freshly healed wounds still red, dark lines on her skin reminding him of who he was and what he had done to her.
At night he would lie down beside her and embrace her from behind, stroking her hands with his thumbs, and though her whole body tensed and froze when he touched her, she never pushed him away.
It seemed to him that her silence was even worse than her words of condemnation.
The day he was to set out on his mission to Storm's End was approaching mercilessly and she still didn't know it; he had no idea how he should convey it to her, himself discouraged and bitter at the thought of being forced to marry another woman, of living in a purely political marriage, which although he had reckoned with as a child, after his father's decision, he believed he would never experience.
He thought, looking at her face, at the girlish, pleasing shape of her body, about marrying her in secret, but he knew that she no longer wanted him, and no Septon would agree to help him out of fear of the Queen and his grandfather.
A nuptials in the tradition of Old Valyria remained, however, it required a cooperation on her part that he did not expect.
Moreover, guards stood outside her chambers day and night, watching not only her but also him, his grandfather was prudent and seeing his involvement he knew that he would try to act behind his back.
Although he hid behind a stony, indifferent face he felt helpless and tried to find a solution in his mind that would give him more room to act, to lull his family's vigilance.
He decided that, for the time being, he had to act as his relatives wished, so that they would believe that he was going to do what they told him to.
However, he had no idea how he was going to reason with his niece, how he was going to initiate her into his plans when, for obvious reasons, she was no longer going to participate.
He finally decided, experiencing a kind of revelation, that he would write her a letter, just as she had done to him all these years.
He saw her lift her gaze to him from the piece of embroidery she had just worked on, a bird from the crest of the Arryn family, her relatives on her grandmother's side, as he moved towards his secretary's desk, from which he pulled out a quill, ink and parchment.
Her expression of who she was, who she identified with, whose side she stood on.
He didn't give a fuck.
He sank the sharpened quill into the ink and stared at the blank sheet of parchment for a moment, wondering what it was he actually wanted to convey to her, and then he began to write, for the first time in his life openly expressing what he felt.
He thought it was liberating in a way, his words flowed like a river from his mind and his heart.
My Rhaenys,
I set out on my journey to Storm's End to quench my grandfather and mother's thirst with a sense of injustice. It occurs to me that only now am I able to understand what you have been going through all these years, experiencing from me only the silence I deeply believed you deserved at the time.
I'm sure you think the same of me now, and you're not wrong, because I myself am unable to comment or justify what happened through my hesitation, which cost me everything.
I thought it is easy to see what is right and what is wrong, to choose the proper path, but after my father's death it became apparent that none of this was the case, and my mother's and my grandfather's decision set it out for me, against my will, and although I tried to stand up to it, it seems to me that the consequences of their actions have sunk me like a wave that carries me onward, away from the safe harbour that you are.
I want you to realise, my niece, that one word from you is enough for us to slit our lips and hands upon my return and drink our warm, mingled blood, sealing at last our destiny once and for all.
I, unlike Aegon the Conqueror, want you in my bed every night.
I don't think Lord Baratheon's mind can contain what we read about as children and that he would accept that his daughter would be merely a second, and moreover, unwanted wife in my life. Union with him may give us an army to wage war on, but my union with you may in my mind end it with the birth of our child, a descendant of the Greens and Blacks.
I am not, and will not be able to accept, either as your uncle or as your husband, Jacerys, Lucerys or Joffrey as heirs to the throne for reasons that are well known to you, and which neither the marriage nor the threats of your stepfather and your mother can change − we both know full well that they do not and cannot have rights to the crown.
However, Aegon's and Viserys's rights to it are strong, unassailable even by me, and although as your uncle I have no personal interest in your mother or her offspring sitting on the Iron Throne, as your husband I would be willing, as part of a truce, to agree that it should not be Helaena and Aegon's children who inherit the throne, but my half-sister's and my uncle's or, if both sides in the conflict were to be at least partially satisfied, ours.
I have spent the last few days reflecting on what has happened and on what I think would be a solution that would satisfy me, but it has turned out that there is none. Unlike my brother, I don't delude myself that your mother will bend the knee, any more than any person with any dignity or pride would.
We all have to sacrifice something.
He looked at what he had written being filled with awe at how many words were in his mind, how many thoughts he was afraid to say out loud, that one could perhaps even consider a betrayal.
His words to her, to his childhood friend.
He huffed at the ink, wanting to make sure it wouldn't smudge, and rolled the parchment into a scroll. He rose from his seat with a creak of wood, feeling her surprised gaze on him as he placed his letter on the small table beside her bed, and then left, informing his guards that in his absence no one but his sister was allowed to cross the threshold of her chamber.
He changed with the help of his servants into his rider's attire, his leather cloak and gloves reminding him of how long it had been since he was riding on Vhagar, absorbed in all the events of the past weeks.
Rhaenyra gathering her forces around Dragonstone, her wrath that reached all the way to the Red Keep announcing that she would take back everything she had been robbed of.
Her daughter and her throne.
He thought about this, heading for the hill near the keep where his dragoness rested, no longer fitting into the Dragon Pit, like he didn't suit anywhere, didn't belong anywhere.
His journey to Strom's End was unpleasant and tiring; he had the feeling that the heavens were trembling with rage, that he was defying, though not of his free will, his destiny, the storm around him and the rain made him see little and he had to be very careful, gliding between the peaks of the mountains.
When he finally saw the high stone stronghold on the edge of the cliff in the distance he pressed his lips together and thought he would choose the most annoying and unpleasant of his daughters, not to experience a single bit of sympathy towards her when she realised what fate awaited her.
He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of his beloved, his Rhaenys, and felt his heart beat fast, elated at the thought that she had surely already read his letter.
He thought it was amusing that as he flew to choose his future wife, all he could think about was how much he wanted to marry someone else.
He was welcomed in the fortress with honours. Lord Baratheon with his wife and daughters awaited him in the great circular throne room lit by torchlight, all around them he could hear the thunders being muffled by the thick walls.
"My Lord." He said lowly, looking up at the tall man seated before him, his bushy eyebrows furrowed as if he was judging him as a candidate for a husband for his daughters.
He struggled to contain the grimace of amusement that pressed across his face.
"My Prince. At last you have honoured us with your presence." He said drily, with an impatience from which his lips involuntarily curved into a wide smile. He could see in his gaze that he did not like it, however he clearly cared as much about this agreement as his mother, for he decided not to make any further remark.
"Let me introduce you to my daughters." He said in a low, throaty voice, pointing with his hand to his side, his gaze lazily directed towards them.
They each had dark hair, tied up in elaborate hairstyles apparently meant to add to their elegance and refinement, braided in the back and smoothed in the front, their simple gowns, though sewn of the most expensive materials, looked faded and grey to him, their eyes dark as were their eyelashes and eyebrows.
They were not repulsive or ugly, yet he felt nothing at the sight of them.
The emptiness that taken over his mind was astonishing to him compared to what overwhelmed his body when he saw his niece years later then, when she had watched his duel with Ser Criston, when he saw her bare shoulders, her long, loose, wavy hair, her sweet, puffy lips, her big, bright eyes.
He shuddered, reminding himself of her beautiful soft bare body, of how wonderfully tight and warm her fleshy insides were, of her sweet, shy moans of pleasure as he opened her wide on his fat cock again and again with confident thrusts of his hips.
His manhood throbbed in his breeches so hard at the thought that he swallowed loudly and grunted.
He nodded and approached them slowly, measuring them with his gaze. Only one of them dared to lift her gaze to him – he noticed a barely visible amused smile on her face. He raised his eyebrows seeing this and thought that she liked to coquet and mock men.
Perfect, he thought.
These were the kind of women he despised the most.
"What do they call you, my Lady?" He asked in a low, deep voice that echoed around them.
The girl straightened up proudly, clearly pleased that she had caught his attention, her gaze travelling over his figure from top to bottom, she was just deciding, apparently, whether she thought him handsome.
"Maris, my Prince." She said softly, her voice low, not as melodious, girlish and light as his niece's.
"Hm." He hummed under his breath and shuddered as he heard a guard walk swiftly into the great hall.
"Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon, heir to Driftmark." He announced loudly, and he turned, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad, his lips tightening into a thin line as he caught sight of the silhouette of a black-haired boy, completely drenched from his journey.
When Luke spotted him at the other end of the hall he froze completely, pale and terrified – he felt a wild satisfaction at the thought that he knew he didn't stand a chance against him in a battle neither on the ground nor in the heavens.
He watched with a wide grin and a sneer as little Lord Strong in a trembling voice tried to persuade Borros Baratheon to support his mother's claim to the throne in accordance with his father's oath, and laughed aloud when it became apparent that he had come up empty-handed.
"Go home, pup. Tell your mother she won't call on me when she wishes like some dog." Growled Lord Baratheon, clearly self-satisfied that he could dismiss him with such ease, leaving him with nothing.
He felt like going after him, forcing him to fall to his knees before him and then gouge out his eye, to experience a wonderful sense of justice and atonement at last, but he refrained, recognising that his Rhaenys would never forgive him for that, so he merely looked away and sighed contentedly, grinning to himself.
"Was it not he who took your eye, my Prince? Are you going to let him just walk away?" He heard Maris's amused, mocking voice behind him and looked down at her with a gaze from which she lost her earlier confidence, her smile gone from her face.
"I have made my decision, my Lord." He said in a cold, indifferent voice. "Her."
Though Borros Baratheon's wife had insisted that he stay in Storm's End and not return to King's Landing during such a violent storm, he had replied that he would leave immediately.
Lady Baratheon looked at him then, tightening her lips, clearly wanting to ask something, hesitating whether she should do so, but in the end she could not bear it.
"It has come to my knowledge that Rhaenyra Targaryen's daughter, and your would-be betrothed, is your prisoner, my Prince." She said reluctantly, watching him intently, as if she wanted to see anything in his face that could tell her if he still had feelings for her, if this girl was any kind of threat to her daughter.
He looked at her with an intense, indifferent gaze until she turned her face away, swallowing loudly.
He hummed under his breath and left without giving either of her daughters a single glance.
As he left their stronghold he noticed with surprise that Luke was standing in the distance in the rain, quivering all over, looking at him. For a moment they did not take their eyes off each other, all around them lightning and thunder making the ground beneath their feet tremble.
"I want to see my sister." He called out to him in a shaky voice, forcing himself to be confident, and he snorted, turning his head away.
He wanted to humiliate him, to press his face to the mud and remind him that he was a fucking bastard, but he hesitated.
He licked his lips at the thought that if he allowed them to meet perhaps she would forgive him, believe that he was not her enemy, that for her he had not carried out his revenge, for her he had not killed, but had brought to her the man he despised so deeply.
His expression of goodwill.
"Fly after me, my Lord Strong, if you dare." He sneered and moved towards Vhagar, climbing the ropes to her back, settling into his saddle all wet from the rain to take to the skies with her a moment later.
He looked over his shoulder and spotted the figure of a small dragon among the dark clouds; he thought in the back of his mind that his nephew had been a fool, that he had been guided by his emotions rather than reason.
He decided to take him to Vhagar's lair, and then to one of the back entrances to the Red Keep which he used when he wanted no one to notice his disappearance.
After a few hours of travel, he landed on the hill and slid off his dragoness onto the wet grass, watching impatiently as his nephew took his place a piece away, looking at him apprehensively as soon as he jumped down, catching the hilt of his sword. He smirked mischievously at the sight.
"Don't be ridiculous, nephew. Fighting you would be a little challenge. Come." He hissed impatiently, turning and moving ahead, cold and wet just as much as he was.
"How do I know it's not a trap? That she's alive?" He heard his trembling voice behind him, full of fear and uncertainty, from which he sighed heavily, rolling his eyes, hoping his niece would appreciate how much he had sacrificed for her, how much he had put himself at risk for her.
"If I wanted to kill you or imprison you, I would, my Lord Strong." He said indifferently, stopping him with a gesture of his hand, seeing the guards walking along the wall above them, looking around; he only moved on when they were out of his sight.
They went inside through a small wooden door covered in ivy, which opened with a loud creak; he looked at him with disapproval, his eyes large, his face pale, he breathed loudly through his mouth, knowing he was a fool.
That if he took him hostage their mother's hands would be tied, deprived of her two children and two dragons she would have to bend the knee.
He contemplated whether to do so, whether it would perhaps end the whole war, but he decided that this one, and only one time, he would do something not for himself, not for his family, but for her.
Proof of how deep was his affection towards her.
"Wait here and be quiet." He growled and moved ahead leaving him behind, passing into the pits beneath the Red Keep itself.
He climbed the cramped side servants' staircase to the corridor into which her chamber was located and came upon the surprised guards, who awoke upon hearing his footsteps and stood at attention.
"Bring me my dry garments and inform the servants that I will take a bath." He said lowly, one of them nodded and immediately moved ahead, intending to obey his order, but the other remained in his place, looking at him uncertainly.
"Has she eaten anything today?" He asked him, and he shook his head, swallowing loudly, terrified apparently that he would blame him for such a state of affairs.
"Inform the cook to prepare some warm soup for her."
"Now, Your Grace? It's the middle of the night…"
"He is to prepare her fucking warm soup, I said." He hissed, the man nodded and also disappeared after a moment around a corner.
He walked into her chamber, and she pulled up in bed with a scream – he saw that her face was red with tears and he felt a squeeze in his throat that perhaps it was because of his letter, that perhaps she still loved him.
However, there was no time to think about that.
"− uncle? − what are you − stop −" She cried out horrified, not understanding what was happening, what he wanted to do, when he took a plain grey hooded coat, pulled her violently by her arm and forced her to stand up, putting it over her shoulders and head.
"− no −" She mumbled, but he pulled her forcibly out of her chamber; after what had happened to her she was still weakened and her resistance was having no effect.
"− I don't want to − you won't make me − I'm going to scream −"
"Be fucking quiet. Don't you want to see your little brother? Hm? I thought so." He growled, gripping his fingers tighter on her arm and heard her quiet squeal of discomfort, however, no more words left her lips.
They walked down the same path he had entered, walking for a while in complete darkness – he knew she had walked barefoot, that she was cold and uncomfortable, but they had no time.
They had to get back before the guards informed anyone that she was not in her chamber.
He let her go as they stepped out into the narrow corridor at the end of which Luke was standing, heard her draw in a loud breath and stop in mid-step, not believing what she was seeing.
They both looked at each other as if they couldn't believe it was really happening, completely shocked.
"Luke!" She cried out and ran towards him pulling the hood off her head – they threw themselves into each other's arms, both bursting into sobs like little children.
He stared at them impassively thinking about giving them a few minutes and then bringing her back and taking her in her bed, his cock swollen and hard, he hadn't experienced relief in days.
"A-are you all right? Did they hurt you? Why do you have a bruise under your eye? What is it?" He asked in a trembling voice taking her wrists in his hands, noticing the freshly healed cuts on them.
Luke looked at him accusingly, but she shook her head, grasping his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs, smiling broadly, happy and full of energy, as if awakened from a deep sleep.
"No, it was an accident. Nothing serious." She lied, and he lowered his gaze at the thought that he hadn't spoken a word to Criston Cole since that day, since he found out what he'd done, and the only reason he was still alive was because his mother had begged him to show mercy.
"Please, Aemond." His mother mumbled in a trembling, terrified voice, holding his shoulders, seeing his cold, angry gaze directed at her sworn protector.
"I'm not going to ask a third time, Cole. Did you hit her?" He hissed through clenched teeth, feeling that the bones in his jaw were about to burst with rage, his hands closed into tight fists, his chest rising and falling rapidly in uneven, ragged breaths.
Ser Criston lowered his gaze and swallowed loudly, standing with his hands folded behind him, clearly embarrassed.
"Yes, my Prince. I admit with shame that I lost my temper. I called her an undignified name and slapped her." He mumbled, not daring to look at him; he felt his lips part in a wicked grin that had nothing to do with contentment.
"Did you do it before or after you made her drink moon tea?" He asked in a mocking, matter-of-fact, sharp tone, and saw the glances that Cole and his mother exchanged, horrified that she had already told him everything.
"− Aemond, she cannot carry your child if she is to marry −"
The Queen began but her voice stuck in her throat when he locked her cheeks between his fingers in sudden, violent gesture, digging his fingertips into her skin, Criston Cole twitched not knowing what to do, her pupils dilated in shock and fear.
"I was the one who wanted her to run away with me. For her to give herself to me. I promised her I would marry her. And I fucking meant it!" He growled like an animal and shook her head as if he wanted her to finally realize what he was saying, felt tears of helplessness under his eyelids as he looked at his mother in despair, her gaze changed, she drew in air loudly, her eyebrows arched in pain.
"My Prince, for gods sake, it is your mother!" Exclaimed Criston Cole, and he let her go, panting hard; the Queen took a few steps back, breathing heavily, looking at him in disbelief and pain, holding her hand on her chest, trembling all over.
She did not recognise him.
"Return with me to Dragonstone." He heard Luke's quiet mumble and furrowed his brows, returning with his mind to them; he felt his heart begin to pound like mad, terrified that she would try to run away with him, his hand slipped involuntarily to the dagger fastened to his belt.
He swallowed loudly at the thought that he should have followed his instincts from the very beginning and just kill him.
"N-no. No." She said horrified, seeing in his gaze what he was thinking about, what he was prepared to do; she stroked her little brother's shoulders with hands trembling with fear, smiling again, wanting to comfort him.
"But you go. Tell my mother that I am faithful to her and that I love her very much. Can you do that for me?" She asked softly, her voice breaking as she spoke her last words.
"I won't leave you here. I will never…"
"You will leave. I'm begging you, go now." She muttered, releasing him, but his hands refused to let her go.
"Please."
"I can't, you have to understand me −"
"Time's up." He heard his own low, cold voice, saw her terrified look – she nodded quickly, wanting to be obedient and gentle, wanting him to remain calm, not to do anything under sudden rage.
"Go, Luke." She said.
"I'll set you free, I swear." He mumbled and let go of her hand, escaping at last, disappearing into the rain.
They both let out a loud, terrified breath and looked at each other uncertainly, his hand letting go of the hilt of his dagger. He felt some kind of deep, wonderful relief.
She stayed of her own free will.
He licked his lower lip in satisfaction at the thought that she herself didn't know what she thought of it all, her cheeks red from emotion and tears.
"How did you find him?" She asked quietly, looking at him uncertainly, as if she didn't know what she could expect from him. He hummed under his breath at her question, lifting his chin in a gesture of superiority.
"He came to Storm's End as an envoy." He explained matter-of-factly, approaching her slowly with his heart pounding faster and faster, feeling like his cock was about to explode if he didn't finally touch her.
She swallowed hard at his words, lifting her gaze full of pain and regret to him, her eyebrows arched in a clear sense of helplessness; he thought with delight that he was not indifferent to her.
"Have you made your choice?" She asked quietly, and he smirked, feeling that somehow he had regained his advantage over her, that she was jealous of him.
"Yes."
"Then I'm afraid you can no longer sleep in my chamber. It would not be appropriate." She said softly, not taking her eyes off him, and he felt his heart stop, his lips tighten into a thin line.
"After what I did for you? What I risked for you? This is how you thank me?" He growled, stepping closer to her, feeling burning rage and disappointment that she didn't throw herself happily around his neck, that what he'd done wasn't enough. She furrowed her brow, looking at him with fear and disbelief.
"I'm grateful to you, gods, I really am, but if you think I'm going to be your whore, you're wrong." She mumbled with pain from which he felt a squeeze in his throat, his body trembling with disappointment and rage.
"I don't want you to be my whore. I want you to be my wife." He hissed through clenched teeth, gripping his dagger, which he took out in a swift, sure movement. She squealed as he gripped her cheeks violently in his hand, her fingers tightened on his wrist trying fruitlessly to free her from his grasp, her eyes opened wide with terror as he pressed his blade against her lower lip.
"Don't move. Don't fucking move, I said." He growled when she cried out loudly and clenched her eyes shut as he slashed her delicate skin, a thin trickle of blood dripping from the red wound.
He passed his dagger into her hand, clenching it in her palm; he looked at her pleadingly, sliding his fingers into her hair, pressing his forehead against hers in a gesture of desperation.
"− I can't take it anymore − we both know it was always going to end like this −" He muttered stroking her cheeks, her hair, her neck, her shoulders with his hands, feeling that he was in some kind of frenzy.
"− kill me or marry me −" He said in a trembling voice; she drew in the air loudly, her gaze hot, helpless, terrified, full of pain, resentment, desire, regret, anger, exhaustion.
He looked straight into her eyes as her trembling hand lifted his blade, first stopping on the line of his neck, then grasped his cheek in her fingers – a low, surprised groan of delight broke from his throat as he felt the cold, astringent taste of steel on his lips, then the burning pain of sliced skin.
He looked at her dreamily, feeling that what she had done had aroused him even more, that he was about to throw himself at her and rip off everything she was wearing.
He watched her face as he took his dagger in his fingers and with a sure, shallow movement slit the skin of the inside of her hand. She hissed quietly, clenching her lips in discomfort, tears of horror, emotion, sadness and relief running down her cheeks.
He breathed loudly when he observed her as she did the same, creating a burning wound on his hand from which his warm, sticky blood dripped.
He clasped their bleeding palms together, holding the dagger beneath them onto which drop by drop flowed their mingled blood.
There was something at once frightening and divine about the sight, as if in a mysterious and only known to them way the gods of their ancestors had bound them together for eternity.
He lifted the blade up and licked it with a gasp of contentment as he gazed at her face; he hummed with delight as he felt that forbidden, tart taste.
He repeated the act and this time he held the blade to her lips; he felt his cock throb in pleasure in his breeches as her glistening, pink tongue ran over the bloody steel before his eyes.
He released the dagger from his hand and clung to her with his lips, both of them moaning loudly in pain, discomfort and pleasure, not caring about their wounds, realising that this was what their love had been.
Something so painfully fulfilling.
As much as he craved it, as much as he wanted to spend hours with his face between her thighs, he needed to feel her first, her hands helping him quickly unfasten the clasps of his coat and tunic. He untied the material of his breeches and tilted it aside, releasing what was beneath them, his manhood painfully hard and swollen, its tip wet with his own moisture.
He pulled her nightgown up over her thighs and grabbed her in his arms, lifting her, her legs immediately closing around his waist, her hands entwined in his hair and pressed his face against her puffy, sweet mouth.
He groaned low into her throat, meeting the tip of his tongue against hers, licking her and sucking her lips; they both clamped their hands tightly on their bodies as the fat head of his cock began to push against her leaking folds from below.
"− let me in − let me in, sweet wife −" He muttered between the loud dance of their tongues, teeth and saliva. She squirmed loudly as he slowly slid into her with a sigh of pleasure, her insides and thighs wet with her moisture, making him open her wide with one sure thrust of his hips.
"− Aemond −" She cried out sweetly as he began to root into her with thirsty, desperate thrusts, their whole bodies twitching and vibrating, her hands roaming over his cheeks, hair, neck and back, her throbbing, hot, weeping cunt clenching around him and sucking him inside, refusing to let him go, forcing him to pound into her with more brutality.
"− fucking mine −" He hissed out, tightening his fingers on her soft flesh, leaving a trail of blood on her skin and nightgown, slamming into her violently with his cock, thick and swollen with almost painful arousal.
He was panting loudly along with her, sensing that he was embarrassingly close to his peak, his thighs slapping again and again against her buttocks with a shameless splat of her moisture, her scent, her closeness, her whimpers filled his entire mind, leaving only bliss.
"− g-gods, uncle −" She mewled, tilting her head back, moaning like a whore and yet like a saint, sweet and loud, as if she was surprised at how quickly and suddenly fulfilment shook her body.
He felt her juices running down his thighs, soaking his cock; he sighed with some kind of relief when he finally let go, filling her to the brim with his warm seed, her walls squeezing him greedily.
"− fuck-fuck-fucckkk −" He gasped clenching his teeth, stunned by the pleasure and fulfilment that enveloped his body, his muscles suddenly soft, his body numb.
He fell to his knees with her and heard her squeal in terror, her legs and hands embracing him tightly; he rooted into her for a moment longer with sloppy, slow thrusts of his hips, wanting to savour the fact that he felt her again.
That she was his wife.
_____
Aemond Taglist:
(bold means I couldn't tag you)
@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla
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Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 10
Pairing: Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sister!Reader
A/N: Well, buckle up I guess
Warnings: Plot™️, I know clocks are canon but it still feels weird to do this, starting heavy 💪
Word Count: 6,012
-Part 9- -Part 11-
He sighs.
It’s not like she can help the way she is. Not like she can help the fact that whenever she tries to make things better it simply creates more work for him to do. By receding into her room, he has to pay more attention to when she appears, becoming extra vigilant in the moments she steps outside.
He shouldn’t be so harsh. Sometimes fatigue clouds his judgement, enough so it becomes apparent to even himself sleep is a necessary luxury. Still, they’re harmless behaviours really. Small habits that with the right guidance will enable her to flourish again.
A broken bone that needs to be left to set, to be good as new.
6:57 p.m.
Azriel massages his temples, the beginning aches of a headache making themselves apparent. Eases in a breath, counts, and releases. It seems a night of rest is unavoidable, but there’s so much to be done. He could perhaps rearrange breakfast…but that would collide nastily with training. Maybe moving lunch to three instead? But then that would impact the start time of going though the towering stack of reports, which would in turn result in him working later anyway.
Thick brows narrow as he prowls silently down the hallway of the River House, deciding to leave for some peace and quiet. It’s not an idea he’s keen on, but if he dips out of practice with Cassian atop the House of Wind tomorrow…that would work. Frustration simmers in his knuckles, tightening the trapezius. He doesn’t like the idea of skipping over valuable training time with the priestesses. They’re forcing themselves out of their comfort zone. The least he can do is respect their resolve by attending.
He’s so caught up in thoughts of schedule and routine he only realises she’s in the River House, on the same floor, when she’s a single corridor away. Another thing he needs to keep an eye on. Swiftly reorganises his thoughts, rotating and recalling the information his shadows have provided over the recent days and hours. The scraps of speculations Mor had offered from a single outing. If he remembers correctly, she will have just gotten back from her trip with Mor now. So why is she here? She should be back up at the House by now, retreating to her room away from everyone else.
Still, he rounds the corner in time to see her click a door closed—her sister’s. His curiosity piques, shadows already recollecting the news they’ve catalogued for the female with soft, cocoa eyes. Gloves still adorn her hands, but it does nothing to conceal their tremor.
Attention narrows in on her, darkness skittering back into the corners of the hallway, hiding between his wings as he approaches. Her lips are chapped and tight, features strained as her gloved hand rests for a moment atop the handle. Appearing in her own world—eyes glazed and vacant. Her jaw is wound tighter than usual, tight enough he can hear the grinding of enamel, like bone and porcelain powdered against rock. Brows draw together at the notice of her waxen complexion, skin gleaming faintly with peaky dew.
Blank eyes flick up to meet his own, and he steps forward. Her hand stiffens on the handle, posture turning rigid. Scent taking on a tang he’s far too familiar with from nights spent with his blade. He comes to a stop, keeping his distance from her taut form.
Azriel’s first thoughts are she must be pushing too hard with her magic. Honestly, he hadn’t anticipated her to be so resolved in mastering her power independently. Neither had he anticipated her making a lick of progress. At least not through measures that a sensible mentor would allow.
He should never have yielded to her look of despair. She’d be safer if he had simply insisted on doing things correctly. A foolish mistake on his part, and now she might be going down the wrong path. “Are you okay?” He asks, splitting his weight equally between each foot, resting in his place. Watches the roll of her throat, shifting in place, away from Elain’s door. Had there been an argument?
She nods her head, trying to straighten her spine as she sometimes does when pulling herself together. The effect is nullified by the was she hangs her head, never quite succeeding in meeting his eye for extended periods. He shouldn’t have ignored it for so long. Leaving something like that unchecked… Well, he should have known better.
“I’m—” She clears her throat, and tries again. “Good. I’m fine.” Nods to herself, eyeing the floorboards with bland eyes. He waits quietly, allowing the silence to coax her into unravelling. She shifts again, stepping away from Elain’s door, her gaze flitting about the corridor. Flicks to the stairs behind him, leading down to the exit—likely wanting to return to her haven up in the House by now.
Eyes regain a little focus, pupils contracting as a nervous smile quirks her mouth, nodding to the door as she makes for the stairs. “We were just speaking,” she elaborates, moving away hastily. “Catching up.”
Azriel watches, noting the briskness of her steps. It’s unusual for her to be so keen to leave his presence. What had happened?
“Wait,” he says, turning as she makes to move past him, peering at the floor, marking her steps. She pauses, gloved hand resting on the carved and polished banister. He steps forward, morbidly intrigued by the glaze in her eyes, as if made of glass. “You aren’t well,” he states. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” you repeat blandly, “just tired.”
Something bad then, if she’s not willing to even discuss whatever exchange happened with Elain.
Shadows loiter at the threshold, waiting to hear for any sounds that might offer hints, like the soft breath of cries, or the gentle splash of muffled tears. Nothing.
She turns again, descending the stairs, sweeping down the case quietly as she makes a bee-line for the door, vanishing out into the dark, leaving him perplexed and curious. A dangerous combination for the Spymaster.
She’d looked shaken up, so he should make sure things are okay.
It’s been a long while since he last had a one-on-one conversation with the soft-eyed female.
Azriel turns in the hallway, moving back the way she’d come.
8:36 a.m.
“We should talk.”
His words pull you from the world of bliss that had been graciously clouding your mind. Peer down at him from where you’re straddling his lap, pale sheets crumpled, clothes strewn about from being swiftly discarded. “About what?”
Thick, dark brows narrow over piercing golden eyes, full lips twisting down in the corners. Your own features shift to match his, “now, Bas?”
He sighs, large, warm hands splaying across the bruised skin of your hips. “I know, I know, I suck at timing. No need to tell me.” Almost immediately the edges of your lips lift up, a smile tugging at your mouth, vanquishing the momentary surge of annoyance. Fingers lightly press into the softness of his chest, spine losing its rigidity, relaxing your weight back onto him. Feeling slightly dizzy as pleasure sinks into your bones.
“Fine,” you mutter, playfully, “what is it?”
Bas shifts beneath you, thumbs soothing your skin, your back arching as you attempt to still the swirl of your hips. “Two things, actually,” he clarifies reaching higher, a reassuring pressure over your ribcage, rubbing to your waist. Peek down at him, raising a brow, “I wondered why you weren’t giving me a hard time tonight,” —shake your head, smiling slightly— “I should have known.”
He offers a tight smile and your own slips away. “Now you’re worrying me,” you murmur quietly, fingers curling. “What is it?” Golden eyes meet your own, concern shining in their depths, “you’ve been off recently. And I’m worried. So, it’s fine to be emotionally intimate too… Yeah?”
You blink, lips parting in surprise. “I’ve been…off?” Brow furrows in confusion, “what do you mean by that? Am I doing something wrong?” It’s an earnest question, yet it resonates a little deeper than you had expected. Thankfully he doesn’t pick up on the inner conflict. “It’s not that,” he reassures, hands stroking slowly, lightly. “But you’ve worn the same dress the last three times I’ve seen you.”
Internally, you cringe, making to pull away. “Do I smell?” You ask, wincing, bringing your arms to your chest. A slight smile tugs at his lips then, “no.” Relax a little, hands twining as he brings them back to his torso. “But…you taking care of yourself up there?” Sigh, shoulders losing their tension, lips resting into a quirked position.
“I’m fine, Bas. I like it up there, where it’s quiet, and—”
“No.” He interjects gently, hand slipping from yours, pushing a strand of hair from your cheek. Lightly cups your jaw, thumb skimming across the skin. “I mean up there.”
Spine stiffens, fingers freezing. Breath pauses. “Everything’s fine,” you murmur, watching him. He gives a look that urges you to stop lying, squeezing your hands. “Talk to me,” he says in response. “Something’s up. I can tell.”
“Bas—”
“Don’t even try,” he murmurs, golden eyes shimmering as he peers up at you. “I know what that feels like,” he whispers, hand raising to skim your breast, thumb brushing atop your heart. “I know change is difficult.”
“Bas, I don’t want to talk about it.”
Eyes lock, staring at one another.
His hand falls away.
Muscle loosens.
Licks his lips, gaze flitting elsewhere. “I was lonely too, when the attack happened.” Spine softens, brows tightening. Wait silently for him to continue. Licks his lips again, returning to watch you. “Ma… It was hard on both of us, losing pa. Y’know one day he was there, then the next it’s just us.” His throat rolls, eyes glazing as he looks into the middle distance. “We had our own ways of dealing with it—the loss. Mother knows I can’t talk about healthy coping mechanisms, I practically fucked anything that would let me. Probably drank more than I should have, too.”
The attack.
You and your sisters hadn’t yet come here, still mortally human and wonderfully unaware. Well, you and Elain, anyway. Even now, there were still signs of the aftermath. Traces of grief that had yet to be healed.
He shakes his head slowly, limbs turning stiff. “It got… I know what it’s like.” Golden eyes latch to your own. “So talk to me. Don’t keep that—…stuff, to yourself.” Shake your head, breaking the connection, pulling away. “There’s nothing to talk about. Stop prying.” Shake off the heaviness, easing a breath. “What else did you want to talk about?”
His expression is indiscernible, brows dipped, lips tugged down, eyes swirling with molten gold. Shifts beneath you, your hands pressing to his chest to steady yourself as he raises into a sitting position. Moving to be eye-to-eye, hands spanning your waist, gently keeping you still. Fingers brush the concealed muscle of his shoulders, linking at his back, hips winding in gentle encouragement.
A rough-skinned palm settles on the nape of your neck, sliding and gripping your hair lightly. Thumb oscillates over your waist. Calling up loneliness from the pit of your chest. Lips brush your mouth, the slightest caress of hot skin that feels like heated silk and tastes like spices and thyme. He looks like he’s about to try again, but decides against it, instead pulling you forward.
Only you’re taken to the crook of his shoulder, palm cupping the back of your head. His free arm snakes up your back, cradling you to his chest. Keeping you close by. At first you’re stiff, unsure how to react, muscle locks as his skin presses hot to your own, smooth and soft. Warm hands soothe along your spine, gently skimming across the expanse, tracing the knuckles of bone. Fingers draw light patterns atop, oscillating and sketching with reassuring steadiness.
He makes no move to kiss you, just holding you still, the thick locs of his hair scratching softly against the nape of your neck. His arm spans across the back of your waist, hand flattening against your side, thumbing over the skin, soothing you to melt.
Your bones begin to feel heavy in your body, sinking low as you hesitantly raise your arms to lock over his sturdy shoulders, tentatively shuffling to rest your cheek against him. Inhale slowly, deeply, taking in his scent—like rosemary and myrrh. He settles across your skin, and you sink deeper, emotion thawing as you melt into his arms, so tender and soft. Healing and welcoming.
Wet drops splash atop his shoulders, dripping onto dark skin as arms pull a little tighter, squeezing as lips tremble. Spine shudders, soft breaths stuttering as tears trickle down your cheeks, wetting strands of hair as fingers grip closer. Full lips graze your temple, and you feel those small cracks that had emerged during your argument with Feyre begin to spiderweb out, restraint fracturing just a little more.
Lower lip wobbles, and you curl around him tighter, body shuddering with quiet sobs as he holds you. Dry hands wrap into fists, nails biting the flesh of your arms as you fall into him, wanting to be washed away.
To peacefully melt to a place far from memory.
Slowly fade into absence.
2:43 p.m.
The iron-cast ring weighs on your palm, the glittering blue jewel of its swollen abdomen gazing up at you like silver moonlight dripping to dark, gleaming midnight. Polished and sharp like armour and blade.
“Do you like it?” Mor asks from your side, peering over your shoulder. You’d heard her footsteps that time, but shake your head absently, putting the ring back where it belongs. “It’s a lovely piece of jewellery,” you hedge, not wanting to talk badly when the shopkeepers are around. Spiders are still a little too close to home—insects at all, really.
She hums quietly, attention skimming to a piece beside it: a silver band fashioned to the stalk of a flower, the petals looking like stretched out droplets of warm citrine. Mor examines it for a moment, then holds it out for you to look at, which you do. “What about this one?” Fingers mindlessly come up to fumble with the glass pendant at your neck, steadily becoming a habit. “It’s very pretty,” you answer, hoping it suffices. Mor hums again, seemingly getting the hint, returning it to sit on the counter.
“You liked the dress, didn’t you?” She asks, quietly. Brows dip together as you turn in her direction, cascading golden hair loosely tied back. “I mean you wanted it. Not just because I was pushing you to get something.” A beat of quiet passes, and you examine her expression: the edges of plush and pillowy lips lengthened by slight worry lines, brow marginally dipped in the centre. Minute shifts in features that would have gone undetected by human eyes.
Throat rolls as you look away, but nod. “I did like it,” you mumble, fumbling your words, “do like it. Thank you.”
“Have you worn it yet?” She asks. Dread ices your skin, eyes flitting to honey warm irises. “I— No…” you manage honestly. Look away, scanning the jewels, that blue spider again catching your attention. “It’s a special dress,” you murmur, “I was waiting for a special occasion.”
More quiet beats between you, background chatter buzzing through your mind. But then she nods, accepting your answer. “It looks nice on you,” she replies, picking up a necklace this time—a thin chain of gold that shimmers beneath the daylight streaming in from the windows. Dip your head in silent thanks.
Peer out into the streets, watching fae pass by, enjoying their lives. Spots of colour splashing along as they go about their day. Eyes mark a small shop across the road, stools holding little trinkets like cups and pottery spilling out onto the cobbles, ceramics gleaming beneath the lowering sun. Plants sway in the crisp breeze outside, the nippy winds of early autumn already setting in.
Ease in a steady breath—there’s less than a week left until you’re due to complete your side of the agreement, and only small bits and pieces of progress to show. Not enough to avoid bringing it up to the rest of them.
Glance at Mor from the corner of your eye, watching through your peripherals as she holds up a necklace to herself, peering into a mirror. How would she react if you told her right now? She’d probably smile and tell you that’s great. Maybe ask you to show her or give a demonstration. The breath releases, knowing that question will crop up eventually. Seeking results when you have none to provide.
“Are you coming to dinner tonight?” She asks breaking you out of your wondering. Blink, pulling yourself back down, having forgotten about the extra supper they’d decided to fit in. Shake your head, turning your attention back to the jewellery stand, then flitting out to the shop. “I’m feeling pretty tired,” you reply quietly, “so I don’t think so.”
“Sure?” She says absently, already having moved onto the next stand. “The food’s really great—pork that practically comes part on your tongue. And the jam that goes with it is absolutely mouth-watering,” she dreams, smiling faintly as her fingers scrunch with anticipation. Your nose wrinkles for a split-second before you shut off the reaction, offering a bland smile, “how lovely.”
“You must try it at some point,” she gushes, turning to you now, accessories forgotten. “It’s one of my favourite places in Velaris. All the dishes they serve are,” —her hand flexes, as if trying to grasp onto something, eyes briefly shutting in bliss— “amazing.”
You smile again. “I’m sure.”
Warm-honey eyes narrow on you, examining the set of your expression. “You liked the soup,” she says, “what else do you like?” Throat rolls and you shift on your feet, fumbling. “Mash?” Mor nods slowly, remaining silent; in doing so forcing you to speak, too awkward to allow it to continue. “With thyme… Beans are nice, too?” She continues her bout of silence, quietly watching you. “The rice and…sauce. That’s been nice. Very nice.”
Her brows squish together, tension coiling in your stomach and shoulders. Lick your lips. “The—…” You pause, not knowing the name of the food. “The doughy balls? With…mushroom? in the middle? With—”
Eyes pop open. “You don’t eat meat.”
“I eat meat,” you say, hurriedly, but she’s in her own world.
“That’s why Az—” Her hand smacks up onto her forehead and you internally cringe—was the coddling that noticeable? To everyone but you?
“Why didn’t you say anything?” She asks, a mix of shock and exasperation lining her tone as she stares at you. Throat rolls and you turn away from her, picking up the silver band with the citrine-coloured flower. “I can eat meat just fine,” you mutter quietly, “it’s not as though there was anything else.”
“There was the soup,” she argues, still facing you, “you could have asked me to pass it to you—I even had some for myself.”
“No, I mean—” —eyes lock, her brows risen in confusion, not accusation. You sigh, shaking your head. “Sorry. Forget I said anything…” Her neatly groomed brows dip, head tilting ever so slightly. “No, what were you going to say?” She asks, voice quietening. Glance at her sidelong, fiddling with the ring in your hand, sliding it on and off your gloved little finger—far too large for it to possibly get stuck on. Lick your lips, spinning the band as you fidget. “I just mean, it’s basically all we ate back then,” you mumble, peering at your feet with forced interest. “Just brings back some bad memories, is all. Nothing I can’t deal with.”
She sighs softly, and guilt tightens your stomach, putting the now-warm ring down, listening to it clink on the glass. “You don’t like meat,” she states. It’s not a question.
“I can eat it,” you counter quietly, not wanting to be a bother. You’ve seen how much the others enjoy it. “But you wouldn’t choose it,” she returns, keeping her body open as she faces you. Shift on your feet, “I… No.”
Mor nods, hair glinting like freshly spun straw beneath a summer day. “Then we can eat somewhere else. Or order different dishes,” she reasons smoothly, “I’ll just mention it to the others since none of us even knew. Well, I suppose Az—”
“Please don’t,” you interrupt, cringing internally. “It’s fine. Meat’s good for you and I shouldn’t be so picky anyway. It’s annoying.”
“To who?” She asks, making you glance at her. “Who does it annoy?” She repeats, seemingly earnestly. “It’s silly to switch restaurants just because of…because of something so small. I can eat when I get back, anyway. It’s fine.”
She looks appalled.
“Mor, please don’t say anything,” you repeat quietly, meeting her eyes, a pained look unknowingly on your features. “I’m fine with how things are. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Her brow narrows, eyes flicking around the shop, taking in the other customers. “None of us would mind,” she says quietly. “You wouldn’t be causing a problem. We’ll just order more dishes without meat. We don’t have to change places if nobody wants to.”
But you shake your head adamantly. “I can eat when I get home. Please don’t change what you order just because—”
“Why don’t you deserve to eat food you like?” She asks sharply, voice remaining quiet but harsh. Blink at the tone, stiffening briefly before tension uncoils from your muscles. “It’s not like that,” you reply, turning from the display, slowly stepping toward the door. Mor follows beside you, appearing to have lost interest in the surrounding trinkets.
“No?” She asks, glancing at you through her peripherals. “What’s it like, then?”
You pause in the street, feet halting their movement as the question registers. She halts at your side, slowing to a stop, attention turned to you. “Mor, I don’t know how I could possibly put into words…” A heavy sigh escapes from you, shoulders sloping, exhaustion lining your eyes. “Never mind. Forget it.” Spine straightens, continuing heavily across the street to the shop with the little carvings and pieces of glazed pottery.
She follows quietly as you wander toward the stalls, inspecting the bits and bobs on display. Watches you quietly, taking in the ankle-length dress, clunky boots, thick cardigan and scarf. The vomit-yellow gloves. She should at least find another pair with a lighter colour for you. “You know,” she begins softly, a hint of a smile in her tone, “for someone so reserved, I didn’t expect you to be so stubborn.”
Fingers freeze for a moment, reaching out toward a small carving of a woman holding some drooping daisies. Breath catches, before you manage to resume motion, picking up the small figurine. “Sorry,” you mumble, “I don’t mean to be.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” she murmurs. “You’re strong willed. It’ll serve you well.”
But you shake your head in denial. “Feyre’s strong willed. So is Nesta.”
“Do you think Elain is?” Mor asks, holding up a glazed mug she clearly has no interest in. Your brow dips, peering at her, not having anticipated the change of direction. “Why are you asking?”
“She’s been quiet, no?”
Turn your attention back to the woman in your hand, flipping her over to peer at the lines of her dress—swaying in a breeze. I wonder why… You think sardonically. Instead a hum lulls from your mouth, non-committal and vague. Mor nods her head, again picking up those minute hints you’re unaware you’re even capable of dropping.
“That’s a nice carving,” she says brightly, redirecting the conversation without a hitch, smooth fluidity long ago mastered. “Your father was a carpenter, wasn’t he?” She asks softly. “Would you like it?”
Gloved fingers rub the concealed skin of your other hand, knuckles itching for reprieve. Under ordinary circumstances, you would have declined the offer— it looks well carved. Not that you have an eye for such things. This time, however, you can make an exception. “That would be nice,” you answer quietly, “thank you.”
Swallow down the apology that had been slowly making it’s way up from your stomach.
She smiles then, and you look away.
She’s far too bright.
6:49 p.m.
You excuse yourself as soon as you step inside, heading up the stairs and along the hallway before returning to the House of Wind. Walk quietly along the floorboards, hoping to avoid any unnecessary confrontations. Reach the door you’re looking for, landing a series of knocks to the hardwood. “Elain?” You call, listening for a reply. She answers, letting you to come in, voice soft but terse.
The door swings open on oiled hinges, and you step inside, hearing it snick shut at your back. Eyes instantly locate your sister, sat in a large armchair facing the lit fireplace. Curtains are drawn, blocking out what little light remained in the sky, room set aglow with the golden-orange of flame. Cocoa melts to something soft and spicy as she peers into it, and you wonder if she’s perhaps missing Lucien.
“Hey,” you mumble quietly, noting how she seems kind of distant. You can’t help but be reminded of those initial months, the transitional stages of your lives where the world was turned upside down. How she’d shut down almost entirely, rarely speaking. Rarer still to get anything coherent, like she was trapped in a dream state. “I just…I wanted to see you,” you murmur, moving toward her.
Haunted eyes flick up to meet you, blank as they take you in with ghostly smoothness. She blinks and it’s gone, gesturing to a seat opposite from her, closer to the fire but angled for prime conversation. A smile lifts the edges of her mouth, etched with strain, chest stretching as you take in her fatigue.
Sigh heavily, settling into the plush armchair, remaining straight-backed as you put the paper bag at your feet, careful with the little carving. Wait for a beat to pass before looking to her, cocoa already reattached to the fire. “Elain,” you call quietly, gaining her attention. In the light of the flame the circles beneath her eyes are more pronounced, shadow flickering across the heavy crescents. Worry takes root in your gut—it seems to be taking more of a tole on her than you’d thought.
“You went out with Mor today didn’t you?” Elain asks, voice soft and faint, as if coming out of a daze. A shy smile curves your lips, nodding. “How was it?” She asks distantly, gently curled hair hanging in rich ringlets, tight and silky as they spill down the lilac night gown she likes. Throat rolls, turning your attention to the fire. Will this ever be an easy subject between the two of you? Between any of you?
Eyes flit down to the bag, pulling it up into your lap for comfort. “It was good,” you manage softly, nodding. “It was…nice. To be outside. Around someone, for a little.” Elain nods, a bland smile on her face, though you don’t doubt its sincerity. “I—…Mor’s nice,” you add, fumbling your words as you try to direct the flow of the conversation toward what you’re trying to get at. But you’ve never been good at reading the room, and it’s showing.
“You should…I mean, it would be nice for you to come along sometime…” you suggest, trailing off as fingers wring together in your lap, playing with the paper handle of the bag. “We could…I don’t know…” Shift in the chair as you try to think of something. “I’m sure there are some shops for gardening, or somewhere to sample pastries? You’re trying out pastries at the moment, aren’t you?” Eyes flit to your sister, the smile gone from her lips, lids heavy as she soaks in the heat of the fire. Letting it drink her in.
She’s quiet, and it’s obvious something’s off. Or is she just tired? She’d told you she’d been sleeping badly recently, has it not yet gotten better? Run your attention over her supple form, smooth skin over tight knuckles, the lilac of the fabric complimenting her drained complexion, dark circles beneath her eyes making the rich coca of her irises deeper, swirling with thought. They flick to you suddenly, shadow being cast across her delicate features as she turns, as if about to speak.
You look down into your lap abruptly, staring at the little carving. “I miss dad,” you blurt out quietly, the words being hauled up your throat, spat out into the air.
Elain stiffens in your peripherals, and your lips press together tight. Heart heavies, shoulders no longer being held taut as you begin to drown into the cushion. “I know…” you begin quietly, thoughts eddying away once you try to grasp for them. Just stare at the maiden holding the drooping daisies. “I was thinking about him,” you say quietly, managing to keep your voice somewhat even. “Earlier, when I was out with Mor,” you clarify, reaching into the bag.
Push the paper apart, reaching for the female figurine. Fingers brush the smooth wood of the carved figure, the pads able to sense the very grain with heightened nerve endings. She’s hewn from a darker material, deep brown and riddled with smooth and polished knots, creating a labyrinthine twist of swirling lines and wrinkles. It was probably once a beautiful piece of trunk, carried from a forest to a carpenters shop, whittled away until the figure emerged.
“I want to speak with you.”
You look up, hand stilling, fingers grasping the carving. Maybe…you’ve learned in the past it’s better to let someone else lead the conversation. Yours don’t seem to go anywhere unless the other is interested in a continuation.
“Okay,” you murmur, releasing the statue, pulling free as you return the bag to your feet, set aside so you can deliver her your full attention. “What is it?”
Elain blinks slowly, and hairs rise on the back of your neck.
“Elain?” You encourage, no more than a whisper.
For a long moment she won’t speak, just watching intently, as if she can see through you and is examining the sub-atomic structure of your soul, down to the bits and bobs between. Stiffen as cocoa bores into you, looking far older than should be possible as the flame flickers dully in muted brown. Throat rolls, trying to maintain the connection, letting her know you’re there. She’s been around for you; it’s the least you can do.
The contact breaks, her lids closing briefly, gaze returning to quietly observe the fire. Taking in its motion—how the heat wells, practically rolling from the hearth to the rugged floorboards. “There’s been something…” Elegant brows dip almost imperceptibly, the edges of her delicate mouth quivering, lips parted on a syllable. Close again, as if the words won’t suffice for what she’s trying to say. The fire almost seems to match her, growing more intense as she stares into it, shadows darkening as they writhe across the walls, like the wings of a great creature.
“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she murmurs absently.
Worry sparks across your chest but you say nothing, allowing her to articulate her thoughts at the pace she wishes.
Cocoa returns to you, the colour of conkers—you can picture them sitting cozily among the branches of a dense forest, perfectly in place. “I need you to be calm,” she says firmly. “Can you do that for me?” Brow narrows in confusion, attention fading form your body as it’s directed to your older sister, posture lithe but firm. Sitting with the preternatural stillness of the fae, and something more… Something beyond what even…
You nod—as if your voice might break whatever she’s fallen into. Might cause a change in mind, your chance to comfort her lost. She stares for a moment longer, quiet and observing. An unwelcome itch builds beneath your knuckles, but you push it away, attention solely on your older sister. Her pupils seem to be the wrong size, as if you’re something far off in the distance that she’s struggling to focus on. Her posture relaxes, silently settling into the depth of her armchair, as if it might hold her together.
“Sleep has been difficult as of late,” she murmurs, eyes locked to yours and you find yourself unable to look away. She keeps herself still; poised; refined. Even in the undress of her lilac night robe, she’s collected, but there’s something off tonight. You nod in understanding—sleeping can be difficult. Especially after the war.
“Have you been taking care of yourself?” The question pulls from your lips before it’s fully formed in your mind. A faint smile sharpens her mouth—hairs prickling at the nape of your neck. Cocoa blinks, and the sharpness has faded, settling into the familiar gentle curve that makes Elain herself. “I’m perfectly fine,” she replies quietly, though her voice is strained. Eyes again run over you, weighing. Again you keep still, enduring the assessment.
Tongue peeks out to wet her lips, shadows flickering across her face as she shifts in her seat. “I’ve been trying some different tonics,” she admits quietly. “Chamomile, root ginger, valerian…they work fine, and I end up falling asleep swiftly.”
A dull wave of relief washes through your system, like a cool balm to desiccated skin. “I’m glad, ‘Lain,” you say softly, happy she’s found a remedy. But Elain shakes her head solemnly, shadows growing darker, weighing beneath her eyes. “It’s not…I’m not struggling with sleep,” she whispers, as if the walls are sitting in on the conversation. Eyes flit about, and your brows narrow. She’s being shifty. “Maybe we should have this conversation in your room,” she murmurs to herself, fingers massaging her temples.
“Elain…” you interject quietly, worry lacing your tone, “are you okay?” Eyes flick to you, heavy with gravity. “I told you, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” You press gently. Could she have been sold another kind of herb? “You don’t seem fine…” She waves her hand dismissively, as if physically able to bat the thought away. She exhales heavily, staring again into the fire. Deep into the flames, like she can see to the other side.
“Chamomile, valerian, send me to sleep fine. It’s just not—” She cuts off, searching for the word. “They don’t send me deep enough,” she murmurs, a slight tremor in her voice. “What do you mean?” You ask, shifting toward her in your seat. Eyes snap to you with the movement, brows curving in a look of…
Fear.
You pull back, comprehending. Lean forward, on the verge of standing to cross the room to be at her side again. Like you were for those initial months. “Elain, what’s wrong?” You repeat, anxious to assuage her anxiety however you can.
“They’re back,” she whispers hoarsely. Fingers tremble in her lap, lightly gripping the lilac of her skirts to calm herself. “It’s the same thing again and again,” she manages, staring at you from across the hearth. “I see you at the edge of a forest with the wolves, traveling with the fox, ending with the…” She shakes her head. Steadying her breathing. Calming her nerves.
“There’s a flash of light—light like starfall, except it itches. Itches and burns. And then he’s down, and bleeding, and—”
“Elain, slow down,” you interrupt, standing from your seat as you hurry to her side, fingers linking with her own to soothe the trembles. Crouch before her, clasping her hands in you own gloved ones. “I don’t understand,” you say, staring up at her. “What are you talking about?”
Cocoa drains, dark and haunted.
“They’re back,” she whispers. “The visions.”
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#azriel x reader#azriel angst#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#Azriel acotar#a court of silver flames
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𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬
## pairing(s)! motorcycle driver heeseung! x yn!
## synopsis! yn's life takes an unexpected turn when she catches her boyfriend cheating on her and she meets the mysterious Heeseung, a captivating man on a motorcycle. After a brief yet memorable encounter, he vanishes, leaving her longing for more. Months later, they cross paths again. Yn's mixed emotions and Heeseung's determination do they have a happy ending?
## genre! not too bad angst, fluff at the end ! Idk dude I just work here
## wc! 8.9k
## warning(s)! cursing, and not much else?? but if u feel like there should be a warning for anything else, please let me know asap!!
## a/n! THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC EVER EVERRRRR. its currently 4:15 am as i post this and i have class at 11! hahaha.. anyways. inspo hit me like a truck... well, like a motorcycle HEHEHE. ahem.. okay. i hope you guys like this i really enjoyed writing it! please send me any feedback! mwah mwah i love uu i go sleep now! also pls don't mind any typos or errors im so delirious rn thank u bye bye
You step out of the dimly lit restroom, returning to the bar, only to find an empty seat beside you, where your boyfriend was seated just moments ago. His jacket remains draped over the backrest, a silent testament to his brief absence. Curiosity piques your interest as you assume he must have also ventured to the restroom. Settling in, you rest your head on your hand, elbow propped against the sleek bar, and survey the vibrant club that surrounds you. The music's thunderous pulse reverberates through your chest, infusing the air with almost a tangible energy. A sensual blend of alcohol and alluring perfumes weaves a heavy tapestry which fills your senses. In this tantalizing environment, the crowd is a dynamic kaleidoscope of movement and emotion—dancers, laughter, clinking glasses, tendrils of smoke swirling upward—each contributing to the sensory feast. Among the sea of passion and revelry, a singular couple draws your unwavering attention. Their fervent embrace seems to defy the boundaries of time and space, an intense kiss that hangs on the precipice of necessity. In an instant, your heart plummets, and the couple reluctantly disentangles from each other. As your gaze locks onto their faces, the unfolding revelation leaves you breathless.
As you rise from your barstool, your steps carry a mix of uncertainty and disbelief, drawing you inexorably toward the pulsating heart of the dance floor. The scene before your eyes demands confirmation, and what you find shatters your world in an instant. There, under the chaotic spell of the music's relentless rhythm, stands your boyfriend, now a stranger, locked in a passionate embrace with another woman. Her arms are a seductive snakily coil around the back of his neck, and their laughter mingles with the infectious beats of the music, now assaulting your ears as you reach the realization of betrayal. A concoction of emotions—upset, betrayal, and the intoxicating fumes of alcohol—swirl within you, drawing you forward as the heat crawls up your face and flows into the rest of your body. Your feet guide you through the trembling beat, and, with a burst of fiery rage, you confront the pair. In an act of defiance and heartbreak, your open palm collides with your now ex-boyfriend's cheek in a resounding slap, the sound lost in the under the booming music that fills the club. The mysterious girl, who moments ago was dancing with him, stumbles back, her face etched with shock and disbelief. With your wounded pride, you retreat to the sanctuary of the bar. A final shot materializes before you, its amber contents beckoning with an illusory promise of numbness. You down the drink with the recklessness and no caution, the burn in your throat eclipsed by the feeling of your shattered heart.
You inform the bartender with a casual wave that the responsibility for the bill rests with the man you arrived with, an excuse that offers a semblance of dignity as you navigate your unsteady exit from the bar's confines. The city's nightlife swirls around you, a vivid blanket of neon lights and indistinct conversations. Perched on the curb outside the bar, you release a heavy, audible sigh that seems to resonate with the depth of your emotions. The exasperated "pfft" escapes your lips as you dismissively mutter, "What a waste." you recline, propping yourself up on your arms behind you, while your gaze ascends towards the night sky. It's as if you're summoning the attention of a god you don't even believe in, the stars and the moon bearing witness to your turmoil. Unbidden tears begin to well in your eyes, forming glistening pools that threaten to overflow. Yet, in a strange paradox, laughter bubbles up from within your heavy chest, as if mocking the absurdity of the situation. "He made a mistake… losing me? How stupid," you whisper to yourself, the words a bittersweet blend of self-affirmation and ironic amusement. Your tears, now fallen, trace glittering paths down your cheeks, their journey reflecting the city's glimmering lights. You cast your gaze downward, scrutinizing your ensemble—a striking red dress that billows around you, paired with towering, sleek black heels. In that moment of reflection, you realize that it was not you who was lost; it was him. Your attire serves as a poignant reminder that you are a treasure to be cherished, a realization that strengthens your resolve even as tears continue to fall.
Amid the quiet solace of your unspoken sorrows, the sudden roar of a motorcycle's powerful engine reverberates through the air, and your attention is instinctively drawn to the source. With a magnetic allure, the motorcycle glides to a stop not far from your lonesome, commanding your undivided focus. You study the machine as if decoding a riddle; its lustrous body gleams in pristine white, a stark contrast to the glinting silver rims of the wheels. The interior and seats, ensconced in shadowy allure, exude an air of enigmatic sophistication, cloaked in inky blackness. Seated astride this mechanical masterpiece is a man who embodies a paradox of rugged elegance. He possesses a commanding yet lean figure, an epitome of grace and strength that defies the bounds of convention. Draped in a formidable, protective black jacket, his attire is sending your brain into a frenzy. Fitting black jeans encase his legs, while black gloves envelope his hands with a subtle promise of concealed purpose. Each step echoing an aura of intrigue, he dons a pair of black Doc Marten boots, their resolute presence amplifying his enigmatic appeal. Atop the mysterious man’s figure sits a gloss-black helmet, its contours hinting at the mysteries that lie beneath.
With deliberate grace, he lifts the helmet from his head, revealing a crown of luxurious, dark purple locks. Your astonishment lingers in the air, and you can't help but be drawn to the allure of this captivating stranger. To call your fascination mere curiosity would be a gross understatement. Each of his features appears meticulously crafted, from his silver-clad ears adorned with earrings, to a proud and tall nose, and his eyes—those big beguiling orbs that seem to harbor a pool of secrets within. It's a visage that commands attention, the embodiment of an elusive charm that ignites your every sense. In a moment of serendipity, your eyes meet, the spark of connection bridging the gap between strangers. He saunters toward the store adjacent to the bar, a fleeting look of mischief dancing in his eyes. A playful wink and an enigmatic smile are cast in your direction, a wordless invitation that beckons with a magnetic pull. He dismounts from his motorcycle with an elegance that mirrors the grace of a dancer, setting the helmet upon the seat . As he disappears into the depths of the store, the intoxicating combination of your inebriation and the fragile state of your emotions conspire to form a whimsical yet irresistible decision. It's a gravitational force that leaves you with no choice but to step into the store and follow the purple-haired enigma, your heart beating in time with the uncharted journey that awaits.
As the convenience store door chimes melodically with your entry, a tingle of excitement courses through the air. The purple-haired enigma, the pull of destiny that brought you here, stands before you, a magnetic presence that seems to command every aisle. His striking figure exudes an aura that is both electrifying and tantalizing, and you can't help but gravitate toward him. With fluid grace, he reaches into the fridge to retrieve a drink, his movements a mesmerizing dance of confidence. You approach, and behind the cool, glass refrigerator door, your eyes lock in a seductive connection. He acknowledges your presence with a sultry smile that ignites the room. With an air of unshakable self-assuredness, you compliment his sleek motorcycle, your words laced with a smoldering charm. His response is a flirtatious grin, and as he rises to his full, towering height, he gazes down upon you, a titillating hint of promise in his eyes. "Thanks, ever been on a bike before, pretty girl?" he inquires, the huskiness of his voice sending electric shivers down your spine. Butterflies flutter wildly in your stomach as his words hang in the air. You return the provocative banter, testing the waters of this intriguing encounter. “Is this an invitation mr……?.”
“Heeseung. Lee Heeseung.” He introduces himself with a name that rolls off his tongue like a forbidden secret—Lee Heeseung. His playful response drips with allure, and you find yourself ensnared in the the moment. "And maybe it is an invitation… if you're willing to accept, Miss …..”? Your own name tastes sweeter than ever on your lips as you tease him with a hint of coyness, “Yn. Y/ln Yn. And why should I Lee?” Heeseung's perceptive eyes dart to the mascara-stained traces of tears on your face, his gaze tracing the invisible scars etched upon your soul. He tenderly points to your head, his words laden with a quiet understanding. "Judging by the mascara-stained tears on your face, I think a ride would fix whatever troubled that pretty little head of yours." A shy smile dances upon your lips, your heart pounding with a mixture of vulnerability and courage. "Got an extra helmet, then?" You say as acceptance to his offer. Heeseung's smirk deepens, his voice dripping with a seductive promise. "Good girl. Of course I do. You never know who needs a good ride." The air crackles with the electrifying energy of an adventure about to unfurl, as you and Lee Heeseung step into the thrilling unknown, united by the allure of the night.
In one hand, he clutches a tall, foreboding can of Monster energy drink, its vibrant, neon label a stark contrast to the other hand, which cradles a diminutive yellow box adorned with the endearing label "banana milk." The curious combination of his selections hints at the multifaceted personality of the man who has now become your enigmatic companion. With the transaction complete, the two of you emerge from the convenience store, and Heeseung extends a seemingly casual but unmistakably thoughtful gesture—offering you the little yellow box of banana milk. You accept it with a raised eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. "How'd you know I liked this, Lee?" you inquire, your voice touched by intrigue. A mischievous smile graces Heeseung's lips as he leans in a bit closer, and his response dances on the edges of flirtation, causing the butterflies in your stomach to stir with newfound hunger. "Pretty girls, like you, like banana milk," he teases, his words delivered with an artful charm that sends a shiver of excitement coursing through you. Grateful for his gesture, you return the enchanting smile, the air thick with an electrifying tension. As you both make your way toward the magnificent motorcycle that had initially captivated your attention, anticipation courses through your veins, setting your body aglow with excitement. You stand behind Heeseung, observing his every move with eager eyes. With practiced ease, he opens a concealed compartment at the back of the bike, revealing a second helmet that bears a striking silver star on either side. It's a unique touch that adds to the enigma of the man before you. Heeseung places your drinks within the compartment, where the second helmet once resided. With a smooth and assured motion, he secures the compartment and then offers you your designated helmet, a symbol of the adventure you're about to embark on together. As you accept the helmet from his hand, the magnetic connection between you deepens, and the night unfolds with the promise of thrilling secrets yet to be unveiled.
With the banana milk safely stowed and the helmet now snug upon your head, the night holds an air of mystery and excitement as you both approach the waiting motorcycle. Heeseung's slender frame moves with grace as he swings a leg over the sleek, white machine. He turns toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends an electric pulse through your veins. "Make sure you hold on, doll," he says, his voice dipped in a heady blend of charm and raw anticipation. His words are laced with a promise of thrilling adventure, and your heart skips a beat as you grasp the significance of this moment. You eagerly position yourself behind him, forgetting all about your ex boyfriend and the events that took place before. your arms wrapping around his lean waist, fingers instinctively clutching the fabric of his black jacket. The powerful engine roars to life beneath you, its growl a primal invitation to the night. Heeseung's gloved hands deftly manipulate the handlebars, and in an exhilarating surge of acceleration, you both glide out of the convenience store's parking lot and onto the main road. The world becomes a mesmerizing blur of vibrant colors and lights as the motorcycle snakes through the city's labyrinthine streets, framed by beautifully illuminated buildings that reach skyward, a testament to humanity's creativity. The cool night air rushes over you, and the city's pulsating energy envelopes you, offering an intoxicating taste of freedom and escape. As the wind whips through your hair, and the city's mesmerizing lights create a captivating painting, you can't help but feel that you've stepped into a dream. With every twist and turn, Heeseung's driving skill reveals itself, and you're reminded of the harmony between man and machine. In this exhilarating dance through the heart of the city, you're not just a passenger; you're a partner in a thrilling adventure, bound by the allure of the night and the enigmatic man who now shares it with you.
As the motorcycle effortlessly weaves through the city's enchanting streets, Heeseung's lean frame seems to meld with the machine, and you can sense his exhilaration in the subtle movements and graceful leans. Every curve and twist of the road is navigated with a fluidity that suggests an intimate understanding between rider and ride. The city's lights create a dazzling panorama around you, and you revel in the symphony of sensations that surrounds you. After what feels like an eternity of blissful exploration, the first hints of daylight begin to break on the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow upon the cityscape. It's a bittersweet reminder that this enchanting ride must eventually come to an end. With a quiet understanding, Heeseung steers the motorcycle to a stop in front of your home, and the engine's growl reluctantly gives way to the stillness of the early morning. As you dismount the bike, you can't help but feel a mixture of gratitude and a hint of longing for the adventure that has brought you closer. Heeseung turns toward you, his eyes holding a sparkle that mirrors the city's lights. "I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did, pretty girl,” he says, his voice a blend of sincerity and allure. "I did enjoy it, lee.” Your eyes lock onto his, and you can't resist a teasing smile. "I have to admit, I'm not sure if it was the city or the company that made it so enjoyable." He chuckles softly, his gaze lingering on you. "Perhaps it's a bit of both. I hope I made you forget what you were crying about earlier.”
With an air of anticipation, Heeseung closes the enchanting gap between you, his footsteps a playful dance that mirrors the rhythm of your heart. You find yourself drawn closer to him, a mix of curiosity and desire, hoping for a kiss that promises to be electric. But Heeseung, ever the tease, surprises you by gently capturing your hand in his gloved grasp. His lips brush against your knuckles, leaving behind a soft and lingering kiss that sends a thrill down your spine. A mischievous sparkle dances in his eyes as he takes a step back, though his hold on your hand remains. A mischievous smirk plays upon his lips as he takes a step back, and your hands, still intertwined, reluctantly part as the space between you expands. but the connection between your souls remains undeniably strong. Heeseung places your helmet back into the motorcycle's compartment, his every motion a graceful symphony of closure, yet the moment is still heavy with the sweet ache of parting. He retrieves the little yellow box of banana milk, and with a look that speaks of unspoken promises and possibilities, he adds to the enchanting ambiance. As you turn away to make your way inside, your heart swells with emotions, and it's then you hear his voice, soft and filled with affectionate playfulness, "Heads up, princess!" Your head snaps around, your eyes locking onto Heeseung seated on the motorcycle, revving the engine with a fervor that mirrors the passion between you. With a flourish, he tosses the banana milk to you, and you catch it . Your heart flutters like a love-struck bird, and you're left standing there, watching the back of his retreating figure with eyes filled with longing. As the cold morning air surrounds you, you're reminded of the warmth and excitement that has filled this magical night. With a heart full of happiness, you finally turn to head inside.
In the cozy sanctuary of your home, you close the door behind you with a gentle sigh, leaning against it as you bask in the afterglow of this night. The memories of what transpired outside are like a symphony of emotions playing in your heart, each note resonating with the tender and profound love that has blossomed between you and Heeseung. The room envelops you in its intimate embrace, illuminated by the soft, warm glow of the night. As you lean against the door, the walls seem to hold the echoes of the moments shared, and you're overcome by a sense of profound romance that fills the very air you breathe. The night was a love story written in the stars, a story of two souls drawn together by destiny and fueled by a love that's destined to endure. Despite breaking every single rule of stranger danger, you wish this night couldve lasted forever.
As you ascend the stairs to your room, a sense of contentment and longing accompanies you. The banana milk, a sweet reminder of an unforgettable night, finds its place on your bedside table, a silent guardian of your dreams. The room envelops you in its cozy warmth, the atmosphere carrying the residual fragrance of romance and adventure. In the dim light, you prepare for a soothing shower, letting the cascading water wash away the remnants of the night. Your thoughts, however, remain tethered to the enigmatic Lee Heeseung. Questions and desires swirl within your mind, like a gentle storm of emotions.
After the warmth of the shower, you don your pajamas from the night before, their familiarity a source of comfort as you slip between the soft sheets of your bed. Your body, tired but satiated, yearns for rest, yet your heart and mind remain restless, still inextricably tangled in the enchantment of the night. Thoughts of him, like whispers in the night, dance through your mind. "When will I see him again?" and "I wish we had exchanged information" echo in the chambers of your thoughts. Who is this mysterious man, Lee Heeseung, who has touched your heart so deeply? The unanswered questions propel you to flip open your phone, your curiosity overriding the myriad missed calls and texts from your unfaithful ex-boyfriend. Instagram becomes your portal to seek out the enigma named Lee Heeseung.
A sense of disappointment settles over you as your search on various social media platforms yields nothing. Lee Heeseung remains a ghost, elusive and untraceable in the digital realm. It's as if he exists only in the echoes of your memories, and the absence of any digital footprint only adds to his mystique. In your moment of quiet contemplation, a yearning for his presence intensifies. The desire to see him again, to unravel the enigma that is Lee Heeseung, becomes an undeniable ache within you. The thought that he knows where you live, and the lingering memories of your night together, offer a glimmer of hope that he might return. The idea that fate might bring you two together once more fills your heart with anticipation and longing. As you close your eyes and surrender to the night's embrace, you can't help but wonder when the stars will align, and the mysterious Lee Heeseung will reappear in your life.
As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the longing in your heart grew stronger. Spring had arrived, heralding the return of life and the vibrant colors of the world, yet it also marked the lingering absence of Heeseung, the man who had swept into your life as quickly as a shooting star and vanished just as abruptly. Every motorcycle that whizzed past you on the bustling streets of your city drew your attention like a magnet. A spark of curiosity ignited within you, and the questions were ceaseless. "Was that him? Does he still think of me?" These thoughts had woven themselves into the very fabric of your existence, haunting your every moment. The memories of that unforgettable night had become a bittersweet symphony that played on a loop in your mind.
Despite the love and support of your incredible friends, your loving family, and a fulfilling job, the void Heeseung had left in your life persisted. The allure of "what could've been" weighed heavy on your heart, like a melody left unfinished, a dance cut short, or a love story left untold. In the midst of your everyday life, the longing for the man named Lee Heeseung never waned. Your heart carried the echoes of his touch, the memory of his gaze, and the whispers of a love story that had never fully unfurled. With every passing day, your desire for his return only intensified, like a fire that refused to be extinguished.
It was a typical Tuesday, just like any other weekday, as you made your way into the bustling work building, greeted by the friendly faces of your coworkers who had also become your cherished friends. Jake, ever the playful one, couldn't resist bringing up the topic of your elusive Heeseung. "How are you, YN? Still no luck with this Heeseung guy?" he inquired with a mischievous glint in his eye. You let out a dramatic sigh, a playful air of exasperation in your response. "Unfortunately, no, Jake. Trust me, I would've told you if I had any news," you said with a chuckle. Jay, another dear friend of yours, joined the conversation, bringing with him a delightful surprise in the form of coffee for both you and Jake. With a comforting smile, he chimed in, "Don't worry, Ynnie, maybe he lives in a different town and was just there that night for you!" You couldn't help but offer an appreciative grin in response to Jay's attempt at comfort. His words were like a warm embrace, reassuring you in your quest for answers. Then, a new proposal surfaced, and it was Jay who initiated it. "Oh, by the way, Jake and I found out that there's been underground racing events in our city. We've been meaning to check it out. Wanna come with?" At first, you hesitated, but Jay's persuasive nature quickly took hold. "C'mon, YN!" Jake chimed in, adding his own brand of playfulness. "It'll be fun! Who knows, maybe you'll find Heeseung there! … or a different cute motorcycle guy at least." You let out a laugh that admitted defeat. "Okay, okay, I'll check it out with you guys. But if it's boring, you're buying me a burger." Jay quickly agreed to the wager. "Fine. Deal. But it won't be boring!" he declared with unwavering enthusiasm. "Mhm, we'll see," you replied with a sly grin, anticipating the playful adventures that lay ahead with your close friends, all while hoping that amidst the thrills of underground racing, you might find the one you longed for – or perhaps, something equally captivating.
As the workday drew to a close, you bid your colleagues and friends farewell, exchanging a series of cheerful goodbyes and promises to reconvene tomorrow. Last in line to receive your parting words were your friends, and it was Jake who left you with a playful reminder. "We'll pick you up at 10, ynnie~,” he declared with a mischievous glint in his eye. Your response was a melodious giggle as you affectionately ruffled his hair, a signal of your confirmation.
Once home, the weight of the day's responsibilities dissipated like a passing storm. Shoes were unceremoniously discarded, your bag and jacket flung haphazardly onto the floor, and with a contented sigh, you sank into the inviting embrace of your couch. Retrieving your phone, you embarked on a determined quest to research the underground racing scene, the glimmer of hope in your chest steadily growing brighter with every tap of your fingers.
The prospect of possibly encountering Heeseung again ignited a certain spark in your eyes, a fire of desire that refused to be extinguished. Yet, much like the elusive enigma of the man himself, your online investigation yielded no information about these races. It was as though the world had conspired to keep their existence hidden, a fitting scenario for events that were undoubtedly illegal. As you set your phone aside, your thoughts began to spiral in a torrent of what-ifs. What if Heeseung is there, but his interest had always been elsewhere? What if he's not present? What if he doesn't even notice you? These unceasing questions threatened to consume your mind, and you shook your head, as if such an act could dispel these relentless thoughts. Determined to quell the storm of uncertainties that raged within you, you took a deep breath and resolved to face the night with unwavering optimism.
With the plan in place, you had agreed that the guys would hang out at your place before the big race. Jake and Jay, after their workday, rushed home, got dressed for the evening, and then made their way to your doorstep around 7:30. You swung open the door in your comfy pajamas, greeting the duo with warm hugs and bright smiles. "Alright, guys," you chimed in, "I'm going to get ready now. You said we're leaving at 10, right?" They both confirmed your question with a nod, and you headed upstairs to prepare for the night ahead. As you left the living room, the two friends made themselves at home, lounging comfortably on your couch and taking charge of the TV. The anticipation for the evening ahead filled the air, and the sense of camaraderie between the three of you was a reassuring presence, setting the tone for the exciting adventure that lay just around the corner.
Upstairs in your room, you embarked on the grand battle that is getting ready for a night out. The soft glow of your vanity mirror cast a warm light on your determined face as you transformed your appearance for the evening. Your makeup was an elegant fusion of dark and bold, with a smoky eyeliner that accentuated your eyes and a luscious dark red lip gloss that heightened the allure of your lips. The result was a striking look that suited your features beautifully. You took a few moments to curl the ends of your hair, creating soft, cascading waves that reached down to your lower back. These curls were swept up into a high, sleek ponytail, with two delicate strands left loose to elegantly frame your face. Your outfit had been meticulously selected, not only with Heeseung in mind but also with the exciting prospect of possibly meeting someone new at this enigmatic race. Dark red leather pants, designed to hug your curves in all the right ways, were paired with a lace black tank top, adding a touch of sensuality to your ensemble. To complete the look, you adorned yourself with a black and white leather jacket that draped over your shoulders like whipped cream on a tantalizing sundae. In your full-length mirror, you admired the reflection of a confident and captivating woman, well aware of her own allure. A pair of sleek black boots adorned your feet, and you accessorized with a silver necklace featuring a delicate pendant and matching earrings, adding a touch of sophistication to your ensemble. To crown your transformation, you picked up your favorite perfume bottle, and with each spritz, a beautiful aroma enveloped you like a fragrant embrace. The battle of getting ready was won, and you felt like a queen in your own right. With a final glance in the mirror, you knew you looked stunning and were ready to face whatever the night had in store. With your purse in hand, you headed downstairs, prepared to join your friends who were patiently waiting for you.
"DAMN YN!" Jay and Jake exclaimed in unison as you descended the stairs, the sight of your stunning transformation leaving them momentarily breathless. A beaming smile graced your lips as their admiration washed over you. "Thank you, boys," you replied with a gracious nod, giving them a playful twirl to showcase your meticulously chosen outfit. "Do I look good?" you asked, a hint of playful teasing in your voice. "You know you do," Jay responded with a smile, but he was eager to get going. "Now, let's get moving! It's nearly 10:15." You waved off his concern with a nonchalant chuckle. "Oh, please, there's no way these things start right on time. We're fine. Now, let's make a quick stop at the convenience store so I can get a banana milk, pretty please~" you added with a hint of irresistible charm. The two boys, who had been lounging on the couch, rose from their seats with mock exasperation. Jake couldn't help but mutter a resigned, "Yes, ma'am…" as you playfully led the way, heading into the car where you sat in the backseat.
With a refreshing banana milk tucked safely in your purse, courtesy of Jake's wallet, the three of you arrived at the underground racing event. The venue was located beneath a highway bridge in an area you never even knew existed. you were struck by the sheer scale of the place, surrounded by towering structures that seemed to stretch to the heavens. This perspective, seeing the world from a unique angle, made you feel small in the grand scheme of things, a humbling realization that added to the aura of the night. Lost in your contemplation, you were momentarily unaware that Jay and Jake had already exited the car, with Jake gallantly holding the door open for you. He playfully addressed you, "Here we are, princess," and you responded with a light, affectionate hit on his arm, chuckling, "Oh, cut it out, Jaeyun." A playful exchange of names ensued between the two friends as you headed toward the gathering crowd at the starting line, eagerly awaiting the start of the race. You surveyed the bikers as they lined up in their positions, and your attention was drawn to a particular rider who was surrounded by a group of enthusiastic women. The throng of admirers made it difficult to see his face clearly, but you couldn't help but wonder if it might be Heeseung.
The announcer's voice crackled over the radio, calling on the racers to mount their bikes and prepare for the thrilling competition. Jay and Jake signaled that it was time to find your seats, with Jake instinctively taking your hand to guide you and ensure you didn't get lost in the bustling crowd. As you were led to the front row, you couldn't help but scan the racers one last time. The colorful array of bikes and their determined riders filled the scene with an air of excitement. But then, at the far end, you spotted a white bike, and your heart skipped a beat. Could it be Heeseung's bike? The memories of him came rushing back, and you pointed it out to your friends. "Wait, guys, that might be Heeseung's bike," you mentioned, your voice tinged with both hope and anxiety. Jake and Jay exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern. "You think so, YN?" Jay asked, offering a glimmer of doubt. "Maybe it's just a guy with the same motorcycle color as Heeseung, Ynnie. I mean, white bikes aren't that uncommon, right?" Jake reasoned, trying to provide a rational explanation. You shook your head, a familiar gesture you used to clear your thoughts. "Yeah, Jakey, you're probably right. I mean, I haven't seen him in months. It can't be him," you replied, trying to convince yourself as much as your friends. You felt a surge of anxiety but decided to push those thoughts aside and focus on enjoying the race. With the comforting presence of your banana milk, you took a sip and leaned back, hoping that this night would be an adventure to remember, regardless of the outcome.
As the man on the radio commenced announcing the racers' names, an air of anticipation enveloped the crowd. With each name called out, a symphony of revving engines filled the air, punctuated by cheers and applause from the spectators. The excitement was palpable, and you joined in, clapping and cheering for each racer. However, as the announcer neared the end of the line of racers and you waited with bated breath, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. The name you had been hoping to hear, "LEE HEESEUNG," didn't make an appearance. Instead, the announcer declared, "And last but not least, our reigning champion, ACE!" A sigh of regret escaped your lips, revealing your unspoken hope. You observed that the crowd cheered enthusiastically for this "Ace" character, understanding why he had garnered a legion of female admirers. The sense of anticipation still coursed through your veins, but you decided to put aside your initial disappointment and immerse yourself in the exhilarating atmosphere of the race, hopeful that the night would hold some surprises, even if Heeseung's name was absent from the list of competitors.
Snapping you out of your thoughts, Jake directed a question to both you and Jay, inquiring, "Who are you guys rooting for?" Jay was quick to respond, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "I'm rooting for the guy named Jungwon on that bright blue bike. He seems like an underdog, you know?" Jake couldn't resist poking fun at Jay's choice. "So cheesy," he remarked, provoking Jay to playfully flip him off. Turning to you, Jake's curiosity was evident in his expression as he asked, "What about you, YN?" You pondered for a moment, a mischievous glint in your eye as you gave your answer. "Hmm, maybe that Sunghoon guy, on the black bike. He seems hot," you added, punctuating your response with a giggle. Jay shook his head in mock exasperation, but he couldn't hide a smile. "I'm not even surprised." As the three of you continued to chat and enjoy the electric atmosphere, the announcer's voice broke through, "RACERS, START YOUR ENGINES!" The crowd erupted into cheers, blending with the powerful roar of the motorcycles.
"READY…SET…GO!" The announcer's command was met with a symphony of revving engines, and in an instant, the racers sped off on the manmade track, weaving between the imposing pillars of the bridge above. The sound of the engines and the fervent cheers from the crowd captivated you, and your gaze remained fixed on the racers as they disappeared into the distance, the race now in full swing.
The race unfolded with an intoxicating blend of speed, skill, and sheer adrenaline. The racers zipped around the tight corners and weaved through the narrow gaps between the bridge's pillars, their powerful machines roaring like wild beasts. The air was filled with the intoxicating scent of gasoline and burnt rubber, adding to the sensory overload that engulfed the crowd. The race was paired with commentary by the announcer, “In the lead is ace! Are we surprised? That white bike is a godsend!”
As the racers maneuvered with lightning precision, the crowd couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer spectacle before them. Spectators cheered as their chosen favorites powered through the track, and collective gasps echoed through the audience whenever a close call or a daring move occurred. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the shared excitement of everyone in attendance. Another comment was made by the announcer, “Woah! Look at jungwon pulling through and passing ace on his left! Will this be the first race he wins?”
“I told you guys. Always root for the underdog,” Jay chimes, but your eyes are glued to sunghoon and his black bike.
Amidst the collective fervor, you found yourself mesmerized, your eyes locked onto the racers as they sped past. The world outside the race ceased to exist for those moments, and you were drawn into the raw energy of the event, feeling the vibrations of the engines in your chest and the rush of the wind in your hair. “Here come’s sunghoon! Passing jungwon on his right, and making his way towards the finish line!” Says the announcer.
The announcer's voice crackled through the speakers, adding to the electrifying atmosphere. "WOAH, WOAH!! HERE COMES ACE RIGHT BEHIND SUNGHOON! WHO WILL WIN? THE TWO ARE SIDE BY SIDE, WILL IT BE A TIE? THE FINISH LINE IS RIGHT THERE, AND… ALMOST A PHOTO FINISH! BUT THE WINNER OF THE RACE IS SUNGHOON!"
As the crowd erupted in joyous celebration, the cheers of the spectators seemed to reverberate in perfect harmony with the racing engines. You were swept up in the excitement, joining the chorus of voices, and even rising to your feet as you cheered for Sunghoon, the victor of the race. The thrill of witnessing such a close contest was invigorating, and you couldn't help but be caught up in the jubilation around you. With a playful tone and a hint of what-ifs, you turned to your two friends and exclaimed, "Damn, we should've bet on it. Missed opportunity!" The boys laughed along with you, the infectious joy of the moment drawing them into the celebration. Together, you stood and cheered for Sunghoon, basking in the shared experience of witnessing an extraordinary race and its exhilarating conclusion.
The exhilarating atmosphere of the race drew you, Jay, and Jake, along with the rest of the crowd, to approach the racers as they dismounted their bikes. The audience showered the racers with an array of cheers and encouraging words, from "good job!" to "you'll win next time!" to admiring comments about their impressive machines. As you and your friends navigated your way through the dispersing crowd, you found yourselves face to face with Jungwon, the racer who had been your friend Jay's underdog favorite. Eager to express your admiration, you initiated the conversation, addressing him with warmth, "Hey, Jungwon, right? You were so cool! I thought you were gonna win for a second there!" Jungwon's face lit up with gratitude, and he replied with a sincere smile, "Thank you so much! I thought so too, but I had nooo chance against Ace and Sunghoon." Jay, ever the enthusiast, extended a firm handshake in that classic man-to-man fashion. "Bro! I was rooting for you from the start. You'll see me at the next race," he proclaimed with enthusiasm, earning a "thank you" from Jungwon. With that, the three of you moved on to the next racer, Sunghoon, eager to share your appreciation with the winner.
Sunghoon leaned casually on his sleek black bike, a striking figure with an air of confidence that immediately caught your attention. Up close, you couldn't deny how incredibly handsome he looked, and you were taken aback by his allure. Summoning your courage, you approached the winner, introducing yourself in a soft, friendly tone, "Hi Sunghoon, I'm YN. Congrats on the win, handsome." The compliment had its intended effect, and Sunghoon's eyes focused on you. "Well, hello, Miss YN. Nice to meet you," Sunghoon responded with a smirk, revealing a sharp canine tooth and a dimple that sent a shiver down your spine. You felt yourself blushing in response to his charm. Sunghoon's flirtatious banter continued as he inquired, "You were rooting for me, pretty girl?" He leaned in a little closer, his voice dripping with playful seduction. You met his flirtatious challenge with a sly smile. "Maybe… maybe not," you replied, adding a teasing playfulness to your tone. He feigned disappointment, a twinkle in his eye as he teased, "What a shame, I was gonna offer you a ride." Playing along, you flirtatiously touched his arm, your confidence growing with every word. "Oh, come on, Hoonie, of course I was rooting for you," you confessed with a playful eye roll, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. Sunghoon rewarded your playful admission by tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and for that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to the two of you, engaged in a playful dance of flirtation amidst the post-race excitement. The nickname you garnered for him was definitely working in your favor.
You were so deeply engrossed in your conversation with Sunghoon that you remained oblivious to the intense gaze fixed upon you from the second-place racer, Ace. He watched you with something akin to jealousy, uncertain whether he should approach. Leaving you and Sunghoon in your own world, Jay and Jake made their way over to Ace to offer their congratulations. Jake, always one for humor, attempted to lighten the mood with a lighthearted comment. "Hey, man! You were so cool out there. Second place is still good. Don't be discouraged. I'm sure all these girls still want you," he quipped, though he hadn't realized that Ace's attention was on him. Ace's initial jealousy quickly transformed into a friendly demeanor as he responded, "Yo, thanks for that, haha. Almost won, but I'll win the next one for sure." Jay chimed in with an encouraging pat on Ace's shoulder before the two of them began to walk away. However, Ace couldn’t keep it to himself. He called out to Jay and Jake, nodding in your direction while still engaged in conversation with Sunghoon. "Hey, do you know that girl?" he inquired, his interest piqued. Jay answered without hesitation, a friendly tone in his voice as he looked back toward Ace. "Yeah, that’s yn! We're friends. She came here with us," he explained, his focus now shifting as he moved away from the racer, joining Jake in heading back in your direction, leaving Ace with his thoughts as you continued your conversation with Sunghoon.
As the evening wound down and Jay and Jake were ready to head home, you and Sunghoon decided to exchange numbers, creating a playful connection. Sunghoon, with a charming wink, remarked, "Call me when you wanna ride, beautiful." Your response was just as flirty, "I'll call you when I want to, Hoonie," and you playfully blew him a kiss. As you began to walk away, ready to rejoin your friends in the car, Sunghoon made his way over to Ace, eager to share his little victory. "Bro, I just got the hottest girl's number, and—" Sunghoon began, but before he could finish, Ace roared away on his bike, his jealousy simmering beneath the surface. With your two friends already in the car, you confidently made your way toward them, your spirits high. For that moment, Heeseung had slipped from your thoughts, and the excitement of connecting with Sunghoon filled your mind. However, just as you were about ten feet away from Jay's car, a white motorcycle suddenly cut in front of you, blocking your path to your friends. Startled, you took a step back, your heart racing, and realized that the rider was one of the racers. You cautiously addressed him, "Oh, Jesus Christ, you scared me. Ace, right?" His helmet obscured his face as he nodded, and he proceeded to take it off, revealing his identity.
Your heart sank as the white helmet came off, revealing the vibrant purple hair that had grown longer since you last saw him. The shock washed over you like a tidal wave, and your eyes scanned his familiar face, unable to believe that he was standing there before you, just as he had been months ago. His eyes, large and twinkling, bore into yours, the same way they had done when you first met. "H-Heeseung?" was all you could manage to stammer. The excitement you had felt only moments ago had evaporated, replaced by a rush of tears welling up in your eyes. Every emotion you had held back for months now poured out, glistening like rivers of glittering light. The overwhelming flood of feelings left you lost and unsure of how to proceed. Heeseung spoke, his voice breaking the silence, "Yn, I missed you pretty girl.” But you couldn't handle it. The anger and sadness mixed inside you, driving you to act on impulse. "I can't do this right now, Heeseung. I-I gotta go," you uttered, your voice quivering with raw emotion. You turned and ran towards Jay's car, where the two boys had witnessed the entire interaction. Climbing into the vehicle, you were met with a barrage of concerning questions from your friends. "I'll answer once you start driving. Please. Please start driving," you implored. Jay promptly obeyed your request and sped out of the lot, the car now on the road, the boys eager to ask their questions.
Jake spoke up first, his voice tinged with disbelief, "Yn, who was that?" "Heeseung…" you replied, your voice quivering. "Oh my god, what?!" Jake exclaimed. "Heeseung? Like in, Heeseung Heeseung?" Jay asked, his surprise mirroring Jake's. "Yes, Jay. Heeseung Heeseung. Oh my god, what was he doing there?" you lamented, your words spilling out in a mixture of confusion and emotion. "Wait, isn't this what you wanted, Yn? Why are you so upset?" Jake inquired, trying to make sense of your reaction. You paused, a heavy sigh escaping your lips before you responded, "…because… where has he been? I've spent months, nearly half a year wondering when he'd show up—waiting for him like some lost puppy. And now all of a sudden, I see him today, surrounded by a crowd of girls, only talking to me because I was hitting it off with Sunghoon? I just… I just don't know what's going on. And just now, he says he missed me? Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. He knows where I live; if he missed me so much, he would've visited. I waited months, guys. MONTHS. I just… I'm so—" Jay cut off your rambling rant, his voice filled with understanding and empathy. "Yn, my love, it's okay. Let's get you that burger." In your teary, emotional state, you couldn't help but let out a faint laugh, appreciating Jay's attempt to lighten the mood. Jake reached his hand to the backseat to comfort you, and you clung to it as he gently rubbed circles into your hand. As you sat there, feeling a whirlwind of emotions and confusion, you were grateful that your friends were by your side, offering their support and understanding in your time of need.
With the comforting presence of your friends and the burger in your stomach, you finally arrived home. Jay and Jake had offered to spend the night with you, but you assured them that you appreciated their support but wanted some time alone with your thoughts. Feeling too drained to remove your makeup and outfit, you flopped onto your couch, face-first, and screamed into a throw pillow. The weight of the day and the unexpected encounter with Heeseung left your mind in a tumultuous state. As you lay there, lost in your thoughts, exhaustion overcame you, and you drifted into an uneasy slumber. Some odd hours later, you were startled awake by a persistent knocking on your door. At first, you attempted to ignore it, hoping the person would go away, but the knocking persisted. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself up and went to inspect the door through the peephole. What you saw on the other side took your breath away: a head of purple hair, Heeseung, standing at your doorstep.
Anger surged through your body as you swung the door open, and a torrent of questions spilled from your lips, "What do you want? Why are you here? Why did it take you so long to see me?" The frustration that had been simmering inside you for months finally found its voice, and it was directed squarely at the person who could provide answers. Heeseung began to speak, attempting to explain himself, but you couldn't bear to let him finish. The words tumbled out of you, fueled by the emotions that had been building up over time. "No, Heeseung. Do you know how long I've been waiting for you? How much I wished every motorcycle that passed me on the street was you? I've been so…" The emotional dam broke, and tears cascaded down your cheeks as your voice quivered with pent-up pain and frustration. Heeseung, rather than offering words, brought you into a gentle embrace, his strong arms wrapping around you, and his hand softly patting your head. His voice was a soothing whisper in your ear, "Shh, shh… I'm here now, pretty girl. I'm here. I'm sorry." His comforting presence and reassuring touch allowed you to release your bottled-up emotions. You allowed yourself to cry in his arms, feeling a mixture of anger, relief, and longing all at once. Despite your anger at him in this moment, you couldn't deny that his embrace was warm and welcoming, and it offered a sense of solace that you hadn't realized you had been yearning for.
You and heeseung were now sitting on the couch, cuddling in the darkness of your living room. You decide to break the silence, “Can we talk now, hee?” He begins to play with your hair, offering you a quiet hum in response. “Where have you been? Why haven’t you visited me?” You ask the questions that plagued your mind the most. "Yn, I'm truly sorry for disappearing like that. I had my reasons, but I understand how much it hurt you. I needed some time to sort things out in my life. It's not an excuse, but I want you to know that I've missed you every day, and I regret not being there for you. I'm here now, and I want to make it right, if you'll have me" he answers. “How do I know you’re telling the truth, heeseung? I mean, the first time I saw you today, you were surrounded by all these girls, and how do I know you won’t leave again?” You ask. "I understand your doubts, baby, and I don't blame you for being cautious. The girls today were just fans, and I was trying to keep a low profile. I promise you, I won't disappear again. I want to make it up to you and prove that I'm committed to being in your life. Actions speak louder than words, and I'm willing to show you through my actions that you can trust me." You let out a quiet sigh, “I want to trust you heeseung, I really do. But Im so scared of getting hurt again. Why did you decide to help me out that one day? The day we met? Do you do that to other girls? "I completely understand your fear, Yn. I helped you that day because you seemed like someone genuinely in need, and I felt a connection with you from the start. I don't do that for other girls; our meeting was special and unique. I can't promise you won't ever get hurt, but I can promise that I'll do my best to be there for you and be honest with you. I want to make things right between us. Seriously, my pretty girl” heeseung claims, shifting his body so you guys are face to face now.
As Yn looked into Heeseung's eyes, she saw a sincerity she hadn't seen in a long time. Her heart was still cautious, but the warmth of his embrace had melted some of the ice around it. "Let's take it one step at a time, my “love Heeseung said gently. "I won't rush you, and I'll do my best to earn your trust. We can figure this out together, princess.” Yn nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She was unsure of what the future held, but for the first time in months, she felt a glimmer of hope. As the night continued, they talked, laughed, and shared stories. Yn realized that Heeseung had changed, and maybe she had too. They both had scars, but perhaps together, they could heal. The story of Yn and Heeseung wasn't over; it was just beginning. And for the first time in a long time, they both felt like they were exactly where they were supposed to be.
“Lee Heeseung, if you disappear on me again, I swear to god. Don’t forget I still have sunghoon’s number!” You playfully hit Heeseung. “Okay, okay! Message received ma’am! Now I have a question.” You respond with a hum. “Now who was that boy holding your hand earlier? At the race? Hm?” You laugh and respond teasingly, “Baby, that’s Jake. You really don’t have to worry about him. He’s like my little puppy!”
“My love, you do realize how wrong that sounds?” Heeseung laughs.
© luvrseung - do not plagiarize, repost, translate, copy, or alter any of my content please and thank you.
#enhypen#enhypen angst#enhypen imagines#enhypen reactions#enhypen x reader#enhypen x y/n#enhypen ff#enhypen niki#park sunghoon#enhypen jake#heeseung x reader#heeseung#heeseung imagine#enhypennetwork#ficscafe#enhypen jay
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Every internet fight is a speech fight
THIS WEEKEND (November 8-10), I'll be in TUCSON, AZ: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.
My latest Locus Magazine column is "Hard (Sovereignty) Cases Make Bad (Internet) Law," an attempt to cut through the knots we tie ourselves in when speech and national sovereignty collide online:
https://locusmag.com/2024/11/cory-doctorow-hard-sovereignty-cases-make-bad-internet-law/
This happens all the time. Indeed, the precipitating incident for my writing this column was someone commenting on the short-lived Brazilian court order blocking Twitter, opining that this was purely a matter of national sovereignty, with no speech dimension.
This is just profoundly wrong. Of course any rules about blocking a communications medium will have a free-speech dimension – how could it not? And of course any dispute relating to globe-spanning medium will have a national sovereignty dimension.
How could it not?
So if every internet fight is a speech fight and a sovereignty fight, which side should we root for? Here's my proposal: we should root for human rights.
In 2013, Edward Snowden revealed that the US government was illegally wiretapping the whole world. They were able to do this because the world is dominated by US-based tech giants and they shipped all their data stateside for processing. These tech giants secretly colluded with the NSA to help them effect this illegal surveillance (the "Prism" program) – and then the NSA stabbed them in the back by running another program ("Upstream") where they spied on the tech giants without their knowledge.
After the Snowden revelations, countries around the world enacted "data localization" rules that required any company doing business within their borders to keep their residents' data on domestic servers. Obviously, this has a human rights dimension: keeping your people's data out of the hands of US spy agencies is an important way to defend their privacy rights. which are crucial to their speech rights (you can't speak freely if you're being spied on).
So when the EU, a largely democratic bloc, enacted data localization rules, they were harnessing national soveriegnty in service to human rights.
But the EU isn't the only place that enacted data-localization rules. Russia did the same thing. Once again, there's a strong national sovereignty case for doing this. Even in the 2010s, the US and Russia were hostile toward one another, and that hostility has only ramped up since. Russia didn't want its data stored on NSA-accessible servers for the same reason the USA wouldn't want all its' people's data stored in GRU-accessible servers.
But Russia has a significantly poorer human rights record than either the EU or the USA (note that none of these are paragons of respect for human rights). Russia's data-localization policy was motivated by a combination of legitimate national sovereignty concerns and the illegitimate desire to conduct domestic surveillance in order to identify and harass, jail, torture and murder dissidents.
When you put it this way, it's obvious that national sovereignty is important, but not as important as human rights, and when they come into conflict, we should side with human rights over sovereignty.
Some more examples: Thailand's lesse majeste rules prohibit criticism of their corrupt monarchy. Foreigners who help Thai people circumvent blocks on reportage of royal corruption are violating Thailand's national sovereignty, but they're upholding human rights:
https://www.vox.com/2020/1/24/21075149/king-thailand-maha-vajiralongkorn-facebook-video-tattoos
Saudi law prohibits criticism of the royal family; when foreigners help Saudi women's rights activists evade these prohibitions, we violate Saudi sovereignty, but uphold human rights:
https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-55467414
In other words, "sovereignty, yes; but human rights even moreso."
Which brings me back to the precipitating incidents for the Locus column: the arrest of billionaire Telegram owner Pavel Durov in France, and the blocking of billionaire Elon Musk's Twitter in Brazil.
How do we make sense of these? Let's start with Durov. We still don't know exactly why the French government arrested him (legal systems descended from the Napoleonic Code are weird). But the arrest was at least partially motivated by a demand that Telegram conform with a French law requiring businesses to have a domestic agent to receive and act on takedown demands.
Not every takedown demand is good. When a lawyer for the Sackler family demanded that I take down criticism of his mass-murdering clients, that was illegitimate. But there is such a thing as a legitimate takedown: leaked financial information, child sex abuse material, nonconsensual pornography, true threats, etc, are all legitimate targets for takedown orders. Of course, it's not that simple. Even if we broadly agree that this stuff shouldn't be online, we don't necessarily agree whether something fits into one of these categories.
This is true even in categories with the brightest lines, like child sex abuse material:
https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2016/sep/09/facebook-reinstates-napalm-girl-photo
And the other categories are far blurrier, like doxing:
https://www.kenklippenstein.com/p/trump-camp-worked-with-musks-x-to
But just because not every takedown is a just one, it doesn't follow that every takedown is unjust. The idea that companies should have domestic agents in the countries where they operate isn't necessarily oppressive. If people who sell hamburgers from a street-corner have to register a designated contact with a regulator, why not someone who operates a telecoms network with 900m global users?
Of course, requirements to have a domestic contact can also be used as a prelude to human rights abuses. Countries that insist on a domestic rep are also implicitly demanding that the company place one of its employees or agents within reach of its police-force.
Just as data localization can be a way to improve human rights (by keeping data out of the hands of another country's lawless spy agencies) or to erode them (by keeping data within reach of your own country's lawless spy agencies), so can a requirement for a local agent be a way to preserve the rule of law (by establishing a conduit for legitimate takedowns) or a way to subvert it (by giving the government hostages they can use as leverage against companies who stick up for their users' rights).
In the case of Durov and Telegram, these issues are especially muddy. Telegram bills itself as an encrypted messaging app, but that's only sort of true. Telegram does not encrypt its group-chats, and even the encryption in its person-to-person messaging facility is hard to use and of dubious quality.
This is relevant because France – among many other governments – has waged a decades-long war against encrypted messaging, which is a wholly illegitimate goal. There is no way to make an encrypted messaging tool that works against bad guys (identity thieves, stalkers, corporate and foreign spies) but not against good guys (cops with legitimate warrants). Any effort to weaken end-to-end encrypted messaging creates broad, significant danger for every user of the affected service, all over the world. What's more, bans on end-to-end encrypted messaging tools can't stand on their own – they also have to include blocks of much of the useful internet, mandatory spyware on computers and mobile devices, and even more app-store-like control over which software you can install:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/05/theyre-still-trying-to-ban-cryptography/
So when the French state seizes Durov's person and demands that he establish the (pretty reasonable) minimum national presence needed to coordinate takedown requests, it can seem like this is a case where national sovereignty and human rights are broadly in accord.
But when you consider that Durov operates a (nominally) encrypted messaging tool that bears some resemblance to the kinds of messaging tools the French state has been trying to sabotage for decades, and continues to rail against, the human rights picture gets rather dim.
That is only slightly mitigated by the fact that Telegram's encryption is suspect, difficult to use, and not applied to the vast majority of the communications it serves. So where do we net out on this? In the Locus column, I sum things up this way:
Telegram should have a mechanism to comply with lawful takedown orders; and
those orders should respect human rights and the rule of law; and
Telegram should not backdoor its encryption, even if
the sovereign French state orders it to do so.
Sovereignty, sure, but human rights even moreso.
What about Musk? As with Durov in France, the Brazilian government demanded that Musk appoint a Brazilian representative to handle official takedown requests. Despite a recent bout of democratic backsliding under the previous regime, Brazil's current government is broadly favorable to human rights. There's no indication that Brazil would use an in-country representative as a hostage, and there's nothing intrinsically wrong with requiring foreign firms doing business in your country to have domestic representatives.
Musk's response was typical: a lawless, arrogant attack on the judge who issued the blocking order, including thinly veiled incitements to violence.
The Brazilian state's response was multi-pronged. There was a national blocking order, and a threat to penalize Brazilians who used VPNs to circumvent the block. Both measures have obvious human rights implications. For one thing, the vast majority of Brazilians who use Twitter are engaged in the legitimate exercise of speech, and they were collateral damage in the dispute between Musk and Brazil.
More serious is the prohibition on VPNs, which represents a broad attack on privacy-enhancing technology with implications far beyond the Twitter matter. Worse still, a VPN ban can only be enforced with extremely invasive network surveillance and blocking orders to app stores and ISPs to restrict access to VPN tools. This is wholly disproportionate and illegitimate.
But that wasn't the only tactic the Brazilian state used. Brazilian corporate law is markedly different from US law, with fewer protections for limited liability for business owners. The Brazilian state claimed the right to fine Musk's other companies for Twitter's failure to comply with orders to nominate a domestic representative. Faced with fines against Spacex and Tesla, Musk caved.
In other words, Brazil had a legitimate national sovereignty interest in ordering Twitter to nominate a domestic agent, and they used a mix of somewhat illegitimate tactics (blocking orders), extremely illegitimate tactics (threats against VPN users) and totally legitimate tactics (fining Musk's other companies) to achieve these goals.
As I put it in the column:
Twitter should have a mechanism to comply with lawful takedown orders; and
those orders should respect human rights and the rule of law; and
banning Twitter is bad for the free speech rights of Twitter users in Brazil; and
banning VPNs is bad for all Brazilian internet users; and
it’s hard to see how a Twitter ban will be effective without bans on VPNs.
There's no such thing as an internet policy fight that isn't about national sovereignty and speech, and when the two collide, we should side with human rights over sovereignty. Sovereignty isn't a good unto itself – it's only a good to the extent that is used to promote human rights.
In other words: "Sovereignty, sure, but human rights even moreso."
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/06/brazilian-blowout/#sovereignty-sure-but-human-rights-even-moreso
Image: © Tomas Castelazo, www.tomascastelazo.com (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Border_Wall_at_Tijuana_and_San_Diego_Border.jpg
CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/
#speech#free speech#free expression#crypto wars#national sovereignty#elon musk#twitter#blocking orders#pavel durov#telegram#lawful interception#snowden#data localization#russia#brazil#france#cybercrime treaty#bernstein#eff#malcolm turnbull#chat control
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✨D.D. MASTERLIST ✨
[banner and dividers created by @saradika]
[DRABBLES]
At Fault (1.7k words)
Common Mistake (1.8k)
Deep Blue, but You Painted Me Golden (1.8k)
Familiar & Unfamiliar (4.1k)
I Miss You, I Miss You Too (0.5k)
In a Perfect World, You Love Me (6.9k) // Perfect World pt. II (2.5k)
Language Barrier (1.0k words)
Lost in the Light (1.4k)
Ni Ceta, Cyar’ika (7.8k) // I Love You, Cyar’ika (4.5k)
⏤ Do You Want Me, Cyar’ika: HAPPY END (6.7k), DARK END (5.1k)
Not Like This (1.3k words) // Not You (2.3k words)
One Hundred and Fifty Seven (4.1k words)
That’s Not My Name (632 words)
din djarin x female!reader
Playlist
Older!Grogu Inspo Art
summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.
✨: signifies a ‘AFS’ deleted scene/drabble!
#01: Two Porgs, One Blaster
#02: Are You Trying to Say Bear?
#03: Marshal Daddy
#04: Mayfeld Didn't Mean to Step on Him
✨#4.5: He is a Quick One✨
#05: Wife Material
#06: Trikar'la, Buir!
#07: Soran
✨#7.5: Like The Wizards✨
#08: You're His Home
#09: Buir, Grogu, Ma
✨#9.5: Ma’s Got You✨
#10: Show Off
#11: You Didn’t
#12: Grogu, Grogu, Baby, It’s Okay
#13: The Danger Has Passed, Cyar’ika
#14: Am I Making You Quiver?
#15: Mando Looks Like He Knows How to Fuck
#16: I Don’t Want It to Be a Sin
#17: Close Your Eyes, Ner Kar’ta
✨#MID 17: Take a Break, Doc✨
#18: Talk About a Power Couple
#19: My Boys Needed Me
#20: Short Stick Bears His Wrath
#21: Made of the Right Stuff
#22: Like Father, Like Son
#23: It’s a Surprise
✨#23.5: Am I Close to Redemption?✨
#24: Right Between Your Thighs
din djarin x female!reader
summary: It was like fate or destiny had planned from the beginning for you to be on the run from the law. With the words ‘I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold’ adorning your rib cage you always wondered what was worse: Knowing you were bound to being wanted or realizing your soulmate was a cursed bounty hunter. You had a mission to finish and no bounty hunter, soulmate or not, was going to stop you.
#01: Unstoppable Force Meets Immovable Object
#02: Falling For You
#03: Call it Fate, Destiny, Call it Luck
#04: Cool Motive, Still Murder
#05: Right Person, Wrong Time
#06: Partners in Crime
#07: A Favor For a Friend
#08: But You’re Still a Traitor
[SEVEN DAYS]
Cowboy!Din Djarin x Female!Reader
Summary: The Mandalorian, a morally gray and hardened bounty hunter, makes a decision that alters the course of his fate and yours. As your two very different worlds collide, you learn the Mandalorian is more than his reputation has led you to believe, and you have only seven days to decide if saving his life would be worth destroying your own.
DAY ONE
DAY TWO
DAY THREE
DAY FOUR
DAY FIVE
DAY SIX
DAY SEVEN
AFTER
#the mandalorian#mandalorian x reader#mandalorian x you#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#protective din djarin#good dad din djarin#din djarin#star wars#din djarin masterlist
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Back home p.12
Hii guyss, here's part 12 of the story. If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist and if you missed part 11, here it is.
Your life in Monaco was idyllic, growing up alongside the Leclercs. But everything changes when you're forced to leave. Now, returning to the place you once called home, you're confronted with a dilemma: not one, but two Leclerc brothers vying for your heart. Old bonds and unresolved emotions collide-what will you do when the past and present merge in unexpected ways?
The morning sun filters softly through the curtains, and as you stir awake, you realize you’re wrapped in Charles’s arms, his chest rising and falling against your back. Strangely, there’s no awkwardness; it feels natural, as if you both belong there. You’re enveloped in his warmth, and for a quiet moment, you simply savor the feeling. Slowly, you turn, and he stirs awake, blinking a few times before his lips curve into a soft smile.
“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice a little raspy from sleep.
“Morning,” you whisper back, a smile creeping onto your face.
A few minutes later, you’re both dressed and ready, and Charles guides you out of the hotel and into the bustling paddock. Cameras flash, but he keeps you close, expertly shielding you from the media frenzy. You’ve barely taken in the sights when you arrive at Ferrari’s motorhome, and Charles turns to face you with a grin, pulling his signature cap from his bag. He tugs it down on your head gently, giving you an amused look.
“You’ll need this. I expect to hear your cheers even from the car,” he teases, adjusting the cap on your head.
You laugh, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, I’ll make sure you hear me, Leclerc.”
He grins, and in a moment of spontaneous warmth, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he says, his voice low and sincere as he looks into your eyes. The world around you fades, and for a moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you.
Just then, your phone starts vibrating persistently in your pocket, breaking the trance. You glance at the screen and see Arthur’s name flashing.
“Oh,” you say, breaking into a slightly nervous smile. “It’s Arthur.”
Charles’s expression changes subtly, but he masks it with a quick smile. He releases you, stepping back, though his hand lingers on yours for just a second longer. “Better take it,” he says, his voice warm but with a hint of something unreadable in his eyes.
As you answer the call, Arthur’s familiar voice fills your ear. "Hey, just wanted to check in. How’s it going?”
You glance back at Charles, who’s already striding confidently towards the Ferrari garage, giving you one last wave. “It’s great,” you say, “just… great.” You hold the phone close as you watch Charles disappear into the Ferrari garage, his last glance making your heart beat faster.
“Arthur?” you say, shifting to a quieter spot. “So far, everything’s been amazing. Charles has been… well, honestly, he’s been incredible.” You can practically feel Arthur’s silence on the other end of the line, but you continue, biting your lip nervously. “Actually, I have something to tell you… but you have to promise you’ll keep it between us, okay?”
Arthur’s voice comes through, trying to sound casual. “Of course, anything for you. What is it?”
You take a deep breath, feeling your cheeks warm. “I think… I think I might have feelings for Charles. I don’t know; it’s just, this whole trip has been—”
Arthur cuts in, his voice strained but controlled. “Y/N, you know Charles. He’s… well, he’s been talking to some girls on Instagram lately. Pretty regularly, actually.” His tone is casual, almost as if he’s mentioning it offhand, but each word hurts you more. “I mean, I just thought you should know. Might be better if you didn’t get your hopes up.”
The air around you seems to shift, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to think. “Oh… really?” you say softly, your chest tightening.
Arthur lets out a faint sigh, though his hand clenches around the phone on his end. “Yeah. Look, I’m just looking out for you. I don’t want you getting hurt. You’re important to me, Y/N.” He pauses, his voice softening. “Maybe… maybe it’s best if you don’t put too much stock in Charles.”
Your head feels a little heavier with the news, but Arthur’s voice sounds so sincere, like he truly cares. “Thanks, Arthur. I appreciate you looking out for me.”
“Always,” he replies, his voice low and possessive, though you don’t quite catch it. “Just remember, I’m here for you—whenever you need me.” You finish your conversation with Arthur, his words lingering in your mind like a shadow over the excitement you’d been feeling. He said he was just looking out for you, and you know he cares, but somehow, his words have left a weight in your chest.
“Y/N?” Charles’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look up to find him watching you with a gentle smile. “I’m heading out for some tests now. I’ll be back soon, okay?”
You nod, giving him a small smile, but it’s not as bright as before. Charles notices immediately, his expression shifting. “Hey… you okay?”
“Yeah,�� you reply, trying to sound upbeat, but there’s a distance in your tone that surprises even you. “I’m just… good luck out there.” You force another smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.
Charles looks at you, frowning slightly, like he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong. He steps a little closer, placing a hand on your arm. “Are you sure? You seem… different.”
You glance down, feeling suddenly unsure if you should share what Arthur said. But you don’t want to burden him before his tests, so you nod quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Go on—focus on your practice. I’ll be cheering from here.” You manage a soft laugh, trying to ease his worry.
His eyes linger on you for a moment, as if he’s searching for answers, but then he nods slowly. “Alright, if you say so.” He gives you a reassuring squeeze on the arm before stepping back. “Just know, I’m here if you need me, okay?”
You give him a nod, watching as he walks off with a hint of reluctance, casting one more glance over his shoulder before disappearing down the paddock.
Tag list: @iamapersonwholikesunicorns, @janeh22, @victoriaholland, @abq654, @iamapersonwholikesunicorns, @anaferreira-4, @larastark3107, @itgirlofthecenturysposts, @boherahpsody, @iamkaku, @jz12, @boherahpsody, @urfavouritef1girly, @meglouise00, @charlesgirl16
#f1#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#formula 1#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc#arthur leclerc x female reader#arthur leclerc x y/n#arthur leclerc x reader#arthur leclerc imagine#arthur leclerc
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i’m listening to ts rn so u guys are getting this 😇 hope you like it i think we need more cc fluff
plot: it’s the morning after a new year’s eve party with the team, hosted at your and caitlin’s apartment. you guys are cleaning up and caitlin tells you how grateful she is for you.
New Year’s Day - Caitlin Clark x Reader
15. 14. 13. 12. 11.…the entirety of the Iowa women’s basketball team watched the tv waiting in anticipation for the ball on the screen to drop, signifying the new year. You were in your junior year at Iowa, and had loved it thus far. While watching the clock your mind wandered to all the things that had happened that year.
10. 9. 8… Women’s college basketball’s popularity had grown exponentially, and so had your team’s success. You had gotten closer with your teammates.
7. 6… You’d injured your knee and had to be out for almost a month, but you had a great support system behind you.
5. 4… You looked next to you and there she was. Your favorite thing that happened to you all year; your girlfriend, Caitlin Clark. She had been your teammate all throughout your college career, but the two of you had only started to explore the romantic tension that lingered between the two of you this past year. It was the best thing you’d ever done. Caitlin noticed your eyes on her and stared back at you. She smirked and wrapped an arm around your shoulder.
“See something you like?” You rolled your eyes are your overly-cocky girlfriend, but leaned into her touch. You were still staring at her, and she was staring back. Her smile took you to another planet. It was almost like time froze and nobody else was there. Nobody else mattered when you locked eyes with her. It was you and her against the world. Alas, the noise grew louder the lower the numbers counted down to. Before you knew it everyone was chanting, “3! 2! 1!”
“Happy New Year!” Everyone cheered as the ball on the glowing television dropped. You grabbed the side of Caitlin’s face and turned it back to you, colliding your lips together. It was a sweet, but passionate kiss that definitely lasted a little longer than appropriate for a public setting. When you finally released her face from your grasp she looked at you stunned.
“What?” You looked at her with doe eyes, “I thought that’s what couples were supposed to do on New Year’s?” Caitlin smiled at you and pulled you closer to her, at a loss for words. She had definitely hit the jackpot. Soon enough, everyone said their ‘goodbyes’ and goodnights’ and you and Caitlin were left alone in your apartment. You looked over and her fondly, then looked back at the mess on the floor and grimaced. There were beer cans, bottles, confetti, anything you could imagine it was on your floor. You started to groan at the thought of having to pick it all up and Caitlin pulled you into her chest, resting her chin on top of her head.
“Let’s go to bed baby, we can clean up in the morning,” and just like that, she was leading you to your bedroom.
—
The next morning you woke up in Caitlin’s arms, just like usual. The light peered in throw the blinds in rays that accentuated the green in her eyes. You buried your head into her neck trying to avoid looking directly into the light and breathed in the faint smell of her perfume she wore last night. Caitlin stirred and held you even tighter.
Since it was the first day of the new year, you wanted to start things off on the right foot. You got out of bed and got ready, throwing on some sweatpants and one of your girlfriend’s hoodies, then headed to the kitchen to make the two of you some breakfast. Caitlin followed suit closely behind you, and after breakfast you got to work picking up the remains of last night’s party.
You swept glitter off the floor while Caitlin started picking up bottles. Every once in a while, Caitlin stole glances at you. Everytime Caitlin wasn’t looking at you, you were stealing glances at her. You walked past Caitlin on your way to dump the glitter in the trash and brushed past her arm, desperate for her touch. Feeling sentimental after thinking about how grateful you were for everything that happened in the part year, you walked back to where she was and rubbed her arm. You looked down and saw she had a polaroid in her hand. After further inspection, you saw it was the two of you mid-kiss. She turned to you, “this is so cute, Y/n, who took it?” You simply shrugged. You had no idea, but it sure was cute!
“Cait I-“
“I love you so much babe. I’m so happy I get to go into another year with you!” She cut you off, but it was okay because she was adorable and what you had to say was pretty much exactly what she said. You wrapped your arms around her neck, holding onto your memories and onto her. You pecked her on the lips, leaving her wanted more. “That better not be the last New Year’s kiss I ever get from you.” She laughed and kissed your forehead, “trust me, it was the first of many. Wanna take a break? You know my resolution was actually to spend some more quality time with you this year!” She winked and you knew exactly what she meant.
#wlw post#iowa wbb#caitlin clark x reader#caitlin clark#caitlin clark x oc#iowa hawkeyes#iowa women’s basketball#indiana fever x reader
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When We Collide
Chapter 11
Chapter Summary: Agatha sneaks into your house, and an already risky plan takes an unexpected, and even riskier, turn.
Word Count: 3.4k
A/N: I know this update took forever and I am so sorry, work and life in general have been crazy lately. Writing has been such a slow process, and finding the time to sit down and focus has been hella hard.
That said, I’m so grateful for your patience and support—it truly means the world to me. Every comment, like, and bit of encouragement keeps me motivated to push through, even when things feel overwhelming. I hope this chapter was worth the wait and that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed crafting it.
Thank you for sticking with me through this journey. Your love for this story keeps me going 💜
Chapter Index
Read on AO3
It feels like you’ve been hiding in the shadows of your garden for hours. You have no idea how much time has passed or how long Agatha has been inside.
Seconds stretch into minutes, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve been waiting an eternity.
The night grows colder and heavier with each passing second, the chill creeps through your dress, your eyes fixed on the darkened windows above. The faint glow of the kitchen light spills onto the ground, a subtle but constant reminder of your mother’s presence inside.
You clench your hands into fists at your sides, trying to still the growing unease coiling in your chest. The plan had seemed straightforward at the time: get Agatha inside, have her pretend to be you, and wait for her to open the window. But now, as you stand in the biting cold, the enormity of the risks begins to gnaw at you.
Agatha doesn’t know your mother. Not the way you do.
She doesn’t know the sharp edge to her voice, the way her words cut deeper than her glares. She doesn’t know the little tells, the moments when her mood shifts and it’s better to stay quiet than risk provoking her. And most importantly, Agatha doesn’t know the intricate, tense dance you’ve perfected over years of enduring her.
The weight of it all suddenly feels crushing. You shift uneasily, your breathing shallow as your thoughts spiral. What if your mother notices something’s off? What if Agatha hesitates or says the wrong thing? What if she tries to talk her way out of something and slips up?
You bite down on your lip, forcing yourself to breathe slower, deeper. But the thoughts don’t stop.
What if your mother catches her before she even reaches your room? What if she figures out the truth? What would she do - to Agatha, to you - if she realized the extent of this betrayal? Your mind conjures up a dozen worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.
A sharp gust of wind pulls you from your spiraling thoughts, and you glance down instinctively at the small bundle of fur near your feet. The rabbit, Agatha’s rabbit, sits quietly in the shadows beside you, its nose twitching as it sniffs the night air. Its presence is steady, calm, almost indifferent to the storm raging in your head.
You crouch down slightly, your fingers brushing against the creature’s soft fur. It doesn’t flinch, simply shifts closer as if it senses your unease. There’s something grounding about the animal, something simple and reassuring. Agatha had brought it here with her, and for some reason, the thought that something she clearly cares for is by your side soothes the sharp edges of your panic.
You take another breath, steadier this time. The faint glow from the kitchen is still there, unchanging, and the stillness of the house seems both unnerving and hopeful.
She’s inside. She’ll make it.
And then, finally, you hear the faint creak of the window above.
Your head snaps up, your pulse quickening as you watch it ease open. Your own face peers out from the shadowed wooden frame, tense and searching the garden below. It takes you a second to remember that it’s actually Agatha.
The sight pulls at something strange in your chest. You know the spell you cast has served its purpose, that she’s safe now. That realization settles over you like a wave, and you exhale slowly, steadying yourself.
Closing your eyes, you draw on the lingering energy of the spell, your magic buzzing faintly under your skin. You picture her, not as a reflection of yourself, but as she truly is: darker, undeniably powerful, magnetic. With a flick of your wrist and a soft breath, you send the magic out, releasing it.
When you open your eyes, the figure leaning out of the window has changed. Her true form has returned: wild, dark hair framing her face, sharp cheekbones catching the faintest glow of the night.
Agatha’s gaze catches yours, steady and knowing, as if she’s fully aware of what you’ve just done. She tilts her head slightly in acknowledgment, a silent signal to come up.
The tension in your chest doesn’t fully ease, but you let yourself glance at the towering tree at the center of the garden, its ancient branches stretching out in every direction like a great, unmoving sentinel. The bark is thick and weathered, furrowed with deep grooves that speak of countless seasons endured.
Its lowest branches bow slightly under their own weight, but higher up, the limbs grow stronger, sprawling outward with a defiant strength. One of its largest branches curves close to your window, not enough to block the view from your room but near enough to serve as your path inside.
The tree has always been there, a quiet companion through your childhood. Back then, its lower limbs had felt like a sanctuary, their rough surfaces welcoming and steady beneath your hands. You’d scramble up effortlessly, laughing as you dangled your legs and let the world blur into your own imagined wilderness.
But tonight, the tree looms above you, its branches no longer inviting but daunting, like a puzzle demanding perfect precision. Your gaze fixes on the thick branch that leads toward your window, and doubt creeps in uninvited.
You exhale, trying to calm the knot of nerves twisting in your stomach. The branches look sturdy, thicker than they seemed when you were younger, but you know they’ll need to hold more than they ever have before.
You step closer to the tree as you prepare to hoist yourself up. But as you look upward, plotting your path, reality snaps into focus.
One of your hands is clutching the rabbit, its small body shifting slightly against your palm, leaving the other useless for climbing. Both hands will be needed to grip the bark and the branches, to steady yourself as you ascend.
You can’t climb like this.
Your jaw tightens as you glance down at the animal, then over your shoulder at the satchel pulling against your back. The weight of both feels suddenly oppressive, a barrier between you and the safety of the window above.
Your breath is clouding in the cold air as you glance up at the towering tree again. For a moment, you stand frozen, your mind racing for a solution.
Then, an idea comes to you. Maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s not perfect, but it’s all you’ve got, and it’ll have to do.
Kneeling carefully, you place the rabbit gently on the ground beneath the tree.
“Stay.” you whisper softly, as the small creature sniffs the grass, its twitching nose brushing against a fallen leaf. You shrug the satchel off your back, unfastening the flap with fingers that tremble slightly from the cold.
You glance down at the contents of the bag and let out a soft sigh of relief. Agatha, it seems, is a light packer. There’s enough space, you think, and without hesitation, you scoop up the rabbit again, cradling its small body close for a moment.
“Alright, you’re going in.” you whisper, angling the bag carefully to create a safe, snug space.
The rabbit shifts, its ears flicking in mild protest, but it doesn’t wriggle too much as you tuck it in among the folds of Agatha’s clothing. You adjust the fabric gently, making sure it’s secure, and offer a quiet, almost reassuring murmur. “See? Not so bad.”
You hope the familiar scent will keep it calm during the climb. For a moment, the faint smell reaches you as well - earthy yet sweet, rich and layered - and it stops you in your tracks. The briefest flicker of distraction pulls at you before you shake it off, focusing on closing the satchel and readying yourself for the climb.
You glance up at the window to check for any sign from Agatha, but what you see halts you. She’s leaning out of the darkened window, her features clear despite the shadows, and her expression… well, if looks could kill, you’d be flat on the ground.
Her glare is direct and unmistakable, her lips pressed into a thin, irritated line. It doesn’t take much to realize why.
She’s staring straight at the satchel slung over your shoulder and the rabbit inside it. You’re frozen, caught mid-motion, her piercing gaze making you feel oddly small, like a child caught red-handed. Your irritation flares before you can stop it, the sharp edge of it cutting through your nerves.
‘What exactly does she expect me to do?’ you think, sarcasm practically spilling over. ‘Carry it in my teeth?!’
You bite back a laugh at your own thoughts, the absurdity of the situation tugging at the corners of your mouth. You glance away from the window, shaking your head with a mix of annoyance and amusement.
“As if she’d have a better idea.” you mutter quietly to yourself, the words more a release of tension than anything else.
The bark digs into your palms as you grip the trunk, pulling yourself up onto the first branch. It creaks faintly under your weight, but it holds, as it always has. Your breath comes slow and deliberate, each movement measured as you reach for the next handhold.
Even so, the awareness of Agatha’s eyes on you gnaws at the edge of your focus. Her gaze feels like a weight on your back, amplifying every misstep and every slight tremble in your limbs. The idea of her judging your clumsy climb, silently critiquing each slip of your footing, sends another wave of irritation coursing through you.
And yet… there’s something oddly reassuring about it too. As if her presence, no matter how frustrating, guarantees that someone will catch you if you fall. Not literally, of course, but the thought lingers, steadying you more than you’d care to admit.
You shift your weight carefully, reaching for the next branch. The satchel presses against your back, its weight a constant reminder of your responsibility, and of the sharp eyes above you. You resist the urge to glance up briefly, focusing instead on the climb.
You move cautiously, gripping the bark tightly as you climb higher. The tree groans faintly under your weight, and you freeze, holding your breath.
The sound seems impossibly loud in the stillness of the night, a sharp contrast to the quiet hum of crickets and the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. For a moment, you glance toward the kitchen window, half-expecting to see your mother’s silhouette appear, but the glow remains steady, undisturbed.
You grit your teeth, focusing on your balance, careful to distribute your weight evenly. Every move feels agonizingly slow, the need for silence making each step a deliberate act of precision.
As you near the branch that curves toward your window, you reach out with one hand, your fingers brushing the rough bark. It’s close, close enough that you can almost imagine the feel of the window frame beneath your palm.
But as you shift your weight to make the final stretch, your foot slips against the trunk, the bark giving way beneath your boot.
Your stomach lurches as your balance wavers, your free hand scrabbling desperately for a hold. The satchel shifts sharply, throwing you further off balance, and for a terrifying moment, you’re certain you’ll fall. Your breath catches in your throat, panic blooming in your chest.
From her vantage point at the window, Agatha tenses instantly. Her eyes widen, and for a split second, she shifts forward slightly in a reflexive, almost involuntary motion, as if she could somehow close the unbridgeable distance and reach you. Concern flickers across her face as her hands grip the windowsill tightly, knuckles paling with the pressure.
But then your hand finds purchase, gripping a knot in the bark just in time to steady yourself.
You hang there for a moment, your heart pounding in your ears, your body frozen as the satchel settles back into place. The rabbit stirs faintly inside, and you murmur a soft reassurance under your breath, though it’s as much for yourself as for the animal.
The faint creak of the tree subsides, and the night seems to hold its breath along with you. You force yourself to exhale slowly, the tension in your chest loosening as you steady your footing once more. Carefully, you reach out again, this time gripping the branch firmly before pulling yourself up onto it.
The window is finally within reach, a threshold to safety.
As you glance up, Agatha is there, her figure sharp and still against the faint shadows of the room. She’s waiting, her presence a silent promise that the plan is almost complete. The sight steadies you and, for the first time since the climb began, relief flickers at the edges of your thoughts, fragile but real.
As you near the window, Agatha leans out further, her gaze flicking to the satchel slung over your shoulder. She lifts a hand, gesturing for it with a slight wave of her fingers, her expression calm and maddeningly smug.
You pause, blinking at her.
“Really?” you mutter under your breath, incredulity practically dripping from your tone.
She tilts her head slightly, arching a single brow, her smugness somehow amplifying as she gestures again, clearly waiting.
For a moment, you consider ignoring her, but then you glance at the satchel. She has a point, giving her the bag would mean the rabbit is safer, and, without the extra weight on your back, you’ll have an easier time pulling yourself through the window.
With a dramatic sigh, you shrug the satchel off your shoulder, the strap sliding down your arm before you lift it toward her. She stretches downward, her fingers brushing the edge of the leather before she grips it firmly and pulls it from your grasp.
For a moment, you watch her, half expecting her to disappear entirely now that the bag is secure in her hands.
And that’s exactly what she does. Agatha retreats, vanishing from the window’s edge with the satchel in tow. You roll your eyes, your mind instantly jumping to the conclusion that she’s probably fussing over the rabbit.
The thought irritates and amuses you in equal measure, but you shake your head and steady yourself for the final push.
The ledge is close, and with the satchel gone, the climb feels marginally easier. You stretch your arms upward, gripping the edge of the window frame as you shift your weight onto the thick branch beneath you.
Carefully, you pull yourself higher, your knees brushing the frame as you begin to hoist yourself inside.
For a moment, it seems like you’ve done it. Your body halfway through the window, balance steady enough to keep going.
And then your foot catches on the edge of the frame.
The jolt sends you stumbling forward, your grip slipping as the momentum drags you into a clumsy, uncontrolled tumble.
Agatha moves instantly, appearing as if out of nowhere, her reflexes instinctive and precise.
You barely register the sudden shift before her silhouette is in front of you. One of her hands darts out, gripping your arm with surprising strength, but it’s not enough to counter the force of your fall. Her other hand slides to your waist, firm and steady, trying to catch you, but the momentum is too much.
There’s no time for either of you to adjust. The pull of gravity drags you forward, and you both tumble into the room in a chaotic, ungraceful heap. The impact knocks the breath from your lungs, and you land tangled together.
Agatha is half-sprawled over you, her weight pinning you to the floor, grounding and overwhelming all at once. The world seems to fade, narrowing to the soft rustle of leaves in the night and the rhythm of her breathing.
Her face is unbearably close, so close that her breath brushes against your cheek, warm and uneven. Untamed hair spilling over her shoulder and grazing your arm, strands scattered haphazardly from the fall.
There’s a stillness to her expression, but the faint parting of her lips reveals a hitch in her breathing, as though the shock of the tumble hasn’t fully left her.
Both of her hands remain where they caught you, one curled tightly around your arm, the other pressed firmly against your waist. The heat of her touch burns through the fabric of your dress, rooting you in place even as your pulse races wildly.
Those sharp blue eyes, piercing even in the dim light, are locked on yours. The intensity of her gaze makes your breath catch, as if she’s not only seeing through you but searching for something at the same time.
For a moment, nothing else exists. Your chest tightens and your pulse hammers in your ears as the space between you feels impossibly thin, a fragile thread stretched taut and trembling.
And then, fleetingly - so quickly you almost think you imagined it - her gaze drops, flickering to your lips. The motion is so subtle, so brief, that it vanishes almost as soon as it happens. But the imprint of it remains, sharp and electric, making you shudder.
Your mind scrambles for something, anything, to say, but the words won’t come. All you can do is stare back at her, your chest rising and falling as you struggle to make sense of the moment.
The silence stretches, thick and almost suffocating, until Agatha breaks it. Her voice is low, threaded with dry amusement but carrying an almost daring undertone that sets your nerves alight.
“Are you always this dramatic,” she murmurs, “or am I just special?”
The words pull you out of your daze, and your cheeks burn instantly, the heat rushing to your face.
“I— I didn’t—” you stammer, scrambling to find words, but every coherent thought scatters.
Agatha exhales sharply, her lips twitching as if she’s about to say something else, but instead, she pushes herself up abruptly.
The cool night air rushes in as her warmth leaves, and you’re left on the floor, heart still pounding in your ears.
She brushes off her skirts with deliberate ease, her expression once again smug and composed, though there’s a flicker of tension in her movements. She extends a hand to you, her sharp gaze watching you carefully.
“Come on, get up.” she whispers, her tone calm but firm. “Your mother might have heard that.”
You glare up at her, your pride stinging, but you take her hand anyway, letting her pull you to your feet. Her grip is firm, steady, and as she helps you up, her fingers linger just a second too long before she steps back.
The sensation is fleeting but familiar, a ghost of what had happened only hours earlier by the lake. She’d done the same after you healed her burns, offering her hand with that same deliberate calm, as though her touch carried no weight. But it had lingered then too, just like now, and the memory ignites a warm spark in your chest.
As you rise to your feet, your balance feels oddly unsteady, not from the fall but from the moment itself. You linger there, caught between embarrassment and something heavier. Your fingers twitch at your sides, as though still feeling the echo of her grip, and your gaze follows her as she moves away.
She crosses the room, moving toward the satchel she’d placed on the floor earlier and crouching down.
You turn toward the window, reaching for the frame to shut it. The cool night air still drifts into the room, carrying the faint scent of the garden below. Your fingers curl around the wood, and just as you push it closed, a sound freezes you in place.
A creak. Faint, but unmistakable.
Your heart stops, and you glance at Agatha, who has gone still beside the satchel, her hand hovering over the flap. Her sharp eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you breathes.
Another creak follows, heavier this time, accompanied by the low groan of the wooden stairs shifting.
Panic flashes between you in a silent exchange, the weight of the moment sinking in with brutal clarity. Agatha straightens slowly, her hand dropping from the satchel as her gaze darts toward the door.
Well, shit. Your mother definitely heard.
#agatha harkness x reader#agatha harkness x female reader#agatha harkness x you#agatha x you#agatha x reader#agatha x y/n#aaa#aaa fanfic#agatha harkness fanfic#agatha all along#agatha coven of chaos#agatha all along fanfic#when we collide#agatha harkness
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Daminette Fic Recs
So it looks like my posts are getting too big for Tumblr lol
I'll now be separating them a bit more and will have to make multiple parts for each post.
Link to Part 2
Updated 11/2/24
Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Damian Wayne
She’s Sunshine, She’s Grace, She’ll Punch You in the Face by Brinxiethebear *Finished*
~Marinette struggles to stay happy nowadays but what better way to change your mood than with a change of location? Adrien gave up his miraculous so he could start fresh. After all, his dad was in prison for being the super villain Hawkmoth and his other caretaker Nathalie died from over use of a broken Miraculous. So now Marinette is the guardian of the miraculous. ~
for us to collide by LadyLiterature *Finished*
~The story of Marinette stumbling upon the illustrious Wayne family over and over again, as well as the more infamous Bats, over the course of her many visits to Gotham. She, of course, charms the whole lot of them and finds that the same is true in the reverse.~
A Robin and His Lady by ProudGeek4Ever *Finished*
~Marinette lost her friends to Lila, Adrien was long forgotten and Chat Noir kept getting more irresponsible. Being a teenage superhero was stressfull, but Marinette's life takes a turn for the better when a chance meeting in Gotham changes everything. Damian changes everything.~
No, Mr. Wayne, You Can't Adopt Me! by ggomoz (ggomo_springtime) *Finished*
~Bruce's personal assistant is scarily competent---she seems to know the best decision at each time, predict emergencies, and is an expert at handling all of his children. But what if there's more to her than meets the eye?~
More Than One Secret by Tyshian *Finished*
~Marinette Dupain-Cheng has Secrets. Damian Wayne has Secrets. The pair together have Secrets.~
Reunions are... interesting if you’re a Todd by crazyjc *Finished*
~Alright, this is based on laraceleste's Tell Me More where Jason Todd is Marinette’s big brother with one exception—Marinette didn’t know where Jason was after she was adopted until after he died when she was ten. They were apart for three years here, as GCPD got her at 7.~
It's Just Indifference by dontyoublink *Finished*
~Marinette thought she would just get some inspiration for her designs when she headed to the park. As luck would have it, she also meets four (interesting? unique? slightly insane?) Americans. Frisbee, ice cream, and much-needed conversations ensue.~
World's Greatest Detectives, My Ass by Appleberry84 *Finished*
~Marinette figures out the Batfam's identities and decides to torture them.~
Leave it Behind by ShannonEsmerelda *Finished*
~Marinette Dupain-Cheng has grown tired of Paris, and the miracle box was no longer safe there. It'd been active in the country for too long, seen too much damage. She needed to find a place for both her and the kwami's to heal, while still having the ability to be a hero. So, why not Gotham? The city had enough crime for both her and the bat family without getting in each others way, right? Right?~
Report to HR by SimplyAnotherWriter *Finished*
~Look; Bruce liked Marinette. If the girl hadn’t already had loving and adoring parents that had spotless records and nothing incriminating about them whatsoever(Bruce had checked long and hard), he probably would have adopted the girl just like he had the others.
However, things wouldn't remain this perfect if Damian continued to try and mess it up by SCARING the poor girl!~
The Sun Who Lit Up The Night Sky by FandomQueen10325, leaping_lizard_babe *Finished*
~4 months after the defeat of Hawkmoth, the akuma class wins a trip to Gotham. While they are there, Marinette keeps attracting bad luck, and can never seem to stay out of trouble. The Batfam is very interested when they learn about what had happened in Paris, so they question ladybug.~
Travels of Passion by StarShine583 *Finished*
~When people as famous as the Waynes come to visit your city, the most you'd expect to get from them is a quick little smile. A hand shake if you're in the right place at the right time and extremely lucky. Marinette didn't really expect to get either, and she certainly didn't expect to get what she actually got.~
Of Birds and Bugs (revising and rewriting) by orphan_account *Finished*
~Marinette was a busy girl. Between her idol work as NeTi, and her duty as Ladybug, it was hard to do everything else, like being a good class president. Still, she was able to pull through.
Somehow, the class get's a trip to Gotham, sponsored by Bruce Wayne himself, and it looked like Marinette would be able to take a break for once.~
Dinner at Wayne Manor by littlefleetinglight *Finished*
~In the front hall standing in a line was Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim and Damien; in that orders, with Alfred standing in front of them like an officer in front of his troops.
“Now, when Ms.Marinette arrives there will be no inappropriate language, no crude gestures or noises, and there will be no interrogation. Do you gentlemen understand?”~
#SunshineOfGotham by sixtyeightdays *Finished*
~All of Gotham knows Marinette, the Sunshine who's made her way into everyone's hearts. But so what if all of Gotham knows Marinette? Does her class know that they know Marinette? Of course not, why would they! But, well, let's see how they find out.~
Rockin’ the House by littlefleetinglight *Finished*
~It was another charity gala held by the Wayne Family; this one was raising funds for art programs across the world, and because it was for art there were artists of all types from all over, including the famous Rock’n’Roll artist Jagged Stone…and his guest.~
To marry an Assassin by PL_Panda *Finished*
~Marinette wakes up in a cell and later is forced to marry a member of the League of Shadows, who is also less than willing. Exactly what she was pulled in? And of course there is magic involved, so no cancellation. And apparently in Tibet ancient orders can marry minors off just like that. This was definitely not Damian's day. Or Week. Or month. He got married with a random girl...~
Who Needs Words? by AKP31E *Finished*
~After the defeat of Hawkmoth and the retirement of Suhan, Marinette’s life is just getting crazier. She doesn’t know how a soulmate could ever fit into her life, and sometimes she thinks the two letters on her wrist are just the universe’s joke to her, but she knows better than to bank on it. Her soul mark isn’t even a word. Who is going to say “Tt” to her?~
History Repeats by DesertSnowQueen *Finished*
~When Kitty Noire makes an appearance in Gotham, she finds herself drawn to a certain little bird whose brothers are far too entertained by this turn of events~
Magical Girl by Judysupremus
~Marinette accidentally portals into the batcave.~
The Power of Luck by FridayFirefly
~The Ladybug Miraculous had quite a few side effects, none more powerful and unpredictable than the power of Miraculous Luck. When Marinette's family relocates to Gotham, Marinette finds her Miraculous Luck leading her down a path she never would have expected, a path that leads straight to Damian Wayne.~
The events on a Saturday Morning by orphan_account *Finished*
~Marinette and Damian have been in a long distance relationship for over a year with (most) of the Batfamily not knowing at all until a young girl stumbles through a portal on a Saturday morning.~
Friendly Sunshine In Gotham by M1dn1ght_Star *Finished*
~Marinette is happy to be back in Gotham after a visit with Jagged several years ago. This might just end up being the perfect way to expose Lila once and for all, as a nice bonus to seeing her honorary family and boyfriend again.~
Daminette Soulmate AU by keeptellingyourselfthat *Finished*
~Tradition says that your soulmate will have another tattoo, something that relates to you. When they meet you, it is said that the tattoos start glowing a bright gold.~
Calling for Help by Dramatic_Squirrel *Finished*
~It's been a month since the Battle of Miracle Queen and Marinette has been struggling alone under the pressure of being the new guardian. With her training yet to have been completed, Marinette makes her first official decision as the new guardian, to ask the Justice League for help.~
serendipity by keeptellingyourselfthat *Finished*
~The last time Damian AL-Ghul saw Marinette was when they were twelve. He didn't think he would see her again. So, it's a huge surprise when he stumbles upon her in WE while exposing the liar of the class from France.~
In The Wrong Bed? by San_fics *Finished*
~“Like I said,” Jason yawned. “Eventually everyone in this family goes crazy.”
“I'm not crazy!” Damian protested. “She was here!”
“Maybe you just had a very realistic dream?” Dick suggested.
“I’m perfectly capable of distinguishing dreams from reality, thank you very much!” Snapped Damian. “She was real and she was in my bed!”~
Cat Cursed by TheStarfishAlien *Finished*
~The Cheng family carries a curse. Every other generation carries a second form, that of a cat. Their dual nature makes it difficult for those with the curse to fit in with society. Some flee permanently into the form of the cat, while others try their hardest to pretend that their cat form does not exist. Very few find a balance in the middle.~
Secrets, Masks and Family Gatherings by ggomoz (ggomo_springtime) *Finished*
~After nearly a year of being together, Damian finally decides to introduce Marinette to his family.~
living among the regular people of the world trying to blend in by another_cancer *Finished*
~Marinette was an assassin named ladybug that was supposed to kill Damian, but she didn't and now they meet again years later.~
New but True by yannowhatigiveup *Finished*
~Damian and Marinette are kidnapped from their lives to be betrothed to one another. Unfortunately, they were separated and missed the other greatly. Once realising that Marinette is in Gotham for a school trip, Jon, being the good friend he is, reunites them.~
Eons & Eternities by Utopian_angel *Finished*
~After dedicating many life cycles to an endless conflict between chaos and order, Ra's Al Ghul decides to use his last chance to form a union.
A union between their respective heirs that will last for eons & eternities.~
Use Your Brain by Judysupremus *Finished*
~Marinette and her class go to Gotham. What happens when she has to rescue Chat Noir from Batman?
The is silly, potentially crack.~
An Awkward Reveal by Miraculous_786 *Finished*
~Who can blame Edward Nygma for being protective over his adopted daughter?
The very daughter who was dating Damian Wayne right under his nose.~
The Bride that can Break Bones by LovesWifi *Finished*
~Marinette and Damian are betrothed and that's all you need to know.~
Senses by Alexiessan *Finished*
~Marinette never thought that she would be among the 0.1% of the population to have a soulmate, and yet, here she was.
She wasn't ready for her life to change drastically because of it.~
A Welcoming Change by Brinxiethebear *Finished*
~Damian Wayne always saw himself in a certain light. He was calculating and cold and he always took his work seriously. He was what others would call the Ice Prince. He was a loner and by choice. The only people he ever really tolerated talking to was his family and his only friend, Jon. Mainly he just spent time with his pets.~
Never alone by Alexiessan *Finished*
~For a moment, ever since Lila came into her life, Marinette thought she would lose everyone dear to her. Turns out, if she keeps trying, she can do anything and make everything turn out for the better.
Contrary to her belief, Marinette was never alone.~
#8024 by SimplyAnotherWriter *Finished*
~“Inmate #8024 of Gotham Asylum Institution. State your name.”
“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”
How had she come to this, you might wonder? Well... It wasn't as long of a story as you would think.~
Summer in Gotham is a time for the Akuma Class to relax and oh wait are those assassins? by baby_blue24680 *Finished*
~After hearing a brief description of the class dynamic of the Akuma Class, Mayor Bourgeois all but blackmails Bruce Wayne into sponsoring a trip to Gotham for the summer semester, believing that it will lead to fewer akumas. Word travels to Talia al Ghul, who decides to give an old friend a visit and literally and figuratively throws an engagement at Marinette.~
Four times the Ladybug magic teleported Marinette to where she would be safest, and the one time she was already there by EditorOfEverything *Finished*
~This is part one in a five part series. I have never actually completed a fic before, so this is kind of my NaNoWriMo goal for myself, I guess... So, without further ado, here is four times the Ladybug magic teleported Marinette to where she would be safest, and the one time she was already there~
The Bug, the Bird and the Bats by whoscountinganyway *Finished*
~Everyone knows that Damian Wayne doesn't have any friends; he pushes away anyone who wants to get close to him, denies those close to him the knowledge that he cares, vehemently refuses to be in the presence of wanna-be suitors. He simply isn’t social.~
The Eyes are the Window to the Soul by Brinxiethebear *Finished*
~Have you heard the saying that the eyes are the window to the soul? In a world where soulmates are common, one might think that soulmate marks dealing with the eyes would mean something tremendous, and they would be right.~
In Which Damian Needs a Tutor and Marinette Needs a Job by kceedraws *Finished*
~It starts with an offhand comment on Tim’s birthday.
Damian blinks. “It looked like what?”
“Lit,” Richard repeats. “Isn’t that what you kids call it, with the music and dancing…?”
“I don’t follow. The video had rather dim lighting, if you asked me.”~
Freezing Fate by boldlyanxious *Finished*
~Like everyone, Marinette received her soulmate journal when she was ten. She was excited about all the possibilities it offered, but she never expected her soulmate to show up a few weeks later to take the journal away from her.~
Gotham For Two by multifandomscribette *Unfinished*
~Marinette Dupain-Cheng organized a spring field trip for her class but of course things didn't go as planned and she is still shunned by her class. Cut off from her formed support system and almost completely alone in the most crime ridden city in the world, Marinette meets Damian Wayne via his dog, Titus and she might not be so alone anymore.~
Lost And Found by FridayFirefly *Unfinished*
~The thing Marinette wants most in the world is a Soulmate. But no matter how much she tries to convince herself that her perfect match is out there, she still has her doubts. In a world where your Soulmate finds the things you lose, Marinette only ever seems to lose things. In eleven years, she's never found a single thing her Soulmate lost.
Until the day she does. That's when it all begins.~
The Paris Problem by newdog14 *Unfinished*
~Damian Wayne, one time assassin, present-day vigilante, and entirely uninterested in getting the normal teenage experience. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, part time superhero, full time guardian, and very much wishing for the days of being a normal girl again. They’ve been brought together by circumstance and common enemies, and they’ll never be ordinary, but together they might just find a new normal as they work together to solve The Paris Problem.~
Damian Wayne by deathsong *Finished*
~ the class goes on an exchange program to Gotham, and Lila decides to say she's dating the billionaire's son, Damian Wayne. Who is sitting like three seats away from her.~
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Good Looking
warnings ; toxic ex rafe x reader, jj maybank x reader, revenge type plot, fluff, drugs, alcohol, makeout scene(im not good at writing this stuff in good detail so apologies if its bad) ,
Summary ;
After finding Rafe basically cheated on you, you figure it's time to finally stand up for yourself.
"Why are you crying?" JJ says concernly. He's always been like that, always there when you need him, like a knight in shining armor.
Tides trash inside
Baby I'm high octane
You explain to him the situation, what you witnessed and explaining how it wasn't the first time, you end up alone with him on a part of the beach no one really goes to, ranting to him. Usually you'd never talk about your feelings, but with JJ it was different.
My core vibrates in an opium haze
He puts his arm around your shoulder. "I seriously don't get why you give him anymore chances, I mean come on. Rafes not some golden child, I doubt he'd take your fathers job." he says angrily, You're glad you have JJ, you think to yourself.
He's right. Rafe was basically the outcast of the family anyway ever since he started doing drugs, you look at JJ as he's still insulting Rafe and smile, you put your head onto his shoulder and lean on him, taking in the smell of his cologne and the fresh but slightly salty ocean air.
He moves his hand from your shoulder to your side, half hugging you and also taking in your perfume. He looks at you and you lock eyes with him, neither of you realizing how close your faces were until then.
Yet you think we're the same?
The breeze becomes a bit slow, everything slows down as you and him stare at each other, he looks at your lips and you both lean into eachother, kissing. Suddenly the whole world stopped, quiet and peaceful, the only thing you could hear was both of your hearts beating fast.
The skyline falls
as I try to make sense all
He pulls away looking at you, wondering if you liked it or not, you look at him and smile, he smiles back and half hugs you tighter, "is this..okay?" he says looking at you. "Of course" you say before your lips collide again.
This time, he bites down on your bottom lip, you understand what he's signaling and you give him entrance,your tounges dancing with eachother. You are now making out with JJ Maybank . What a night.
He puts his hands on your hips, breaking the kiss to breathe. "Y/N.." he says catching his breathe. You stare at him and smile, you push him down into the sand and lie beside him.
"I've been wanting to do that for a long time. To long." he says as he lies down on the sand, you lying beside him and he holds your hand, placing is in the middle of you and him.
I thought I'd uncovered your secrets
Turns out there's more
You didn't even care about Rafe or anything right now for that matter. You can't keep your eyes off of him and he can't keep his off you either. You both look up at the stars and see a shooting one. "Make a wish!" you say closing your eyes.
"My wish has already come true" he says gripping your hand harder.
You adored me before
"Let's go back to my place." he says.
"Alright" you reply.
Oh my good looking boy
Part 3? (Tysm for 10+ ❤s on the first chapter!! 11 for part 3 if we can!! Or maybe a commenttt)
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Hi all! I've been craving some fantasy au slow burn but have been wanting something longer than 50k words (I want to be in for the long haul). I've been reading Beauty and the Beast AUs but I could work with something similar/fusion. (I've already read "The Serpent and the Angel" and "Choose Your Princes Wisely" and loved them both) If you can't manage fantasy au then post-s1 would work as well :)
Give me longing! Give me shy touches and stolen looks! Fluff, angst, and/or hurt/comfort, E rating is welcome. Thanks!
Hey. We have a #fantasy au tag, so check that out. There aren't loads of fantasy fics over 50k with slow burn/pining, so searching ao3 was really simple. Here ya go...
I’m Your Landsailor by IneffableDoll (T)
In a small seaside town called Tadfield, one of the last places on Earth where humans and magic coexist, an exiled selkie and a human who ran away from her life accidentally get themselves married in the oldest, most binding sense. The two are forced to stay together until they can find a way to undo it and free the other from their accidental marriage. It sure would be complicated if they started to fall for each other in the process…
through the silent wood by summerofspock (M)
When Aziraphale Eastgate first moves to Tadfield, he struggles to understand the strange culture of the village. They're not friendly or kind or anything he expected from a village in the north. So when he rescues a snake from a snow storm, he's glad for a little company even if it comes in the form of an animal. Unfortunately, in Tadfield, animals are often not what they seem.
Dragon's Heart by Slow_Burn_Sally (E)
“No dear Aziraphale. It must live” She answered him, and turned her gaze to the massive, sleeping beast. Just then Aziraphale noticed the great pool of dark blood that surrounded the thing where it lay. Blood from its wounds. He looked down at his feet and saw the dark blood pooling around his simple cloth shoes, soaking into the woolen fabric. He felt no revulsion or surprise over this. Only sadness and pity for the poor creature. “It must live” the goddess repeated. “And you must go to it” Not one to refuse the request of a deity, Aziraphale nodded. “Very well then my Goddess” he replied. “When shall I go?” “At once” she replied. “And you must tell no one”
Faeted, Part One by megzseattle (G)
Ezra fell is an English professor at a prestigious academy for boys. Crowley is the lord of the Unseelie court in the lands without sunrise or moonfall. Somehow fate will bring them together.
Cast the Stone and Create the Ripple by The_Bentley (E)
Crowley stared at him, yellow eyes narrowing. “You’ll have to excuse me for not trusting you. Never encountered your kind before. I suggest you get out of here because this much blood in the water is going to attract sharks.” He twisted around, attempting once again to try to dive into the depths, but without his tail free that was proving impossible. He struggled even harder upon seeing his so-called rescuer pull a knife out of his belt. “Not without you,” the land-dweller replied. “Hold still, please. These nets are meant to dig into skin the more one moves.” “If you're going to kill me, please make it quick. Long, painful discorporations seem like a bad way to go.” Prince Crowley is investigating the damage fishing vessels are doing to crops and homes in his father's underwater kingdom. Prince Aziraphale is supposed to be learning to become a scribe. Their worlds are about to collide, putting Crowley's life in danger and revealing that the land-dwelling angels and ocean-dwelling merdemons just might not be that different after all. (Rated T until Chapter 11 when it becomes more NSFW.)
Omens Of Another Kind by WorseOmens (NR)
Crowley is the Dullahan, a notorious omen of death. Happily ever after isn’t in the job description; he’ll soon meet someone who begs to disagree. (Good Omens Folklore AU)
- Mod D
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